#Bullet Proof Vehicles

[icysnails]

Hello. I was wondering if you could you write a platonic angst story where the reader is Blade's child. I was thinking that because Blade barely spends any time with the reader unless it's during one of their extremely harsh training sessions the reader decides to run away especially after one particularly rough training session where the reader was injured after they accidentally talked back and that night the reader starts packing their stuff but they accidentally left behind their late mother's pendant and Blade found it the next morning. (I hope you're okay with writing this and I wish you a good morning, afternoon or good night ☺️)

Family.

A/n: Hello Anon!! Thank you for your request!! I am so sorry this took so long- school + extracurriculars started so I had way less time to work on writing outside of school (TvT) But this was so much fun to write! I got a little bit carried away and it ended up being a found family type thing with all of the Stellaron Hunters– I tried to focus on Blade being a father figure as much as possible though! I hope you have a fantastic day, and I hope you enjoy!! ૮꒰ ˶• v •˶꒱ა ♡

Warnings: all relationships are platonic, found family trope, betrayal, suicidal ideation (Blade), mentions of death, reader's parents are dead, flashbacks, reader runs away, mention of bullets + broken glass, overthinking, Blade being insecure, reader uses a sword, reader gets injured a couple of times (If i forgot anything, please let me know!!)

Genre: angst, slight fluff

Pairing: father figure!Blade x gn!child!reader (PLATONIC), mother figure!Kafka x gn!child!reader (PLATONIC), sister figure!Silver Wolf x gn!child!reader (PLATONIC)

Word count: 7.3k

Blade is a cruel man. 

There is no love in the red pools of his irises, no signs of any humanity. Dark circles adorn the skin just below his merciless stare, eyebrows slightly furrowed in an eternal state of aggravation. It was no wonder enemies cowered at the mere mention of him. He holds nothing back, and if an enemy was unfortunate enough to meet the steely edge of his sword, they were sure to be broken and lifeless by the end of the encounter. Unfortunately, he isn’t much different off of the battlefield either. 

Blade is bitter and selfish and cold, to the extreme that even Kafka and Silverwolf are convinced that he has forgotten how to feel.

The thorns of the mara in his veins torment him constantly, the pain never faltering, even after decades. The other Stellaron Hunters had begun to wonder if those thorny, agonizing vines had punctured through his heart as well. It would be understandable, to an extent. After all, he is a man who has experienced endless with suffering and loss, his mind poisoned with grief and the sole desire to die. No more pain, no more fighting, just darkness- the mere thought was enough to drag a bitter smile out of him.

He was used to the dark, used to feeling like an empty vessel. 

But why, if he was so familiar with agony, would he impose that same feeling on you as well? 

You had always been alone. You were only a toddler when your parents were taken from you, the only proof of their existence being a necklace your mother left with you before she died. You had spent your youngest years void of any parental guidance, hopelessly wandering between foster homes and planets, hoping someone would take you in. You gave that up by age ten, running away from your home planet to travel the galaxy. From that point on, most of your time was spent sneaking onto Starskiffs, hiding in empty cargo compartments on any moving vehicle you could find, and even stealing authorization keys to search occupied space stations, all in search of someone whom you could call family. 

But what exactly did the word family mean?

You always thought it was a strange word. It had such a subjective meaning, yet it was talked about so often. You didn’t understand what it meant, and no textbook definition could help you. All your efforts to find its meaning were in vain. And yet, your curiosity haunted you. 

With every new destination, the word family buzzed among the crowds constantly. No matter where you had landed yourself, all you could do was spectate. You watched as children laughed and clung to the legs of their guardians, as relatives sobbed in unified grief over flower dressed gravestones, and as teenagers linked arms with each other, growing away from the protective grasps of their parents. 

Every planet you traveled to, every dragging, lonely step you took, that sickening, seemingly joyous word that made you feel so isolated was there.

Six months after you had ran away, you went out alone to buy food. It was late at night, and you were preparing to head off to another planet the next day. Luckily, you bumped into a nice shopkeeper earlier who gave you some extra credits because she thought your coat was cool (in reality, she was just worried about you wandering off all alone, but didn't want to pry about your parents' whereabouts). So, you headed out amongst the crowds as you always did, pouch of credits in hand and determination plastered on your face.

But a woman stopped you on the way there and asked why such a young child was wandering around alone at night. She had a little girl with her, who looked no older than you. 

She asked you if you had any family she could call to come and get you, with the assumption that you were lost. You couldn't say anything. Instead, you just stared, your wide-eyed gaze pinned on the child that almost mirrored you. Almost. Perhaps if the world were kinder, your eyes could have donned the same innocent, joyful light. One of her hands was encased by her mother’s, while her other hand kindly reached out towards you. A cheerful “hello!” rang through the air as she tried to shake your hand. 

You stepped away from her. It was hard to breathe. You had seen all this before. Yet why was it so painful this time? 

Internally, you demanded the Aeons to tell you why the truth of your situation had to be rubbed in your face so blatantly. You were alone. You wondered if it might be good to explain that to them, to create some kind of connection with these people, but no words would leave your throat. Your heart felt like it was splintered in two.

You didn’t know how long you stood there staring, but you were sure the devastation tearing you up inside was evident on your face. The woman called out to you one more time, her worry falling on deaf ears as you backed away slowly. You took one more look at the girl before turning on your heel and running as fast as you could, sobs wracking your chest so deeply it hurt. 

You hadn’t returned to that planet since then.

You wanted the life that little girl had. You wanted to have a guardian.

But as the years went on, nothing changed. Your travels continued, and you came to terms with the fact that you might never know what family felt like. You made acquaintances as you traveled, friends, even. They never stuck around for long, though. The darkness always swallowed them up one way or another. And with every loss, the painful void in your chest numbed and steeled over a little more.

You thought that your life would always be this way. In truth, you had forgotten that there was any other way to live.

However, that was before a certain group of Stellaron Hunters swept you away from your life of solitude, and recruited you into their dangerous yet thrilling world. 

A year later, you found yourself on a sand covered planet. You were on a train, heading to one of the planets' larger cities from a smaller town. There wasn’t any way you walk- it was too hot and the distance was too far. Otherwise, you would have spent your savings on something other than train tickets.

The trip was uneventful and for most of it you just stared blankly out the window, exhaustion and boredom settling in your bones. You were tired from running errands for the previous town's residents- it was onerous but it happened to pay well. Though you were happy to have a break, your mind wasn’t used to the quiet. The barren landscape outside did nothing to help. It was a dry, flat expanse that was dotted only with dead weeds and the scraps of broken automatons. In short, nothing of interest.

Aside from that, all was going well. You had enough credits to last you at least six more train rides and get food and extra supplies, and you had several acquaintances with whom you could stay in the next city. You made a point not to talk about your budgeting skills, as it would usually spur a torrent of questions from whoever you were talking to. You couldn’t blame them though, children your age typically didn’t devote themselves to a life of aimless travel. 

The train stopped right on time, and you stepped onto the platform that was crowded with people. As usual, you were met with the sight of teary-eyed relatives hugging each other, children running around and playing, and couples greeting each other. You kept your head down, feeling more inconvenienced than sad. In their excitement, the crowds always seemed to block your path to the other platforms. Besides, they say time heals all wounds, so why would you care, anyway? You awkwardly shoved your way toward a nearby stairwell, grunting as several people bumped into you. Just as your fingers made contact with the stair’s banister, ear shattering sirens echoed throughout the station.

Emergency lights flashed on and off in a blinding rhythm, the red glow engraining itself into your mind. Suddenly, pixelated bullets flew towards the ceiling, shattering several of the glass panels. Screams rang out in response, and the previously happy crowd flew into a panic, ducking to avoid the broken glass. However, the glass shards evaporated into more pixels before they could hit the crowd, preventing any damage from being done.

Amidst the swarms of people trying to escape, you cautiously walked closer to the source of the commotion. You really shouldn’t have, but the nagging curiosity in the back of your mind compelled you to do so. And even if it seemed dangerous, there was something off about this incident. After all, if the initiators were out for blood, wouldn’t they have attacked the crowd directly? If whoever caused this wasn't intending to cause harm, they must be looking for something.

As you got closer, you saw three figures: A magenta haired woman with lightless eyes, a pistol in one hand, and a glowing thread of purple silk in the other. She was leaning back against one of the platform’s pillars, watching the whole scene with fake amusement. The second person you saw was a smaller girl decked out in a myriad of purples and blues, her drill style ponytail swaying as she typed up coordinates on a hologram screen. And lastly, you saw a red eyed man with a glare so sharp it made your heart sink. You certainly did not want to be subject to whatever rage he had stored away. From the looks of it, he could kill you in a split second.

For some reason, all three of them seemed familiar. You couldn't quite place it, but you quickly realized, you knew who they were. Their faces were plastered on all of the IPC’s wanted posters, which were scattered on literally every planet you had been to so far. You couldn’t remember their names exactly, but you knew that, together, they were known as the Stellaron Hunters- the universe’s most wanted criminals. You should have recognized them from the pixelated bullets earlier- how could you have been so naive?

You could have tried to run, but it would be futile. You were already out in the open, and they had already seen you.

Your eyes widened in sheer panic as the man dressed in black set his gaze on your shaking form. There was no way you’d survive this encounter. Absolutely zero chance. He stepped toward you but was interrupted by the sound of a clanging of a spear. The station’s security officers surrounded the Stellaron Hunters, demanding that they freeze and turn themselves in immediately.

You covered your ears and ducked as a fight broke out, the Stellaron Hunters throwing themselves into battle. Your eyelids were screwed shut in fear until the sounds of fighting had ceased. When you opened your eyes, you looked up to see that all of the guards had been knocked out, and that the taller woman standing above you, watching you in a way that was eerie, yet... comforting somehow. Even so, your better judgment caused you to back away, frantically scrambling on the hot cement of the platform. The red eyed man yanked you to your feet before you could stand up, and a panicked noise left your throat as he dragged you toward his two companions. you caught a glimpse of his sword that was poised in his other hand, taking note that he was ready to strike if necessary.

“It’s a kid.” He grumbled, still glaring at you. 

The tall woman chuckled and took a step forward, observing the way you struggled to get out of her companion’s grasp. You were getting more anxious by the second, she could tell. No matter how strong and collected you acted, you were still just a kid, and you had the minimal strength of one.

“Let them go, Blade. I don’t think they mean any harm.”

Small, scared breaths left your throat as you were released, your shaking legs failing to hold you up. You fell to the ground, staring in shock at all that had occurred. What would have happened if they didn’t let you go? How much danger were you really in, and how the hell were you still alive?

Then, the monotone voice of the grey haired girl met your ears. 

“What a waste. Looks like those signals were nothing but a glitch.” She sighed. “There's nothing for us here.”

The scary man who grabbed you- Blade, as the woman called him- looked down at you crumpled form, eyes softening just the tiniest bit. Your fearful gaze met his, and you didn’t dare move. The two other hunters made conversation about their next moves in the background, while Blade narrowed his eyes coldly.

“Why aren’t you running?”

…What?

“Go. Lingering here will only bring you suffering”

Your fearful gaze then turned to one of confusion. It was unclear if his words were meant to be a warning or advice. Either way, it gave you the strength to pull yourself off the ground and attempt to respond, but all that came out of you was a strangled groan. Your body hurt, and everything had happened so fast that your mind was still trying to catch up. It wasn’t that you were trying to make an impression by staying, you just couldn’t bring yourself to run because of the adrenaline coursing through you. You hunched over and placed your hands on your knees to get your bearings. After a few minutes, you finally responded.

“Y- yeah, I… uh…” You hesitated, unsure of what to say. “...I have another train to catch...?” 

It came out like a question, which was unintended. It was the truth, but you were so nervous that you would say something wrong and provoke him. Your life may have been spared for the moment, but they could still change their minds, and you didn't want to re-dig your own grave.

The man beside you let out a small sigh before turning his gaze back to his two companions.

“Fine.” He muttered.

A few moments passed with you and Blade sitting in comfortable silence. or, it was comfortable him, at least. He was still and silent, ignoring you entirely. You just kept fidgeting the whole time, unsure if you should stay or run for the hills. It was borderline suffocating. thankfully, the tall woman came over again, ending your misery.

“Well, we’re off.” She said to Blade, prompting him to walk towards the edge of the platform where the smaller girl stood. Before walking off, she turned to you one last time. 

“Take it easy, kid.”

Something in your heart screamed at you to speak up. A strange urge began eating away at you, telling you that if you didn’t do something right now you’d regret it for the rest of your life. But do what? What could you do without potentially dying? It was stupid. And dangerous.

But that old feeling of longing, that desire to be a part of something wouldn’t leave you alone. Your desperation to attain a family of your own had been reawakened. Your undying hope, which laid dormant for years, was now ruling your judgment.

Just as they turned to leave, you stumbled forward and cried out.

“Wait!”

All three heads turned towards you. 

A purple set of eyes knowingly scanned you as you trembled, a smirk growing on the woman’s face. 

You anxiously gripped at your clothing, trying to summon up the courage to put on some kind of brave face for them. Before you think, pleas for them to take you with them were spilling from your throat. You told them that you wanted to see the universe and that if they gave you that opportunity, you’d do whatever you could to assist them. It was a partial lie- exploring the universe did sound fun, but it wasn't what you were truly after. Your true motivations were far too personal to tell them just yet. It felt like a wound had unexpectedly reopened ever since they arrived, and you were sure you’d crumble if you forced yourself to explain.

Luckily, you didn’t have to. You had the strangest feeling that they already knew your story to some extent. Even without the influence of your longing, you couldn’t deny that it was the opportunity of a lifetime. It wasn’t every day that you came across three highly skilled fighters who could quickly travel anywhere they wanted. You could save years worth of credits and injuries if you went with them.

Once you had finished your frantic explanation, you took a breath to calm your pounding heart. The silence you were met with was deafening, which you took to be a bad sign. A deep chuckle reverberated through the elegant woman’s chest as she took a decisive step closer to you. She hummed in amusement, holding her hand out for you to take.  

“You may not be crucial to our mission,” she leaned down to your height, voice almost a whisper, “but if that’s what you want, then who are we to disagree?”

You took her hand, heartbeat slowing to a calm pace as you did so.

The days you spent with the Stellaron hunters were some of the most peaceful days you had ever experienced. 

You weren’t constantly slinking around trying to find information and resources for your travels, and it was the first time you had slept in a room that had officially been dubbed as your own. You weren't hopping between inns and the homes of your few friends. Even expenses weren't an issue anymore. It felt strange to have time on your hands. Guilt inducing, even.

You didn’t get too caught up in that though, since the confusion and questions plaguing your mind happened to be stronger than your melancholy. It was beyond your understanding how three of the most dangerous criminals in the entire universe could be so kind and willing to take you in. Perhaps it was because you had seen too much. You were a witness to Blade knocking out over ten armed guards. However, they were so powerful that they seemed to be able to get away with anything. Either way, you were a part of their goup, and that's what mattered.

As time went on, you grew closer to the Stellaron Hunters. Especially Kafka, who you learned was much less intimidating in regular life, and Silver Wolf, who was still as deadpan as before, but seemed subtly happier with you around. You also were officially introduced to Blade, and were promised that he wasn't always so brooding. That was hard to believe, though.

Silver Wolf was like a sister to you. She dragged you with her everywhere. She said it was a part of your duties to accompany her on errands, but in reality, she just enjoyed having you with her. Whenever a battle presented itself, she would have you on the sidelines cheering for her as she obliterated enemies in the blink of an eye. It was clear that your support went straight to her ego, but she also secretly wanted to impress you so that you'd view her as some sort of mentor. Silver Wolf wanted to be a reliable guide and friend to you, especially after you had been alone for so long. Thankfully, you didn’t mind spending time with her. In fact, chatting and playing video games with her became one of your favorite ways to kill time. The latter was clearly her passion– after all, her combat techniques were solely revolved around her exceptional hacking skills. 

Silver Wolf taught you how to play all her favorite games, staying calm and patient with you when you kept losing. Often, she would discreetly take you out to arcades during your free time, and every time it would be humbling due to your lack of gaming experience. However, losing meant that you had more time to watch her win, which was never boring. In any other situation, you might have been jealous, but it was just so mesmerizing to watch her play. Besides, she gave you all her prizes, so you weren’t going to complain. But what you found to be even more amusing was watching her lose it over the few games she hadn’t mastered yet. Her face would contort into one of sheer disbelief and anger as she held onto the machine tightly, aggressively mashing buttons and mumbling insults. You would always laugh and try to cheer her up in response. It always gave her a huge ego boost, and convinced her to try again, despite still being angry. You never expected to gain such a dear friend when you joined the Steallaron Hunters, and you wouldn’t trade any part of your friendship for the world.

Kafka was another story, though.

At first, Kafka terrified you. She held so much power over the other hunters- well, really over everything, that you were sure she’d destroy you if you stepped out of line. Her empty eyes and ruthless reputation didn’t help either. 

Ever since your arrival, Kafka kept a close eye on you. She made sure that you were alright as you settled in, and that you weren’t feeling unsafe or lonely in your new environment. She offered you comfort and advice and cared for you like the mothers you had witnessed on your past journeys. 

One night, a month after you had arrived, you hurt your leg on a walk and Kafka was right there to patch you up. She shushed you gently as you tried to protest that you were fine, and dragged you to the nearest chair so you could sit. She took a first aid kit from a nearby cabinet, and began tending to your wound. You winced as rubbing alcohol combined itself with your blood, and you quietly explained that you had been doing this your whole life- that it wasn’t her job to take care of you. Kafka paused and looked at you, eyes showing a rare glint of sadness. She whispered to you that those days were over. You weren’t alone anymore, and you should ask the three of them for help whenever you needed it. You weren’t a burden to them. 

Kafka wasn’t sure what the cause of it was, but something in her chest began to ache when she saw you injured. She had never felt fear before. She deemed it impossible before you came along. She had always been known as a ruthless, unshakeable force of danger, who would stop at nothing to achieve her goals. But now, she had to keep you safe. Part of her wanted to berate herself for getting so protective over someone, for willingly weakening herself by caring about you. But you needed safety and a group of loving people to return to. You were just a kid, after all, and even after the short time you had been traveling with them, she had begun to feel like your guardian.

Tears filled your eyes, her words weighing down on your lungs. You couldn’t truly believe her. Not after all you had been through. But even so, Kafka was right in front of you, smiling softly, waiting and willing to take care of you. She wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. It was a foreign feeling, one that scared you more than anything else. But you were safe. You were at home. 

So you let yourself cry. Your heart split open, all the bottled up agony from your past finally bursting out. You curled into yourself, the gash on your leg long forgotten. Kafka kneeled before you and gently wrapped her arms around your shaking form. One of her hands carded through your hair, while the other rubbed your back soothingly. Gentle whispers fell from her lips, promising you that she was with you. You were safe.

You weren’t sure how long had passed when you calmed down. Maybe it had been hours. Whatever the truth was, Kafka remained by your side, not pulling back until she was sure you were okay. After you had stopped crying, she leaned back, meeting your sad, exhausted stare. She looked down at your bleeding wound, grabbed a roll of bandages, and cautiously wrapped it around your leg. When she was finished, she smiled and stood up, placing a hand on your shoulder. You matched her smile, assuring her that you were fine.

However, after a moment, Kafka’s comforting smile was replaced with a teasing smirk. Confusion sparked in your eyes and your eyebrows furrowed as if to silently ask what the problem was. She just chuckled and took a seat across from you, crossing her arms over her chest and tilting her head back as though she was assessing you. Her next words not only shocked you but caused your entire being to wilt in annoyance and anxiety.

“I think it’s about time we start training you in combat. If a scrape has you in this much pain, imagine the damage a real battle would do. We can’t have you dying on us, now can we?” 

She paused, thinking for a moment before reaching her conclusion. 

“Yes… I’ll have you train with Blade. His abilities never disappoint.”

And that was how your ongoing feud with Blade began. 

When Kafka decided to pair you up with Blade, you were pissed. However, you knew she was right. If you were falling apart just from accidentally scraping yourself, how were you supposed to handle actual threats? You would be utterly useless in a fight. And if anyone managed to get past the Stellaron Hunters and attempt to harm you, you would be dead on the spot. There wouldn't be a fight, just abrupt darkness, and a very disappointing end to a life such as yours. It would shatter the hearts of Kafka and Silver Wolf, who had already sworn to protect you at any cost. As you got older, the target on your back only became bigger. With the Stellaron Hunters’ reputation becoming more notorious by the day, civilians and authorities alike were bound to find out about you. Self-defense was a necessity.

But Blade never spoke to you. You felt as though you were a nuisance to him. Just another issue to be dealt with, another soul to pester him throughout the day. The way he glared at you made you wonder if you had done something wrong, or if you were imposing by being around. He made you feel out of place. Even after thorough reassurance from Kafka and Silver Wolf that his behavior was entirely normal, you still couldn’t help but worry. It was only after several months had passed that you came to understand that it truly wasn’t you- he was just grumpy. And that began to annoy you. If he wasn’t open to being somewhat nice, then why should you bother? You could glare back just as hard, and ignore him just as easily. If that's what he was getting at, then so be it. However, Kafka was the leader of both of you, and she wanted you to train. Despite your mild hatred of Blade, Kafka already had done so much for you. She only wanted the best for you. You could at least attempt to abide by her wishes.

So you gave in and begrudgingly stated training with Blade. 

For a few hours every day, you and Blade would find any open area and he would walk you through different defense techniques. You expected the technical side of it, but you did not expect that you would be sparring right off the bat. On the first day of training, he threw you into your first match and charged at you with the assumption that you had sharp enough reflexes to block him successfully. Obviously, you weren’t at all prepared since you had zero experience with combat. Turns out Kafka really wasn’t kidding when she said Blade knew how to fight.

Lessons carried on like this for weeks. You would return from sparring exhausted and bruised, feeling completely done with everything as you limped to your room to sleep. You felt generally bitter, making it hard for Kafka or Silverwolf to help, and Blade just acted like it wasn’t his problem. The most he did was help you up, and that was only if you put up a good fight. But thankfully, after a while, Blade began to notice how badly the sparring affected you. It wasn’t like you were on the brink of death, but you were still in pain. And given your age, there was no doubt that it was a lot more overwhelming than anticipated. So Blade subtly began to take care of you a little more. It wasn’t much- he mainly just gave you icepacks whenever you needed them and helped you walk, but it was the most he knew how to do. He was clueless when it came to caring for people, especially children.

You were a persistent kid, which Blade found surprising. He thought you would have given up within the first week of training, but you just kept working at it. And while Blade found your stubborn behavior annoying most of the time, it assured him that you had enough courage to fight alongside him and the others. He knew you didn’t like him much, and he knew a part of you blamed him for the injuries you got, which was reasonable. As annoying as you found him, Blade never gave up on you, even when you messed up or got so frustrated that you cried. He never babied you during these moments either. Instead, he would walk you through what went wrong and have you run through the solution until you had it down cold. Even if you were upset, he wanted you to push through it and use your anger to become stronger. You had been fighting your whole life. You had the tenacity and potential to gain the strength that you required. Blade could tell that, even after joining them, you wanted a purpose. You wanted to explore the universe and find your place among the glowing webs of stars. However, the beauty of the galaxy came with dark and unfamiliar territory. If you were to traverse the universe, you had to learn how to handle to darkest parts of it.

Little by little, you improved. You worked as hard as possible until you were able to withstand Blade’s strength and evade his attacks properly. You had a long, long way to go before you could actually defeat opponents, but you could at least hold them off, which was just as important. Despite how grueling Blade’s teaching methods were, you did come to respect him more as your mentor. He looked out for you in his own distant ways and seemed to actually care about you. In truth, Blade had started getting protective over you- not that he would admit it. It wasn’t an overbearing kind of protectiveness- he just wanted you to stay out of trouble. It was nice to pass knowledge onto someone, and protect them from the world's dangers by doing so.

The truth was, even if Blade acted indifferently toward you, he secretly was really proud of you. He admired your kindness, even after all the pain you had been dealt. You kept smiling and picking yourself up, finding your back to the light time and time again. Perhaps that's what made you so different from him. His will to keep fighting was growing fainter by the day.

Even with your differences, you both became closer. Blade kept an eye on you whenever you left the ship, talked with you whenever you got bored, and even helped you whatever chores you had to do. Sure, you were stubborn, but Blade never grew to dislike you. Your relationship felt routine and safe- it held a sense of comfort that felt normal. Blade caught himself questioning if this was what family was meant to feel like. He couldn't remember, but a faint, distant memory assured him that it was. If he could contribute to the familial safety you longed for so much, he would gladly do so. 

Was that even possible, though?

Blade had very little experience with love of any kind. Any memories he had of his past friend and family were long gone. His own sense of self was unstable, so how could he provide stability for you? He couldn't bear the thought of causing you pain. Or, there was a chance that he would rub off on you. That you would start to become like him. That prospect was enough to make him feel sick. So he began distancing himself from you in any way he could.

Now, whenever you crossed paths he would treat you especially coldly. Most times he saw you, he walked past you and pretended you didn't exist at all. He was back to being rude and dismissive, even more so than when you first met him.

Instead of encouraging you during training, he would call you weak and pick apart everything you had done wrong. This was not received well by you. After all, you didn’t know if Blade’s behavior was your fault, or if this was just how he truly was. You felt dejected and lonely, even with the support from Kafka and Silver Wolf. Though you loved them immensely, Blade was also someone you cared about, and you didn’t want to lose another parental figure. After weeks of being ignored, hatred replaced any good image you had of him. What used to be a safe, happy friendship soon morphed into an incessant rivalry. 

It felt like Blade only wanted to see you unhappy. You imagined that he was secretly gloating over your distress- that you were nothing more than a temporary amusement to him. But you were wrong. So, so very wrong. Blade hated seeing you upset because of him. He was failing you by ignoring your wellbeing. You were just a kid. More importantly, you trusted him.

But it was for your own good, wasn’t it? His past was dark, and perhaps he was too, by nature. He would never forgive himself if he allowed harm to come to you. Even if that meant leaving you behind. No, he would much rather watch you grow up and live happily from afar. 

Kafka still wanted you to train though, so Blade couldn’t avoid you entirely. Sparring was the only time he saw you anymore. Your sessions with him were difficult, but not because the material was hard. In fact, it was harder for Blade than you. You would glare at him constantly and show complete indifference to everything, making it nearly impossible to communicate with you. He wasn’t doing much better either- he couldn’t bring himself to say anything to you. It felt like the consequences of his neglect were crawling up his back, ready to snap at him at any moment, and he knew that any day now, you would finally break. Soon, everything would fall apart.

You knew Blade was heartless, but his cruelty was amplified when you trained with him now. He went all out, forcing you to scramble for scraps of knowledge he had previously given you to win. But that wasn’t enough this time. You were too tired, physically and emotionally, to continue. You felt smaller and weaker than you had ever felt before.

Lightning-fast blows struck you from all sides, the scent of bloodstained spider lilies clouding your senses. You weakly pulled your sword out of its sheath and tried to block his attacks, but doing so would knock you off balance from the force of his blows. You fell back on the ground, coughing and clambering to your feet, promptly hurling yourself towards Blade with hopes of hitting him just once. Built-up anger from the last few weeks rushed through your heart, tears of desperation dripping down your cheeks. God, you were tired of this. Blade used to be your friend. You wanted to know what changed, and you wanted that piece of your family back.

In your fury, your reaction time fell short. Blade darted behind you and shoved you to the ground, watching coldly as you crumpled over in defeat. A glint of regret shone in his eyes, but he quickly covered it up by turning his back to you. Once more, you picked yourself up, your throat burning from the lack of a break. It must have been hours since the start of your match, but it might have just felt that way because you were the one getting injured. Never before had Blade fought you this hard. You weren’t prepared, and he knew that. You internally questioned if he was actually trying to make you despise him, albeit sarcastically. It hadn’t occurred to you yet that it might actually be the case. You shakily lifted your head to look at him, angrily mumbling something that Blade couldn’t understand.

Blade took a breath and turned around to face you, blank expression unwavering. 

“What was that?” He growled. The world seemed to fall silent as you locked your gaze with his in an act of defiance.

“I said, I hate you!”

You hated that you were crying. You hated feeling weak. You hated what he had put you through.

But you didn’t hate him. Not entirely.

You wanted to hate him fully. You wished you were strong enough to. But even then, as you wiped your tears and walked out, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him. Maybe it was the memories you had of when he felt like family, maybe it was inherent kindness or just plain stupidity. You couldn’t feel hatred. All you felt was dejection. So naturally, you began spiraling. 

If Blade didn’t want you around, there was a chance Kafka and Silver Wolf didn’t want you either. If it was possible that they secretly hated you too, you wouldn’t allow yourself to withstand their rejections as well. You might as well just get out of their way, and save yourself the trouble. It was nice feeling happy for a while. But it wasn’t what you were made for. It wasn’t how you were used to living. Perhaps this was a sign that your destiny rested in the familiar arms of solitude, away from the glowing crowds.

That night, when you returned from training, you bid Kafka and Silver Wolf goodnight and began packing your bags. When you were sure everyone had gone to sleep, you took your leave. You slipped out of the ship’s main entrance, the frigid night air numbing the uncertainty in your chest. You started walking, not sure where you were headed. You were out of practice with your usual travel routines, but that wasn’t important. As long as you were away from the Stellaron Hunters, you would be safe. Lonely, but safe. But even with your half hearted reasoning, you still felt a sinking feeling that this wasn’t right. That you might regret this. You shoved it off, cursing at yourself quietly for getting so softhearted. It was time to cut ties. It was for the best.

However, you had made one vital mistake. While preparing to leave, you had purposely left behind any photos or items given to you by Kafka, Silver Wolf, or Blade. In your rush to leave, you accidentally left behind something incredibly important to you: your mother’s necklace. 

You took it off and left it on your desk by accident. It was the last existing link between you and your biological parents and you cherished it because of that. So when Kafka found it the next morning, along with your neatly made bed and discarded photos, she knew something was very wrong. Silver Wolf burst into your room shortly after she found them, questioning Kafka about your whereabouts. She had no answer, all she could do was say she hadn’t seen you. Silver Wolf left worried and agitated, grumbling about how they had to find you. As Silver Wolf left, Blade approached your doorway with the intent of finding you for your training session, because at this point you would have been late. Gripping the necklace tightly, Kafka turned to face Blade. She knew there tension had been growing between you and him for the last month. If he was the cause of your absence, she would not let him get away unscathed.

Blade’s expression was serious, but Kafka could see the glint of confusion in his eyes. He seemed entirely clueless, so perhaps interrogating him wouldn't do much.

“There’s no sign of them anywhere on the ship,” she said softly, trying to keep her voice steady. “There’s only this.” Kafka gestured to the thin chain that lay forgotten on your desk. Dread immediately shot through Blade’s heart.

You had left.

And it was all his fault.

He neglected you. You had every right to leave. He was meant to be a guardian to you. It was his job- no, his privilege to keep you safe, and failed to do so. And now you could be anywhere in the galaxy, wandering aimlessly once again. Blade carefully took the necklace, trying to keep his composure as questions and visions of the worst raced through his mind. What if they never found you, or what if you had gotten hurt? What if it was too late, and you were already–

He didn’t allow that thought to finish itself. Catastrophizing would only slow the process of finding you. 

But would you even want to come back? Why would you, when you felt unwelcome enough to leave in the first place? And even if, by some miracle, you came back, would you ever trust him again? If you ever granted him forgiveness, would he even deserve it?

This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? That was why he pushed you away- so you would leave him alone. You were gone now, and he had gotten what he wanted. Was he truly so terrible that he would still be unhappy, even after he had achieved his desire?

It wasn't meant to go like this.

You weren't meant to leave them. It was his fault though, so maybe it was best to let you go.

Kafka’s piercing gaze bored into the side of Blade's head as she watched the gears turning inside his head. She took a short breath before heading towards the door. She was scared of losing you, and angry that they hadn’t noticed your absence until now. There was no time for emotions such as anger. You were missing. They had to find you.

Blade stood in the center of your room, now entirely alone. The metal of your necklace dug into his skin as he clutched onto it for dear life, his eyes falling to the pictures on your bed. You seemed so happy before. So did Kafka and Silver Wolf- he was happy too, though he was reluctant to admit it out loud. He had broken the loving family you had brought together. A strange family, but a family nonetheless. 

Blade kept staring. He wished he could go out looking for you. Unfortunately, wishes are not reality.

Blade would not search for you that day. He would be chained to where he stood, fighting with himself internally as time slipped by quietly. You could have died already. And he was just standing there, staring.

No, he would not look for you.

Because the truth cannot be denied, nor masked with excuses- in the end, Blade is a cruel man.

One who cannot be changed by anything.

[rainydayathogwarts]

Suspicions - Spencer Reid

wc: 600 ish Summary: Spencer finally outs his and reader's relationship to the team, who inevitably already knew about it.

It wasn't as though Spencer was a public person. In fact, when it came to his coworkers, he was quite the opposite. Since you were always with each other, why not have some aspect of your life to yourselves? But when it came to him being sat in a vehicle that Hotch was driving whilst you and Morgan were in the unsub's house all alone, there was nothing he wanted to do more than yell at his boss to go faster because the love of his life was in danger.

He had been there before, he knew the risks, and he wasn't about to let the same mistake happen to you. Spencer sat silently, his eyes trained on Rossi who sat in the passenger's seat, tuning out Emily's voice on the phone with Garcia. Spencer's fingers uncontrollably tapped against his thigh, his thoughts racing a hundred miles per second. The second Hotch parked the car, Spencer had his gun by his side and was running into the house, despite Hotch's cry for him to stay put. Three pairs of footsteps followed him; Hotch, Rossi and Prentiss, who had his back regardless of his reckless action.

The house was eerily silent which had Spencer's heart beating increasingly fast. "Back door's open!" Emily called, and Spencer spun on his heels to find her sprinting out the open door. He followed her suit. Him, Prentiss, Rossi and Hotch stopped when they lost track of the footsteps, looking around the empty plane to see where you could possibly be.

The sound of tackling followed by a scream perked their ears up. Your scream.

They all hurriedly followed the sound, where they found you on top of the unsub, holding him down as you cuffed him in spite of his lack of consciousness. Spencer ignored Derek, who was crouched down on the floor, hand on what looked like a man made gravestone, instead rushing over to you as you rolled off the man. You let out a tired sigh, but your attention was caught by your boyfriend who was running towards you before falling onto his knees in front of you to grab your jaw and press his soft lips to yours.

You let out a squeak of surprise, but shut your eyes, hands coming up to grip Spencer’s shirt, poking out from underneath his bullet-proof vest and deepening the kiss slightly. You broke the kiss, leaning your forehead against your boyfriends, opening your mouth to say “He bit me.” Spencer shot away from you, eyes immediately searching for where the unsub hurt you, but you were too busy noticing the looks from your coworkers. Hotch was trying to hide his smile, looking away from you and Spencer when your eyes widened and your jaw went slack as though you were trying to find some excuse to tell. He shook his head, walking towards Derek, who had a wide grin on his face despite the situation. Emily and Rossi similar looks on their faces and Emily walked over to you, patting you on the shoulder and stating “About time! It’s been what, a year of you guys dating behind our backs?” 

At her words, Spencer looked up from your forearm that he was gripping, looking at the nasty bite mark which had started to bleed, his face going a dark shade of red. “You knew?” They all hummed in unison, Rossi adding “We had our suspicions but they were confirmed when we saw you guys kissing in the parking lot about two months later.”

Then Morgan's amused "... God, I have to tell Garcia."

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Lets go! Winter soldier!bucky goes on a mission with y/n, it is her first mission. Hydra is obviously sick for taking in you, a easily startled teen. winter soldier orders her to stay in Hydra's vehicles because he doesn't want y/n to get hurt<3 You kept hearing about him at Hydra, of course you would want to stay next to him and try to not look weak!

This might not be the type of requests you usually receive, please tell me in case you're not okay with it. Have a great week!

Trying To Protect You » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Winter Soldier x Teen!Female Reader

Summary: You go on your first mission with the Winter Soldier, but he’s trying to protect you at the same time.

Warnings: Fluff, language, HYDRA, violence, brief mention of blood, use of nicknames

Age of reader: 16 years old

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anonymous person who requested this🩵 also I imagined this took place during Captain America: The Winter Soldier.

A/N #2: This is different from what I normally write so I decided to give it a try. I used Google translate for the Russian translations. I apologize if I got anything wrong.

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators. I found it on Pinterest.

You jumped at the sound of your cell’s door opening. Brock Rumlow walks in your cell and grabbed your bicep with a bruising grip, pulling you up from your spot on the bed.

“Wh-Where are you taking me?” You asked him nervously.

“Pierce wants to talk to you.” Brock says.

Brock takes you to the room where they do experiments on you, forcing you to sit down in the chair. Brock went to strap your arms and legs down to the chair, but Pierce stopped him.

“Restraints aren’t necessary this time.” Pierce says.

Brock nodded and stepped off to the side. You nervously looked up at Pierce, waiting for him to tell you why you’re there.

“As you know, your skills have been improving since the day you got here, fighting wise.” Pierce approaches you and crouches down in front of you. “From what I understand, you’ve made a great impression on the Winter Soldier. He told me that he’s impressed with your skills, but I’m sure he told you that.” He says.

You nodded your head, waiting for him to continue.

“So I’ve been thinking…” He stood up straight and took a couple steps back from you. “You’re ready for your first mission.” He says.

“Really?” You asked.

“Yes. You’re joining the Winter Soldier on his mission.” Pierce tells you and began walking towards the door. “You’re leaving in a half hour.” He says before the door closed behind him.

You sat there for a moment, thinking about what you’ve heard about the Winter Soldier. You know that he’s one of HYDRA’s best assassins and he has a metal arm for a left arm. He’s also the one who’s been training you. Your thoughts were interrupted when a HYDRA agents gave you a mission suit to put on, along with combat boots. Another agent put a bullet proof vest on you. Then you followed the agents out to the vehicles. You smiled when you seen the Winter Soldier as you got in one of the vehicles. He nodded at you as he got in the vehicle, sitting next to you. Moments later, the Winter Soldier and other agents got out of the vehicles. You were following suit, but you were stopped by the Winter Soldier.

“Stay in the car.” He says.

“But-” The Winter Soldier shut the car door before you could get another word out.

You sighed and watched from the tinted car window. Your senses were telling you that you should be out there helping him. You know you should obey his orders and stay in the car, but he’s part of your team and you need to help him. You opened the center console and found a gun and bullets. You loaded the gun and got out of the vehicle. You located a target at shot at him, but missed. An agent turned around and seen you. He went to walk towards you, but the Winter Soldier stopped him.

“Я получил ее.” The Winter Soldier said to the agent in Russian.

He gently grabbed your arm and pulled you to the side.

“I told you to stay in the car.” He says sternly.

“I know, but my senses told me that you needed help.” You said honestly and looked down, feeling ashamed.

“I get that you’re just going with what your senses are telling you, but I don’t want you to get hurt.” He says.

You opened your mouth to say something when a bullet came flying towards you two. The Winter Soldier grabbed you with his metal arm and held you against him while using his right hand to shoot at whoever shot the bullet at the two of you. The sound of the gun going off startled you. Your hands grasped onto his tactical vest, holding it tightly.

“This is the reason why I told you to stay in the car.” He says.

“Ok, but Pierce said this is my mission too and I intend on helping you.” You say.

He sighed, not wanting to argue with you.

“Fine, but you stay by my side, understand?” He says.

“I understand, Soldat.” You say.

You kept your word and stood by him. Maybe you weren’t as ready for a mission as you thought, because you jumped almost every time you heard a loud noise that wasn’t a gun. The Winter Soldier noticed how jumpy you were and grabbed your arm, running away from the scene. He took you to an alley where it was calmer and quieter for you.

“I’m going to say something and I want you to listen, ok?” He says.

You looked at him and nodded your head.

“When we go back out there, I want you to get back in the car where it’s safer. That’s an order, soldier.” He says.

“But-” You stopped talking when he gave you the look, the dad look. “Yes, Bucky.” You mumbled, loud enough for him to hear.

You’re the only person in HYDRA who calls him Bucky. You learned his name your first year after being kidnapped by HYDRA.

“I don’t want you to get hurt.” Bucky puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I also want what’s best for you. Do you understand?” He says softly.

“Yes, I understand.” You say.

He poked his head out from the alley, making sure the coast is clear for you to go straight to one of the vehicle.

“Coast is clear. Follow me.” Bucky says.

You followed closely behind him. You still jumped at the noises, but you were fine as long as you were close to Bucky. He opened the car door and you got in the vehicle. You turned around to see him holding his hand out.

“Give me the gun.” Bucky says.

You pouted and handed him the gun. He continued to hold his hand out and gave you the dad stare.

“I know you have extra bullets and don’t even try to lie and say you don’t.” He says.

You sighed and got the extra bullets out of your pocket and put the bullets in his hand, still pouting cause you want to help him.

“Soldiers don’t pout.” Bucky states. “If you want to help me, you can look out the window and keep an eye out for me, ok?” He says, trying to reason with you.

“Ok.” You say quietly.

Bucky kissed your forehead and closed the car door, going back to the mission. As you were keeping an eye out from your position in the car, everything looked like it was going smoothly. That was until a bullet shot through the front windshield. You screamed and covered your head, ducking to the car floor. Bucky’s enhanced hearing picked up your scream and he immediately ran to the car, opening the car door and seen you shaking on the car floor.

“Hey, you’re ok.” He says softly.

You uncovered your head and looked up, seeing Bucky. You practically launched yourself into his arms. Bucky securely wrapped his arms around you and pulled you out of the car. He gently put your feet on the ground and grabbed your hand, quickly taking you somewhere safe.

“Are you hurt?” Bucky asks, checking you for obvious injuries.

“No. I’m just shaken up is all.” You tell him.

Bucky’s facial expression softens when he seen a cut on your forehead with blood coming out of it, making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked confused.

Bucky continued to look at the cut on your forehead, making sure it’s not deep. You reached your hand up to your forehead and felt something wet.

“Am I bl-bleeding?!” You asked, beginning to freak out.

“Just a little bit.” He says as he continues to examine it.

You took your hand off your forehead and seen blood in your hand, making your eyes widen.

“Hey, look at me.” He coos. “You’re going to be fine.” He says softly.

“But I’m bleeding.” You say.

“Yes you are, but you’re going to get patched up when we get back to base.” He says.

Bucky pulled you in for a hug to calm your nerves which helped a lot. After a moment, he pulled away from the hug, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“You ready to go back out there?” Bucky asks.

“Yes.” You nodded. “Let go kick some ass!” You say.

Bucky gave you the dad look once again when you said a curse word. He doesn’t like it when you say curse words.

“Sorry.” You mumbled.

Bucky just chuckled and shrugged it off. He pulled a gun out of the holster, loading it with bullets and gave it to you.

“Stay by me and shoot when I say to, got it?” He says.

“Yes, Bucky.” You answered.

“Alright. Let’s get back out there, doll.” He says with a smile and patted your shoulder.

After the mission, you were dreading what Pierce was going to say or do to you. You were looking down at your feet as you were walking past him, but he stopped you in your tracks by grabbing your arm and pulled you towards him, making you stumble.

“Mission Report, soldier.” Pierce commands, looking down at you.

“Successful.” You inform him, lying through your teeth.

“I hope you’re telling the truth cause you know the consequences.” He says.

“Yes, sir.” You say.

“You’re dismissed.” He let go of your arm. “Rumlow, escort her to her cell.” He says.

Brock nodded and grabbed your bicep with a bruising grip like he did earlier and escorted you to your cell. He shoved you in your cell, making you trip over your own feet and fall. Luckily you landed on the bed and not the hard concrete floor. You got cleaned up and changed. You sat on the bed, holding your knees against your chest. You jumped at the sound of the cell door open and close. You relaxed when you seen Bucky. Bucky sneaks in your cell to keep you company when he’s able to.

“Hey, kid.” Bucky says, taking a seat on the bed in front of you.

“Hey, Bucky.” You say quietly, loud enough for him to hear.

“How’re you feeling after your first mission?” He asks.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged your shoulders. “What’s there to feel?” You say.

Bucky nodded in agreement.

“I want you to understand something.” He starts. “When I give you orders during future mission, I expect you to follow through with them. I don’t want you to get hurt.” He says.

“Ok. I’ll listen better next time.” You say understandingly.

Bucky smiles and patted the bed next to him. You moved closer to him and he wrapped his arms around you, giving you a loving hug.

“I also want you to understand that I’m trying to protect you.” He says, kissing the top of your head.

“I understand.” You looked up at him. “Thank you for protecting me.” You say with a smile.

“You’re welcome, kiddo.” Bucky smiles down at you. “Get some sleep. You need it after the day you had.” He says.

You snuggled yourself against his side, slowly falling asleep. Knowing that Bucky is there to protect you made it easier for you to fall asleep. By the end of the day, Bucky just wants what’s best for you.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

Howdy, going through a phase with COD men (König my 6'10 BBG) and they would make such good Yandere husbands, would it be okay to request a Yandere military man who's completely delusional about a hostage he rescued? knife play and being stepped on with a tactical boot would be a bonus <3

btw the way you write dark content scratches such a specific itch and makes me want to wail, the yandere pirate story was *chef Kissssssss*

Honestly, the only thing I know about COD is that I kick ass at zombies lol so this is definitely just an oc

Yandere!Military Man x Hostage!Reader

CW: non-con, mention of death, assault, delusional ideation, dehumanizing language, dead dove

"Esteemed journalist (Reader L/N) has gone missing while covering the.."

The radio was drowned out by the vehicle hitting a rock, earning an aggravated groan from one of the men. Angrily, he slammed his fist on the dash board, as though he could intimidate the radio into working better. A couple of his brothers chuckled while the rookie squirmed nervously in his seat.

"Fucking, shit ass-" Adrian "Clank" Muigg muttered, quietly releasing a stream of curses in a very thick accent towards the machine.

(Most nicknames in the military were neither cool, nor had a badass backstory, most had fairly humorous or demeaning origins; Muigg, fresh out of boot camp, murdered an innocent television set in an attempt to fix it, which changed his name from "Big Bastard" to "Clank".)

The youngest man there prayed he wasn't visibly sweating. "Is everything alright, sir?"

Boston, the bushy browed man at the wheel, laughed with his entire chest. "That radio lady's talking 'bout the love of Clank's life!"

Clank felt the back of his neck heat up, and had to redirect his anger into tapping his foot to prevent himself from whacking Boston.

"I didn't know you had a partner?"

"He don't! HA! It's a one-sided, puppy love!" Boston joyfully mocked his best mate. "He's got that reporter-person's picture 'bove his bed, and has every article they've ever written. It's very sweet!"

Bright blue eyes warned Boston of the danger he was playing with, but Boston payed him no mind, causing more anxiety in the new recruit.

It was true, however, that Clank had a star struck crush on the journalist. They were brave in a way Clank hadn't seen before, the kind of bravery that made an unarmed civilian put their life in danger to expose the world to the horrors of war. This wasn't the first warzone (Reader) had willingly gone into, but it was the first time their mission overlapped with Clank's.

They were covering the battle Clank was involved in.

And it enraged him.

While their bravery is what initially drew him to them and their work, the longer he followed (Reader) the harder it got for him to read about the danger they got into. Weren't they fearful for their own life?? Why didn't they care for themselves as much as he cared for them??

The nearly six foot eight man had fantasized many times about what he would say and do if he got the opportunity to meet (Reader). He had an entire monologue prepared that exemplified his adoration for their work without ousting himself as a borderline obsessive fanboy.

However, that entire speech was forgotten when Clank burst into the room three hostages were being held in after killing the hostiles within the building, and found himself face to face with (Reader) in the flesh.

They stood defiantly, arms outstretched to protect the two other reporters behind them, not even wearing a bullet proof vest, ready to sacrifice themselves to save their coworkers.

Clank lowered his weapon, numbed by the sudden influx of confusing, and conflicting, emotions.

He was hurt, because he finally got to meet (Reader), and they were prepared for him to kill them.

He was enamored, because even with dirt clogging their pores, hair matted with sweat and drying blood, skin bruising and swollen, they were still the single most radiant being he had ever laid eyes upon.

And he was angry. Why wasn't (Reader) cowering like a good little civilian? Didn't they know that they could die? Why didn't they care about their life?

"I'm here to rescue you." Clank's voice was robotic, and unattached. It didn't feel like he was the one saying it, as the three frightened adults relaxed, scrambling over to his side. "Follow me."

He watched his object of affection as they obliviously helped lead the other two hostages down the stairs to the military vehicle. Their right eye was nearly swollen shut, but they were supporting a grown ass man with a slight limp. Clank imagined blowing the man's brains out.

As they made it down to where the group could see Clank's team, (Reader) released their friend and attempted to go back up the stairs. Still experiencing his out of body conundrum, Clank grabbed their arm forcefully, hard enough to earn a yelp from his favorite celebrity.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" He seethed, hissing the question between his clenched teeth to prevent himself from screaming it. The other two greedily ran outside to Boston's embrace, leaving them alone in the building.

"My footage, they kept it upstairs." Professional as always, the diligent champion of justice kept calm despite the feeling as though their arm would snap in Clank's fist.

"That is not important!"

"You don't know what I saw! It is, and I need the evidence, the proof, of what I saw!"

"Clank, where are you?" Boston's voice on Clank's radio distracted him enough for (Reader) to snake out of his grasp, bolting back up into the building.

"Shit-!" He pulled out his walkie as he ran up behind the surprisingly quick journalist. "Everything's good, I'll be down in a few minutes, start taking the others back."

"Uh, no? Excuse me-"

"That's an order."

"Clank-"

"I said; that's an order."

The violently pissed off man holstered his radio as he charged up the stairs three steps at a time.

His precious (Reader) had taken it too far this time.

Even if they didn't care about their own life, he cared. He loved them, adored them, worshipped them, so how fucking dare they continuously put their life in danger like this?

If they were to be wed one day, their life would be his. And that was downright disrespectful.

(Reader) could be heard rifling through cabinets and cupboards through the door of the first room on the floor above the one they were held prisoner on. Clank attempted to cool his rage before entering, wishing to not scare his future spouse again.

Glancing up only briefly, the adult of smaller stature offered a meak smile before going back to searching. "I'm sorry for that.. I don't mean to make your job difficult, but this is really important. We almost died for this footage; hell, LeDoux had his knee cracked open by one of those- his knee must be killing him."

-almost died-

-almost died-

Their words repeating in Clank's eardrums played over the exclamation of (Reader) finding their equipment. (Reader) almost died, for what? Nothing was more important than their life.

"I'm sorry?" Bloodshot eyes stared wide with confusion from under pursed eyebrows.

Without realizing it, Clank had spoken his thoughts out loud. But, perhaps this was for the best. They would have to learn the truth sooner or later. "Nothing is worth your life." He doubled down as he slowly approached (Reader).

It took a lot more energy forcing himself to smile than he wanted. Clank had never been so stressed or angry or conflicted in his entire life.

"That isn't for you to say." Sharp words responded with a huff, thrusting the camera into a duffel bag.

Clank released a humorless laugh. "You are like a small dog, aren't you, my dear?" His muscles were tensing under his uniform, and although (Reader) couldn't see it, they could feel the dangerous shift in his mannerisms. "You do not know of the danger you are in, so you bark loudly."

Although a pit of fear weighed down their stomach, the much weaker of the two hid it well, scoffing, and moving to stroll past Clank, praying that he was bluffing.

A harsh slap to their cheek confirmed that he was being serious, sending the already injured (Reader) to the floor.

Before they could scramble to their feet, a heavy, steel toed boot was placed firmly on their chest, pressing the air out of their lungs.

(Reader) could feel the blood rush to their head as they struggled to breath.

Clawing at Clank's shin and calf didn't move him.

"It is not your fault, that you are such a little dog. But, like all little dogs, you must be trained. Yes?"

Not a single word could be uttered. Black spots bounced around (Reader's) vision.

Clank eased up on the pressure just enough for oxygen to fill his love's deprived lungs. Between coughs and sputters, (Reader) only got out "Stop-" before his heel was digging into their sternum again.

"Tsk tsk tsk.. Now, I don't want to do this, but I have to. For us. So you must obey me, little puppy. Now, what do dogs say?"

(Reader) glared up at him in pain and hatred, sneering as angry tears welled up in their puffy eyes.

"Woof.." The pitiful bark was spat out.

"Ah ah ah." He wagged a finger at them in a chastising fashion. "Be nice, little puppy." His weight increased warningly, squeezing out a pained cry.

".. Woof."

Seeing the person Clank had loved for the past four years under his boot, writhing, flushed in the face, glistening eyes staring up at him and only him.. Clank could feel himself stiffening, and it disturbed him. Why did seeing his beloved cry in pain give him a hard on?

No, it is not because they are crying in pain.

Clank smiled, warping the situation to rationalize his hard cock pressing against his zipper. It was that they were being obedient for him.

Another cry rang out, louder this time, as Clank accidentally put too much weight on (Reader's) ribcage, lost in thought while admiring their pathetic face.

He got off, kneeling down so (Reader) wouldn't think about trying to get up. They got the message, and continued lying, grasping their chest and breathing raggedly.

"Good dog." Clank ran a hand through their hair. "You will listen to what I say, won't you?"

"Ye- ...woof." Their words quivered in shame.

"Good. Now, get on your knees."

(Reader) bit their tongue with how quickly their mouth clamped shut. It was humiliating, but their chest hurt so badly.. They rolled over, propping themselves up onto their hands and knees.

Their resolve to do as Clank said to avoid more pain was immediately forgotten when they felt his large hands tug at their pants.

"What are you doing?" They yelled in fright, whipping their head back to look at him before having their skull smashed into the floor, holding them down.

"Training, remember? For someone known for their intelligence, you sure are a moron. Bark, bitch."

Tears mixed in with snot, as (Reader) snarled "Fuck you!"

Clank removed his hand from their soft hair to firmly grasp their hips with both of his hands, pulling (Reader) onto his dick. "Incorrect."

"No!" (Reader) screamed, feeling Clank's bare member as it entered them painfully all in one thrust without lubrication. As they cried out, a slap to their ass rang out through the nearly empty room.

"What do dogs say?"

"Fuck you!" Another painful slap left a welt that would certainly bruise.

"You want to act like a bitch, putting your life in danger as though it doesn't matter, you're going to be treated like a bitch!" Clank raised his voice, terrifying his victim. "Now, what do dogs say?"

Slap!

"Woof.."

Slap!

"Woof! Woof! Bark!" They barked between viciously sobbing, heaving as he ravaged them from behind, fucking them so hard that their entire body rocked forward dangerously. The only reason why they hadn't fallen face first into the cement flooring was Clank's right hand digging painfully into their pelvis.

Whereas for (Reader) this was a nightmare, joy was already melting away Clank's anger.

"See, this will be better, for both of us. When we get back, you'll quit your job, and I can finally take care of you."

His thrusting became more passionate, and (Reader) could feel his precum as he began to slide in and out more easily. "I've dreamt of this for so long, and now I will finally be yours: whether as your husband or as your owner."

That triggered (Reader's) fight or fight response, realizing what Clank was implying. They attempted to throw themselves forward, to scramble away while he was still inside of them.

A strong arm caught (Reader) easily. Their spine was bent backwards, holding the attempted escapee in a head lock with a knife pressed to their throat as Clank continued stretching out their hole.

Despite their desperate pleas, their new fiance held (Reader) still on his cock as he released inside of them, going drunk on the way their walls felt clenching him as they milked him dry.

Eyes hazy with lust, he kissed their jaw, still keeping the knife held firmly against their neck just in case.

"Good dog."

A/N: I'm sorry it took so long! Thank you so much for your patience, I hope you like it ❤️

[matan4il]

Update post:

Today, there was an attempted terrorist attack at the Meggido junction in Israel. The hammer-wielding terrorist was thankfully caught before he managed to carry out his planned crime. He's 17 years old, and you can bet the anti-Israel crowd will use his age as "proof" that Israel arrests and jails kids, without mentioning what these minors are being imprisoned for, instead of condemning those who brainwash children into carrying out terrorist attacks. Just one reminder out of many such attacks, in 2018 a 17 years old Palestinian terrorist killed a 45 years old Israeli man, so please no one pretend like minors are harmless, or ignore that when teenagers commit harmful crimes in other countries, they're arrested there, too.

It was obvious that some people have made up their minds about the incident with the WCK workers even before the investigation started, so I expect its conclusions will get perverted and ignored, too.

That same anti-Israel crowd will also ignore (unless they'll use it as ammunition against the Jewish state, by actually claiming that Israel, a nation still reeling from the genocide of Jews, and the continued killing of its citizens by antisemitic terrorists, is intentionally killing its own, because there's just no cartoon villain crime they don't think they can pin on the Jewish state) the fact that there's another IDF investigation that's been released today, which said Efrat Katz was accidentally killed by a helicopter rocket while trying to stop the Hamas terrorists who were kidnapping her into Gaza. The helicopter pilot didn't realize at the time that there were hostages in the car as well, this was only deduced later, from the testimonies of other people kidnapped by Hamas. In other words, as horrific as this truth is, accidents do happen during war. The worst, most tragic ones, and we can't undo them, no matter how much we want to. But they happen to every army, and are not actual evidence of intentional killings, or intentional war crimes. Just like someone having been killed is in general not enough to prove a murder took place.

This is 68 years old Efrat Katz.

The WCK incident report is now out, and I am linking the source publication, so that no possible bias can be attributed to re-phrasing by journalists from any side.

As was the initial impression (for those who don't simply want to believe in every evil, dehumanizing lie about Israel), it turned out to be a tragic accident, that entailed many factors, first and foremost misidentification, in part due to Hamas. As I've pointed out more than once, Hamas steals humanitarian aid. Due to this, the WCK operation had hired armed guards to protect it from looting. Tragically, one armed guard was identified without question on one of the WCK's trucks, and was mistaken for a Hamas terrorist, while at least one other armed terrorist was also identified and thought to be in the convoy's private cars. The vehicles did have the WCK sticker on their roofs, but at night, that wasn't visible to the IDF soldiers. Since the whole convoy was misidentified, the drone fired more than once at more than one vehicle, but this is linked to the same single mistaken identification. It means that even though this shouldn't have happened, the soldiers who fired at the convoy really did believe they were targeting terrorists, which is their mission.

The IDF has expressed sorrow over this incident more than once, has taken responsibility, has conducted an investigation, and following its results, two high ranking officers have been removed from their posts, and two more were severely reprimanded, which means this will be in their file forever, and will influence any future decisions made about their service.

This is 72 years old Nadjda Astreks.

She lives in the southern town of Ofakim with her husband, Alexnder. In the above photo, she's pointing to the bullet holes in her kitchen, left by the terrorists on Oct 7. The couple don't have a bomb shelter in their own home, so they had to go out to a public one when the rocket attack began at 6:30 in the morning. When they returned, is when the terrorists shooting at the buildings began, and the confused couple didn't know what to think or do at first. They went out, and saw the girl from across the street falling. Alexander approached her, only to see a pool of blood, and realize that she had been shot to death. A soldier who was running in the direction of the terrorists told them to go back to the neighborhood bomb shelter, where they ended up hiding for hours, without food and water, or proper toilettes, without knowing what's going on outside for a big part of that. It was fellow residents from their neighborhood who faced the terrorists and saved the people there, but the first ambulance for the injured was only able to make it there at three in the afternoon. Nadjda said that even much later, she's still having trouble eating, whenever she thinks of everything that happened on the day of the massacre.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[starlightvld]

Bait & Switch, pt. 8

<< Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 >>

Based on "I wasn't in that tunnel."

Call of Duty, soapghost // CW: Hurt/Comfort, MWIII spoilers

---

Tensions are high as Price backs out of the garage. Ghost keeps his body loose and his eyes moving as the outside world comes into view. The windows are tinted and the vehicle bullet-proof, but that won't stop heavy artillery.

They'll need to be vigilant.

Price drives carefully, weaving between buildings in the small Eastern European city that Ghost doesn't even know the name of. Hell, he's not even sure what bloody country they're in anymore. Ghost keeps his eyes on the buildings silhouetted by the dawn light, sweeping for broken-out windows or long barrels sticking over the edges of rooftops. 

Soon enough, though, they leave the town behind, replacing sidewalks and buildings with open fields and clumps of occasional forests. Ghost lets the tension seep away slowly. He stays vigilant, but as they continue on with no sign of pursuit, he lets his mind wander back to the way Johnny had looked when he shoved his gun into Ghost's hand — too wild-eyed, too frightened, and just... wrong. Wrong in the same ways these past three years have been wrong.

It will take time for Johnny to recover, but the reality is that the brash, cocky side of his sergeant is likely gone forever. Not that it makes much of a difference to Ghost. Johnny is alive and back in his arms. He doesn't really give a fuck about anything else.

They drive for several hours before stopping to fill up at a small station. He, Soap, and Gaz duck down in the back to make sure they aren't seen through the open doors. Laswell pays well in the local currency, which the station attendant seems to appreciate, and they move on down the road. They're only on the road for a few minutes, though, before Laswell lets out a vicious curse and murmurs something to Price. As they make a hard turn down a dusty road, Ghost sees the reason for Laswell's displeasure through the side window.

A border checkpoint in the distance.

"That's not supposed to be there, I take it," Gaz says in a tense tone.

"Nope," Laswell replies. "We'll find another way through."

They pass three more checkpoints before Laswell calls a halt. She pulls up her laptop and begins scanning a satellite map. After a few minutes of tense silence, she disconnects and directs them to a dirt track a few miles down the road.

"We're off-roading it, boys. Better buckle up if you aren't already."

Trees rise up around them, branches scraping along the sides of the car as they bounce over the eroded trail. With another turn, they begin a slow descent. Price dodges a young tree growing in the middle of the track, losing his side mirror in the process. Ghost holds on to Soap as the car bounces around, throwing them into each other despite the tight hold of their locked seatbelts. His stitches protest the violent movement, but there's nothing to be done about it.

The border is protected by nothing but a fence with a gate cut in it, which they assume the locals sometimes use to avoid the check points as well. They pass through and get tossed around a bit more as they drive over more barely-there dirt tracks. Finally, the brush falls back to the sides, and at the intersection of another trail, it evens out into a more well-used dirt road.

"We're through," Laswell murmurs. "Just keep driving west for now."

The roads gradually widen and become more well-maintained, though they stay on the back roads for another few hours. The next gas station sits at a barren crossroads and doesn't have an attendant, though the rustic pumps hum to life when Price picks up the nozzle and lifts the lever. A sign written in Polish in the nearby shack says to leave the money inside, so they fill up, leave the correct change, and continue on their way, this time with Gaz behind the wheel again. By the time they merge back onto a proper highway, the sun is setting.

Still, Laswell keeps them moving. Johnny falls asleep on his shoulder.

The sun sets fully, but it isn't until Ghost notices the signs have switched to German that he begins to relax. Signs count down the kilometers to Berlin until they finally pull into another garage in a small neighborhood on the outskirts of the city.

"I've got a contact here," Laswell tells them as they file into the surprisingly roomy safehouse. "He's trustworthy, and he can get us to Mexico. It'll be a while, though, so we're going to hole up again."

Ghost just nods. Mexico means Alejandro and Rudy, people they can trust and who have the resources to protect and counter attack. He fucking hates Mexico for so many reasons, but if that's where Johnny will be safe, he'll take it. It'll be nice to see the Vaqueros again, too. They've been on a few missions together since Johnny was... taken, but nothing long term.

As they gather in the kitchen off the garage, Soap sways on his feet. He's been napping on and off all day, but his eyes are bloodshot, and he looks one strong wind away from falling over. Ghost wraps an arm around his waist, and Soap leans into him.

"One room downstairs, three rooms up," Laswell says as she quirks an eye at Ghost.

As much as he wants to take the downstairs room for Johnny's sake, tactically, it makes more sense for one of the uninjured, such as Price or Gaz, to be their first line of defense. When he says as much, Price nods.

"I'll take the downstairs. I assume you two are good to share?"

"Yes," Johnny says a little too quickly.

Ghost hides his smile behind his mask as usual. He nods to the others and leads Johnny upstairs. He finds the room with the biggest bed, curls around Soap's shivering body under the heavy blankets, and lets himself drift away.

---

The next few days are much like their days in the first safe house, though this time they have more space. Ghost exercises as much as his wound allows while keeping an eye on Johnny, helping him through the withdrawal. The hallucinations scare him, but Johnny hasn't once lashed out or otherwise seen Ghost as anyone but Ghost. He takes it as a good sign.

It's becoming more difficult to keep his hands to himself, though. Every night, as they press together, Johnny's head on his chest or Ghost's buried in the crook of his neck, he thinks of kissing Johnny, of sliding a hand lower, of hearing those soft moans of pleasure he's been missing for years. Despite the mistreatment, Johnny's body is still beautiful, and Ghost wants. 

And yet Johnny deserves time to heal before Ghost pushes his own feelings on him. What kind of a partner would he be if he pushed for something while Johnny was still in the throws of withdrawal?

So he aims for comforting when they share a bed — and wanks in the shower every chance he gets.

Four days after their arrival, Laswell's contact picks them up and drives them to a small airport two hours south of Berlin. They are ushered into a small plane and presented with new clothes, including hats, glasses, and fake passports. They change clothes in the plane on the way Paris, where another jet is waiting to take them to Mexico.

It's not until Ghost sees Alejandro's severe expression as he approaches them at the airport that Ghost thinks to be cautious. Ale steps up to Soap and scans his face as if searching for something.

"Alejandro," Soap says by way of greeting as he holds out his hand. "Good to see you again, mi hermano."

"Dios mio," Ale whispers, eyes wide.

Ghost is about to step between them when Ale suddenly slaps Soap's hand aside and grabs him up into a fierce hug. There's a lot of pounding of backs and coughing to cover the crying, but Ghost lets his muscles untense as Ale murmurs how good it is to see Soap alive and well. Over Soap's shoulder, he gives Ghost a nod.

Ghost nods back.

"Come, my friends!" Ale says as he pulls back from Soap, though he keeps an arm around his shoulders. "Let's get back to base and figure out our next steps, eh?"

---

The base is even more highly secured than the last time they were there. It takes two major checkpoints and dozens of guarded doors before Ale leads them into a building in the middle of the base. Rudy is waiting for them inside the conference room, and he goes through much the same process as Alejandro, taking a moment to really look at Soap... and then grabbing him up in a tight hug.

"It's a miracle," Ale murmurs. "Do you know how it was done?"

"Some kinda serum," Ghost says. "Laswell knows more, I think."

Sure enough, as they quiet down and Laswell begins speaking, it's clear she's been busy the last couple of weeks. She's narrowed the traitors down to three of the seven generals on the multinational council that replaced Shepherd.

"I can't be sure, but intel points to all three of them being involved to some degree." She clicks forward a slide and three pictures come on screen. "Generals Havisham, Dinly, and Patel have had dealings with the supposed 'supersoldier' serum, though it's possible Dinly isn't aware of who they're truly working with to develop the serum. I've received confirmation that all seven generals will be detained on our mark, just in case."

"So... what's the plan, then?" Alejandro asks. "Are we moving against Makarov directly?"

Laswell looks at Ghost.

No. She looks at Soap, who is standing directly in front of Ghost, back pressed to his front.

A chill runs down Ghost's spine.

Laswell's gaze does flick to Ghost's for a brief moment before she looks at Ale. "We'll be setting a trap. Soap is the bait."

"No."

The word is out of Ghost's mouth before he can stop it, an arm circling around Johnny's shoulders to crush him against his chest.

"We're just spreading the rumor that he's there," Laswell says. "When Makarov shows up to collect his wayward experiment, we'll be there instead."

Ghost relaxes a bit, though a sick, curdling feeling in his gut tells him to keep his guard up. The meeting continues, planning the location, the angles, the coverage. Ghost listens with half an ear, but his focus is on Johnny.

On the soft breaths that waft over his arm where it rests on his collarbone.

On the desperate grip curling around the meat of his forearm.

On that strange, sick feeling that only grows more pronounced with every word from Laswell's mouth. 

He trusts her. He does. But he also trusts that she'll do what's necessary for the greater good. And that Johnny will go along with it if he thinks it's the right thing to do.

So he listens. He watches. And he makes a few plans of his own.

---

<< Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 >>

[violetpixiedust]

thinking about being the object of gator’s desires, and knowing it. gator travels solo to minnesota to stake out nadine for roy, and ends up in the city well past the family’s bedtime. he’s dressed low key for once. tight black tee, black leather jacket, black jeans, black combat boots. however, he does have his sheriff grade handgun hidden in the inner pocket of his jacket, on the account of having been trained to never put trust in the people around him.

gator mimics a fly on the wall as he crosses state lines. no bullet proof vest, no camo pants, no thigh holster, no large white lettering indicating “sheriff” across his shoulder blades and right pec. he wasn’t that man in minnesota. he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be that man at all sometimes..

he’s stalking the streets in his shiny black truck, scoping out the places the family would inevitably roam tomorrow. wayne’s dealership, scottie’s elementary school, the local grocery store nadine would shop at. the wheels below him grind against the salt ridden roads before he comes to a rolling stop, noticing the first parking spot large enough for his vehicle for miles. peering around, gator realizes he’s made it to downtown. a loud laugh turns his attention towards the opposite side of the street, watching as three boys shuffle out of a dimly lit bar. rosy cheeked from boos rather than the nipping wind, accompanied by the fluffy snowflakes currently falling from the night sky.

gator takes a breath, watching it leave him from the sudden temperature drop. he gets in quite easily, flashing his license to the nonchalant bouncer out front, and again begrudgingly to the hipster looking man behind a small podium. he’s quickly given a seat at the end of the bar, past the long counter and at the end of the curve, secluded and away from rambunctious laughter and awkward first dates. the establishment is narrow, deep, modern, and unlike anything he had ever seen in fargo, let alone north dakota. people of all different races, ethnicities, and appearances, bounced off the walls as they spoke and fraternized, beers and cocktails in their grasps. until he saw you..

you’re sitting in the middle of the bar, dressed in a shiny ivory slip with a lace bodice, complete with spaghetti straps that reveal the serenity of your complexion. the hem of the garment rides up the bare length of your thighs from how you’re sat on the stool, causing gator to pick at the skin of his thumb unconsciously. your matching translucent stockings inch below your knees, disappearing into a pair of glimmering, scarlet leather boots. the cherry red and warm amber lighting from above shines down onto you like a halo. roy would say it was a sign that the devil resides within you, but gator could already tell by the way you idly rub a maraschino cherry to your pillowy lips, painting them rouge as your date drowns on about something or other. he watches intently as one of two bartenders’ interrupts the one sided conversation, and gator feels his pulse race as the brightest smile takes refuge on your now sweet expression. gator half consciously orders a whisky on the rocks, eager to keep observing you.

he hasn’t seen you in years, not since high school graduation. sat on folding chairs in the middle of a scorching fargo field, dressed head to toe in table cloth quality gowns. he remembers you better than anyone. a+ student, cheerleader, sweetheart to seemingly everyone around you, but you had a wickedness about you. he had heard it from his teammates. your lips tasted like cheap vodka and cherry cola. your pussy- your doe eyed gaze squints, slicing through gator as he all but flinches, half nodding his head to the bartender in thanks before downing his whisky on the rocks in two sips. it goes down easier than the bitter recognition on your angelic features, burning down his throat like acid.

it isn’t until his second whisky arrives that the space beside him is occupied. he knows it’s you without even turning his head, recognizing your scent, hazy with familiarity. it’s just as it had been when he would pass you on the football field, flipping your cheer skirt up like an asshole much to your chagrin. your hair would flip, a pom pom held up as threateningly as you could. you smell like lily’s of the valley, sunshine. clean and serene.

“bit far from home, huh deputy?” your voice, your fucking voice. saccharine and divine, dripping with sticky honey and stained scarlet. a light shiver runs down gator’s spine, skin prickling. he doesn’t look at you. another sip.

“still’ witty as ever. even as a city girl.”

“i see you still haven’t worked on your staring problem.” that turns gator’s attention to you in record speed, eager to tell you off, maybe even scare you off, but instead the poison immediately dries upon on his chapped lips. you’re gorgeous. somehow even prettier than you had been back in high school, in fargo. he hadn’t been able to see the pink cosmetic layered against your cheekbones and the tip of your nose from where you were previously sat. or the gloss on your plump, petal soft lips. you flutter your long lashes, something you used to do for every boy on the football team except him, all-state quarter back. he was the one to watch out for. he was the best. he was a winner, and you never- “and you’re still using an entire bottle of gel on your hair every morning too, hm?” your tone was playful, but he could garner the subtext. you were making fun of him. teasing him. returning the favour after he wouldn’t give you a moments peace in high school. constantly toying with your pretty little outfits. tugging on your hair as he sat behind you in every class you shared- threatening violence against anyone who sat in his unassigned assigned seat. cornering you against a row of lockers in the hopes that he would wear you down. that you would finally say yes to him. let him take you out.

god, were you a right bitch.

“don’t speak cosmopolitan, princess.” gator’s large brown eyes flicker to the sugary pool of red at the bottom of your cocktail glass, lips curled in a mocking sneer. he watches as your eyes wander across his ensemble, wicked smile growing with every passing second.

“it’s funny. that you think you’re considered such a big man back in fargo-“

“don’t-“ gator hisses after a stinging gulp of whisky. you don’t listen. you never did. women like you were the type his father frequently reprimanded throughout gator’s childhood. never knew when to quit. never knew when to shut up and listen. never knew when to obey.

your manicured nails swirl absentmindedly along the bar as you continue, conjuring white hot fire within the gaps of his fragile mind. “all-state quarterback, dream shattered when he suffered a ‘career ending injury’. thinks he’s a big man because his daddy pays him to play cops and robbers. to keep everyone on a tight leash until he gets reined back in like the feral little dog he is.” gator could feel his grip gradually tightening around his empty glass, rage beginning to seep through his veins like ink to paper. only, your sticky lips touch the shell of his ear, and his brain goes static.

“because no one knows he’s the boy who would hide underneath the bleachers during cheer practice. cock in his grasp, hand trembling, slick with sweat and spit, like his very own pocket pussy.” gator releases a shaky gasp, eyes glazing over as your manicured nails run over the back of his skull, fuzzy grown out strands tickling your fingertips. your voice is only a hair louder than the thrum of the bass emitting from the corner of the space, just enough to get through to gator’s brain. past the blood rushing through his ears and down to his pelvis. “you were so naughty. such a little pervert.” gator can feel how hard he is, numb in the toes as you scratch the blushing skin at the back of his neck, saliva just managing to quench the sahara desert at the back of his throat. “i still remember your eyes. hooded, lustful, gone in broad daylight. you didn’t even care if anyone saw you getting yourself off to me..”

it wasn’t as if anyone was looking at them now. it was a friday night, and they were in low lighting as it was, however gator’s eyes snapped open. in a millisecond, your arm is enveloped by his large grasp, tight with an iron grip as he looks down the pointed bridge of his nose at you. you’re admittedly surprised, a sliver of intimidation even coursing through you. however, a serge of smugness peaks upon your soft expression at the shaky waver in gator’s speech. “you tell anyone that, and i’ll make sure you don’t see the light of day ever again, sugar.”

gator couldn’t help but let his gaze falter downwards as you innocently bite along the plush skin of your bottom lip, eyelashes fluttering so close to his face that he could feel the breeze against his cheekbones. “last i checked.. your daddy isn’t the sheriff of minnesota.” gator swallows back a groan at that word leaving your lips. itching for his vape before tightening his grip on your angelic figure, pulling you impossibly closer. the cool skin of his leather jacket bites into your sleeveless arms, causing goosebumps to erupt beneath the thin fabric of your dress.

“i’ll see to it myself that you get taken care of.” you were so close that you could smell the bitter whisky on his breath, unfortunately not enough to overpower the foul stench of watermelon vape juice, but nevertheless, it reminds you of a time easier than this. he was still roy tillman’s son back then. still causing a shit storm wherever he went, cleaned up by the sheriff himself before any real damage could be done. when everyone went away however, you included, he was left to his own devices. you think that’s when he convinced himself that he was a good liar. that he was a winner. “and believe me, darling. you need to be taught a lesson or two.”

you can’t help the sinister desire that courses through you, gator’s dark eye contact never wavering. your judgement is clouded, limits bending. except, the sugary saliva of your mouth only continues to pool onto your pink tongue- before landing across gator’s cheek when you spit. taunting him.

you’re over his knee in the backseat of his truck in 45 seconds flat.

[howtofightwrite]

For super-powered individuals, if we assume the standard of characters being stronger, faster, more durable than normal, is there a reasonably thin enough material (i.e. not just 5 inch thick hardened steel) that a super strong individual could carry to be bullet-proof (enough), presumably in some form of plate armor where you can still be agile?

Not exactly. The problem with armor (in the context of armored vehicles) is that you can just hit them harder. Something that can stop a .50 round might not do so well against a guided explosive munition, and if that fails an artillery strike. But, against a roughly human foe, those anti-material rounds would probably get the job done.

So, let's stick with your hardened steel solution for a moment. A .50 BMG round will penetrate ~1.5 inches, but for the sake of argument let's say 2 inches. That's a pretty good defense against a sniper with an AM rifle. However, this is also used in heavy machine guns, where you're looking at a cyclic rate of ~750-850rpm. In a situation like that, your armor might hold up to a short burst, but probably will not survive multiple bursts in the same area. As is often the case, the real problem isn't the bullet with your name on it, it's the 20 or 30 buddies who wanted to swing by for a fun time.

This leads to another problem. While bullets punching holes in you is bad, your armor taking a hit can be pretty unpleasant in its own right. A .50 BMG will deliver somewhere north of 14k joules of force into the target. That's enough for the bullet to do some pretty unpleasant things to a person in the armor, even if the armor itself isn't compromised. This a large part of why there isn't any armory rated to soak a hit from one of the AM rifles. (The Russians claimed that their Ratnik-3 armor would be able to... and then it never really appeared. The claim was someone dubious to begin with, but that's a much larger, and wilder, rabbithole than you're asking about.)

For a normal person, wearing high end body armor, hits from normal combat rifles (intermediate and high power rounds) can result in broken ribs and internal hemorrhaging. It's not just about your armor being bulletproof, it's about your armor being able to effectively dissipate kinetic force as it's received. If it doesn't do that effectively, the bullets may get the job done, even if they don't manage to penetrate the body armor.

On an individual level, simply adding more armor isn't a particularly efficient solution. It makes sense to a point, but if you're already saying someone is super-humanly strong, and tough, covering them in steel plate isn't going to make them immune to harm.

Beyond that, there have been experiments with developing combat exoskeletons, to allow normal soldiers this kind of protection. The aforementioned Ratnik-3 was the Russian program, while the American project was named TALOS. TALOS was scrapped sometime before February 2019, citing technological limitations. So, this isn't a new concept.

Something I found deeply amusing is the “See also,” section on TALOS's Wikipedia page includes a link to Crysis. For those unfamiliar, Crysis was a first person shooter set in the distant future year of 2020, which would have come dangerously close to matching the intended schedule for TALOS, if the project had continued.

Powered exosuit research is probably not dead, even if TALOS has been scrapped. It may be a bit further out than was originally expected, but it is a reasonable bet that it will happen at some point. There are a lot of technological hurdles, including both the issue with the armor failing under direct fire, and dealing with kinetic force, but, at least from an optimistic perspective, it's somewhat plausible.

Unless you're talking about vehicles, modern armor isn't about adding more metal, it's about being more efficient with dissipating the kinetic force from a hit, and still survive to do it at least a couple times.

That said, whatever you do come up with, it's likely that the old adage will hold true, if force doesn't solve your problems, you're probably not using enough of it. No matter how good your armor is, it won't survive sufficient application of high explosives.

Even ignoring all that, a Type IV plate will still take a hit from most rifles (up to and including .30-06 AP rounds.) You don't need fantasy armor for that, it's something that already exists. Real world body armor is designed to take hits. Full plate was designed for melee combat. Neither one is particularly good at doing the other's job. That's not a limitation of the materials or technology, it's a function of what the armor is designed to deal with.

Back when dinosaurs roamed the earth, one of my scoutmasters warned us that if you use a knife as a screwdriver, you'll break it. It has an intended purpose. Trying use that tool, (whether it's a knife or body armor) for a purpose other than it's intended ones, will usually end poorly. (Of course, I also remember a crayon eater who was rather vocal in his opinion that the USP's only effective use was as a hammer.)

If you want to put a character in fully enclosed armor, take a look at Ratnik-3 or TALOS armor. If you just want a character who's unusually durable, and you're willing to go for (low key) superpowers, you don't need special armor to get that idea across.

-Starke

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[angelasscribbles]

All That She Wants Chapter 4: Infidelities

Series: All That She Wants

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings for this chapter: Liam x Olivia, Riley x Drake

Word Count: 735

Rating: M

Warnings for this chapter: INFIDELITY

My other stuff: Master List.

The black bullet proof SUV from the royal fleet pulled down the long, twisting driveway toward its destination. The driver glided the vehicle to a stop in front of the entrance to the centuries-old Nevrakis stronghold.

Liam stepped out into the brisk air. Summer in Lythikos was invigorating, the air holding just a slight chill as opposed to the impenetrable cold that took hold of the place in the deep of winter.

There was an explosion of colors in the spring and no oppressive heat to kill the blooms off through the summer. The vibrant pinks and purples of the native flowers would last until the first frost. He had always loved it here in the summer.

He strode confidently to the door, king’s guards falling out of his way as he walked. He rapped on the door sharply several times, then waited, a bit impatiently.

The door was opened by the mistress of the house herself. Olivia’s lips parted in quite surprise as she found the king on her doorstep. “Liam! What are you doing here?”

His grin widened. “Are you going to stand there gaping at me, or are you going to invite me in?”

She swung the door open and stepped back. “By all means, Your Majesty. Get your ass in here!”

Liam stepped into the cool, muted interior of his lover’s home, familiar butterflies swooping through his stomach. He followed her through the darkened halls and up the stairs to her private chambers.

He had tried to make his marriage to Riley work, he truly had. But he had never been able to get the first woman he had ever loved out of his mind.

He would have chosen her on coronation night, but Olivia Nevrakis had declined to throw her hat in the ring for queen.

She had no desire for marriage or children. She hadn’t wanted the crown, the Rys money, or the responsibilities that came with it.

Liam was a man that came with an incredible amount of baggage, rules, and regulations. Rules that dictated what she must do with her womb, rules that dictated how she would live her life, rules that would control forever both the man and whatever woman he married. And frankly, she just wasn’t that into him.

Yet he kept turning up on her doorstep. And she kept letting him in.

Mostly because she knew it twisted the knife in Riley’s heart.

She had no idea how, when, or why Liam had become so besotted with her, but she had always encouraged it. Ever since they were teenagers.

At first, she had encouraged it simply because she enjoyed the attention and the power rush it gave her. Over the years, she had entertained his affections at her whim in between, and sometimes even during, her other affairs.

She had assumed that dynamic would end with the advent of his marriage.

She had been wrong.

Oh, he had been an infrequent visitor in the first few months after the wedding and after the birth of each child. But sooner or later Liam Rys always found his way back to her doorstep.

While Liam was getting his fill of Olivia, Riley was on her way to a rendezvous with Drake.

She opened the door to his suite and found it bathed in a romantic glow, soft jazz spilled from the speakers and gleaming silver cloches adorned a beautifully set table. A crystal vase filled with red roses graced the center. “What’s all this?”

Drake was nervous but determined. “I know this is just about sex to you and I’m willing to keep giving you what you want, but only on the condition that you give me what I want in return.”

“And that is?” Riley eyed him suspiciously.

“Just….this,” he gestured around the room. “A chance for me to show you that this can be more than that. I want us to spend time together outside of the bedroom.”

Amusement danced through her eyes. “You don’t like being used for your body? I thought that was your entire dating strategy.”

“It was. But this is different.”

“Oh, yeah?” She teased, “Why’s that?”

A slight pink flush suffused his cheeks. “Because it’s you.”

Her eyes roamed around the room and then tracked across his face as she considered his request. A smile tugged the corners of her lips up and she nodded. “Alright then. I agree.”

[fantasyescapes17]

This is War (the Soldier I)

Lieutenant Colonel Lee Jihoon isn't sure exactly why he's fighting this war or if he's even on the right side. He only knows two things: one, his brother Joshua's death was not an accident; and two, the Empire has no shortage of dark secrets waiting to be uncovered.

Genre: dystopian!AU, war!AU

Warnings: Violence, war, general death and devastation, strong language, character deaths, sexual themes (no explicit smut, only implication), dark themes overall, slow burn and plot-heavy. There's nothing you wouldn't find in a typical dystopian YA novel, but its still not for the light-hearted.

Word Count: 10.7k+ [Won't lie, this is 10k words of pure plot and world build-up. The reader and half the important characters haven't even appeared yet, and the romance hasn't started. Buckle up, we're in for a long ride.]

Prologue + Masterlist

Marcet Sine Adversario Virtus.

The ancient Latin phrase was engraved on an imposing metal plaque underneath a large statue of the Empire's emblem. 

A delicate golden rose with thorns.

Lieutenant Colonel Lee Jihoon sat at his desk directly in front of that rose statue. The statue was a permanent fixture in the cabins of all high-ranking military personnel stationed at Military Base 1. The golden rose and metal plaque served as a reminder to the cabin's visitors that they were not merely addressing Lieutenant Colonel Lee, but an esteemed officer of the Empire. 

Military Base 1 was a staggering edifice. The walls and buildings were made of dark bullet-proof glass that soared into the skies, looming far above the crumbling tenements that formed the rest of the city. It was located in the heart of the Empire. An impenetrable fortress behind which the Empire’s loyal military officers strategized ways to protect their dwindling population.

Military Base 1 was the bedrock of the Empire. The harsh thorns which protected the delicate rose within. 

“Sir? May I come in?”

Lieutenant Colonel Lee Jihoon looked up to find Captain Kwon standing hesitantly in the doorway of the cabin. The young Captain’s eyes lingered uncomfortably on the golden rose, before he briskly saluted his commanding officer. 

Jihoon nodded. 

“Come in, Captain Kwon. At ease.”

Captain Kwon Soonyoung entered. The cabin's walls were covered with military insignia and medals reflecting Lieutenant Colonel Lee’s numerous achievements. He had obtained many colourful laurels during his short but successful military career. While impressive, the laurels could not fully distract Soonyoung from the gaudy golden rose that glimmered threateningly behind Lee Jihoon’s unsmiling face. 

“Here to report, sir.”

Jihoon nodded and stood. He had been sitting at his desk all morning, and his legs were beginning to feel stiff. There was no space to move around with that infernal rose statue taking up half of his cabin. 

He leaned against the desk and looked at Captain Kwon. 

“I heard there was some commotion in the barracks earlier. Any cause for concern?”

Captain Kwon bit his lip. “Not at all, sir. It was a minor tussle between some of the newer recruits. They, uh, snuck an illegally recorded copy of Vesta’s new film into the barracks. I had to confiscate it from them.”

Jihoon raised an eyebrow. “And where is the film now?”

Captain Kwon blushed. “Sir?”

“I hope you didn’t keep it.”

“I-sir-”

“Dispose of it immediately,” Lieutenant Colonel Lee ordered. His handsome face was unsmiling. “You may cancel training for today and let the men have the evening off. The Brigadier-General is hosting an unveiling party for the new unmanned combat vehicles- all the high-ranked officers will be occupied anyway.”

Captain Kwon smiled brightly. An evening off sounded excellent.  

“Ah-yes, sir.”

“I don’t want to see you or the men putting themselves at risk for trifles. If they want to watch Vesta’s new film, tell them to pay money and watch it honestly in the theatre.”

“Of course, sir. Thank you, sir.”

The corner of Lieutenant Colonel Lee’s lips curved upward in a hint of a smile. 

“What are you thanking me for?”

Captain Kwon cleared his throat awkwardly. 

“I’d be lying if I said that Vesta’s films don’t go a long way to boost morale among the men, sir. She’s captured many hearts in the barracks. They would give up their lives for her, just as soon as they’d give up their lives for the Empire. Beautiful women are every man’s weakness.”

“Hopefully not every man,” Lieutenant Colonel Lee muttered. 

Captain Kwon hesitated, worried that he had offended his commanding officer. It was difficult to predict how Lieutenant Colonel Lee would respond to any given statement. Jihoon was famously impulsive. 

“Of course not, sir. I only meant to say-”

“You’re dismissed, Captain Kwon. Have a nice evening.”

“T-thank you, sir. You too, sir.”

Lieutenant Colonel Lee Jihoon leaned against his desk as he watched his subordinate leave. Then he closed  his files and straightened his military uniform. He would have to meet the Brigadier-General for another night of drinking and raunchy entertainment, under the facade of unveiling newly designed unmanned combat vehicles. 

What a criminal waste of time, Jihoon thought to himself, when there are so many more sinister things taking place in this very Military Base.

As Jihoon walked out of the cabin, he glanced back once more at the enormous thorned rose and the ancient Latin phrase. The symbols of the Empire. 

Marcet Sine Adversario Virtus. 

Or, in the modern tongue, valour withers without an adversary. 

He smiled wryly at the foolishness of the Empire’s ancient motto. Evidently, the people in charge had been in a hurry to justify the war they were starting and had not considered one crucial possibility. 

What if the Empire’s biggest adversary was not outside its walls? 

What if it was hiding deep within? 

—----------------------------------------------

Research Division 3 (or RD-3, as it was often abbreviated) was the military’s golden child. 

Every few months, the scientists up at RD-3 designed a glamorous new weapon of warfare, which was unveiled and paraded around at a special display for high-ranking officers. Each new weapon brought the Empire a step closer to winning the war against the Invaders, so celebration was deemed appropriate. 

In truth, the displays were simply an excuse for the commanding officers of Military Base 1 to gamble, drink and cavort with women. 

Deep down, humans were all the same. 

“Lieutenant Colonel Lee! You’re late, as always!” the Brigadier-General called out in his booming voice. The large older man was extremely drunk. His gray beard was stained from spilled wine, and he wrapped an arm around Jihoon in a friendly manner. The Brigadier-General had never had much regard for personal space. “How is it that you’re always the first to arrive at the military briefings, but you can never turn up to a party in time, eh?”

Jihoon forced his lips into a tight smile. “I apologise, sir. I had to finish my reports for the day.”

“Surely an unfiled report has never hurt anybody!”

“I’d rather not find out, sir.”

Lee Jihoon had acquired a reputation as a passionate and loyal young officer of the Empire. The Brigadier-General may have been a drunkard, but he was no idiot. The older man knew that Jihoon was destined for great things. It would not hurt to keep the promising young officer close as he climbed the ranks. 

“Excellent work, Lieutenant Colonel Lee. Officers like you keep the Empire safe.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I know you don’t enjoy these unveiling parties but we must let RD-3 show off their little toys, eh? It’s the least we can do. But I know what will cheer you up! We have a special guest today, and she’s an absolute beauty. Come and have a look at her.”

Jihoon accepted the glass of wine offered to him and followed the Brigadier-General into the crowd of people. 

The unveiling party was held in the ballroom of Military Base 1’s recreation wing. The enormous hall buzzed with high-ranking military officials, their wives and other entertainers. A group of scantily-clad dancers occupied the stage. A lady in red crooned into the microphone. 

“Now, where did that pretty little thing go?” the Brigadier-General wondered. 

Jihoon’s hawk eyes took three seconds to scan the room and spot what his superior officer was looking for. Near the back of the ballroom, a group of male officers were crowded around a beautiful young woman. She had a stunning smile, and batted her eyelashes prettily at the eager men surrounding her. 

Jihoon sighed. He was unimpressed. “Sir, do you mean-”

“There she is!”

The Brigadier-General made a bee-line for the beautiful actress. Jihoon struggled to keep up. Some of the younger officers scattered at the sight of the Brigadier-General, but Vesta’s pretty eyes sparkled. 

She gave the older man a sultry smile. 

“Oh, Brigadier-General! I was beginning to wonder if you’d left me alone,” Vesta cooed. It was evident that she was not alone. There were half a dozen men around her, but the actress was an expert at flattering officers of rank.

The Brigadier-General grinned foolishly. “Never, my dear, never. I only stepped away to welcome Lieutenant Colonel Lee to the party. He’s a bit uptight, you see, and he needs some company at these gatherings. Lieutenant Colonel Lee, this is Vesta. Of course you recognize the most beautiful woman in the Empire.”

Jihoon barely glanced at the actress and nodded. “I am familiar with your work.”

Vesta giggled inspidly. “Oh, he’s so stiff!”

“Yes, Jihoon can be rather serious, but he’s a good man. Never mind him, darling. Tell us that lovely story about filming The Last Commander,” the Brigadier- General insisted. 

Vesta began retelling an anecdote about how she had been moved to cry real tears in the climactic scene where her character’s husband was revealed to have died on the battlefield. The men listened, riveted. 

Jihoon watched the actress disinterestedly for a few moments, before finishing his glass of wine and looking around in hopes of a refill. 

He needed air. 

There had been a time when Lieutenant Colonel Lee enjoyed gatherings like these. Early in his budding military career, he had felt it was an honour to be invited to a weapons unveiling. Now, Jihoon only wished there existed some alcohol or drug strong enough to make him forget the entirety of these events.

He sauntered outside.  

Adjoining the ballroom was an outdoor platform that served as an enormous balcony and helipad. Men and women in white lab coats scurried around the sparkly new unmanned combat vehicle and prepared it for the display. The ‘vehicle’, with the words Aeris VII labelled on the side was actually a drone the size of a small helicopter, made entirely of bulletproof fibreglass. 

Jihoon sighed. It looked exactly like all the other aerial combat vehicles the military already possessed. 

“What’s so special about this one?” he asked a passing dark-haired scientist in a white coat who didn't appear busy.

The scientist blinked at Jihoon, his expression suddenly changing as he eyed Jihoon's military uniform and the pin on his shoulder signifying his rank. 

“Sorry, sir?” the man asked. 

“What is so special about this one? Didn’t RD-3 release an unmanned aerial combat vehicle three months ago? What does this one do better than the last?” Jihoon asked. 

The scientist looked  nervous. Jihoon suddenly realised that even though he was wearing a white coat, there was no patch on the scientist's chest signifying that he was an employee of RD-3. All the other white coats bore patches of either RD-2 or RD-3. 

“Uh, I’m not-I’m not part of the design team for this. I was just observing,” explained the scientist carefully. 

“What team are you a part of?”

The scientist’s eyes darted back and forth nervously. He seemed uncomfortable under Jihoon’s curious gaze. “I’m under Research Division 1, my apologies. The weapons are handled by RD-3…”

Something struck Jihoon as odd. He had never met anyone from Research Division 1 before. To be perfectly honest, he wasn’t even entirely sure what Research Division 1 did. Was the work highly confidential? It wasn't talked about as much as RD-3’s warfare weapons, or RD-2’s agricultural research. He suddenly remembered hearing about it long ago, from a familiar voice...

“What does Research Division 1-”

“Excuse me, I need to leave.”

The scientist hurried back inside the crowded ballroom and Jihoon stared after him, a sour taste in his mouth. Something was wrong about the way that scientist had been looking at him. Did he know Jihoon? Did he have reason to keep something from him? Jihoon wasn’t sure, but his interest had been piqued. 

What did Research Division 1 do? 

Where had Jihoon heard about it and why did the dark-haired scientist look familiar? 

“Sir, can I help you?” another of the white-coated scientists asked. This woman had a large smile on her face and a patch on her chest that read RD-3. She looked far more welcoming than the previous man. “Are you curious about the new design for the unmanned aerial combat vehicle? We’d love to give you a briefing!”

Jihoon blinked and nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

“The upgraded vehicle is more aerodynamic. It’s lighter, it can carry heavier missiles and it moves faster. We’ve also fixed some failures in the defensive capability of the bulletproof fibreglass. This one can withstand open fire for longer than the older models…”

Jihoon had lost interest. 

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

At exactly 11 pm, the senior military officials gathered in the balcony of the ballroom to watch the new unmanned aerial combat vehicle soar spectacularly into the sky for the first time. Jihoon, uninterested in the theatrics of the display, quietly slipped out of the back of the building and into the dimly lit streets of Military Base 1.

A sleek black car with dark windows was parked at the end of the street. Opening the passenger side door swiftly, Jihoon slid into the back. There was a clicking noise behind him once he closed it. 

The car doors had been locked. 

“Cigarette?” Vesta offered. Her fingernails were painted a bold red, which contrasted with the plain white of the cigarette wrapper. A half-empty pack was lying on the seat between them. The car reeked of smoke. 

This was clearly not her first cigarette of the evening. 

Jihoon shook his head. “No, thank you. I’m trying to quit.”

Vesta raised an eyebrow. The pretty, innocent, simpering young lady from the party had disappeared. The actress now slouched carelessly against the leather seats. Her bare feet were crossed and planted on the backrest of the passenger seat in front of her. 

She placed the cigarette between her painted lips.

“Mind if I smoke?” she asked, moving to light it before Jihoon could speak. 

“Joshua didn’t like you smoking.”

“Joshua’s dead,” Vesta replied harshly as she dropped the lighter and took a long, shaky drag.

“He was worried about your health-”

“There are more disgusting substances entering my body on a daily basis than tobacco, for fuck’s sake. Cut me some slack,” Vesta snapped. She took another long drag before her face relaxed and she chuckled. “Great job pretending not to know me back there. I’m familiar with your work? You could have at least pretended to be a fan.”

Jihoon frowned. It was all he could think to say on such short notice. He hadn’t expected to see Vesta at the unveiling party, and there was no reason for him to be acquainted with a successful actress like her. At least, no reason that could be spoken about openly under the watchful eye of the Empire. They needed to appear to be perfect strangers in public.  

Which wasn’t difficult because in truth, they were strangers. 

Jihoon didn’t know Vesta's likes and dislikes, or  what sort of a person she was. He knew nothing about her past or present life. All Jihoon knew was that they shared one simple thing. 

Love, for a man who was now dead. 

“How is it going?” Vesta asked. The dark tinted car windows were shut so the smoke she exhaled remained inside the car. It was suffocating. Jihoon glanced longingly at the cigarettes and closed his eyes.He had not had a cigarette since Joshua’s death. It had been four months and he wasn’t about to give in now. 

“How is what going?” Jihoon wondered. 

Vesta chuckled. “Your attempts to be transferred to the Border Forces. Is anyone taking you seriously or are they telling you to be a good little boy and wait? You can tell me. I have plenty of experience being patronised.”

“It’s not easy.”

“Nothing is easy in this place.”

Jihoon folded his arms across his chest and frowned. “It took two years before Joshua’s application to be transferred to the Border Forces was accepted by high command. I doubt they’ll accept mine anytime soon. I’m not as friendly with the high-ranking officers as Joshua was.”

“You’re not as friendly as Joshua was, period.”

Jihoon gave her a frustrated look. He was tired of her sharp words and unconcerned attitude. Vesta seemed to be treating Joshua’s death with a sense of carelessness that infuriated him. Couldn’t she at least pretend to care? 

“Yes, thank you. I’m trying to find out the secret behind the death of a man that meant the world to me. I assumed from the fact that he sent you a similar letter that he meant something to you. Maybe I was wrong.”

Vesta lowered her eyes. “You’re not wrong.”

“So what is your problem?”

“My problem? My problem is that I’m tired of being in love with a man who’s dead, Jihoon. They don’t award you medals for that sort of loyalty. I’m in this shit alone because Lieutenant Colonel Joshua Hong thought it was a good idea to go chasing after something that he should have kept his fucking nose out of,” Vesta snapped. 

Her eyes were red as she lifted the cigarette to her lips once more. 

“Joshua really wouldn’t want you to keep smoking that-”

“Fuck you,” Vesta replied. She reached down and aggressively stubbed the half-finished cigarette into her ashtray, putting it out. “I don’t even want it anymore. Are you happy that you’ve taken away the one thing that actually makes me happy in this world, Lee Jihoon?”

Jihoon rolled his eyes. 

“I didn’t take anything away. You put it out yourself.”

Vesta stared at him in disbelief. She felt a burning anger flow through her as she met Jihoon’s calm and judgemental eyes. Was this what Joshua had left her? After all his tall promises and romantic words he had gotten himself killed, leaving behind a dark secret and his insufferable younger half-brother to babysit?

“What are we doing, Jihoon?” she demanded. 

“We’re trying to find out why Joshua had to die.”

“And then what? Even if Joshua was right, if there is some dark secret in Military Base 1 and he was killed because he knew too much… what next? We don’t have a plan. We don’t have support. How do you intend to exact revenge against whoever is responsible by yourself, Jihoon? You, and whose army?”

Jihoon bristled. “I have a battalion.”

Vesta laughed scornfully. “No. You don’t have a battalion. The Empire has a battalion that they put you in charge of, and they can take it away from you anytime they please.”

“Then we’ll build a new army. We’ll find someone with whom our interests align. There’s a whole world outside of Military Base 1. Rebel organisations, an enormous organised resistance underground. I’ve seen glimpses of it during peacekeeping missions. I know it exists. We could be a part of it,” Jihoon insisted heatedly. 

“Why, though?”

“What?”

“Why would you join a resistance? What has the Empire ever done to you that you would rebel against it?” Vesta demanded.

“There’s definitely something happening. Joshua died less than a week after he left for the Border Forces-” Jihoon insisted. 

“He died in the course of duty.”

“That’s what they say.”

“You have nothing that proves otherwise, Jihoon. Nothing. None of the high-ranking commanders of the Border Forces will speak to you. You don’t know what Joshua was investigating. All you have is a vaguely worded letter from a man who died after being transferred to the most dangerous division of the military. The Empire even awarded him a posthumous medal for bravery. I’m tired.  I don’t know how much longer we should keep doing this.”

Jihoon clenched his fists. “I know this is difficult-”

“It’s impossible. Do you understand how helpless you are in this world? How helpless and alone we both are?”

“I have leads. Just trust me for a little longer. I need to find out why Joshua had to die, I know I can. I can find the people responsible and I need your help.”

Vesta and Jihoon stared at each other for a long moment. It was difficult to read the young woman; she was an actress, after all, and her words and expressions often changed so swiftly and erratically that it was hard to tell just where the actress ended and the real woman began. Jihoon had a feeling that he hadn’t even scratched the surface of whatever Vesta really was. Jihoon didn’t have the time, energy or inclination to dig below her abrasive personality. 

But Joshua had trusted her. 

So Jihoon had decided that he would trust her too. 

“Fine,” Vesta replied, finally. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

“Do you know anything about Research Division 1? What sort of work do they do?” Jihoon wondered. “I remember Joshua mentioning it once, but I can’t remember what he said.”

“Research Division 1? Does that even exist?”

“If 2 and 3 exist then isn’t it logical to assume that RD-1 exists too? Is there anyone you can ask to learn something about that?” Jihoon asked. There were a lot of questions that would arouse suspicion coming from an officer of the military, but might sound harmless coming from a seemingly air-headed actress. 

“I’m meeting Major-General Jung in his apartment tomorrow, I can ask him. Why do you want to know?”

“Just a hunch. See if he’ll say anything about the Border Forces too-”

“I’ve tried that before. The Major-General never talks about the Border Forces, even when he’s drunk. He sobers up as soon as I mention it and it’s unpleasant because things are a lot easier for me when he’s not sober,” Vesta replied firmly. 

Jihoon groaned. “He knows something.”

“It’s no use to us if he won’t talk about it. Just because he's reluctant to reveal confidential military information doesn’t mean it’s anything to do with Joshua's death.”

“Can you search his personal office?”

“Do you want me to die?” Vesta snapped. “Because if your aim is to unite me with Joshua in heaven then that would be the perfect way to go about it. The Major-General’s home is filled with security officers at all times. He keeps himself well protected. The rebels would love to take a crack at the commander of the Internal Peacekeeping Forces.”

Jihoon sighed. “Never mind.”

“I’ll get in touch with you if I have anything to tell you, okay?”

“Fine, I get it.”

“Go back before they notice you’re missing from the weapons unveiling,” Vesta suggested. Jihoon nodded. He unlocked the car door and then glanced back at the actress. He cleared his throat. 

“Take-uh, take care.”

Vesta smiled emotionlessly. “Sure. As soon as I find something worth taking care of.”

—---------------------------------------------

Once upon a time, the Empire had been a peaceful place. 

Jihoon had grown up during those times but he could barely remember them. He had vague memories of his mother’s flower garden and the smell of her home-cooked pies. He had once gone to school. He had family and neighbours and friends. What had happened to them all? Jihoon wasn’t sure. He hadn’t seen any of them since the first Air Strikes. 

Air Strike Zero was the starting of the War. 

Jihoon remembered huddling in the basement of their small house with his mother and his half-brother Joshua, terrified and not understanding what was happening as the ground shook and explosives fell from the sky.

It was only three days later, when they emerged from their basement, cold and hungry, that they learned the truth. 

The War had begun. 

Joshua had never been one to sit still. Long before the military had declared mandatory conscription for all able-bodied men, Joshua signed up to fight. We have to protect ourselves, Joshua had said the night before he left. We are at War. 

Jihoon had stayed home with his mother until he turned 18. But she had always been of fragile health, and a world at war was no place for her. The older woman's heart gave out and Jihoon had to bury her two weeks before his 18th birthday. Then he enlisted for the army and joined his brother in the ranks. Theirs was not the only family that had been torn apart by the War. 

The War either killed you, or made a soldier out of you. 

Jihoon chose to be a soldier. 

—-------------------------------------------

Captain Kwon’s face was white. 

“Sir, we seem to… um, we seem to be missing some items from the weapons storage, sir.”

Lieutenant Colonel Lee Jihoon snapped his head up to look at the trembling man in front of him. 

His dark eyes narrowed dangerously. 

“What?”

“Lieutenant Smith did inventory this morning and we’re missing some firearms from Storage Unit 7B,” Captain Kwon repeated. His heartbeat thudded wildly. Kwon Soonyoung dreaded delivering news to the Lieutenant Colonel. Having to deliver bad news to him was simply dreadful. 

"And? Where are they?"

Captain Kwon swallowed. “We’re investigating to find out how we could have lost them. There’s no sign of breaking or entering in the storage unit so it might have been somebody who knew the passcode or had access-”

“Captain Kwon.”

“Y-yes, sir?”

Jihoon stood up and slapped his palms on the desk, hard. His voice was enraged. “Do you think I give a flying fuck who it might have been? I want to know who it was!” 

Captain Kwon swallowed. “Yes, sir. Of course, sir. We’re working on that right now, sir.”

Jihoon pressed his fingertips to his temples. “How many weapons are we missing? What kind? Give me an estimate.”

“Primarily firearms. Lieutenant Smith has found 10 assault rifles, 12 semi-automatic rifles, 3 grenade launchers and a couple of pistols unaccounted for. We’re also doing an emergency inventory check of all the other Storage Units under our control to make sure this is the only storage unit that was targeted,” Captain Kwon rambled on. Perhaps if he kept talking rapidly, then Jihoon wouldn’t have time to yell at him. “There aren’t many soldiers with access to Storage Unit 7B in particular so it must have been someone who was on security duty at some point-”

Jihoon lifted a hand in the air and cut him off. “How many is a couple of pistols?”

Captain Kwon swallowed. “Thirty-five, sir.”

“Thirty-five?” Jihoon demanded. That amounted to a total of 60 deadly firearms. Sixty firearms was no small theft. It was enough to keep a small army going. A small army which was evidently not affiliated to the Empire, or they could have obtained the weapons without committing military treason.

Captain Kwon looked devastated. “Yes, sir.”

“You have two hours to find out who did this before I come down into the barracks and investigate the matter myself. This is likely the work of some rebel organization. That means we have traitors of the Empire here. Traitors. In my battalion. Do you understand the seriousness of this situation, Captain Kwon?”

“Yes sir, I do, sir.”

“Good.”

Captain Kwon shifted on his feet and then cleared his throat. If he was about to be put to death following a court martial then he really wanted to know sooner rather than later. 

“Sir, are you… are you going to be reporting this matter to high command?”

Jihoon folded his arms across his chest. He had no intention of putting his own neck on the line this early. The Empire would not take high-grade weapons being stolen directly from Military Base 1 lightly. 

There would be hell to pay if the culprit was not found. 

“Let’s try to find who did this first. In the absence of anyone else to punish, Captain Kwon, high command may just decide that you and I will be held responsible. I would rather it didn’t come to that.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Find me the traitor. Now. Dismissed.”

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

Lieutenant Colonel Lee Jihoon carried his brother’s final letter tucked in the pocket of his military uniform at all times. The folded paper was worn out from having been read so often over the last four months, and every single word was precious to him.  

Jihoon,

I’m sorry I couldn’t say goodbye before I left. My request to transfer to the Border Forces was accepted on extremely short notice. I leave tonight.

There is something I’ve been investigating. I’ve had my suspicions about the Empire for a long time, but I think I’ve finally found some evidence. I need to go to the Border to confirm my suspicions. When I return I’ll explain everything. If I’m right, then everything we know about our lives could be a lie. 

I’m scared. 

I hope I’m wrong. I really hope I’m wrong.  

If I don’t return, that means the Major-General knows what I’ve found. Don’t trust anyone in the military, Jihoon. Especially not the high command. They don’t care about our lives. All they care about is themselves. They’ve done horrible things in the name of research and war and they’ll stop at nothing to protect their positions. 

Tell Vesta I’m sorry. I wanted to help her but I think I ended up making her life worse. You would probably laugh, Jihoon. I wish I could see the incredulous look on your face when I tell you I fell in love with her. I’m sorry I couldn’t introduce her to you. Maybe, when I return, you can meet her and you’ll see how wonderful she is. 

I want to make you both proud. I hope I can. 

I love you. Stay safe

-Joshua. 

Sometimes Jihoon wondered if his brother had intended to leave him in a state of complete agony. Could a more vague and incomprehensible letter exist? Why couldn’t Joshua have stopped to explain exactly what he was investigating? Life would have been easier even if Joshua had just gone to the Border without leaving a letter at all. 

At least then, Jihoon could have believed that his brother had died bravely in the line of duty, as the Empire claimed. 

Peace of mind can be more valuable than the truth. 

Jihoon possessed neither. 

“Sir? Your written communications have just come in,” a young officer on administrative duty entered the cabin and saluted Lieutenant Colonel Lee before placing a pile of envelopes on the desk. Jihoon quickly tucked the letter into his inner coat pocket and sat up. 

“Thank you, Private. Dismissed.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jihoon looked at the envelopes. All of them were stamped and sealed with the Empire’s emblem; the golden rose with thorns. Most were non-urgent. Field reports, requests for leave and other routine mundane tasks relevant to the maintenance of his forces. There were a handful of invitations to social events being held by high-ranking officers. 

Then Jihoon saw it. 

The only envelope where the rose was hand-drawn instead of stamped with the official Empire stamp. The difference was slight and difficult to notice for an untrained eye, but Jihoon and Vesta had been communicating in this manner for long enough that he instantly knew the envelope was from her. 

He tore it open. 

Asked about RD-1. It's old- it existed even before the Air Strikes, but was shut down shortly after the War began for ethical reasons. Something about human experimentation. Major-General wouldn't elaborate. RD-1 hasn’t been operational for about a decade, so I don’t think it has anything to do with Joshua. 

He also wouldn’t talk about the Border Forces. He never does. 

I heard that the Major General is looking for some new personal security. He’s not allowed to take on-duty soldiers for his personal use, so he hires whoever he can find men from the disciplinary barracks- ones undergoing punishment for frivolous things. Do you have any men we can trust? If you could get them into the disciplinary barracks by tomorrow, then it’s likely they’ll be chosen. Make sure whoever you pick looks a little naive. The man doesn’t like his guards to be smarter than him. 

Lots of concerns about rebel uprisings on the coast. Civilians aren’t complying with the food rationing laws and are hoarding their own farming and fishing produce.

I’ll be at the Brigadier-General’s wedding anniversary party this weekend. See you there. 

Jihoon tore up the letter and reached into his drawer for a lighter. He no longer smoked, but the lighter was still useful for other things. Jihoon watched the sheet of paper curl into ashes on his desk while he tried to process the information. 

How was it possible that RD-1 didn’t exist anymore? If it had been shut down and ceased operations years ago, who was the man in the white coat from the weapons unveiling party? He had clearly stated that she was with RD-1. Jihoon pressed his fingers against his temples and frowned. It seemed like the Empire had more secrets than anyone could have anticipated. Everywhere Jihoon looked, he found inconsistencies and strange rumours. 

But never any solid evidence. Why? 

The door to Jihoon’s cabin opened with a bang. 

“Sir? Permission to enter, sir?” Captain Kwon demanded, lifting his arm in a salute. His eyes were shining and there was a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. 

“Yes, Captain Kwon?”

“We’ve identified the man who stole the weapons, sir. The problem is… he’s already absconded.”

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

The men stood stiffly to attention. 

“Our culprit is Private Lee Chan of the 7th Squad, sir,” Captain Kwon explained, while Jihoon paced up and down the cramped barracks. The soldiers froze in terror at the sight of the Lieutenant Colonel in their humble sleeping quarters. 

One bed was conspicuously messy and unmade. 

“How did he escape?” Jihoon demanded. 

“He loaded all the firearms into a military transport vehicle and drove it out of Military Base 1 at 6 am this morning. The security personnel suspected nothing because Private Chan often drove military vehicles in his line of duty, sir. We’ve told the gate security forces to keep an eye out if he comes back and hand him over to military police immediately-”

“He’s not coming back.”

Captain Kwon bit his lip. “Sir?”

Jihoon glared at his subordinate officer, making no effort to hide his irritation. “He’s not coming back, Captain Kwon. A Private made off with military-grade firearms that he plans to deliver straight to the rebels in an act of treason and you think he’s going to come back? Why? To face a court-martial and public execution? Don’t be foolish. He'll have gone underground by now.”

Captain Kwon swallowed. “Sorry, sir.” 

"And I suppose none of you noticed the blood leaking out of those blankets?"

There was a dark red stain seeping out of the crumpled blankets on Private Lee Chan's bed. Jihoon stepped forward and tugged at it. A bundle of rags absolutely drenched in blood fell onto the floor along with a solid object. It was a small, metal device the size of Jihoon's fingernail. 

"He cut his identification tag out of his arm and left it right here," Jihoon hissed. "This took you all morning?"

Captain Kwon only trembled.

Lieutenant Colonel Lee Jihoon took a deep breath and then frowned at the other soldiers standing in the barracks. They were all members of the 7th Squad. Men who had been forced to enlist because of the Empire’s ongoing war. Men who would much rather be anywhere but here. They were young and wet behind the ears, Jihoon observed. 

But Private Chan could never have managed something so brave and reckless alone. 

There were more. 

Jihoon intended to find them. 

“How many of you were close to Private Chan?” Jihoon demanded. He looked around at all of the men, but their heads were lowered. They were avoiding eye contact with him. Was it fear? Or defiance? Lieutenant Colonel Lee tried to scan their faces but it was hard to tell the difference. 

“Are you going to answer me or do you all want to be handed over to the military police?”

One of the men spoke up. “He-he was friendly with all of us, sir.”

Jihoon narrowed his eyes at the soldier who had spoken. He was of average height but his rounded face and soft features revealed that he was just a boy. 

“Your name?”

The boy saluted. “Private Boo Seungkwan, sir.”

“Private Boo. I saw your name on the duty roster. Weren’t you in charge of locking up Storage Unit 7B after firing practice yesterday evening? That means you were the last person to see the stolen firearms before Private Chan got his hands on them.”

Private Boo Seungkwan hesitated. He seemed to regret having spoken. “Y-yes sir. But Private Chan was on security duty at the Storage Units from 11pm to 5 am, sir. I clocked out at 10:59 pm after Private Chan came to relieve me from my post. I haven’t seen him since then, sir.”

“And what did you do afterwards, Private Boo?”

Seungkwan’s steady gaze faltered. “Sir?”

“What did you do after Private Chan relieved you from duty at the Storage Units? Did you come straight back to the barracks for a good night’s rest?” Jihoon asked calmly. He watched as Seungkwan nervously exchanged glances with some of the other soldiers. They seemed to be frowning at him. 

“Uh, no sir.”

“You didn’t return to the barracks? What did you do, then?”

“I-I went to watch a film, sir. I returned to the barracks quite late,” Seungkwan admitted. 

“And what film was this?”

Boo Seungkwan’s ears turned pink. “Vesta’s new film, sir. The Last Commander. I-I’m a fan of hers.” 

“So if I understand the situation,” Lieutenant Colonel Lee Jihoon said slowly and dangerously, “you were the last person to see the firearms intact other than the culprit himself. You were also the only soldier who didn’t return to the barracks in time last night because you went to watch a film.”

Seungkwan swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

“Are you aware that enlisted soldiers aren’t allowed to leave official duty for personal reasons or entertainment, unless granted permission by a Commissioned Officer? Did you have permission to go watch this film last night, Private Boo?”

“No, sir.”

Jihoon had heard enough. He turned to Captain Kwon, who was watching the exchange nervously. 

“Well then. We’re done here. The abscondee, Private Chan, is a traitor to the Empire and we have sufficient evidence in the form of his bloody identification tag that somehow nobody here noticed. Captain Kwon, please report the criminal to the military police immediately and have him declared an enemy of the state. They will send out an investigation team to locate him as well as the firearms, so the matter is out of our hands now.”

Captain Kwon nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“As for Private Boo…” Jihoon glanced at the younger soldier. Seungkwan was standing with his fists clenched and sweat beaded on his forehead despite his attempts to look relaxed. “Private Boo will face six months locked up in the disciplinary barracks for taking leave to watch a film without permission.”

Boo Seungkwan blinked. “Sir?”

“Captain Kwon, come see me in my cabin in an hour. The rest of you are dismissed. Go back to training.” 

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

Captain Kwon had always been punctual, so Jihoon was pleased to hear the young Captain's voice outside his cabin in exactly an hour. 

“Sir. Captain Kwon here on your command, sir.”

Lieutenant Colonel Lee looked up calmly. His dark eyes focused on the young man who was saluting him from the doorway of his cabin. For a brief moment, Jihoon doubted himself. One wrong move could jeopardise everything. If Kwon Soonyoung was loyal to the Empire, then Jihoon’s entire career could be at risk. 

But Lee Jihoon had reached his position in life and rank in the military by trusting his instincts. 

He would simply have to trust them again. 

“Enter, Captain Kwon.”

Soonyoung entered the cabin. Despite being a frequent visitor, he was once again momentarily flustered by the enormous statue of the Empire’s emblem. The golden rose was conspicuous. It took Soonyoung a few moments to refocus his soft eyes on the Lieutenant Colonel sitting at the desk in front of it. 

“Sir.”

“Before we get down to business, Captain Kwon, do you have anything to say to me about the events of this morning?" Jihoon asked. 

Soonyoung paused. The question was loaded. The Lieutenant Colonel did not make small talk; there was almost certainly a right and a wrong answer to this question. 

"I should have supervised the Storage Units more closely, sir."

Jihoon did not blink. "Hmm. Anything else?"

“I request you to reconsider the severity of Private Boo's punishment,” Captain Kwon added. He tried to speak confidently, but Jihoon's sharp and piercing gaze was terrifying. “Sir, I think it’s rather excessive. None of the other privates have been sentenced to six months imprisonment in the disciplinary barracks just for watching a film while they were off-duty.”

“Close the door, Captain.”

Soonyoung's lower lip trembled. “Sir?”

“Close the door and take a seat.”

Kwon Soonyoung obeyed. His hands were trembling so he clasped them together tightly in his lap. Jihoon’s dark gaze and unsmiling face did not help his racing heartbeat. 

“Do you really think,” Jihoon began slowly and carefully, “that I sentenced Private Boo  because he went to watch a film?”

Soonyoung was silent. 

“I sentenced him because we both know that he didn’t watch a film last night. He helped Private Chan load sixty firearms from Storage Unit 7B into a military transport vehicle and then aided his escape from Military Base 1 while you watched. You're many things, Captain Kwon, but you're not incompetent. I don't believe that a lowly Private managed to hoodwink you. The only explanation is that they did this with your help."

Soonyoung's face was turning red. "Sir, with all due respect-"

Jihoon cut him off sharply. "You and Private Boo are not the only members from a rebel organisation in my battalion. I know there are others. I’ve been waiting for one of you fools to out yourselves for a while now.”

Captain Kwon's fists clenched. To Jihoon’s satisfaction, the young man did not look scared anymore. A look of steely determination had crossed his childlike face. Kwon Soonyoung was not as innocent as he tried to appear.  

“With all due respect, Lieutenant Colonel Lee, you can’t prove any part of what you just said,” Soonyoung said stiffly. 

“I have no interest in proving it. Even the suspicion of being affiliated to a rebel organisation is enough to have you court-martialed and executed. But I don’t want to do that, Captain Kwon. You’re not much use to me dead. I have something far more interesting for you to do.”

Soonyoung was silent. 

“I see you’re afraid to open your mouth in case you incriminate yourself. That’s all right. I’m not going to interrogate you about your organization. Frankly, I don’t give a flying fuck what the rebels get up to. What I need is someone to spy on Major General Jung. He’s the commander of the Internal Peacekeeping Forces and the second most powerful man in the Empire. I’m sure your people have their eyes on him. Tell me. How much would information about the Major General’s private dealings and conversations be worth to your organisation?”

Soonyoung was silent but his eyes glimmered. 

“I’m going to help you and Private Boo get into Major General Jung’s house,” Jihoon continued. “I can also help you communicate whatever information you manage to find to your rebel organization. I only need one thing. Everything you find will be reported to me first.”

Kwon Soonyoung’s hands were shaking. His soft eyes wavered in indecision before he suddenly looked boldly up at the Lieutenant Colonel. 

“What’s in it for you?” he demanded. 

Jihoon raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Why do you want us to do this? Clearly there’s some information that you want from Major General Jung. I need to know what your motivation is.”

“That is irrelevant.”

“I think it’s very relevant. You’re asking me to spy on the commanding officer of the Internal Peacekeeping Forces. If Private Boo and I get caught, then we die. Don’t we deserve to know why we’re putting ourselves at such a huge risk for you? What if you use this against me and my loved ones?”

Jihoon had assumed that Captain Kwon would be naive and easy to manipulate. Evidently that was not the case. The young officer was also brave. Jihoon leaned back in his chair, impressed. Soonyoung could handle entering the lion’s den. Jihoon had stumbled upon the right person for the task. 

“Captain Kwon. I’m sure you’re familiar with the Empire’s emblem. The golden rose with thorns. What do you think it means?”

Soonyoung’s eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“What do you think the emblem with a golden rose and thorns symbolises?” 

“Uh…” Soonyoung looked at the enormous statue of the emblem behind the Lieutenant Colonel’s head. It was beautiful but there was no mistaking the thorns that lay underneath it. Soonyoung had never stopped to think about its meaning. “Um. I suppose it means that you should stop and think before you pluck the rose because the thorns will prick you?” he guessed doubtfully. 

Jihoon nodded. “Interesting.”

“What does it mean?”

“I don’t know either,” Jihoon admitted. He sighed. “Let me put it this way, Captain Kwon. I’ve lost someone close to me. I need to know whether the Empire’s thorns merely failed to protect him, or whether they pricked him themselves.”

Soonyoung hesitated. He could see the pain behind Lieutenant Colonel Lee’s dark eyes. He had never imagined that such a high-ranking officer whom everyone feared could also be a victim of the Empire. 

Then again, perhaps everyone was a victim of the Empire in some way. 

Soonyoung took a deep breath. “I’ve lost people to the Empire too. My family back home struggled because of the new laws and all our land was taken away from us-”

Jihoon cut him off quickly. “I don’t care.”

Soonyoung blinked. “Oh.”

“I have no intention of exchanging childhood stories with you, Captain Kwon. I don’t want to be friends. I want information. Let’s talk about how you’re going to get it for me.”

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

A vast majority of the Empire's power resided in the hands of two men. 

The military took pride in claiming that the Empire wasn’t an autocratic state like the destructive military dictatorships of the past. Instead, it had quickly created the concept of a high command. A pair of men who controlled the military, and as a result, the rest of the Empire. 

Major-General Jung, commander of the Internal Peacekeeping Forces. 

And Major-General Yang, commander of the Border Forces.  

Together, these two men commanded the two primary functional divisions of the army. First, the Internal Peacekeeping Forces were tasked with ensuring the common folk obeyed the Empire's laws, while suppressing occasional violent rebel uprisings and keeping peace within the walls of the Empire.

Second, the Border Forces defended the Borders where the constant looming threat from the Invaders needed to be taken care of. The Borders was where the newly designed weapons and the bravest of soldiers were sent. Fighting at the Borders was no joke.  

Every few weeks, fresh bodies were brought back from the Borders in caskets. 

“I don’t understand your obsession with the Border Forces, Jihoon,” the Brigadier-General complained as he swallowed a large glass of wine. It was his anniversary party, and he hated talking about official business during celebrations. He wished Jihoon would relax and leave him alone. “Can’t we discuss this on Monday? It’s so dull to be talking about applications and transfers when one should be in a festive mood!”

Jihoon bowed his head. “I apologize, sir-”

“Have a glass of wine, eh? Here!”

“Yes-thank you, sir. I don’t mean to bother you. It’s just... I’ve heard rumours that the Borders are in need of more officers since the threat from the Invaders is steadily rising. The most recent exchange of hostilities at the Border four months ago left our forces crippled-”

The Brigadier-General's grey beard twitched in sympathy. “Ah, yes. Lieutenant Colonel Joshua Hong was one of the brave victims of that devastating attack. Your half-brother, correct? You’ve mentioned him before. My condolences.”

Jihoon clutched his wine. “Thank you, sir.”

“But you should know better than anyone how dangerous it is!” the Brigadier-General cried. “The Borders are treacherous and few return alive. The death toll increases with each passing month. There’s a reason the Empire limits the number of commanding officers we send there. One efficient attack by the Invaders is enough to wipe out entire battalions, and we can’t afford to lose too many at once.”

“I understand, sir, but-”

“We need brave officers like you here and alive, Jihoon. Internal peace and harmony is crucial for the efficiency of this war. The Internal Peacekeeping Forces are doing important work. Wars cannot be won unless the nation is unified from within.”

Jihoon pressed harder. “I’d rather fight at the Borders, sir. I don’t believe the Internal Peacekeeping Forces need me. Rebel uprisings will stop naturally once we can terminate the threat of the Invaders, and return the Empire to its former prosperity and glory.”

The Brigadier-General’s mouth twisted downward. “Do you believe that’s possible?”

“Isn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” the older man admitted grimly. He finished his entire glass of wine in one gulp and then patted Jihoon on the back in a friendly manner. His eyes were slightly unfocused due to the alcohol. “You have a lot of potential, Lieutenant Colonel. You’re a smart young man and I don’t want you to die yet. I’ll submit your application to go to the Borders, but you know the final authority on these matters is Major General Yang. All I can do is send your application onward.”

Jihoon nodded gratefully. At least it was a step in the right direction. 

“Thank you, sir.”

“Now, are you done hounding me at my wedding anniversary party? Go get another drink, and find a pretty young lady to dance with! I can introduce you to a few if you’d like…”

Jihoon politely declined. He found a quiet corner to enjoy his glass of wine while the Brigadier-General left to greet his more important guests. The private anniversary party was smaller and humbler than some of the official military galas, but there were still a significant number of high-ranking officers and research officials present. Jihoon wished he was sociable enough to interact with them the way Joshua used to. But that had never been his style. He didn’t have many friends. 

Jihoon wondered whether he should stay at the party until Vesta arrived, or leave since he had sufficiently interacted with the host. Jihoon didn’t have anything to say to Vesta. To be frank, he didn’t even enjoy her company. But there was a small and inexplicable comfort in talking to someone who missed Joshua just as much as he did, even if she had her own abrasive ways of handling her grief. 

Perhaps it was too risky to keep meeting her. 

Jihoon squeezed past the throng of guests and wondered how many more infernal parties and events like this he would have to attend before he found out the truth behind Joshua’s death. What dark secret was concealed in the midst of these studded military coats and sparkling wine glasses? What was so consequential that Lieutenant Colonel Joshua Hong had requested a transfer to the most dangerous, deadly division of the military in order to investigate it? 

Jihoon had no idea how to find these answers. 

He didn't even know where to look anymore. 

Was this the end? 

Would he never find out what had taken Joshua from him? Even if Jihoon’s application to transfer to the Border Forces was miraculously accepted, what would he do once he went there? He didn’t know what Joshua had been looking for, and it seemed that the man had confided his secrets in no one. 

Yet, it seemed so surreal. 

What had Joshua been trying to investigate by himself? Was it even possible that he had single-handedly unearthed some enormous conspiracy? With no outside help? Joshua had been secretive on occasion, yes, but Jihoon still couldn’t believe it. Perhaps Joshua had not told his lover because she had enough worries of her own. And perhaps he had even kept it a secret from his little brother to avoid putting him at risk. But surely he had confided in someone? 

Someone? 

Out of the corner of his eye, Jihoon saw the flash of a white coat. 

It was him again; the same young scientist from the weapons unveiling party. His dark eyes had been watching Jihoon but he averted them the moment he realized he had been caught. Jihoon’s stomach clenched. 

He had seen this scientist before. He had seen him multiple times, as a matter of fact, at almost every official celebration that took place in Military Base 1. 

Why was this scientist always lingering around him? 

The man turned to leave the room and Jihoon made an impulsive decision to follow him. He exited the Brigadier-General’s front hall and followed the man out of the penthouse apartment, and down multiple flights of stairs. The man kept glancing back at Jihoon but he wasn’t trying to get away. 

In fact, he seemed to be leading Jihoon somewhere. 

Jihoon followed the scientist onto the deserted street. He kept walking until he reached a small, cramped alleyway between two apartment buildings. Jihoon expected him to stop, but he kept going, kept walking and Jihoon began to doubt himself. 

What was he doing? Why was he following a strange scientist into places that he didn’t know? There was a service pistol tucked into Jihoon's belt but he doubted that would be of much use if this man was leading him into some kind of a trap. 

Finally, the man stopped and turned to face him. 

“Lieutenant Colonel Lee Jihoon,” the scientist greeted calmly. His hands were clenched by his sides, and Jihoon could see his fists trembling. 

“Who are you?” Jihoon demanded. 

“My name is Junhui,” the man explained softly. “I used to be a researcher at Research Division 1. But that’s not important to you. The truth is…. I knew Lieutenant Colonel Joshua Hong. I was the last person to see him alive before he left for the Border.”

Jihoon felt numb. 

—------------------------------------------

There was very little in the world that surprised Vesta. 

It was late when she arrived at the Brigadier-General’s party, and even later by the time the infuriating old man would allow her to leave. She spent the entire evening smiling until her cheeks hurt and enduring the hungry gazes and wandering hands of the Brigadier-General’s friends. 

When she returned to her car and saw Lee Jihoon sitting in the passenger seat, she did not blink an eye. 

“I didn’t see you at the party,” she drawled, while lighting her cigarette. Jihoon looked pale. He had always been a handsome young man, but the haunted look Jihoon gave Vesta sent a chill down her spine for completely different reasons. 

"Joshua was intercepting confidential documents from Major General Jung's personal office," Jihoon mumbled quietly. 

Vesta blinked. It took her a few moments to process exactly what Jihoon was saying. Joshua? Stealing documents from the Major General? But Joshua had always seemed to like the Major General Jung. He had always been eager to gain the commander's admiration and even shared drinks with the older man multiple times after duty. Joshua had always been the one in charge of hauling the Major General's enormous drunken ass back home after parties…

Oh. 

Oh.

So it had all been an act. 

Vesta had occasionally wondered why Joshua was so eager to please the Major General, and why he hung around his superior officer despite the older man having the personality of a stinky wet rag… 

Maybe she'd assumed that he did it in order to see her. 

"What-what documents?" she asked hesitantly. "Did you find any of them? Where were they?"

Jihoon shook his head. "No. Someone told me."

"Someone?"

"This… this man came up to me. Junhui. A research scientist. He said he knew Joshua and that he was the last person to see him alive before he left for the Border," Jihoon explained. 

"I've never heard of this name before. Junhui?" she demanded. 

Jihoon bit his lip. "Yeah."

"Do you know who he is?"

"I'd never heard his name before today either," Jihoon admitted. His hands were clasped tightly in his lap. "But I had my suspicions, since he's been following me and trying to approach me for a while. He says that Joshua used to have drinks with the Major General and intercept his communications while the man was lying drunk in his office. He says… he says that Joshua made copies and hid some of the communications."

Vesta shook her head. "Hold on. Just stop for a moment. Who is this Junhui and how does he know so much about what Joshua was doing? Has Joshua ever mentioned him to you?"

Jihoon swallowed. "No."

"Joshua told me about you. And you said that he often talked about me. That's how you and I can trust each other. But he never told either of us about this Junhui. How can you trust him? Who the hell is he even?" Vesta demanded. 

"He says Joshua saved his life."

Vesta blinked. "What?"

"When high command shut down Research Division 1 a decade ago because their human experimentation failed, they ordered for the subjects and the researchers to be killed. Junhui says Joshua was the military official on duty and saved Junhui's life by helping him escape and hide. He's been lurking around Military Base 1 in hiding and helping Joshua investigate the Empire ever since."

"Why would Joshua do that?"

Jihoon shrugged. "Because he's a good person?'

"It doesn't sound like something that can be explained away that simply. Are you telling me that this man is a fugitive?" Vesta demanded. Her eyes had gone wide in disbelief. "Are you telling me that the entire time we knew Joshua, he was harbouring a fugitive of the Empire? This man can't be sane. Why would Joshua risk everything to help some researcher hide?"

Jihoon's lower lip trembled. "But he knows so much about him."

"Like what?"

"Like everything," Jihoon replied. He took a deep and shaky breath. "Look. I'm confused too. I don't know what Joshua has been up to all these years-"

"Yeah, no shit-"

"But if there's even a hint of truth in what Junhui says, then we might find something. Listen. He says that Joshua used to steal confidential documents from Major General Jung's office. That means Joshua either took those documents or made copies."

"So? You didn't find anything in Joshua's belongings. And you searched his cabin yourself before they cleaned it out."

"Of course. Joshua would never risk getting caught with confidential documents in his possession. There's strict security outside the Major General's office. They check your uniform when you enter and again when you leave the office of any officer in high command. I know, because I went to Major General Jung's office many times to receive medals. They even check the linings of your coat."

"So how did Joshua get the documents out?"

"That's what I've been wondering. What if he didn't? What if he hid them right there in the Major General's office?"

Vesta stared at him. 

"That's…"

"Something Joshua would do, right?"

"Yes," Vesta admitted hesitantly. Joshua had been clever at sneaking around and evading suspicion. Despite his seemingly trustworthy appearance, Joshua had been extremely cunning. The number of times he had managed to sneak Vesta into his personal quarters at the dead of night was evidence of his clever thinking. He would constantly come up with new and innovative ways to get her in without anybody noticing. 

"We need to find those documents."

"How?"

"How else?" Jihoon asked grimly. There was no choice. "Through the only person on our side who has access to Major General Jung's office. Captain Kwon Soonyoung."

Vesta raised an eyebrow. "The Major-General's new personal security? I've seen him; I wondered if you planted him there. Is he loyal to you?"

Jihoon hesitated. "Not exactly. But he's not loyal to the Empire either. He's an undercover rebel."

Vesta leaned back and laughed. "Well, fuck. You do seem to find these strange people, Jihoon. Do you trust this Captain?"

"I have to. Will you help him?"

Vesta reached into her purse for some cigarettes and fumbled with the lighter before taking a deep breath and nodding. 

"You're going to get me killed someday, Lee Jihoon."

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

Lieutenant Colonel Lee Jihoon paced the long corridor anxiously. 

The Brigadier-General had sent for Jihoon to report to his cabin at once. Considering that the old man preferred to discuss even critically important military matters over alcohol and music, being summoned to the Brigadier-General's office in the middle of the day was highly unusual. 

Jihoon wished he could be sure that it was good news. 

The door to the office opened. 

"Jihoon! Come in!"

Jihoon entered and promptly saluted the Brigadier-General. The senior officer had a much more luxurious and spacious cabin than Jihoon, but even the Brigadier-General could not be rid of the permanent fixture that was the Empire's conspicuous golden rose statue. 

It glimmered brightly behind the Brigadier-General's wrinkled face. 

"Sir, you called for me."

"I have some news for you, Lieutenant Colonel. It's about your transfer application to the Border Forces," the Brigadier-General began. He pulled out a pair of spindly glasses and squinted at the document on his desk. 

Jihoon's heart leapt. 

"Yes, sir?"

"It's been denied."

The disappointment on Jihoon's face was unconcealable. The Brigadier-General sighed and lowered his glasses with a frown. 

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant Colonel. You should have been a prime candidate. Perhaps that incident with the stolen firearms influenced Major General Yang's decision. You can always re-apply in six months."

A sense of despair was beginning to take over Jihoon, and he didn’t know how to stop it from consuming him. 

Was this it? Was this the end of the road?

He had been hoping that he would receive some information from Captain Kwon or Vesta, but they had nothing to report from their espionage of Major General Jung except news about the increasing rebel activity near the coasts. It appeared that either Major-General Jung had nothing to hide, or he was simply too good at hiding it. 

And now the Border Forces were shut to him for another six months. 

The Brigadier-General seemed sympathetic. 

"Never mind the Border Forces, Jihoon. I have a much more important task that I need you to do for me. If you can pull it off, it will certainly erase any black mark on your record from that unfortunate firearms robbery."

Jihoon nodded, although he had lost interest. 

"Of course, Brigadier-General."

"What do you know about the rebel uprisings near the coast?"

Jihoon knew plenty; but none of it was from official sources so he had to feign innocence. The coastal regions were the only fertile agricultural lands in the Empire. Combined with the abundance of seafood, they were a primary geographical source of food for the rest of the Empire. If the worst of the rebel uprisings infiltrated the coast, the Empire could be faced with a devastating famine that would impact even Military Base 1. 

"Not much, sir."

"The coastal folk have been uncooperative for a while, but the situation is worsening. These are not soldiers; they're farmers and fishermen and they can be controlled. But we have reason to believe they might join forces with some of the more dangerous rebels."

Jihoon nodded. "I suppose the rebels could use the farmers and fishermen as an opportunity to incite some violence."

"I need you to go on a peacekeeping mission to the coastal region."

Jihoon visibly flinched. The last thing he wanted to do was go thousands of miles away from the heart of the military that his half-brother had died investigating, to shush some poor farmers. 

"Brigadier-General, I am sure you don't need someone like me to control some farmers and fishermen. I'd really like to re-apply to the Border Forces-"

"You need to wait six months to reapply."

"But surely-"

The Brigadier-General had already turned away from him. 

"You leave tomorrow."

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

[forhappysake]

What Lurks Within, Pt. 9

Author's Note: Still not studying for that exam... anyway, enjoy the fic!

Content: When Spencer and Y/N find the unsub, they realize they're up against more than one perpetrator. The altercation leads to one team member's hospitalization, while the other is taken hostage by the unsubs. The race to get all the BAU members home safely is on, but the team will need some help from the dirty police chief if they're going to do so.

Warnings: Established relationship, physical altercation, typical BAU level violence, allusions to drugs and alcohol (bottles and paraphernalia), some blood, a head injury, and a k!dnapping

Spencer pulled the SUV into the narrowly paved path the park offered for vehicles. “Do you think we should get out or just drive through?” I asked. 

Spencer brought the SUV to a stop after pulling to the edge of the narrow roadway, “Let’s get out and walk around a bit. If Phillip is here, we have to assume he’s too smart to be staying next to the road.” I nodded, reaching for the door handle. 

“Wait, take this,” Spencer reached into the back seat and handed me my bullet-proof vest. I slipped it on over my head, following Spencer’s lead as he slipped into his own. After a moment, we both opened our car doors and slipped out into the chill of the evening. 

Spencer walked a few steps in front of me, flashlight off but prepared in his hand. I kept a tentative hand on my holster and I swept my hand over the cool metal of my firearm. From somewhere to the right, I heard the crunching of dead leaves. 

Spencer and I both froze in place. He clicked on the flashlight and shone it in the direction of the noise. A shadowy figure caught my eye. As I drew my weapon, I realized the figure before me was that of a startled doe. The animal stood as still as she could, her eyes locked on Spencer and I. As Spencer moved to lower the flashlight, the doe turned and took off into the woods. I heard Spencer let out a relieved breath as he turned forward again, cutting the flashlight, and we continued our trek deeper into the park. 

After walking for another couple minutes, Spencer motioned for me to stop. I followed his lead, my firearm still in my hand. He turned to look at me, then pointed at the ground. Looking down, I noticed a distinct mixture of food wrappers and beer cans littering the grass under our feet. Though not uncommon for a public park, it was enough to take note of as we carried on our way. 

Spencer turned back to me after another hundred steps or so. “It doesn’t seem like anyone’s here. I guess we can loop around this way,” he pointed towards the west, “and head back up towards the SUV.” 

I shrugged, “Works for me, Spence.” He continued to lead our path. Just as we were about to turn our backs and start towards the front of the park, I noticed something in the treeline of the woods. “Spencer,” I whispered. He stopped in place, turning his body to follow the direction my eyes were pointing. He noticed it too - the small light shining from the treeline in the same woods that the doe had scampered into only minutes prior. 

Spencer frowned and furrowed his brow. “Wait here,” he said. I took a quick step forward, grabbing him harshly by the arm. “Are you crazy? We’re going together.” 

He bit his lip in deep thought before relenting with a weak nod of his head. He turned back towards the flickering light source which continued to draw our attention. “It almost looks like a campfire,” I whispered. He nodded from his position in front of me. We crept up on the apparent fire. When we were nearly one hundred feet away, Spencer stopped us, signaling for me to crouch down with him behind the remnants of a fallen tree. 

As we crouched and tried to hold our breaths, I felt something hard under my boot. I lifted my foot and tapped Spencer on the shoulder, pointing down towards where my shoe had landed moments ago. Mixed in with the fallen leaves was a discarded syringe. Spencer raised an eyebrow, and just as he opened his mouth to speak a crackle of leaves came from the darkness behind us. 

I whipped my head around to investigate the sound when I felt something grab ahold of my hair, pulling me to the ground. I heard Spencer shout something from a few feet away, and I could have sworn I heard a single gunshot ring out into the cold night. 

As I tried to bring myself to stand again, I heard another crack of dead leaves and felt a sharp pain as an object collided with the back of my head. I crumpled to the ground, a foreign warm substance seeping down the back of my neck. I’m bleeding. Where’s Spencer?

I heard his voice again, calling out from a short distance away. I felt a presence standing over me. Despite the darkness and my blurred vision, I could make out Spencer’s figure above me. He leaned down, rolling me on to my back. A tearing sound ripped through the night as he removed part of his shirt sleeve to hold against the back of my head. As he leaned over me, I tried to form proper words, but nothing left my mouth. 

“Hey, we’re okay,” Spencer said, though the panic in his voice seemed to denote otherwise. “Keep looking at me, you’re doing great. I called for backup. Someone should be here any minute, okay?” 

I managed to groan in reply as the throbbing pain in the back of my head became stronger by the second. I did my best to maintain consciousness and focus on Spencer’s figure above me, but it was then I noticed a second figure leering over both of us in the darkness. I tried to utter a warning, but all that came out was a panicked shriek. 

“What? What is it?” Spencer asked. Just as he finished his statement, the figure behind him kicked Spencer in the side, knocking him over on the ground next to me. I had to do something, and I tried to stand up, only to slip back on to the cold ground once more. 

Spencer started to rise from the ground when the figure above him landed another kick on his chest and abdomen. He writhed on the ground next to me, still trying to drag himself back to a fighting position. Spencer managed to sit up and lunge at the perpetrator in front of him, grasping both of their legs and throwing them to the ground. 

As Spencer tried to climb on top of our attacker, a woman’s voice rang out into the night from somewhere beside me. “What the hell am I supposed to do with you?” My blurry vision could only make out part of the girl standing above me. Her thin hair and cracked teeth did nothing to hide her resemblance to her mother. 

“Mira Graydon,” I whispered, the blood from the back of my head soaking the ground beneath me now. I watched the figure walk over to where Spencer and the unnamed attacked fought for dominance on the ground. 

“Phil, you’re pathetic,” I heard her say. I saw her lift something over her head and bring it down on Spencer’s back. Spencer gasped, rolling off the man who he’d tried so hard to capture - Phillip Graydon. “You’re welcome,” she murmured to Phillip, as I heard him trying to catch his breath on the ground. “Now, what should we do with her?” she used the object in her hands, presumably a baseball bat, to gesture over at my bleeding figure on the ground. 

Phillip pulled himself up from his position on the ground as Spencer laid still, evidently passed out. “Just leave her, she’s bleeding out anyway.” 

“Fine,” Mira said. “What about him?” she gestured the bat towards Spencer. I felt my vision starting to fade, but I swore I could hear a siren somewhere in the distance. Please move faster, please move faster. 

“Put him out of his misery,” Phillip said. Mira scoffed. 

“Have I taught you nothing? We’re on the run now, Phil. I think we should take him with us. He’s like collateral, we could use him to our advantage. Besides, he’s kinda cute.” 

Phillip rolled his eyes. “Fine, but you have to help me drag him out of here. We’d better get going. I think somebody’s coming.” He gestured towards the front of the park where lights were beginning to appear as he leaned down to Spencer’s unconscious body, draping one of his arms over his shoulders. 

It was in that moment that my vision left me completely as sounds around me began to fade even more. Before I fully lost consciousness, I could hear the sound of leaves crunching under the weight of the two Graydons dragging Spencer into the woods. 

  -     -  -

Beep… Beep… Beep…

I struggled to open my eyes, wincing as the fluorescent lights from above attacked my vision. I squeezed them shut again, instead choosing to wiggle my fingers and toes. My whole body felt like it hadn’t moved for days. Days. How long have I been here? Where is here?

Suddenly, the memories of my last moments of consciousness came flooding back to me. I forced myself to open my eyes, attempting to turn my head in order to observe the room around me: white walls, cabinets, IV drip. I looked down at my legs. Scratches from the park ground covered my legs which were bare below my knees, covered only by my hospital gown. I reached down to lift the gown up, revealing the burn on my leg from our first day in Denver. Someone had bandaged it. 

As I tried to lift my head from the hospital bed, I inadvertently let out a loud groan. I shut my eyes to wince and I heard hurried footsteps approaching my room. “Hey, hey, it’s JJ. You’re all safe. Lay back.” I felt her hands gently pushing my shoulders back to the bed. I couldn’t resist her, still weak from the beating I’d taken. 

I cleared my throat, though my voice still came out hoarse, “How long?” I forced my eyes open again, looking at JJ to try and read her reaction. “You’ve only been here for four hours, which is why you need to lay back and rest.” Thank God. 

“Spencer,” I said next, keeping my eyes fixed on her. She didn’t respond. She looked down at my scratched legs and seemed to avoid my eyes. “JJ, Spencer?” I asked again. 

She sighed. “We haven’t found him yet-” she started. I winced, not at the physical pain, but at his absence. “We’re looking. We’re close. We’re going to find him soon.” 

I shook my head the most I could muster in this particular situation, arching my back off the bed and trying to force my neck to follow. JJ didn’t attempt to hold me back this time, knowing it wouldn’t be any use. 

I sat up on my own, swinging my legs off the bed. I felt like my head was on fire, and every muscle begged me to lay back down. How could I when Spencer was who-knows-where? 

“Where are my clothes?” I asked. 

JJ shook her head, “You can’t go anywhere. Just stay there and I’ll get you some water-”

“Jennifer,” I cut her off, looking up at her with determination, “where are my clothes?” I asked through gritted teeth. It was then I noticed the IV attached to my hand and the little EKG readers strapped to my chest. I yanked them off, removing the IV needle from my hand last. Drops of blood trickled from my hand and I ripped part of the cheap hospital bed sheet to make a makeshift bandage. 

JJ backed up from the bed. “I’ll get you your clothes,” she said, defeated. She turned and walked to the other side of the room, handing me my go-bag. I rifled through it for a moment, settling on a pair of sweatpants and Spencer’s CalTech sweatshirt. 

“You don’t think they’ll mind if I’m underdressed, do you?” I joked bitterly. JJ rolled her eyes. 

She shook her head. “You’re going to get me fired. I’m supposed to keep you here.” 

“Do they really think any of you will be able to keep me here when Spencer is out there?” I asked as I gently pulled the sweatpants up my legs and over the bandage on my burnt thigh. 

“I hope not,” she said, “because clearly I’m not doing a very good job.”

As I stripped off the hospital gown and pulled the sweatshirt on, I accidentally bumped the bandage on the back of my head, sending a throbbing pain through my head and neck. I groaned audibly. 

“See, this is why you’re not supposed to leave,” JJ said, “you’re not in any shape to travel.” 

“You’re right,” I said, discarding the hospital gown on the floor and taking my tentative first steps on the ground. Though I was a bit wobbly, I could do it, especially if I used the railing to steady myself. 

“If you’re making me break you out of here, at least use this,” JJ said, bringing over a walker from the corner of the room. 

“You’ve got to be kidding,” I said, scoffing at the walker. It was at that moment that I began to wobble and JJ helped balance me. She raised her eyebrows, gesturing to the walker. “Dammit. Fine.”

I stabilized myself on both sides of the walker before JJ led us down the hallway. She flashed her FBI badge at the nurse’s counter, not stopping as we proceeded, albeit at a slow pace.  “I don’t think you’re supposed to do that,” I mumbled when we were out of earshot from the counter. 

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be out of bed right now, but we’re all breaking rules tonight,” she retorted. I decided it was best to keep my mouth shut. When we finally made it to the main entrance of the hospital, JJ pulled her phone out of her pocket. 

I watched as she pressed a few buttons and held the phone to her ear. “Yeah, Luke. I’m good to go. Pull around front.” I watched as a black SUV whipped into the carport. JJ and I walked out together, and she held the passenger car door open for me as I climbed in.

“Whoa, whoa,” said Luke, waving his hands, “what is this? She’s not supposed to go anywhere!”

JJ shot him a look as I settled myself in the passenger seat. “You think I don’t know that, Luke? But she’s not going to sit on the sidelines while Spencer is missing. If we make her, she’ll make our lives hell.” I raised my eyebrows at her before turning to Luke, offering him a look that said ‘she’s absolutely right.’ He let out a dramatic sigh as JJ climbed in the back seat. 

Luke shifted the car into drive, pulling away from the hospital and out onto the street back towards the precinct. The drive was quiet as I nervously picked at my hands, thinking of Spencer and what he may be going through. I forced myself to change my train of thought as I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes. 

As soon as I’d forced my tears away, Luke pulled into the precinct parking lot and brought the car to a halt in the handicapped space by the door. “So thoughtful,” I mumbled as JJ opened my car door and helped me balance against the walker.

After I was stable, the three of us slowly made our way to the door. Luke held it open as JJ followed close behind me, making sure I wouldn’t fall backwards if I got off balance. “Where’s everyone?” I asked. 

“Conference room,” Luke replied. I nodded as best I could without agitating the throbbing pain in the back of my head, dragging myself towards the conference room’s closed door. JJ cut in front of me, holding the door open. 

“Hey,” I heard Emily say, “I didn’t expect you back so soon. What did the doctor say about Y/N?”

 JJ bit her lip, “I didn’t really get that far.” I could feel Emily’s confusion from outside the conference room, so I gently hobbled myself through the doorway. 

Emily gasped. “What the hell are you doing here? You can’t even walk right!”

I lifted one hand from the walker and waved her off in dismissal. “I’m fine. Spencer needs my help more than I need my help right now. Just let me be here and let me feel like I’m contributing,” I said quietly.

Emily paused for a moment, before sighing her agreement. Matt came over from the other side of the room, helping to lower me into a chair around the conference room table next to Rossi. Rossi leaned over and patted my arm, “I always knew you were a tough cookie.”

I smiled weakly in response. “Alright, I’m ready. What do you know?” I asked. 

Emily gestured to the board at the front of the conference room. “Based on the scene of where you were found in the park, we put together that there must be two unsubs, as in the two Graydon children. We haven’t quite figured out what exactly went down at the scene, if you have any insight,” she offered me the floor. 

I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes in an attempt to recall what had happened when Spencer and I were in the park. “I think Mira hit me over the head with something, maybe a baseball bat,” I shrugged before continuing. “I heard something like a gunshot. I-I’m assuming Spencer shot at her, but I don’t know if he hit her or not. When Spencer came to check on me, Phillip knocked him over and they got into some sort of altercation. Spencer was able to get on top of him, but Mira knocked him unconscious with whatever she’d used to hit me.”

I opened my eyes to the team around the table. JJ winced at the story I was telling, nervously threading a strand of hair through her fingers over and over again. Emily cleared her throat, “What about their dynamic? Did one seem to be the leader?” 

I nodded. “Mira was in charge, I think. Phillip wanted to kill Spencer,” I choked up a bit at the thought, taking a pause before continuing. “But Mira said they should take him alive because they could use him as collateral.”

Emily nodded, “So we know their dynamic. When it comes down to it, Phillip will do anything for his sister. Let’s remember that if we get into some sort of negotiations with them.” Heads bobbed in agreement around the table. 

“Do you have any leads on where they may be holding Spencer?” I asked, hope seeping into my voice. 

Emily shook her head, “All we have to go on is the geographical profile that Spencer and JJ were building the other day. Like JJ said, it’s a broad area. We have local law enforcement canvasing those seventeen neighborhoods. Hopefully something will turn up.” 

I shook my head, “They've got to have a vehicle if the geographical profile is right. There's no way they could carry Spencer unnoticed for multiple blocks... and I think Chief Graydon knows where their hideout is.” Eyebrows raised among group members. 

“Why do you think that?” Rossi asked. 

“I talked with Graydon’s wife yesterday. She made a comment that gave me the impression he may know their whereabouts, he just won’t let her have contact with them.” 

Rossi shrugged, “Could be worth a shot. He’s still here, we’ve booked him on obstructing a criminal investigation. I’ll pull him into an interrogation room and see what I can find out.”

“No-” I reached over quickly as Rossi began to rise from his chair, grabbing him by the arm. Everyone at the table was surprised at my sudden movement. Rossi lowered himself back into his chair, waiting for me to continue. I cleared my throat, removing my hand from Rossi’s arm. “I should be the one to talk to him.” 

Emily shook her head before the words had even left my mouth. “No, you’re in no shape to interrogate. Not to mention that you’re way too close to this whole thing now.” 

I scoffed. “Emily, we’re all too close to this thing now. There’s not a person in this room who doesn’t love Spencer and isn’t willing to break some rules to see him get back here safely.” Silence fell over the conference room. “Am I wrong?” I asked the group. JJ shook her head, and the rest of the table followed suit. 

I paused before continuing. “Let Graydon see what his children have done,” I pointed at the back of my head, “I really believe I can get him to sympathize with me. Let me tell him what’s at risk if he doesn’t give them up.”

I watched Emily’s eyes flicker around the group before she settled her gaze on me once more. She sighed, running a hand through her dark hair. “Fine,” she relented, “but we’re all going to be in that observation room. If I feel that you can’t handle it, someone will be coming in to replace you.” I nodded as best I could, accepting her conditions.

To be continued...

[bullet-prooflove]

Radio Show Prompt #13 - #3 Thought I’d lost you. With Will Halstead, please!

It's in the early hours of the morning that they finally open the doors to the E.D and let out the staff that have been under siege for the past four hours.

A gun man in the E.R. mass casualties.

When the call had gone up it was like punch in the chest because Will was on shift that morning, you remembered the way his lips had brushed over your forehead, that smile on his handsome features as he told you to enjoy your day off.

When you ring in to Intelligence, noone can tell you anything, Jay's on the scene, be tells you he'll keep you in the loop. However you can't help but get involved. You turn up at the barriers you badge hanging around your throat with a bullet proof vest that barely covers your protruding stomach.

Your five months pregnant with a gun on your hip.

You know Will would hate it.

Jay does hate it. He tells you to sit yourself down inside the command vehicle and not even think about moving.

When the gunman turns the weapon on himself it becomes a free for all. A torrent of patients, doctors, nurses and anyone else with the misfortune to be caught in the E.D spill out into the designated safe zone.

You are already on your feet and half way down the steps before Jay has a chance to reach for you.

You don't see Will's burgundy curls on the crowd, but you do see the blood that stains the scrubs of some of the doctors. You feel your heart beginning to palpate, your vision tunneling as your skin prickles. Your knees go weak as you drop onto a bench, your palm coming to rest on your bump under the kevlar.

"Darling..."

Will crouches down in front of you, his hands coming to rest on your knees as steadied himself.

"You shouldn't be here."

You look at him incrediously because for a moment you can't comprehend that he is standing in front of you.

"I thought I'd lost you." You whisper as your fingertips trail over the streak of blood across his cheek.

He clasps his hand over yours, pressing his lips to your pulse point.

"I'm here darling." He reassures you. "I'm right here."

[lanafofana]

I had a weird dream last night

I had just disembarked from a transatlantic flight and realized, on my way to catch a cab, that my wallet had been stolen.

I was in (London? Europe? Fictional country?) because, through a bizarre set of circumstances and technicalities, I had accidentally ended up in line for the throne. To solve this I had been told to go before some sort of official judicial body and "appeal" my case. The Official Judicial Body set the appointments for you and it was nigh on criminal to miss or be late to these appointments. Down to the wire, no idea where I was going or how to get there with some fictional crown hanging over my head, friends, I was stressed.

While I was slinking around the airport bumming for change and checking the coin slots on all the pay phones a Handsome Stranger appears and pretends to find a wad of cash in a payphone booth and offers it, presumably, after hearing me wail about my strange woes to passing strangers in a bid for charity.

I then find out every single cab has been taken but not to worry there is a rental lot where for a small fee I can borrow a car for all my transportation needs. With little choice I set out to aquire said vehicle only to be left with the last available thing. Unfortunately it is the most American vehicle ever. The size of a hummer (remember those?!), glossy black, and (for some reason) thick bullet proof windows?

Barely able to drive the thing I follow the Handsome Strangers directions and arrive at what, at first glance, appears to be a conglomeration of very fancy buildings arranged in a confusing network. The Handsome Stranger appears again, talking me out of a spot of trouble I'd landed in with a security guard who, mysteriously, took issue with my attempting to assault Very Important Law Buildings with my fuck ass big truck.

While he's dealing with security I have a mooch around (aaaaayyyyyo) and discover a bit more Plot, which is that I am being pressured into this appeal not because I am a foreigner and ill suited to the throne but specifically the appeal is to formally tell the royal court that I am "Unavailable for Royal Cock and or Pussy" because while it is true I am now in line for the throne, more distressingly for the Powers That Be is that this makes me Prime Real Estate for members of the gentry, royal family and it's subsidiaries, etc etc.

The reasons the High Court have for preventing such a union are not wholly petty. If I were to somehow become involved with another in line to the throne, it could in theory, destabilize their country something something blah blah who cares get me out of this nightmare land already. Show we where to sign and I'll be on my merry way.

Mysterious Stranger has somehow sweet talked Guard #1 to let me continue my unhinged rampage through the metropolis of Very Important Law Buildings in my fuck ass big truck. I say cheers, hop in, and continue pedal to the metal to make it to my appeal appointment on time.

When I say down to the wire, I mean I was sweating every minute counting down to my appeal appointment. So it could perhaps be understandable that I drove my fuck ass big truck into the High Court of Fuck All, right through its fancy mahogany doors, across its gleaming marble floors, and only stopping when the doorways got too narrow.

Hopping out of my fuck ass big truck I avoid eye contact with the staff, preparing to defend my unhinged parking job with the observation that there was no parking outside so I had assumed there was some kind of parking garage. Instead of all that I am startled by a slow clap and, fucks sake, it's Mysterious Stranger again. Is he teleporting? Does he also have to make an appeal to keep his dick free of political intrigue? Who cares, I got places to be. Whatever he was gearing up for I cut off by chucking my keys at his face and imploring he find an appropriate parking spot for my fuck ass big truck. I do not linger to see if he is amenable to this request.

In the next room I am, miraculously, first in line and give my name for the announcing guy to announce but when I enter, instead of a normal room with maybe some sort of judicial panel, it's the goddamn royal court. The Monarch (they/them, slay) is trying really hard not laugh while I absorb the realization that I am fully in a nightmare of truly epic proportions. Arranged in tiered seating around and behind The Monarch is the High Court of Law Windbags I had been led to believe was my target audience. Now faced with royalty I can do nothing but frantically look around for some advice before dipping into the most wobbly half curtsey and nearly tipping over onto my face.

Guard #2 jerks his head to the side, indicating I should fuck off now so, gratefully, I plaster myself against the wall. A few more people are introduced and their curtseys and bows are clearly superior which is fine, whatever. It shouldn't matter, it's not like I'm here to make a good impression or anything. If anything the high court would probably prefer I fuck up so royally (ha) that my foreign fanny is no longer in danger of causing mass political upheaval. But of course it matters, who hates feeling foolish and out of her depth? This girl.

The Monarch calls a recess and some ashy windbag in black robes approaches and reminds me I'm here to make my appeal and then they strongly hint I should, like, never show my face around these parts ever again. Got it, Judge Judy, loud and clear. Behind me someone clears their throat and Judge Judy chokes on their tongue so I'm surprised when I turn around and, goddamn, its Mysterious Stranger again.

He's amused and a little tired from apparently running all the way back from wherever he fucked off to with my rental. He returns my keys and sweeps into what can only be described as the most graceful bow in human history. Ugh, I mutter. Judge Judy sounds like she's having some sort of seizure behind me.

It's then a thought occurs to me and for some reason instead of asking Mysterious Stranger or turning around and demanding answers from Judge Judy, I look around and lock eyes with the Monarch who is already staring at me with the most unnerving look of victory on their face.

And then I woke up.

[silly-thinkings]

"Let me, go find Damian." (DCeased Story line)

Well well well reader. You've got another choice. Wait, you're totally following along right? Just in case here's (Scene 1)

“Go find Damian.” You traded the suitcase for the shot gun and turned Alfred away. The butler quickly made his way to the bat-jet

Bruce now turned ran towards Alfred but you grabbed his cape pulling him back. Your husband roared as he faced you.

Alfred made eye contact with you. You smile. A bright beautiful smile before running deeper into the cave.

You ran towards one of the confinement rooms and turn around “I love you. I love you so much Bruce.”

You hoped he Heard you. His arm reaching out as he ran towards you. You ducked as he swiped a hand and promptly flipped him into a bullet proof room. With the press of a button you seal the door. Bruce banged on the glass trying to get to you and you felt your tears bubble up again. “I’ll find a cure. Damian will live. He will carry your legacy.”

The space around you shook. Booms could be heard from the city. Maybe it’s being bombed. But you didn’t care. After one last look at your husband you left him trapped there. You ran back to the computer shutting everything down. “Need to find my little ones.” You make your way to one of the moter bikes “computer. Initiate lock down.”

“Yes miss Y/n”

You put your helmet on and you were off.

***

The city burned, but there were still survivors. With your katana you cut down some of the dead as you led a group of about three dozen into the forest.

You were about to head into the city to find more survivors but the Batmobile burst through a crowd of dead. The jokers body strapped to the front of the car. Your confusion quickly turned into joy as your two children, Jason and Cassandra hopped out the vehicle. Gordon was with them but you held onto your kids for dear life. “Your ok. Thank the gods you’re ok. I thought I lost…” you didn’t think you had any more tears to shed. And yet here you were, what’s left of the family hugging each other. You feel Cassandra press her forehead against your neck. Her hand holding onto your cloths tightly. While Jason rested his chin on top of your head. “You’re such a bad ass Ma.” Since you’re alone he realized what’s happened to the rest of the family. He’s no idiot.

You pull away to get a good look at them. You then looked to Gordon “has Barbara…”

Gordon closed his eyes with slight nod.

“Sheesh I thought I got rid of my ex. Look! He’s following me” Harley shouted from the crowd of survivors.

You turn to see Harley and ivy waiting for you to wrap things up.

“Ma? What’s with them.”

You smile “they’re friendly. Apparently the plants like me. Ivy said it was because of the way I treated my garden back at… home.”

Cassandra held your hand. You look to her to see a warm smile. “They’ve been helping me find survivors, we’re going to build a sanctuary. Come.”

You take Jason’s hand “let’s go James. I have no intention of loosing anymore family.”

//Left behind ending//

Congratz! you got 2/3 endings :3 Hope you enjoyed the story. Trying something different and I'm not thinking much of it. This story was a spur of the moment kind of thing XD. Plz leave a a comment and lmk if the links work XD. Appreciate you! and thank you for reading.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

To be fair to the terrible nolan movies, I also find some of the minor characters to be the only redeeming qualities. Scarecrow being strangely fuckable is great, but I also die at the insanity of Morgan Freeman telling a billionaire "obviously you're lying about why you want bullet proof armor. How stupid do you think I am? Anyway. Dont explain, here is an assault vehicle"

no absolutely, Morgan Freeman is very good. there aren't actually like particularly compelling or interesting stories in the Nolan movies there are just some actors doing really good performances. the Dark Knight isn't actually a "good movie" if such a thing can even be said to exist it's mostly just Heath Ledger carrying the entire film on his back

[communicationthroughlyrics]

I Like Your Blood On My Teeth Just A Little Too Much - 8

You’re a former military, career oriented security executive who has made quite the living for yourself- but it has always been lacking. Your non-committal attitude has led you down a playgirl lifestyle, never really settling. What happens when your new boss throws you a curveball, and as a result? You end up hopelessly involved with a Hollywood starlet.

A/N: I've got a long weekend, so I'm hoping to post this and Chapter 9. This is a shorter chapter, so let's see how this goes XD.

2.7K Word Count

Ch. 8: The Weight That’s Crushing Can Be Relieved

You had honestly driven just about as fast as you could to get to the tower as quick as possible. The anxiety alone that you were in the process of pushing down was almost crippling you at this point, years of unresolved traumas resurfacing with the reappearance of the only being that you hoped was dead somewhere for the last 8 years. This was one part of your past you never wanted to confront again, but ironically you had to deal with it now- for work, for a new client. The rest of the trip was anti-climactic, nothing of significance really happened. Kris had only called you about an hour ago, checking to make sure you were still on track to show up at the office around 2. You looked at the clock on the radio to the truck, seeing that it was now 2:18 PM as you pulled into the underground garage. The garage attendant did a double take, not anticipating seeing you here on a Sunday. You always made sure to give yourself 1 day off a week, usually Sundays. You rolled down the window, stopping by the all concrete office that he worked out of, complete with bullet proof one way glass windows. 

“Hey Ralph, how are you today?” You asked, handing him your work badge so he could swipe it, giving you a little ticket to stick to the inside of your windshield, signaling to all that this vehicle was allowed to park here. 

“Good Afternoon, Ms. Y/L/N, it’s a wonder to see you here today. I hear you gotsa big project comin’ up.” He handed back your card, leaning against the doorway to the office. 

“Yeah, I do Ralph. And please, call me Y/N.” You slid your card back into your wallet, before resting your right arm over the steering wheel to the truck and holding your chin with your left, which was resting on the armrest on the door. 

“Good luck with your project, Ms. Y/N. And get some rest, you ain’t looking so great.” He smirked, before closing the door to his office and retiring to his post. 

“There’s a real confidence boost,”  you think to yourself as you slowly pull forward, working your way up the floors in the parking garage to get to the highest floor, and finding your rightful spot in the level, complete with your title on the sign bolted to the wall. As you pulled in, you noticed that Kris’ car wasn’t there yet, so you glanced down at you phone to see if she had texted you. With no new notifications, you quickly typed out a message to her, hitting send and bringing down the visor in the truck to check your appearance. Ralph was right, you looked like absolute hell. It was obvious you hadn’t slept, the bags under your eyes a faint greenish purple hue, almost like you had two healing black eyes. Your eyes were red, like you could be a spokesperson for Visine, and the puffiness around your eyes betrayed the intermittent crying of the past few days. You felt your phone vibrate, glancing down at the screen. 

2:24 PM   YOU- “Hey, you close? I just pulled into my spot, I'll be in there shortly.”

2:26 PM   KRIS- “Yeah, I had to make a pit stop on my way in, I know you haven’t eaten anything but gas station garbage. I'll be there in 10.”

You smirk at how well she knows your habits, before climbing out of the truck and going to the passenger side to grab the duffel bag. You stretch briefly,  groaning at your joints aching from pushing through that drive after having been up for 17 hours prior. You brush yourself off, wiping off any crumbs that may be lingering from your road snacks, and any wrinkles in your clothes. You stood by the door to the elevator, swiping your security card and pressing the up button, tapping your foot while you waited for the elevator to arrive. The door dinged open, and you stepped inside, pressing the button to take you to your office. 

You slid the card to open your door, throwing your duffle bag onto the sofa at the far end of your office, and walked over to the private bathroom that lurked behind a faux wall panel. You looked yourself up and down, realizing just how terrible you really looked.  You reached over to the small cabinet on the wall, grabbing a cloth from within, and wetting it with cold water, wiping your face entirely, and wringing it out before soaking it in cold water again, and resting it on your eyes. Your stomach made a small grumble at its lack of true sustenance, and you heard the faint click of your office door opening, meaning Kris had arrived. You heard the click of high heels coming towards your desk area. Rising from the toilet, you removed the washcloth from your eyes, wringing it back out and draping it over the empty towel rack in front of you. You splashed some water onto your face, and ran your fingers through your undercut hair before opening the door and walking out to greet your assistant. 

“Thank you for meeting up with me, I know you value time off a little bit more than me.” You state, drawing the attention of the blonde in front of you, sitting in one of the arm chairs with her legs crossed. She had on a pair of light blue ripped jeans, and a simple black t-shirt, and her glasses sat on top of her head. 

“Jesus, Y/N/N. What is wrong with you?” She quickly rose and came over to your side, concern etched into her features. She could tell you were not doing so well right now. “What’s going on?” She rubbed your arms up and down, while you stared down at the hardwood floor. She shifted her head to interrupt your vision, stirring you from your trance, and grabbing your hands to try and ground you. When you winced in pain, she looked at the bandaged hand that was in her grasp. You motioned for her to sit across from you, keeping the barrier of the desk between you for this conversation. 

“Sit down, I’ll tell you. But you’re not going to like it. God knows I don’t.” You state as shed the coat you were wearing, and draping it over the back of your chair. 

“Do you want some food first? You look like you haven’t eaten for days. I brought you some tikka from your favorite place.” She motioned towards the bag sitting on a far table. 

“Right now Kris, I’m really not hungry. I ate some of a sandwich on my way here.” You reasoned, trying to reassure her that you had been taking care of yourself.Her face dropped, but she knew better than to try and force you right now. “But you can go ahead and eat some, if you want.” You nodded towards the bag, and she walked over, opening it and getting her containers of food set out. She brought over a few cups, one with rice, one with her masala, as well as a foil pouch which you knew held some garlic naan inside of it. On a normal day, you would absolutely devour some of this, and. Your mouth would water at the smell of the naan, but in your current state it made your mouth run dry, as you felt queasy. 

“Does any of this have to do with that creeper dude by your apartment?” She asked, staring down at the container of food in her hand, picking through it for the piece she wanted, before glancing back up at you. Your hand shook slightly at the mention of him. But you knew, you had to tell her some of what you had ‘discovered’.

“Yeah, it is. It’s all about him right now.” You state flatly, standing up and walking over to the windows in your office, grabbing the dog tags under your shirt and rubbing them for some form of comfort. “He was in McCall. Working at the general store.” You stare out the window of the high-rise, not sparing a glance over to the woman at your desk, 

“He what?!” She asked with a tone of disbelief. “Y/N, that can’t be a coincidence. Did he say anything?” She set her food down, leaning over to rest her arms on her knees to get slightly closer to you. 

“He approached me in the parking lot, trying to make a conversation about the Cobra. I pretty much shut that conversation down, then went in to get my groceries. When I checked out, he was the cashier. Went by ‘Fred’ at the store.” You glanced back over your shoulder, trying to gauge her reaction. 

“Have you seen him anywhere else?”

“No. Not physically, at least.” She narrowed her eyes at this statement. She could tell that you were being purposefully vague, and that irritated her to no end. 

“Not physically? What is that supposed to mean?” She asked, leaning back in the chair, resting her arms on the armrests. 

“When I got back home, I did some research. Turns out that ‘Fred’, or Mr. Steven Waters, was one of my Sergeants while I was in the Army.” You turned around at the last bit of information, wanting to see how she reacted to him being from your past as well.  He eyebrow raised, and she ran one of her hands through her hair. 

“So you know him?”

“Yeah, you could say that.” You express flatly, not wanting to let on that there was more to this story. “He’s a real swell guy.” You lace as much sarcasm as you could into the last of that statement.  “Looks like he’s had a rough go of things since his discharge. Battery, Aggravated Assault, Robbery, you name it. Man has been busy for the last 8 years.”

“That’s how long it’s been since you last saw him?” She asks, her tone alluding to the fact that she knows you are withholding information.

“Yeah. He’s definitely changed a bit since then. Which would explain why I didn’t recognize him at first.” You state. 

“But still, you have the uncanny ability to recall the most vague of details. Something isn’t adding up here, Y/N.” She stood, coming over to where you stood., looking you in the eyes. “Do you think that’s who was in that car behind you?”

“I know it was. He was driving. He had someone else with him, but I don’t know who.”

“How do you know? I mean, if you never saw him, it may have not been him.”

“He called me.” You mumble, walking away towards the sofa where your bag lay. 

“Wha…What?” She turned on an axis, stalking after you to try and withdraw more information from you. “What do you mean he called you?”

“Did I stutter? He CALLED me. On my cell. Twice. First time, I was at the house. He knows that I know he’s lurking around. The second time was to tell me that he knew I was heading to LA, so it didn’t matter what route I took- he would find me either way.” Kris stood there, mouth agape as she absorbed the information being relayed to her. “He knows where I live, he has my phone number, he knows where I work.”

“How? How did this happen? You’re so tight lipped and close to the vest about everything. You’re normally so careful.” She spoke softly, not wanting to insinuate that this was your fault. 

“Hes an ex-Ranger, Kris. He was one of the best trackers in the goddamn military. I learned from HIM.” You punctuate the last part, to let her know that he had been the teacher, meaning he knew more than you. “I may hate his guts, but he was like a goddamn bloodhound. You told him to find someone, and he would find them, their closest relatives, you name it. Witness Protection, Clandestine, didn’t matter. He would find you. He found out about this contract before I did. And it isn’t like I haven’t been interviewed and published. People still know about me, Kris.” She grimaced at this, knowing that meant he knew about everyone in your life by this point, including her. 

“So changing your number won’t help, I take it?” She tried to make light of the situation slightly, but you just glared at her. 

“No. It won’t.” You played with the zipper on your duffle bag. 

“So, if you know this guy, why do you seem so off about it?”

“Kris, thats exactly why I’m off. I know him.” The innuendo in that statement made your skin crawl. “I know what he is capable of. And all things considered, he is a man with nothing to loose. He is dangerous, and it sounds like the wrong people have a hold on him.” 

“Why did you come back early? Why not take the time to process? And why the hell wouldn’t you fly in?” You knew this would come up, and you weren’t sure you knew the answer. 

“Honestly, I just need to work. I need to figure out what this guy has been doing to warrant a top tier security firm being hired to protect an A List celebrity. I need to know the in between, and what he has been up to since his discharge that lead up to this point. He is too dangerous to just take time away- so I need to bury myself in work. Occupy my time. ” You state, sitting yourself down on the sofa. You didn’t want to tell her you drank yourself into a stupor and didn’t feel like flying would be safe. 

“Ok.” She left it at that, for which you were thankful. But you could tell she knew there was more. 

“Has there been any discussion as to what this guy has already done to the client?” You ask, moving your bag to the floor so you could rest more comfortably on the sofa. 

“The Client? Y/N, just say Scarlett.  And no, not to my knowledge. All I know is that this security threat has affected and rattled her to the point she lost her husband as a result. I know you care, but you need to rest first, so you can put your best foot forward. When was the last time you slept?” She asked, coming over to kneel by the sofa.

“I dunno,” you mumble, glancing at your watch, which now read 3:15 PM. “I couldn’t sleep, so I was up at 3 yesterday morning.” She shook her head in disapproval. 

“Y/L/N, you need to sleep. Do you need me to drive you back to the apartment?”

“No, I’ll head there in a little bit. I just need to rest for a bit and feel productive.” You don’t want to let her know that you’re planning on staying here, you know that he will be watching your apartment. You don’t trust him when he knows you’re alone. 

“Ok, Y/N. Get some rest, wash up and I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah. Thanks K. And thank you for bringing me something to eat.” You smiled briefly. 

“You know it. And Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Take care of that hand. I don’t wanna know how that shit happened.” She narrowed her eyes at you, insinuating that she thinks it may be self inflicted. 

You watched as she left your office after placing your food into the small fridge located behind your desk. You made sure that she left the floor before moving your bag into the hidden bathroom, hanging up your work clothes so they wouldn’t be wrinkly for the morning. This is the time you were glad that they let you design your own office. You had hidden the bathroom, so no one really knew there was one in here but Kris, but even she had no clue that you had designed a full hidden Murphy bed into the wall as well. You pulled the book on your shelf that was responsible for the latch, and slowly eased the bed onto the floor. You flopped onto the mattress, pressing a button on the wall nearby to draw all the shades for the windows to the office, allowing the room to fall into darkness. You grabbed your phone and set a series of alarms, ensuring that you would wake up before anyone arrived for work in the morning, and so you could freshen up in the gyms showers.

(CHAPTER 9)