#But he’s actually called James and he’s the head of the surveillance department | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

adrenaline-roulette · 4 years ago

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Four Eighths

Pairing: Four x Eight (Reader) Word Count: 8K+ (She’s a doozy!) Warnings: Language, angst, very basic medical procedures *Disclaimer: Hey again guys, so sorry about the delay with this chapter. But I’ll admit, I actually got this posted a lot sooner than I thought I would! So kudos to me I guess? I just want to say a huge thank you to all of those who have been with this story since the beginning, and those who have joined us along the way. This isn’t the end of this story, but I just want to let you all know how much you all mean to me. And please remember, if you read this story and you like it, give it a like, a comment and maybe even a reblog if you think your followers may like it? I know there isn’t much happening in the 6 Underground fandom these days, but the only way to keep it alive, is if people keep reading and writing for the characters!

All my love my dudes ❤❤❤

Probably best if you check out the other chapters first..... One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten

Chapter Eleven: Don’t let me fall, at least not alone

“Four? Can you hear me?” Billy felt weak, and highly disoriented. His head was spinning, as if he actually was fighting a migraine, unlike the one he was supposed to be faking…. Faking, why was he faking a migraine again? “Four, stay with us!” The voice continued calling out, though why was this person yelling out a number? A name sure, he could understand that. But calling out random numbers? That just served to confuse him more.

“Four, god dammit! Keep your fucking eyes open!” This was a new voice now, one which sounded just as Billy’s eyes had slowly drifted closed against the harsh fluorescent lights above him. How strange, surely these people weren’t addressing him were they?

“Four, please just stay with us a little longer! Five, how are you going with those injections?” The same voice from before was firing orders, her voice holding an edge of fear and concern. Suddenly a shadow appeared above his closed eyes, and carefully he peeled them open, relieved to not be greeted with bright lights, and instead by a shadowed figure. “Billy, please just keep your eyes open for me. You’re going to be fine, I swear.” She was whispering to him, or at least that’s what it sounded like. Though it was hard to be sure, especially as he struggled to keep his eyes from falling shut once more.

How had things turned out like this? The last thing he could recall, was speaking with a woman dressed in white at a reception desk. Then it had all gone blank for him.

*****

You paced around the small living room of the house you had all been calling base for the past few weeks, sucking in deep breath after deep breath, all the while clutching your arms around yourself in a tight embrace. “Nope, I can’t do it. I cannot do this guys!”

Two looked up at you from her gossip magazine, having taken great pleasure in the abundance of French reading material. She was the only one of you in the group to have settled into your temporary accommodation, and was fitting in with the locals perfectly. Rolling her eyes at your outburst, she returned to her reading. It wasn’t that she was being unsupportive, far from it actually. It was just that she had reached her limit of words of support, forty odd minutes ago, at the beginning of your breakdown.

“Yes, you can. You know you can! We’ve been over the plan hundreds of times now, everything is in place. Weapons are stored in the hospital, the Lushnick’s are there, we’ve seen them! Everything is working out according to plan. Four will be on his way to Emergency within a few hours, then it’s all up to us. We can’t leave him.” It was One’s turn to play reassurer this time around, and he was the first to raise Four as if knowing it would get a rise out of you.

You whirl on the spot, eyes growing wide and pupils blown. “I never suggested we leave Four! I ju– I just don’t know if this mission is a good idea is all?”

One sighed, squaring his shoulders before smoothing his hands down his turquoise scrubs. “Eight, if you had one shot, or one opportunity. To seize everything you ever wanted in one moment, would capture it? Or just let it slip?”

You stare at One, blinking slowly as silence fills the room. “Is – Was that Eminem?” You stammer, shaking your head gently, as if to clear the fog which had settled there. Surely you were mistaken, One couldn’t be quoting Lose yourself, right?....

“Does it make it any better or worse knowing this isn’t the first time he’s used that as a motivational speech?” Seven grins, winking at you impishly.

“I think what makes it worse is knowing that no matter what reaction he got last time, he still decided to try it again!”

“Touché, and dude, get yourself a better speech already!” Seven smirks, patting One on the shoulder as he walks by and towards the kitchen. His uniform shirt half buttoned as he goes.

“Why does everyone know that song straight away?” One groans, looking genuinely confused.

“Because it’s the bloody 2020’s! And not to hate on Slim or anything, but for the love of god, replace your ipod shuffle, and listen to some new music. Please!” You plead, as the startling thought of One thinking lose yourself was a new song creeped its way into your mind, causing you to shudder.

Five steps out of the bathroom, a cloud of steam billowing out behind her. Looking like the absolute goddess she is, with her hair wrapped in a fluffy towel, and a robe concealing her, she fixes you with a strong look. “Eight. You are ready for this. Upon our first mission, we were all terrified. But we pulled through, one way or another we did what needed to be done, and look where we are now. I know what you’re feeling, we all do. We’ve all been there, trust me. But the only way this will work, the only way we will be able to get to the Lushnick’s, is if we stick together and work this mission just as we’ve planned. That means all of us. We can’t be a member short, not this time.” Without waiting for your response, Five walks away, closing a bedroom door behind her.

You have no response, no witty retort. Nothing. Not that it would matter, Five wasn’t there to hear it anyway. Chewing on your bottom lip, you turn back to One, who still looked somewhat put out by your ipod comment. “Has anyone seen my uniform?”

*****

Just after 11am, Billy made his way to the hospital and into the Emergency department, cradling his head between his palms, and groaning in mock agony. His earpiece was safely tucked in his ear, providing him contact with his team. Contact which he had been severely missing these past few weeks. At first it had been bearable, what with your secret texts on your burner phone. But when One had arrived at the safe house, it had been harder to sneak messages, until finally they had ceased all together. But hearing your voice now, ringing through his ears, he felt like he was home. Despite walking into a hospital.

“Genevieve Lushnick is on the move. Last seen leaving Ward 11A.” You advise everyone.

“She finished her rounds in Paediatrics much earlier, not sure where she’s headed now.” Five recalls, the sounds of crying infants in the background of her voice.

“Usually her roster would have her checking on Geriatrics in Ward 7B next. But She’s already been there. That was her second visit of the day.” Seven advises, though he sounds confused. To be fair, so does everyone else. Genevieve was changing up her routine, something she hadn’t done at all during their surveillance of her. So why now?

“Hold on, let me see if I can track her down through the live camera feeds.” You suggest, the sounds of your fingers flying across a keyboard breaking the silence which followed.

Billy’s concentration on the conversation happening in his ear is cut off by a woman dressed in white sat at the Emergency reception desk. A nurse from the looks of her. “Bonjour, comment puis-je vous aider?” She blinks wide amber eyes up at Billy, who stares back confusedly.

“Uh, En-English?” A part of him wants to chastise himself for not learning French for this mission. But knowing he was playing the part of a tourist he allowed himself some leeway in the preparation department.

The nurse smiles further, though the more teeth she shows the more forced it looks. “Of course. How may I help you today sir?”

“I just flew in a few days ago, and I have an awful headache. I’ve never experienced anything like it before. All lights are too bright, I feel weak, my head is pounding, and I feel nauseas.”

“Has this just begun, or is this an ongoing issue?”

“No, it just started this morning. I took a couple of paracetamol to help when I woke up, but they’ve done nothing.”

The nurse nods her head, looking down at her computer, as Billy adds in a groan for effect. Just as the nurse asks for personal details, One appears from the behind the desk. “Goodness, what’s wrong with this man? He looks like death on two legs!”

Billy repeats what he had just told the nurse, with One nodding along, and playing every part the good doctor. “You need to be seated immediately. Someone, bring me a wheelchair!” One calls in the direction of the wardsmen who are stood around the waiting room. “Jennifer, you need to be more familiar with signs of a migraine. This young man, what was your name sir?”

“James.” Billy moans, falling back into the wheelchair once it appears behind him, laying his head back for added effect.

“Yes, James could have collapsed at any moment. Please be more mindful next time.” One warns, a harsh glare in his eyes directed at the young nurse.

“O-of course Doctor Cleavers. It won’t happen again.”

Billy can barley contain his smirk at the sound of One’s alias, covering his attempted chuckle with a well-timed groan.

“Does anyone have eyes on Gregory?” Two whispers harshly into her earpiece, causing Billy to flinch slightly, just as one does the same. Christ, Two needs to keep her tone down!

It’s Three’s turn to respond first now, who sounds quite proud of himself as he speaks. “He’s up in theatres, doing God knows what to God knows who.” The sound of a trolley filled with rattling dishes being pushed, barely making his mumbled voice audible.

One moves around behind Billy, kicking up the brake on the wheelchair, and pushing him towards the swipe pass activated doors, leading to the Emergency treatment area. The deafening silence flowing through both his and Billy’s earpieces cause the two men to glance at each other nervously.

“How long ago did you see Gregory heading to theatres?” You ask, an edge of worry hinting at your tone.

Yet another long pause, until. “During breakfast rounds… I suppose two hours ago, maybe?” Three no longer sounds sure of himself, which sets in a sinking feeling in all those on the team.

“He was scheduled to finish surgery one hour ago. Has anyone seen him this past hour?” You snap back, perhaps more of a bite in your words than you had intended.

“Negative.” Replies One in a quiet voice, while smiling at fellow doctors as he pushed Billy.

“No.” That was Two.

“Nope.” Five now, who had been awfully quiet so far.

“Neither.” Three mumbles, likely feeling as dejected as he sounded.

“Well you know I haven’t.” Billy smirks. It was a risk him speaking to the group like this, but currently with his head tilted back, and staring up at the ceiling as he was being wheeled down a corridor, no one really paid any attention to him.

��I’ve only seen Genevieve. The two haven’t been together all morning sorry.” Seven whispers.

“Fuck me…” You breathe out, slamming your fists down on the desk. “I can’t see either of them on the live feeds!”

Carefully, Billy lifts his head once again, turning over his shoulder to peer up at One, who was frowning and staring dead ahead. “Is there a problem Doctor Cleavers?” He mumbles, keeping the act up for anyone who may pass.

“There very well may be.” One mutters, only glancing down at Billy for a brief moment.

The two continue down the corridor for another few minutes, the bright clinical lights beginning to bring on a genuine headache for Billy now. Finally, they come to a stop in a large treatment room, multiple beds lining the walls, all encircled by blue curtains. Some had been drawn for patient’s privacy, while others remained opened. In the centre of the room was a large desk where Nurses and Doctors hurried to and from, collecting and depositing various prescriptions and clinical orders. “James, are you able to stand to bring yourself over to the bed?” One asks, raising his voice enough to somewhat put on a show for those nearby.

The temptation to ask One to pick him up is almost too great to pass up, but knowing that somehow it would come back to haunt him, Billy opts for standing himself. “I think I can manage, thank you Doc.” Standing slowly, Billy pivots on the spot, and shuffles over to the bed, hoisting himself up and laying back.

“We’ll need to bring your fluids up, I’m worried about you becoming dehydrated. We’ll need to cannulate you. Have you ever had a cannula before?” One asks, waving for a nurse to come and assist him.

“No, I don’t think I have.”

“Not to worry, it’s relatively quick and painless.”

The nurse hurries over, and listens as One fires orders at him, orders which he had picked up from watching medical shows, mostly scrubs…. “We need James on a drip ASAP, get that started now!”

“Right away Doctor Cleavers.” The nurse agrees, before moving off to grab the necessary equipment.

Billy turns his attention to One, raising his eyebrows in concern. “Are you seriously going to stick a needle in me?” He hisses, emerald eyes flashing in fear.

One shrugs lightly, turning away from Billy to keep an eye out for the nurse. “Well, I’m not going to be injecting you. Can’t say the same for the nurse though.”

Billy wants to scream, at no stage during the briefings had there been any mention of him having a needle jabbed into him! Hell, if there had been any discussions of such a thing, he likely would’ve backed out! Perhaps that was why there was no mention? The nurse reappears, and preps his work station, all the while One, or Doctor Cleavers stays around to supervise the proceedings, occasionally chiming in with his theories as to what the cause for his sudden pain could be.

“Four! One! They’re coming!” Your voice breaks through the stinging sensation of the needle, panic flying through Billy’s veins. “The Lushnick’s! I finally found them on the cameras, they’re headed straight for-” Your voice is broken by puffing breaths, and the sound of your feet pounding on the tiles as you sprint from somewhere else in the hospital.

“Emergency.” Billy finishes, as the two people who he had been staring at photographs of for months now, strut into the treatment room, patients and doctors alike parting like the red sea as the couple head towards Billy and One. Four sets of eyes meet, and no member of either team is willing to break concentration.

“We’ve been expecting you.” Genevieve grins, her canine teeth almost too pointed, like fangs brushing against her ruby painted lips.

“Thank you, Eric, you’ve done a wonderful job here.” Gregory turns to the nurse and nods his head, the nurse returning the gesture and leaving the group.

“Eight for Four, come in Four!” Your voice shouts in his ear, causing Billy to flinch away.

“Ah, that must be the rest of your team I take it? Not to worry, we have our people taking care of them as we speak.” Genevieve shrugs, before turning to One. “Seeing as you’re so good at playing Doctor, you’ll be pushing your friend. He won’t be awake much longer. I would hate for him to collapse.”

At these words, Billy shoots up on the bed, his head spinning as he does so. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Genevieve waves him off, her nails painted the same shimmering ruby as her lips. “Surely you don’t expect me to give away our secrets? That’s not how people like us work.”

One steps behind Billy’s bed, and begins driving it forwards, following behind the Lushnick’s with a scowl. Billy could see the wheels in his mind turning, as he tried to formulate a plan of escape, though from every way he looked at it, they were pretty well fucked. He could feel his body growing tired, and his mind becoming clouded and dazed, whatever they had given him, it was taking over his body quickly, and any minute now he would be useless to the team.

*****

Fuck! The entire team had lost the Lushnick’s! How did that even happen? Seven was supposed to be trailing them, he had been doing so every other day perfectly, but what the fuck had gone wrong today? Your fingers fly across the keyboard, frantically switching between all the cameras in the hospital. Some provided a live feed, while others only offered playback, but at this point in time you would take what you could get. Window after window pops open on your monitor, squinting at the slightly pixelated images to try and identify who was being filmed.

“There!” You practically scream, causing one of the guards walking past your office to jump, turning a concerned look your way. “Sorry, just uh – finally got a fly that’s been harassing me all morning.” You blurt out, though with a shrug, the guard walks on, either having bought the lie or not caring enough to question it further. You gaze back at the image on your screen, it was from one of the playback cameras. Both Gregory and Genevieve were spotted seven minutes ago in one of the staff only corridors, leading between the imaging department and emergency. “Seven minutes…. How long does it take to get there?”

“Three! Come in Three!”

“Bloody hell, no need to yell Eight. What is it?”

“On your delivery route, how long does it usually take to get between X-ray and Emergency?”

Three pauses to think, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he does so. “Roughly twenty minutes.”

“We’re fucked.”

“What? What does that mean?!”

You ignore the frantic questions streaming from Three, the others shortly joining in with their own confusion. But you didn’t have time to address their concerns, right now there was only one thing on your mind. Beating the Lushnick’s to the Emergency room. With your heart hammering in your chest, and breathing coming out in desperate gasps you turn back to your computer, snaking your way into the hospital power grid.

You know how to do this, it’s just like what you did for your museum heist way back when you had met One. But for some reason, your brain can’t seem to summon the image of what you need to do. You could try a keyboard smash now that you’re in the controls, but that could seriously damage literally everything… “Come on, just think dammit.” You snarl at yourself, clasping your hands into fists, and pressing them against your temples.

Eyes springing open, you fix a harsh glare at the blinking screen before you, asking for a password. “Y’all Lushnick’s are fucked.” The password it simple to guess, trust the Lushnick’s to use their fucking last name as a password. They may be smart in what they do, but they sure as hell know nothing about internet security. The screen turns black, with a 3D model of the hospital slowly building itself on your screen. With each scroll of your mouse, the model shifts, and enlarges to a new section of the hospital. A blinking blue bar in the top left of the screen offers a text space, and going on a hunch, you type in ‘Geriatrics’ and press enter. The model disintegrates into tiny pixels, before rebuilding just the section you had searched. “Brilliant…” You whisper to yourself.

The geriatrics ward of the hospital consisted of one main power source, with a backup which would boot up and provide energy to the most necessary equipment and lights in the event of the main grid failing. “Five for Eight, come in?”

“Eight here, what’s going on?”

“I’m being followed. There’s security blocking off just about every exit on this floor, and no matter where I go, there’s someone behind me, or waiting for me.”

“Has anyone else got this issue?” You call out, eagerly awaiting replies. There’s a resounding yes in response, with the only discrepancy coming from Seven.

“A couple of guards caught up to me in 11B, they’ve brought me along to help catch the infiltrators.”

“So they don’t know you’re a part of this?”

“Seems like it. And from what I gather, they aren’t onto you either…”

“Perfect, Seven stay with your team. There’s about to be a Code Blue in geriatrics. I’ll put the call through to all security to get to the ward, that should give the rest of you time to escape. Rendezvous in Staff corridor D.”

You don’t wait to hear the replies from your team, once again your body working quicker than your mind. Your hands already working on shutting down the power to the Geriatrics ward. You should feel worse than you do, you were putting innocent people’s lives at risk. But the one thing which had been drilled into you from the begging was, the team comes first wherever possible. It was Seven who insisted on this. But who were you to argue with him?

Your eyes are glued to your screen as you watch a warning light appear over the 3D model you had been working with. ‘WARNING! Main power grid will be turned off. WARNING!’ It was rather polite of the system to warn you of the damage you were about to inflict, however the flashing red image did little to stop you. With one final mouse click, a new pop up appeared on your screen. This one somehow even more urgent, despite no red flashing lights. ‘WARNING! Main power grid for geriatrics has now been turned off. Back up system now operating.’ An alarm was blaring throughout your office, warning you and all security who remained nearby of a system failure. “All units. Repeat, all units to Geriatric ward immediately. Power failure. All units report.” You instruct through the P/A system.” Instantly, you watch as two security guards’ race past your office, down the hall and towards the stairwell.

“Five, have they gone? Can you get out?” You ask carefully, keeping your voice low in case of any security stragglers.

“Yeah, they’ve all gone now. Jesus Eight, what kind of a system failure did you make?” You can hear her laughing now, though you know the doctor side of her is genuinely concerned as to what chaos you had caused.

“Nothing that should cause any real harm, but it’s done the trick.” You smirk, locking your computer and stepping out of the office.

You knew the security alert wouldn’t deter the Lushnick’s, hell even if the building was on fire, you doubt they would stray from their current target. But if your calculations were correct, you still had at least five minutes to warn One and Four of their impending arrival. Your heavy combat boots pound against the tiles, sprinting your way towards corridor D, praying the others would already be there, or at least arriving soon. Pressing your index finger against your earpiece, your voice sounding frantic even to you. “Four! One! They’re coming!”. They had time, they had to have time….. But with no response from either, you try again. “The Lushnick’s! I finally found them on the cameras, they’re headed straight for Emergency!”

Nothing, not a single word from Four or One. This wasn’t right, they were supposed to have time still, plenty of time to get out of Emergency and meet you and the team. But as you round the corner to Staff corridor D, there’s no One, and sure as hell no Billy. “Thank God you got here alright!” Five gasps, running over to you and wrapping her arms around you. You had never known her to be much of a hugger, but you suppose high stakes situations like this could change a person. Checking over her shoulder you spot Three, Seven, and Two all talking amongst themselves. “Where’re Four and One?” You ask timidly, stepping away from Five’s embrace slowly, and looking between her and the rest of the team.

No one seems inclined to answer you, which only serves to send a deep chill down your spine, and for a solid mass to feel as if it had been lodged in your throat. Pressing on your earpiece again, you try calling for the two again. “Eight for Four and One, come in both of you.”

There’s again no reply, and your heart feels like it’s being strangled. “I heard some of the guards talking. There was talk of a couple of intruders being found…” Seven begins, his dark eyes meeting yours, with a look which could only be described as true sympathy.

Sharp, electric static echoes through your teams ears, all earpieces but yours going haywire for five seconds, before silence once more. “What the fuck was that?” Three snarls, ripping the piece out and glaring at it between his large fingers.

An all too familiar voice speaks slowly now in your ear, but as you look around you realise this voice was only speaking to you. No one else could hear her. “Well, who do we have here. You’re not the Doctor, I would recognise her voice anywhere. And you’re obviously not the French one, unless you’ve managed to disguise your accent, which I truly doubt. So who are you…”

“I’m not playing any of your sick little games Genevieve. Where is the rest of my team?” You hiss, causing the others to look up and over to you.

“Eight? What’s going on?” Two asks carefully, stepping towards you slowly.

“Who are you talking to? Three asks, lifting his brows up.

“Ah, see. There’s the French one! I knew you had to be someone else! Eight was it? Oh how interesting. So what, did another one of your team die? Is that why you’re here?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about! I’m not someone’s replacement.”

“Oh aren’t you? Well that just makes this even more special then doesn’t it? Tell me, which one of these charming young men is Four who you seem so concerned about? Is it this ruggishly handsome tall fellow who keeps glaring at me? Or is it the pretty blonde, with the gorgeous green eyes, who’s having a hard time staying awake right now?” It’s an involuntary reaction, but at the mention of Four, your breath catches in your throat, causing a small gasp to escape your lips. “Ah, the blonde it is..”

“What have you done to him? What can’t he stay awake?”

“My my, so many questions! If you didn’t want anything to happen to him, then maybe you shouldn’t have used him a bait silly little girl!”

“Where the fuck is he?”

“I suppose I could tell you, it would be rather enjoyable to see the look on your face as we operate on him, while there’s nothing you can do about it…”

You don’t wait to hear anymore, ripping the earpiece out and throwing it as far down the corridor as possible. “Theatres. The Lushnick’s have Four and One. They’re about to do something to Four.” You gasp out, barely able to catch your breath, as tears prick the backs of your eyes.

“Shhh, Eight it’s going to be fine, I promise.” Five offers, soothing her palm down your back gently.

“Don’t you dare make empty promises.” You growl, shaking her off and racing down the hall, towards the stairwell.

*****

“What have you given him?” One growls, glaring between both the Lushnick’s and Four who lay on an operating table, barely moving and occasionally groaning. He rattled his arm against the handcuffs which kept him bound to a side railing. He was completely useless, both to himself and to his teammate.

Genevieve turned to him now, regarding him with a cold stare. “I hardly see why that matters now? You can’t do anything to help him, especially not in your current predicament.” She chuckles darkly, before turning her attention back to Gregory. The man barely spoke a word, but the sick sadistic smile which had been growing across his lips these past few minutes, was enough for One to get a better sense of his character.

“At least tell me what you’re going to do to him!” One tries again. He was running out of questions, and by the looks of things, time too. He had hoped he would be able to keep the Lushnick’s occupied long enough for you and the rest of the team to get here, but ever since Genevieve finished her conversation with you, she seemed all the more eager to get this started.

“Well that’s the fun part. Greg doesn’t know yet! Here’s how this works. Greg cuts the patient open, has a bit of a poke and prod around. Takes out what he wants, and then stitches ‘em back up! You never know what will be taken!” Genevieve grins, pressing a red kiss to Gregory’s cheek, who only grins broader.

One has to fight back to urge to both vomit, and throw punches, instead opting to glare at the duo. “You’re both sick, and you’re going to rot in hell once we’re through with you!”

Genevieve waves him off, turning her attention to Four, who was more unconscious than conscious now. Though he occasionally made a slight jolt, or mumbled a quiet sentence. “Should we wait until he is a bit more under before beginning the procedure?”

Gregory turned to her, lifting a brow in curiosity. “And risk the others getting here, before it’s too late for them to rescue him?”

Just as his words die off, a loud crash against the operating theatre door causes both Doctor’s to glance towards the sound. The crash was quickly followed by another, before a gunshot can be heard echoing throughout the circular room, the sound of a heavy body hitting the ground following. “Greg…..” Genevieve whispers, turning to the Doctor, as the double doors slam open. The metallic hingers screeching under the sudden movement.

“Where the fuck is my boyfriend?” You scream, pistol raised, and aimed directly at Genevieve Lushnick. Seven and Three stand beside you, each holding a gun of their own, with Three aimed at the nurses in the theatre, and Seven poised to fire upon Gregory. Two and Five stand either side of them, aiming at the guards behind them who were writhing on the ground, though they both remained vigilant for any further arrivals.

Gregory lifts a scalpel and hovers it directly above Four’s abdomen, poised and ready to cut. “Ah, you must be Eight.” Genevieve grins, taking a careful step towards you, as Gregory lowers the scalpel closer to Four’s bare skin.

Seven aims at the wall just above where Gregory stands, the bullet ripping a hole in the sterile room, causing Gregory to jump back almost an entire foot. “Don’t even think about trying that again.” Seven hisses, fixing the Doctor with a glare.

“Now now, there will be no need for violence.” Genevieve begins, before taking a look at the guards who were slowly bleeding out in the entry way. “At least, no more violence that is.” She steps forwards again, fixing you with an interested eye. “My goodness you look familiar. Have we met before?”

“I’m positive I would recall meeting someone as wicked and vile as you.” You spit, keeping your pistol trained on your target, your eyes following her every step.

“Hm, yes I suppose so.” You were now engaged in an odd type of dance, Genevieve was slowly circling around you, and you followed her every move, moving in a circle on the spot. “This is where the negotiations begin, I imagine.”

“There will be no negotiations. You tell us what you gave Four, you let him go, and we take you to the authorities who will make sure you both rot in a prison cell for the rest of your sorry lives.”

Genevieve shakes her head no, still walking in her slow circle around you. From an outside perspective, it was that of a lion circling its prey, though to your perspective, you had the upper hand. Or at least, you had the weapon. “No, you see that doesn’t work for us.”

“Fine. You tell us what you gave Four, you let him go, and we kill you both right here, right now.”

Genevieve shakes her head again, looking over to Gregory who was clutching the scalpel for dear life. “Eight, something’s wrong…” One calls, looking over to Four. The young man was beginning to convulse on the operating table. His skin was flushed in tiny pinprick sized red dots, and his chest was rising and falling in rapid laboured breaths.

You chance a glance over to Four, and your heart stops. Something was horrendously wrong. “Five, go check on him!” You screech, turning your full attention back on Genevieve as Five races past you. In a split second, you pocket your gun in the back of your jeans, and lurch forwards, fists griping into the collar of Genevieve’s shirt. You hold the fabric with such ferocity the seams popping in her shirt is almost audible, but your blood is pumping too loudly in your ears for you to hear. “Tell me what you gave him!” You’re practically screaming now, directly in her face, yet Genevieve doesn’t seem phased at all. She was used to outbursts such as this, granted they were typically from a grieving mother or father, and not someone threatening her life, but none the less, it felt like just another day in the office.

“Not until we strike a deal!”

There’s only one thing running through your mind as your eyes lock onto Genevieve’s, the training fight you had had with Three all those months ago. Only this time, there was no one fighting back, you had the power. Your leg steps behind Genevieve’s left, and you sweep out with your entire weight, releasing her collar just as her knees gives way and buckle beneath her weight, and she crumbles to the ground bellow you, her back smacking the hard tiled floor with a crack. Instantly, you’re on top of her, kneeling down against her stomach and pinning her to the ground.

“You bitch!” She shrieks, coughing as she attempts to regain the breath you had knocked out of her, though with almost your entire weight leaning into her now, it was unlikely she would.

“I’m terribly sorry. I guess I lost my footing.” You smirk, pressing your knee harder against her. Causing Genevieve to cry out in pain.

Gregory races forwards, his scalpel dropping to the ground in his haste. “Get off of her!” He calls, wrapping her palms over your shoulders and attempting to tear you away.

Three steps in, shoulder barging him in the stomach and sending the Doctor crashing to the ground beside his wife.

“Guys! I think Four’s having a severe allergic reaction to whatever concoction he was pumped full of!” Five yells, a stethoscope looped around her neck, as her frantic eyes meet yours. “Is he allergic to anything you know of?”

You stare back at Five, your mind going completely blank, you feel like a deer caught in headlights. Surely Four would’ve told you if he had any allergies, right? And perhaps he had done just that, but standing here now, with all hope resting on your shoulders, you couldn’t think of a single thing which may be useful in this situation. Shaking your head, a growing sense of dread filling you, as the rest of the team remain silent. “I- I don’t know….”

“I can give him an Epipen, but I need to know what he’s either had, or what he’s allergic to so I can get him the proper antidote!”

Tearing your eyes away from Five, you look over to One, who not only felt but looked entirely useless, chained to a handrail on the opposite side of the room. Your eyes searching his for an answer. Your mission was to capture the Lushnick’s, and right now, that was exactly what you had done. But if you kept them as they were now, as prisoners, Four could die….. Was that a sacrifice you were willing to make?

All One could offer was a gentle half smile, shrugging his shoulders slightly in his compromising position. He couldn’t offer you an answer, hell you couldn’t even offer yourself an answer….

Carefully, you release some of the pressure from Genevieve’s stomach, just enough for her to look up at you in surprise, blinking wide eyes up at you. “Tell me what you gave him, and we’ll let you both go.” You mutter, fighting back the urge to swallow back your own words.

A wicked smirk unravels over Genevieve’s lips. The kind of smirk which one would associate with a wicked stepmother, or evil queen from a Disney film. “Deal.” You release more pressure from your hold on her, until she can breathe properly once more, and Three steps away from Gregory, giving the man a swift boot to the hip just to make his point. “We gave him a combination of penicillin, general anaesthetic, codeine…” Genevieve stands, as does Gregory, both stepping backwards towards the door. Your team moving out of their way upon looking at you for clarification. No one wanted to move, that much was obvious in the frantic looks the others were throwing your way. But at the same time, they all knew the price they would have to pay if they kept the Lushnick’s as they were now. A price no one was prepared for.

“There was some paracetamol mixed in too….” Genevieve continues. They were at the doorway now, hand in hand, gazing behind themselves to make sure the way was clear. “Hm, what else?”

“Gosh, I just can’t recall.” Gregory shrugs, an evil smirk crawling its way over his lips. His eyes glowing with malice. “I simply have no idea what ese they’re may have been!” He calls with enthusiasm, before both pivot on the spot, racing from the theatre.

“I’ll fucking kill you!” You shriek, your sight going red as you sprint after them down the corridor, pulling your gun out as you give chase. Genevieve looks at you over her shoulder as they reach the stairwell, regarding you with a look of familiarity.

“Eight! Eight, it’s not worth it!” Two yells from the doorway, watching you with a deep concern. She knew what you were capable of, your whole team did, but not the Lushnick’s. And from the looks of things, they didn’t care either. You stop halfway down the corridor, releasing the safety on your pistol and firing three shots at the door Gregory hand his hand pressed against. He jumps backwards in shock, glaring back at you, pure fury masking his features.

“Yes Eight, listen to your friend. She seems to be the brains of this group. We wouldn’t want you getting hurt now would we?” Genevieve snarls, baring too many teeth to be considered even remotely friendly.

Aiming the pistol once more, you line up your sights, finger hovering over the trigger. One shot, that’s all it would take. A bullet to the middle of Genevieve’s forehead would kill her instantly, and Gregory would have no choice but to surrender. “Are you going to kill me? Shall I say hello to Kellie when I see her?”

You stare at Genevieve, her words ringing through your ears, and sending a jolt of shockwaves straight down your spine. In that moment of hesitation, the Lushnick’s push through the stairwell door, and flee.

You’re paralysed on the spot, staring after where the Lushnick’s had stood moments ago. They recognised you. They knew who you were and why you wanted revenge. But how? It had been years since you last saw them, you had been a child! Surely you looked different now from back then? But they knew you! They remembered Kellie… A gun shot rings down the corridor, the sound of metal clanging to the tiled floor following directly after.

“Eight! What happened?” One yells, now free of his handcuffs, and jogging down the corridor to meet you. You hadn’t moved. Still stood with your arms raised, and gun pointed to where Genevieve had stood.

“They – They knew me.” You gulp, putting the pistol away with shaking hands, and turning to look up at One. Tears were brimming in your eyes, though you refused to let them fall. At least not yet.

“What? But how?”

“I don’t know! That’s the fucking problem.” You hiss, storming away from One back towards the theatre. Once back, chaos surrounded Four, with everyone racing around him handing various different equipment and medications to Five, as she prepped some kind of antidote perhaps. “How’s he doing?”

Five looks up at you, regarding you with a careful mix of sympathy and hope. “The EpiPen gave him enough adrenaline to wake up again, though he’s extraordinarily groggy. Now I’m just tyring to figure out exactly what to give him to counteract the other shit that’s pumping through him.”

You nod your head in thanks, knowing you would find the time to thank Five properly once all of this was over. “What can I do to help?”

“We need to try and keep him awake, he keeps coming in and out of consciousness.” Three replies, as he passes Five a vile of clear liquid.

“Four? Can you hear me?” You ask carefully, stepping over to him and squeezing his hand tightly. His warm fingers curl around yours in reply, before falling limp against your palm.

“He’s out again! Wake him up!” Five yells to those in the room.

“Four, stay with us!” You plead, pressing a soft kiss against his knuckles. To hell with anyone seeing the act of intimacy, if One wanted to give you shit for it, he could do so when you were all in the clear. Though checking the room, you can’t find One or Two for that matter, they must still be in the corridor where you had left them?

Slowly, Four blinked his eyes open, frantic emerald flickering around the room and searching for something, or someone. Just as his eyes landed on yours, they fell shut again, and his body spasmed once more.

“Four, god dammit! Keep your fucking eyes open!” It was Seven yelling this time, his voice booming above all other noises in the vast room.

“Four, please just stay with us a little longer! Five, how are you going with those injections?” You can hear the tears in your voice as you beg for him to open his eyes again, but they remain closed. Turning to look at Five, she looks frazzled. Her hair which had started in a neat, slicked back bun, was now hanging loose down her back, and was wild with frizz. She looks up at you, not quite in a glare, but with enough ferocity behind the look that you know better than to bother her anymore.

Leaning down, you card your fingers through Four’s blonde curls, brushing away a few stray locks which were plastered to his forehead with sweat. Barely more than a slit, his eyes open and stare directly up at you. “Billy, please just keep your eyes open for me. You’re going to be fine, I swear.”

Three looks over at you, his ears perking up at the use of his teammates real name. It was one thing to use names in privacy back home. But during a mission, however failed that mission may be, now that was new. Shaking his head, he spots One and Two heading over, but with grim looks on their faces. “What’s the plan?” Two asks, her eyes locking with Three’s.

“There isn’t one, not really. We just need to keep him awake.” Five sighs. “I think I know what to give him to help, but I want him awake when I administer it. If it works correctly then it should knock him out for a bit. If he’s already unconscious when I give it to him, then I won’t know if it’s doing more harm than good.”

One turns his attention over to you now, lifting one brow as you meet his gaze. “Any idea what will keep him awake?”

You pause, clutching Four’s hand tightly, and staring blankly at One. “Trivia. He loves random trivia facts!” You blurt out after a beat of pause. All eyes turn to you in surprise, no one quite knowing how to respond to this information. You shrug lightly, averting your gaze from One’s. “We play a lot of trivial pursuit back at base.”

Seven is the first to break the silence, though not to mock you as you had thought would be the case. Instead, he looks down at Four. “Hey mate, did you know high heels were originally invented for men. Imagine Three chasing down the Lushnick’s in stilettos.” He laughs, which causes Four to stir slightly, his eyes opening just a tad.

“Fuck, you’re right. That did work.” One blinks in surprise, running a hand through his short hair.

“Of course it did. I know Four, I know what works on him.” You mutter quietly.

Without looking up, Five smirks to herself. “You sure do kid.”

There’s no fighting the embarrassment which claws within you. Perhaps now wasn’t the time to be making suggestive comments… “Alright, keep ‘em coming guys!”

“Um okay…. Uh, Canada has more lakes than anywhere in the world.” Seven offers unsurely.

“Those greedy fucks….” Four moans, causing everyone to pause, before laughing quietly. Good, his sense of humour was still intact, that’s surely a good sign!

Two steps closer, and looks down at Four in deep concentration, before leaning back slightly. “David Bowie, he did not in fact have two different coloured eyes. One of his pupils was permanently dilated after he was punched in the eye during an argument over a girl.”

“Bugger me, really?” Five pipes up, both brows raised in surprise. “I always thought he had one blue and one brown eye.” She shrugs, priming a syringe carefully.

Slowly, Four was waking up. Granted he wasn’t exactly moving very much, but his eyes were opening, and he was grinning somewhat at the facts that were being thrown at him.

Staring down at Billy, something pops into your mind, a fact which you had learnt years ago at school but never shared with anyone else. “Okay, here’s one for you. Madonna’s like a prayer, is actually not about praying, it’s about giving someone a blowjob!”

Silence follows, and you swear you could hear crickets chirping. “Why the fuck is that something you know?” Four groans quietly, his eyes searching all over your face, before finally meeting your own.

“Shit, I don’t know… I also didn’t think that would be the fact that would wake you up the most! I was hoping someone else would say something after me!” You grumble through a grin.

“Nothing could possibly beat that fact.” Four chuckles weakly, squeezing your hand as tightly as he could muster.

Five turns around, holding a full syringe in her right hand, and a sterile swab in the other. “Glad you’re awake. What I’m about to give you however, is going to send you right back to sleep. Sorry about that. But I assure you, next time you wake up, you’re going to feel amazing.” She grins, ripping open the swab, and swiping it over the inside of his elbow.

For the second time that day, Four winces in pain as a needle plunges through his skin. Squeezing his eyes shut against both the sight of the injection, and the stinging pain. Whatever Five had given him was fast acting, and soon enough Four finds it nearly impossible to reopen his eyes now that he’s closed them.

“Move him into the wheelchair there, it’ll be easier than carrying him out of here.” You suggest, pointing to the blue cushioned wheelchair in the corner of the room.

One, Three and Seven all nod their agreement, and move around the operating table, getting into position to lift Four. “Count of three…. One, two, three.” Three instructs, as the men lift Four who simply groans in protest. You watch his limp body be carried across the room, your heart aching at the sight. ‘It could be worse… He’s just asleep.’ You repeat to yourself, once again fighting back the tears which had remained ever present at the corners of your eyes.

Three pushes the wheelchair as you all follow in a daze. Your mind felt as if it were a million miles away from the current situation. For the briefest of moments, you had genuinely considered murdering Genevieve. Never once had you thought yourself capable of doing such a thing. But yet, there you had been. Gun poised, and trigger finger rearing to go. If it hadn’t of been for her words, then she would be dead…

The escape route was an easy one, especially with security still trying to figure out what had gone wrong on the geriatrics ward still. Swiping the keys to an ambulance at the docking bay, you load Four inside the back with Five to monitor him. One drives, Three and Two sitting beside him up the front. While you and Seven sit quietly in the back. Occasionally your focus returns to Four, but mostly you stare out of the back windows, watching as traffic zips around you. You nearly killed someone today… What sort of a person were you becoming? And did you even like the person you were turning into?

Four Eighths taglist (If you would like to be added, please let me know!) @sj-thefan @not-the-cleavers @jinxfirebolt18902 @softnorris @dear-vista @mixer2b @rintheemolion @shane-isa-shame @keithseabrook27 @tammykelly @himarisolace @buckingpeterparker @cailin-lefantasy @riddikuluslysirius @vivalakatee @pxroxide-prinxcesss

My Masterlist for all my other nonsense!

#four eighths #four x reader #number four #billy four #ben hardy/ billy #ben hardy/ four #ben hardy/ billy x reader #ben hardy fanfic #6 underground #6 underground four #6 underground fanfiction #billy/four #four x eight #four x you

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hdsudsfest · 4 years ago

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HP Sudsfest Week Three Round-Up

And with that, we are done! And what a closing week it was. With the usual magical mix of ships, tropes, and moods, this week had us all in a lather here at Sudsfest HQ.

Please enjoy the marvellous creations within, and give the writers and artists a boost in the form of a reblog, kudos, or comment!

Drarry

🛁 Title: When The Silver Dragon Strikes

Author: @drgngrl87

Pairing: drarry

Rating: M

Word count: 27110

Warnings/Tags: Head Auror Harry Potter, Cursebreaker Draco Malfoy, POV Harry Potter, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Alternating, DMLE | Department of Magical Law Enforcement (Harry Potter), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, somewhat slowburn, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Getting Together, Patronus Charm (Harry Potter), Duelling, a bit of angst, Mystery, Paris (City), Unrequited Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Kissing, Magical Tattoos, Magical Theory (Harry Potter), Tree of Life, Supportive Ron Weasley, Invasion of Privacy, Prompt Fic, Happy Ending, HP Suds Fest 2020

Prompt: S45

Summary: Auror Harry Potter and Cursebreaker Draco Malfoy are a force to be reckoned with. Post-war, they've not only become friends but also partners who trust each other explicitly. There's more though. Much more. And it's all going to be revealed in front of an international live audience.

🛁 Title: Mind your bubbles!

Artist: @maesterchill

Pairing: drarry

Rating: T

Word count: 100

Warnings/Tags: Bathing/Washing, Gossip, Bubble Bath, Best Friends, Housemates, omg they were roommates, Just friends though, ...for now, Witch Weekly, Fanart

Prompt: O5

Summary: Harry's guilty pleasure is a deep, eco-unfriendly, bubble bath. Preferably with a cuppa and his best mate Draco sitting on the loo seat gossiping.

🛁 Title: love me now (touch me now)

Author: @swisstae

Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Rating: G

Word count: 3296

Warnings/Tags: tooth rotting fluff? idk

Prompt #: S8 - "Anyone who thinks heaven is not hot water behind a locked door has forgotten what it means to live". -Lucy Frank

After Harry's awful childhood he struggles to value and take care of himself. Draco shows him how enjoying bathing can help his self esteem.

Summary: Harry's never had a bath. Draco plans on changing that. OR: in which Harry gets his hair washed and Loves It (and Draco. He loves Draco too.)

🛁 Title: Breathe You In

Author: @shealwaysreads

Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Rating: M

Word count: 2152

Warnings/Tags: Sharing a bath, recreational drug use

Prompt #: self-prompt

Summary: Some days are lazy, soft, and easy. This is one of them.

🛁 Title: all your kind they're coming clean

Author: @tasteofshapes

Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Rating: Teen

Word count: 6334

Warnings/Tags: Bathing/Washing, Hair Washing, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Partners, POV Harry Potter, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Developing Relationship, Pining, Pining Harry Potter

Prompt #: S22

Draco has injured his arm after a particularly brutal day of Auror training. Harry happens to be the only other person in the locker room that can help him wash his hair.

Summary: It’s the small grunt of pain that echoes through the empty locker room that gives Malfoy away.

The air in the locker room is still heavy and damp with steam, and it clings uncomfortably to Harry's skin; condenses into tiny drops of water that run down his bare chest. He wipes it away absently, still listening, and hears it again.

🛁 Title: Just Need Your Extra Time

Artist: @chuckalart

Pairing: drarry

Rating: M

Word count: 0

Warnings/Tags: Pretty Woman AU

Prompt: S37

Summary: Prompt from anon: Pretty Woman AU. Draco is a high class escort. Harry is wealthy wizard businessman. The two haven't seen each other since school. Harry offers Draco 3000 gallons for a week of his company. The fic or art will show him celebrating in a massive bathtub full of bubbles.

🛁 Title: i kinda wanna be more than friends

Author: @bonesliketambourines

Pairing: drarry

Rating: E

Word count: 6970

Warnings/Tags: Auror Partners, Hotels, Hotel Sex, Showers, Masturbation in Shower, Background Case, Mutual Pining, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Rimming, Golf, Rather a lot of golf actually, Drinking

Prompt: Self prompt - auror partners undercover in a shared hotel room

Summary: Draco's managed to keep his feelings for his Auror partner tamped down neatly in a box at the back of his mind for years now. He's got everything under control, and he's able to handle out-of-town missions and Harry's overly-familiar brand of friendship with aplomb.That is, until a trip to the Lake District in pursuit of a wealthy smuggler and an ill-timed early wakeup call shatters the walls he's so carefully built for himself.

🛁 Title: Unseen

Author: @jackvbriefs

Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Rating: T

Word count: 47,118

Warnings/Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE; Getting Together; THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED; Auror Harry Potter; Auror Draco Malfoy; World Travel; San Francisco Bay Area; Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley; Minor Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley; Bathing/Washing; Found Family; Colleagues to Lovers; POV Harry Potter; Happy Ending; Policing and Surveillance Theory; Language

Prompt #: S87

Summary: Harry Potter finally has the chance to leave England and its expectations for The Chosen One behind for good. All he has to do is survive one Auror training conference overseas with Draco Sodding Malfoy.

🛁 Title: Coming Clean

Artist: @julcheninred and @m4g0rtz

Pairing: Harry/Draco

Rating: T

Art medium: paper and mylar

Warnings/Tags: Hogwarts Prefects’ Bathroom, Bathing/Washing, Bubble Bath

Prompt #: S21: Harry still uses the Prefects' Bath during 8th year to blow off steam. It's not really his fault that Malfoy has started joining him.

Summary: Harry was surprised to find he enjoys sharing his baths with Draco, but they're forcing him to face up to feelings long submerged.

Other HP ships

🛁 Title: Jets, Bubbles, and Fluff

Author: Dracos_Tealsuit

Pairing: Drarry, Jeddy, and Wolfstar

Rating: Teen

Word count: 7072

Tags: Humour, fluff, epistolary, hot tub

Prompt #: S42

Summary: Teddy finds letters between Sirius and Remus about Number 12 and its desire to keep people happy. This is alternating POV from Teddy/James to Harry/Draco A bit of awkwardness, humor, and sweet words <3

🛁 Title: After a long day, sometimes you just need your girlfriend to help wash it away.

Artist: @avaeryn

Pairing: Ginny Weasley/Luna Lovegood

Rating: M for content (but NSFW for nudity)

Art medium: Traditional – Coloured pencils/collage

Warnings/Tags: nudity, domestic fluff, established relationship

Prompt #: Prompt F13

Summary: Ginny helping her girlfriend Luna clean up.

🛁 Title: A Helping Shower

Author: @gaeilgerua

Pairing: Harry/Pansy

Rating: E

Word count: 1529

Warnings/Tags: Alternate Universe, Dirty Talk, Magical Shower, Moving, Shower Sex, Smut, Established Relationship

Prompt: O14

Summary: After a long day moving the Muggle way, Harry knows just how to thank his wife for putting up with him.

Complete masterlist coming next week, but for now please enjoy these wonderful creations!

Week One Round-Up || Week Two Round-Up

#drarry #harry x pansy #wolfstar #jeddy #linny #drarry fanfic #hp fest #hp multiship #hp sudsfest #hp sudsfest 2020 #mod post #weekly round-up

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96thdayofrage · 4 years ago

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That all this time later we are still learning new information about Hampton’s killing is testament to the sheer volume of the effort aimed at this young revolutionary.

“This was a masterplan for destroying radical black nationalist groups.”

The horrifying story of the 1969 police murder of Fred Hampton is now well known. But there’s still much to be revealed about the case — like the information in bureau files newly obtained by Jacobin showing the FBI awarded Special Agent Roy Martin Mitchell, the handler of informant William O’Neal who was key to the raid that killed Hampton, a $200 bonus for work well done.

In the predawn hours of December 4, 1969, fourteen Chicago Police officers, claiming they were searching for illegal weapons, crashed into a first floor apartment on Chicago’s Monroe Street and opened fire. Inside were nine members of the Illinois Black Panther Party, including the rising star of the chapter, Fred Hampton.

The police claimed the apartment’s occupants fired on them, but after a fusillade of more than ninety bullets, the only people shot were Panthers, including Mark Clark and Hampton, who were dead. The picture of grinning cops carrying Hampton’s body out of the apartment that circulated in the wake of the killing said it all: the Chicago Police Department (CPD) had wanted Hampton dead. Their mission was accomplished.

The Chicago police, however, were not the only ones celebrating. We now know that within days of the murderous operation, the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) awarded their Special Agent Roy Martin Mitchell, the handler of the informant who was key to the raid, a $200 bonus for work well done. This, and other information is contained in documents obtained by Aaron Leonard — posted here for the first time — via a Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) request.

The murder of Fred Hampton remains a point of tremendous outrage and debate decades after the fact — most recently thrust into the spotlight with the release of the film Judas and the Black Messiah . Too often there is an assumption that all facts are known. But with these new documents and others released in the past few years, it is clear there is more to uncover — not only for the sake of historical accuracy, but to understand how the bureau targeted those who were deemed threats to the status quo, so we can try to ensure such voices will not be silenced in the future.

COINTELPRO: “Black Nationalist Hate Groups”

When speaking of Fred Hampton the term COINTELPRO, the syllabic abbreviation for counterintelligence program, has become near-synonymous with his killing. So it is worth looking at what the COINTELPRO aimed at the Black Panther Party (BPP) actually was.

The United States at the end of the 1960s was in tumult. The antiwar movement was radicalizing, Catholic pacifists were destroying draft records, and the black freedom movement was giving way to Black Power and armed self-defense. Against this backdrop, in August 1967 the FBI launched a program called “COINTELPRO, Black Nationalist Hate Groups,” expanding on an effort begun in the mid 1950s directed at the Communist Party. The Bureau soon expanded the program. In a memo issued on March 4, 1968 , they elaborated on its objectives:

1) Prevent the coalition of black nationalist groups

2) Prevent the rise of a “messiah” who could unify, and electrify, the militant black nationalist movement [here citing Malcolm X, Martin Luther King Jr, Elijah Muhammad, and Stokely Carmichael as examples]

3) Prevent violence on the part of black nationalist groups

4) Prevent militant black nationalist groups and leaders from gaining respectability

5) Prevent the long-range growth of militant black nationalist organizations, especially among youth

Taken as a whole, this was a masterplan for destroying radical black nationalist groups. As 1968 gave way to 1969, the Bureau was particularly fixated on the Black Panther Party.

The Black Nationalist Hate Groups COINTELPRO was a major undertaking, and its exposure played a large role in forcing the Bureau to curtail domestic security operations in the mid-1970s. But COINTELPRO was just one piece of the Bureau’s larger toolkit against radicals, one that included surveillance, informant infiltration, intelligence gathering, and compiling lists for possible detention, and working with local police and their red squads to achieve these goals. Understanding this gives a much clearer picture of what Hampton and the Chicago BPP were up against.

The Black Panther Party for Self-Defense, which started in Oakland in 1966, did not get its start in Chicago until the end of 1968. Around this time, elements of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC), including leaders Stokely Carmichael (Kwame Ture), James Forman , and H. Rap Brown, briefly joined the BPP. In Chicago, this included SNCC member Bob Brown, who would become one of the chapter’s original members, along with Bobby Rush, and twenty-one-years-old NAACP Youth Chapter leader Fred Hampton. While the Panther-SNCC merger ultimately fell apart, the Chicago BPP did not.

From the start, the FBI was all over the Chicago chapter, having the advantage of an informant who joined the group as it was forming. William O’Neal had been recruited by FBI Special Agent Roy Martin Mitchell. Mitchell, who had learned that O’Neal had stolen a car and crossed state lines — making his case a federal one — used that as leverage to turn him into a snitch. According to O’Neal, Mitchell told him:

“I know you did it, but it’s no big thing.” He said, “I’m sure we can work it out.” And, um, I think a few, few months passed before I heard from him again, and one day I got a call and he told me that it was payback time. He said that “I want you to go and see if you can join the Black Panther Party, and if you can, give me a call.”

O’Neal’s joining the Chicago chapter at its inception is consistent with a practice the Bureau had developed: aiming to embed informants into radical groups at their formation, where they could more easily assimilate and potentially rise in the ranks. This held true for O’Neal: who quickly became a security captain for the chapter. It also helps explain how the FBI was able to develop insightful, if not always successful, COINTELPRO efforts against the chapter.

“The Bureau aimed to embed informants into radical groups at their formation, where they could more easily assimilate and potentially rise in the ranks.”

One of the first measures they implemented was a “poison pen” letter sent to the Chicago Mau Mau street gang in December 1968. The letter purportedly from “a disgusted Black Panther,” slandered Bob Brown and Bobby Rush “as opportunists and hustlers out for their own personal gain.”

A month later they again tried to foment divisions, this by sending an incendiary letter to the Black P. Stone Nation , a formidable street gang, which was already in conflict with the Panthers over recruitment. The letter from “A Black brother you don’t know,” claimed “the Panthers blame you for blocking their thing and there’s supposed to be a hit out on you. […] I know what I’d do if I was you.” Fortunately cooler heads prevailed, though such was not the intent of the letter.

These were official COINTELPRO operations, meaning they had to be proposed and approved within the FBI hierarchy. Notably, they were not singularly targeted at Fred Hampton. Our research has only been able to find one example where Hampton is the explicit target.

That plan, outlined, in a November 25, 1969 memo , proposed sending a letter from “a disgruntled Panther” to the national office that would state:

“Myself and other brothers are getting tired of the screwing Hampton [Name REDACTED] are giving the brothers and sisters here in Chicago and the brothers in Berkeley. Last week [REDACTED] and Hampton called us all in for a meeting and the M….F……told us we are purged from the Party. All the time they are bitching about you no good nigger. [sic] They say you only think of Chicago when you need bread. You don’t give a damn about all our brothers in jail….”

The fodder for the letter was an incident in which Hampton had suspended a group of Chicago Panthers (the memo says “purged” until they “‘earned’ the right to be called a Panther”) for being late to a meeting. The letter’s aim was to sabotage plans for Hampton to move up the Panther hierarchy by joining the national office.

Notably, that same proposal shows up in a memo dated December 3, 1969 , which also references “a positive course of action” the Chicago Police Department were about to carry out (i.e., the raid, using intelligence the FBI had passed on to them from their informant William O’Neal).

“The letter’s aim was to sabotage plans for Hampton to move up the Panther hierarchy.”

It is confusing that both the raid and the proposed COINTELPRO against Hampton are mentioned in the same memo, suggesting the FBI’s effort against Hampton were more ongoing and they did not anticipate he would be killed the following day. At minimum, more information is needed to understand what the FBI was aware of about the imminent CPD raid.

The Chicago BPP in 1969 was in the middle of a tempest. On the one hand, the chapter was in the midst of an influx of new members, and the party was seen by many black youth as an electrifying force. Hampton himself was in high demand for giving speeches to organizations and on college campuses. Meanwhile police were routinely raiding BPP headquarters, the media was vilifying them, members were being arrested with minor charges transforming into major ones, and various secret police were working in the background to sabotage their efforts to work with and unite with other forces.

The CPD & the Red Squad

The murder of Fred Hampton unfolded against a pitched dynamic of raids and armed self-defense. In 1969, the Panther headquarters in Chicago was raided three times, first by the FBI and twice by the CPD. Such an extraordinary situation helps explain the Panthers’ emphasis on security and self-defense.

Meanwhile, there were forces in operation in the background beyond the FBI. While the Panthers repeatedly ran up against Chicago street cops, the CPD also had a sizable intelligence component, operating under different names over the years but generally referred to as “the red squad.”

For a single city, the operation was huge. In his 1990 book Protectors of the Privilege, which documented the activity of big-city red squads, late ACLU director Frank Donner, called Chicago the “National Capital of Police Repression.” He reported that in 1970, 382 people were assigned to the unit, with forty-nine specifically targeting “subversives.” Not surprisingly, the Panthers were a target. According to former Panther Billy “Che” Brooks , the Chicago chapter was under the constant eye of the Chicago Red Squad and Gang Intelligence Unit.

“ACLU director Frank Donner called Chicago the ‘National Capital of Police Repression.’”

It was against that backdrop that the CPD’s targeting of the BPP reached a crescendo. On November 13, Panthers Lance Bell and Spurgeon “Jake” Winters were in the abandoned Washington Park Hotel when police were called out to them. Bell fled the scene, but Winters engaged cops in a running shootout, killing one and wounding nine officers. After an extensive chase, he shot one of the two officers on his trail, knocking him down. According to the account in Black Against Empire : The History and Politics of the Black Panther Party by Joshua Bloom and Waldo E. Martin Jr, as the other officers rushed forward, “Winters walked to the fallen officer, purposely raised his gun, and shot the officer in the face.” Winter was in turn killed by approaching police.

According to informant William O’Neal, this was the incident that set the CPD on a course of murderous revenge that would result in the killing of Fred Hampton.

The Rising Informant

It was against this backdrop that positions in the Chicago BPP chapter were constantly shifting. In the case of FBI informant William O’Neal, he appeared to be on the rise. This comes through in a 1,636-page document released by the FBI in 2017 (under the JFK Assassination Records Collection Act), which includes numerous reports from SA Mitchell and an informant — most likely O’Neal.

Specifically, one document has SA Mitchell reporting , “HAMPTON is allegedly considering approaching O’NEAL to see if he will take over as acting Minister of Defense if RUSH goes to jail.” At the time, Bobby Rush was facing jail for possession of an unregistered weapon, stemming from a police arrest after a Panther speaking event in Urbana, Illinois.

While O’Neal was rumored for promotion, Hampton himself was confronting prison for an incident in which an ice cream truck was looted of $71 worth of merchandise and distributed to neighborhood youth. Hampton would be convicted at trial and later released on bail, but lost his appeal on November 26 and was facing a return to jail to serve an excessive two- to five-year sentence.

The CPD were apparently in no mood to await Hampton’s imprisonment. Here, the FBI’s informant William O’Neal played a key role. It was O’Neal’s floor plan, a rough diagram , later refined by Mitchell of the apartment where Hampton and other Panthers were staying, which was given to the CPD raiding party — a document that lawyers Jeff Haas and Flint Taylor were able to pry loose in a later civil trial. While this is hard evidence of O’Neal’s role, many accounts of the murder also claimed that O’Neal drugged Hampton the night before the killing. That evidence, however, is still in dispute .

O’Neal’s role in supplying the floor plan, and the fact that he was given a $300 bonus a week after Hampton’s murder, has been known for some time. What had not been known previously, and which we learned with the release of 491 pages in SA Mitchell’s personal file, is the degree to which the Bureau was following, encouraging, and rewarding O’Neal and Mitchell throughout 1969 — culminating in a personal commendation by J. Edgar Hoover himself for Mitchell, days after Hampton’s murder:

“Through your aggressiveness and skill in handling a valuable source, he is able to furnish information of great importance to the Bureau in this vital area of our operations. I want you to know of my appreciation for your exemplary efforts.”

“It was O’Neal’s floor plan which was given to the CPD raiding party.”

In the memo, Hoover is careful not to spell out what the “vital area of our operations” is. But a notation on the letter reads, “Re: Black Panther Party,” making clear it was his work against the BPP. Further diminishing the commendation’s vagueness, another note references a “Moore-Sullivan” writing on December 2, 1969 that recommends the award for Mitchell’s “development of a highly productive informant in the Black Panther Party” — almost certainly William O’Neal.

Notably, the same day Hoover congratulated Mitchell, the FBI issued a COINTELPRO memo following up on the proposed poison pen letter aimed at Hampton. In it, they noted, “In view of the fact that Hampton was recently shot and killed by Chicago police, no further action is being taken in regard to your proposal.”

It remains unclear all the details the FBI knew about the CPD raid at the moment Hoover wrote to SA Mitchell. But it is clear that they knew their informant, carefully cultivated over months, had played an integral role in the “success” of an undertaking where the only people shot were Black Panthers awoken from their sleep, two of whom were shot dead. That in that moment, the Bureau chose to reward their agent’s work further closes a loop of culpability: it was blood money for a bloody deed.

Still More to Uncover

The Fred Hampton story has been told and retold such that it is frozen in amber, as if all the facts are known. Yet our obtaining of previously secret documents shows there is still more to be learned — not only from the corpus of files held by the FBI, but from the files of Chicago’s SAC Marlin Johnson, the informant William O’Neal’s file, any liaison notes between the CPD and the FBI that may exist, to say nothing of information that may lie in the records, not destroyed , of the Chicago Police and their red squad. (The CPD admitted in 1974 that it destroyed 105,000 files on individuals and 1,300 on organizations .) That all this time later we are still learning new information about Hampton’s killing is testament to the sheer volume of the effort aimed at this young revolutionary — and hopefully a spur to finally get all the secrets out.

This article previously appeared in Jacobin and Reader Supported News .

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theculturedmarxist · 4 years ago

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Outgoing US envoy to Syria James Jeffrey stated in a recent interview with Defense One that US officials have been “playing shell games” about the number of troops in the region to deceive the Trump administration into thinking there has been a military withdrawal. Here are some excerpts:

“We were always playing shell games to not make clear to our leadership how many troops we had there,” Jeffrey said in an interview. The actual number of troops in northeast Syria is “a lot more than” the two hundred troops Trump agreed to leave there in 2019. … “What Syria withdrawal? There was never a Syria withdrawal,” Jeffrey said. “When the situation in northeast Syria had been fairly stable after we defeated ISIS, [Trump] was inclined to pull out. In each case, we then decided to come up with five better arguments for why we needed to stay. And we succeeded both times. That’s the story.” … Officially, Trump last year agreed to keep about 200 U.S. troops stationed in northeast Syria to “secure” oil fields held by the United States’ Kurdish allies in the fight against ISIS. It is generally accepted that the actual number is now higher than that — anonymous officials put the number at about 900 today — but the precise figure is classified and remains unknown even, it appears, to members of Trump’s administration keen to end the so-called “forever wars.”

Some mass media propagandists find it hilarious that the US war machine used deceit to thwart the president’s attempts to withdraw from its illegal occupation of Syria: [twitter picture]

This would not be the first time that Jeffrey, a foreign policy insider with the past three presidential administrations, has admitted to deceiving the public about what’s happening in Syria. Earlier this year he admitted at a Hudson Institute video event (these Beltway insiders always get extra honest in the company of fellow think tank denizens) that, contrary to the official public narrative of the US military being in Syria to fight terrorism, it’s actually there to create “a quagmire for the Russians”.

This would also not be the first time we’ve heard reports of the US war machine hiding the facts from the elected commander-in-chief of the most powerful military force ever assembled. Last year The New York Times cited anonymous US officials in a report on cyber intrusion operations against the Russian government that the US military had deliberately kept Trump in the dark about.

“Two administration officials said they believed Mr. Trump had not been briefed in any detail about the steps to place ‘implants’ — software code that can be used for surveillance or attack — inside the Russian grid,” NYT reports. “Pentagon and intelligence officials described broad hesitation to go into detail with Mr. Trump about operations against Russia for concern over his reaction — and the possibility that he might countermand it or discuss it with foreign officials.”

Mainstream liberal US discourse has accomplished an amazing feat of Orwellian doublethink with regard to the notion that unelected power structures are running things without the consent of the nation’s official elected government. On the one hand there’s been a nonstop deluge of Daily Beast articles since Trump’s election saying anyone who dares to suggest the existence of a “deep state” in America is a conspiracy kook, but on the other hand there’s also been constant praise for the insider “adults in the room” who ensure from within the administration that Trump doesn’t demolish America’s precious norms while in office.

This cognitive two-step became even more reified after comments from the likes of Iraq war architect Bill Kristol tweeting that he’d “prefer the deep state to the Trump state”, and the famous anonymous New York Times op-ed authored by a “senior official in the Trump administration” (now known to have been former chief of staff at the Department of Homeland Security Miles Taylor) saying administration officials are working together against Trump to “thwart parts of his agenda and his worst inclinations”.

The understanding of a deep state in America has become even more obfuscated by the other side of America’s fake partisan divide, with Trump supporters now using that term to essentially mean “anyone who doesn’t like Donald Trump”. That erroneous understanding has now become so prevalently associated with the term “deep state” that it has lost all use in meaningful discourse and is better off being avoided altogether if you want to point at something real.

In reality the term deep state is meant to refer not to anyone who opposes Trump, nor to a secret cabal of baby-eating Satanists, but simply to the tendency among government agencies and plutocrats to form loose alliances with each other and collaborate toward common agendas. It’s a term used for political analysis to describe large-scale power agendas that are largely playing out right out in the open, hidden in plain sight.

It doesn’t take a ton of investigative reporting and WikiLeaks drops to understand that there’s been a collective of operatives mostly running the Trump administration while the actual elected president yells at the talking heads on Fox News and tweets. It’s also not hard to brush away the insubstantial narrative fluff and see that US policies have remained more or less unbroken regardless of which elected officials have been in office, and it doesn’t take a Nostradamus to predict that that will continue to be the case after Trump is replaced by the next empty husk in the White House.

The US government simply is not what Americans were taught it is in school, and it is not what they tell you it is in the news. It’s a mostly unelected power establishment which operates in the interests of imperialist expansionism and oligarchic control, with the official elected government operating sort of like the unplugged video game controller you hand your kid brother to keep him from whining for a chance to play.

All this fuss over who really won the election is missing the point. People are bickering over which oligarchic puppet should be sworn in on January 20th when all the evidence we’ve been given shows that nobody gets to become president if they inconvenience real power in any way, and if they do inconvenience real power they are simply ignored.

That is the direction we should all be looking. Not at who’s president, but why things stay the same no matter who’s president.

#caitlin johnstone #trump administration #deep state #american foreign policy #syria war #us president election 2020

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sablelab · 4 years ago

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Covert Operations - Chapter 125

SYNOPSIS: While Jamie and Claire travel to their downtime destination, back at Section One, Madeline discusses her misgivings about the breach with Operations. They also get an unexpected call from Colum who knows more than he should about Section One. The plot thickens, suspicions are raised and the finger is pointed at Fitzgibbons and Fergus. As a result Murtagh receives a call to meet Madeline in the White Room and Fergus begins to freak out as he discusses his apprehension over Operations believing his story about the breach.

Chapter 124 and all other chapters can be found at … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

I am glad that you all enjoyed the last chapter as Jamie and Claire begin their journey to their destination. That place will be disclosed next Friday as I will be posting weekly for the month of June. However, I hope you will be pleased to know that all of July will be Jamie and Claire centred chapters. THANK YOU all so much for your replies, for the likes and for reblogging my story. It is very gratifying to know that others enjoy this story as much as I enjoy writing it. I really appreciate your continued support for me and for all of the Outlander fanfic writers.

CHAPTER 125

Madeline made her way to a private dining room for a breakfast debriefing with Operations about James Fraser and Claire Beauchamp and what she had planned for them when they returned to Section. There were also other things that had been playing on her mind that she wanted to raise with Operations. She couldn’t let go of the niggling unease in her head since the supposed breach and it had occupied her thoughts more than it should have. Section’s Head Strategist knew instinctively that there was something not quite right and Madeline wanted to get Dougal’s opinion about her intuitions.

Upon entering the room, she saw a stupendous breakfast laid out for them and approached Operations seated at the table. He gestured for her to come closer. “Good Morning Dougal … I see that you started without me,” she stated good-humouredly. He glanced up at her. “Where have you been Madeline? Come and join me before it gets cold.” Taking a chair opposite to him, she sat down. “Thank you. My … My … Christopher has outdone himself this morning,” she remarked upon seeing the fine breakfast spread he had prepared. “Yes, he has. What would you like?” Taking a croissant and accompaniments she placed them on her plate. “Sorry I’m late but I had some last-minute things I needed to attend to.” “What things?” “Just some eleventh-hour profiling for the Somalia mission.” “Let me know if there's anything critical.” “I will.” Glancing at her, satisfied with Madeline’s answer, Operations started the agenda for their briefing. “I wanted to discuss our convalescing operatives with you. I see that they left bright and early this morning.”

‘Yes. They wasted no time in leaving Section. Trust Jamie to want to get a good start on the two weeks we allowed them. Quite predictable under the circumstances.”

“Does this add more evidence for your file on their personal relationship then Madeline?”

“All of their information is data Dougal. You know I am very thorough when it comes to fraternization between active field operatives. They have always needed to be watched carefully.”

“Are we able to establish where they are going?” “No their trackers are down but Fergus can work on another way to locate them if you wish.” “I don’t think that will be necessary.” “Unless something comes up that requires them back at Section earlier,” Madeline added. Operations nodded in agreement. “You’re right.” He then looked at her for a moment with a quizzical expression at her statement. “You don’t think there is something that will recall them earlier?” “Not at the moment … but you never know. If we get new Intel on the Rising Dragons it could be a possibility.” “Do we have anything new?” “Not at the moment … but we have our people searching for anything of interest.” “Good. It seems that everything is going to plan. We can certainly pick up the Rising Dragons’ mission where we left off once they return to Section.” “Yes. Jamie will want to avenge Claire’s incarceration at the hands of the triad, so they’ll return fully recovered I’m sure when the two weeks is up. I’ll do a psyche analysis on the two of them before resuming the mission parameters.” Dougal nodded in agreement but noticed that his second in command seemed a little off kilter this morning. “Is something else bothering you Madeline?” he inquired. Given a perfect opening, she brought up the subject that had been troubling her for some time. “As a matter of fact, there is. I would like to discuss the breach with you.” “I thought that was done and dusted long ago but … I’m all ears. What is worrying you?” “It’s just a hunch, but I’m not completely convinced that it was a malfunction in the door mechanism that triggered the alarm.” “Why?” Operations asked offering to pour her a coffee. “I think that Mr. Claudel and Murtagh Fitzgibbons were somehow involved. They have been acting rather strangely lately. I did find them in the restricted area after all.” “Yes, but I thought Fergus’ explanation was reasonable. And they have been worried about Jamie and Claire.” “That may be so, but nothing those two do together is reasonable.” “What do you want to do then? Call them in?” “Yes that was my plan.” “Very well, but I was satisfied with their answers but if it will make you happy go ahead.” “I will.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ As the two leaders were enjoying their meal, they were interrupted by an incoming call. Answering the phone Operations put it on speaker mode so that Madeline could hear his conversation with the person at the other end … his nemesis and brother Colum Mackenzie. Once again the head of Oversight seemed to know when there had been some crisis happening at One and they both held their breath as to why he had contacted them this time. ”Good morning Dougal.” “Colum. How nice to hear from you again so soon after your last visit. To what do we owe the pleasure?” The intonation of his voice was laden with insincerity.

Madeline interrupted the conversation before he could reply knowing that it was easier for her to talk to Colum than Operations given their antagonistic relationship. Her voice was laced with feigned delight. “Colum.” “Good morning Madeline … I trust that you are well?” “Very. So how can we help you?”

This was such an imposition. Whenever Colum Mackenzie rang or paid them a visit it spoiled Dougal’s breakfast and started him off in a bad mood for the rest of the day. Operations scowled waiting for his reply thinking a plethora of thoughts as to why his brother was calling Section One and all of them inane. However, they were certainly not expecting the reason for his call this time. Cutting to the chase he stated, “I want to know about the breach.” Taken aback Operations blurted out, “What?” “Don’t tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about Dougal. I want to know about the breach in security that happened at One. I want to know everything.” Flummoxed as to how Colum could possibly know such information or about the commotion that took place at Section One, Madeline and Operations both had a stunned look on their face. Recovering his composure before answering, Dougal raised his eyebrow at Madeline. As the enormity of the situation sunk in, his bewilderment quickly turned to ire at what he and Madeline must do. Somewhere in Section One there was a mole or Colum had managed to plant listening devices or surveillance that had gone undetected. They would need to get to the bottom of this treachery and fast.

Operations was furious and held his tongue … but just. “I’m curious Colum. How did you find out about the situation at Section anyway? After all it did happen days ago.” “Everything that goes on in all the Sections and not just Section One, is known to Oversight … remember that Dougal,” he warned. “I was waiting to be informed by you but obviously that was not forthcoming.” “I saw no reason to tell you,” he muttered tersely under his breath and took great delight in setting the record straight. “However, this time Colum, I’m afraid that your Intel is incorrect. What you call a breach was actually a malfunction in the system.” “Are you sure that was the case? I hope you were not compromised in any way?” “Absolutely. We ran down inexhaustible possibilities, but nothing was found. There were no casualties. No intruders were discovered and everything was contained. We're at full capacity except for Jamie and Claire.” Colum, however, pushed his own agenda forward and ignored Operations’ response knowing that his reply would incense the leader of One. “Perhaps I need to send in my team in to examine the situation anyway. Starting with department heads and key operatives.” Suspicious of his motives Madeline interrupted stating emphatically, “I see no reason for you to intervene. We’ve already seen to that Colum. We have our own people who have comprehensively done that. Don’t you trust our judgement?” ”What’s not to trust?” was his tacit reply enjoying their pickiness. Madeline was also acutely aware of the waves of anger that radiated from the man opposite her. She jumped to their defence not liking the tone of his question. “That’s provocative Colum. Are you implying that we can’t be trusted?” Immediately put on the back foot he tried to soothe over their chagrin. “Of course not. I was merely stating that what you have said is admirable and Oversight is thankful that you moved so expediently on the matter. However, that does lead me to another issue that may refute this statement.” “What?” Operations barked back incensed by his inferences and line of questioning but especially about his prying in Section One. His face darkened with anger while his brother’s conjecture provoked his budding volatile temper. Without preamble the Oversight leader continued, but the tone of his voice was far from happy. “Since you failed to notify me, I’m also just checking as to how are things going with Jamie and Claire’s recovery?” So that was it. He was peeved that they hadn’t notified him earlier of their decision. “By all means. I can answer that for you Colum,” Madeline replied. “You’ll be pleased to know that they were granted downtime for two weeks to recover fully, which they started this morning as a matter of fact. I hope that meets with your satisfaction and approval?” “It does. I will notify Centre that plans for Jamie and Claire’s recuperation have been implemented and that once they return the Rising Dragons’ mission can conclude. Or have you plans to continue without them? You do know that Oversight has the capacity to take over the mission if One is understaffed because they are on downtime.” Operations’ reply was gruff. His brother’s inference was confrontational as Colum knew that Jamie and Claire’s presence on the mission was vital. They had no plans to continue the mission without them but they did have Fergus working on possible leads from their informants for when they did return. The temerity of the man was beyond belief, after all it was on his orders that they were given two weeks to recover. Operations ignored Colum’s question and answered his statement about Centre. This Intel caught them both by surprise too knowing that Mr Lambert was also keeping tabs on them.

“Of course.” You know that Centre is closely monitoring this mission too don’t you Dougal, and that its success is paramount.” “We are doing everything we can to make sure that happens brother.” “Good … I’ll hold you to that rest assured. It will look extremely bad for One … and especially for you Dougal … if you can’t deliver the goods. Remember that nothing escapes Oversight and how you handle your two best operatives is of immense interest to Mr Lambert, so we are expecting great things of Section One. Understand?” Despite their dislike of the man, they needed to keep Colum onside … Centre too as interference from either was the last thing that either of them needed or wanted and it seemed that his brother was far too familiar with happenings at Section One. Operations was becoming more incensed the longer this conversation went on and he wanted to see the back of Colum once and for all. He and Madeline shared a look and with Dougal biting his tongue he replied succinctly, “Perfectly.” “Fine. Then I won’t hold you up any longer. Have good day.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Once the connection was terminated, Madeline turned towards Operations. The look on his face said it all and she was in no illusion as to how he was feeling. This conversation had been a bombshell. It was no surprise that his eyes were sleet grey with anger. Under the circumstances his reaction was to be expected. Colum only bought out the worst in him and this time he had really set the cat amongst the pigeons. Their day was anything but good now given the conversation they’d had with the leader of Oversight. They had always wondered why he used to turn up at Section unannounced armed with classified information about some crisis that had taken place at Section and now they were faced with the added dilemma of finding out how and why he was keeping tabs on them. In fact, it left many questions unanswered for them of things they needed to address and the sooner the better … the first being the breach and how Colum had known about it. Unfortunately, he had sown a seed of doubt and they couldn’t let it go unresolved. “Don't let this distract you Dougal. He was baiting you to get a reaction.” “Distracted! How can I not be distracted when Colum knows too much? This is serious Madeline. This is the second time that there has been a spilling of Intel. I want it to stop. Now!” “It does seem coincidental that he has been aware of happenings at Section too frequently of late. We’ve long suggested his involvement now we have to act.” “We need to get to the bottom of this once and for all. I want every operative scrutinized ASAP. Your hunch may prove to be right about Fergus and Murtagh after all.” “Maybe that's what Colum wants us to believe.” “You don’t think they have been feeding him Intel do you?” Her nagging suspicions had manifested and it all seemed to be tied into Colum Mackenzie. Madeline’s mind was already leaping forward to what she had to do although it pained her that the subjects were Fergus and Murtagh, but they needed to do what was necessary. There was a leak and it had to be contained. Operations would expect nothing less. She doubted that it was the two larrikin operatives but they may know something that could find the culprit responsible.

“No, but it’s possible. We need to get to the bottom of it and fast.” “I agree. Do it! If they are in any way responsible, I’ll cancel them myself.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Like Madeline and James Fraser, Murtagh Fitzgibbons was an enigma in Section. His pragmatic attitude and uncanny way of playing both ends against the middle, if it suited his own agenda had held him in good stead and kept him out of abeyance over the years. Section One’s munitions expert was a man of the sixties. He was a Hippie who had never grown up and was a living, breathing 60’s “time warp.” Murtagh’s demeanour was his kind-heartedness and his loyalty was hard-won and once given, hard to break. He knew all about Free Love, he’d been to Woodstock, smoked dope, loved the girls and left them wanting more. He was a total charmer; he could charm the birds out of the tree, a flirt who just loved the ladies. His laconic sense of humour and irreverent behaviour was a welcomed relief in a place that never smiled, never laughed, never loved.

His approach to his job demonstrated his cavalier attitude to the things he held dear, his munitions work and his communications devices. Murtagh was also a deadly, accurate manipulator of the system that incarcerated him, but he knew how to manipulate the system but still keep his nose clean. It seemed he had been in Section forever, for he had seen the changes of Command and had adapted to the different styles of leadership, perfecting his role in the scheme of things. He was his own boss and was left alone most of the time. He knew how to play their games to keep out of trouble. Yet Murtagh Fitzgibbons was an integral part of the team. He was Section One’s expert in explosives and firearms … the weapons specialist for the Section.

Except for his machinations and childish behaviour with his buddy Fergus Claudel, he observed and listened. He was the ears and eyes of Section One and never missed much of what went on in Section.

It pained Madeline to have to interrogate Section’s munitions expert and their computer whiz kid but under the circumstances it needed to be done. Nine times out of ten her hunches were proven correct but her initial misgivings about their behaviour now raised serious doubts in her mind about their loyalty to Section. Although Operations was satisfied that they were not responsible for the breach, could it be that they were the ones feeding Intel to their adversary Colum Mackenzie? Her gut said no, but her head said they needed to be questioned further. She had to be sure that they had nothing to do with passing on information and the only way to do that was the Section way ... in the White Room. No one was immune from suspicion including them and she was determined to get to the bottom of the breach and treachery in Section One once and for all.

Meanwhile in Munitions …

Murtagh Fitzgibbons was working at his post thankful that things had settled down at Section. Jamie and Claire were finally off on their downtime and he hoped that the two weeks would be the medicine they needed to fully recover. He was a hopeless romantic, when it came to these two operatives who Operations and Madeline had put through the ringer time and time again. It seemed that Section’s leaders were fixated on the couple and Madeline especially was always trying to gather data on their relationship. To all intents and purposes, it was platonic but he knew otherwise. He recognized a couple in love. He knew that feeling only too well and he wanted them to have a chance at some privacy on their downtime. Murtagh was a big softie and he wanted the best for the people he cared about … and Claire and Jamie were very special to him. God knows he knew that they needed time away from this hellhole. The Rising Dragons’ mission had been totally consuming and the two operatives had given their all thus far and had paid the ultimate price for their loyalty. They had been tortured and had nearly died on the last mission, so if he could help them in any way possible then he would do so, for their sakes.

Fergus had also managed to convince Operations that there had indeed been a malfunction that had caused the breach and had given him the proof to back his claims. They were off the hook and he was thankful that his buddy was able to think under pressure to come up with the scenario he gave Operations. Like he’d said to Fergus … there was no way of their leaders finding out that they had indeed set off the alarm or been responsible for the hullabaloo that ensued. Yes … everything was getting back to normal.

As he was busily working at his station loading the guns for the Somalia mission, his lady love Bóinne Rivière happened to join him. Happy to see her, Murtagh gave her his idea of a sexy rebel smouldering look and they shared one of their special glances. It was plain to see that they both enjoyed each other's company and he was giving the beautiful nurse his undivided attention. They were both laughing, sharing private jokes and Murtagh’s was concentrating solely on this tall, striking woman. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Hey, Murtagh.” He was oblivious to the fact that his friend, Fergus Claudel, had made his way to Munitions as he was fussing around Bóinne and was busy explaining one of his gadgets to her so he didn’t hear Fergus call out at first.

“Huh?” he replied not really paying attention to the sound of his pal’s voice. The nurse’s eyes glanced at the computer expert as he approached. Bóinne could tell by the look on Fergus’ face that he wanted a private talk with his friend. Aware that something was bothering him, she ended her chat with Murtagh.

“That's okay honey; I've got to go anyway.” He looked up to see Fergus approach munitions and realised why she had said what she did. Although her answered her, it was obvious he really wanted her to stay. She could see the disappointment in his gaze.

“I'll catch you later then.” Fergus now stood in his line of sight but Murtagh watched his girlfriend until she was no longer in view. He briefly shut his eyes lost in his own feelings and gave a breathy sigh.

“Wow! I haven't felt like this in a long time ... I … I think she might feel the same way.” “Murtagh ...”

Fergus had said his name in a wistful manner, however, the older operative failed to see that something was troubling his buddy. He was too wrapped up in his own euphoria at having been in Bóinne’s company. Ignoring the tone of his voice, he was unaware of Fergus’ mindset. Because he felt so happy, he thought that Fergus was also back to his old self as well. The thought that ran through his mind was about their last encounter with the breach. Murtagh knew that his friend would not be up for any new adventures in the near future except those that involved his area of expertise. He looked at Fergus and greeted the young techie with a jovial smile. “Hey what’s up amigo?” But before his friend could reply he prattled on about his own needs, his mind suddenly back on the woman who had just left. “I ... I need your help. Find out anything you can about her, something I wouldn't likely know.” “Look, I’ve ...” “Her birthday's coming up. I want to get her something really special. ... Please?” “… I've … gotta talk to you.” Although a little distracted with his own happy thoughts Murtagh replied, “I’m listening,” but when Fergus said his name imploringly again, he looked up at him realising that something was bothering his friend.

“Hey? Why the long face?” “I’m just a little nervous that’s all.” “Why? You still worried about the breach?” “Yeah, I am a little.” He immediately stopped what he was doing. “I thought you said everything went well with Operations. So why are you down in the mouth?” “Nothing I guess … just a feeling.” “Trust me, you’ll get over it,” he replied with conviction continuing again with the task at hand. “What if I can’t? I feel kind of guilty.” “Don't feel guilty. Everything has gone back to normal … you should be pleased.” “But Murtagh, we caused a security breach and I’ve got a bad feeling that something is going to happen. Operations was too compliant. They’ll find a way to blame us for sure.” “Don't worry about it.” But Fergus just wouldn’t let it go and continued venting. “Yeah, what do you think they're going to do if they find out? Huh? This is not a convalescent home!” This time Murtagh looked his buddy square in the eye trying to convince him that his doubts were not warranted. “It’s just your imagination. Why would Operations or Madeline blame us? They found nothing to implicate us and besides you gave Operations evidence that was irrefutable. What’s to worry about? Have they called you in?” His friend’s words made sense to him but still Fergus had this lingering feeling that scared him. “No. But what if they do? They’ll find out I was lying and put me in abeyance.” The weapons’ expert tried to diffuse the situation and the techie’s concerns once and for all. “I find that highly unlikely amigo. You’ll be fine. Don't agonize over it … you’ll only worry more. It’ll do your head in if you’re not careful.” “How do you do it Murtagh? How do you stay sane?” Fergus implored. “What's the secret?” “Knowing when to lie, and when to tell the truth,” he replied enigmatically. Fergus didn’t quite understand. “What do you mean? To them?” “Yes … and to yourself. At night you go to bed knowing you live in hell. That's the truth.” “And the lie?” “You wake up in the morning thinking that this day may change everything … you'll escape, you'll fall in love, they'll close the place up and send everybody home.” It finally dawned on Fergus what his wise friend was alluding to. “Then that night you have to face the truth again,” he replied reflectively. “Yeah. But in the meantime, you've accomplished what's truly remarkable. You've made it through another day in Section.” “Is that what Jamie and Claire do?” “I’d bet my last dollar on it.” “Thanks, Murtagh, I feel much better now.” Changing the subject he then asked. “So, things are going well with Bóinne I see.” Murtagh gave him a silly smile. “Yeah … you could say that. Hey, it’s her birthday tomorrow. I need to get her something that she really likes.” “Why don't you ask her?” He smiled at his friend’s naivety. “You ..., ah ..., don't know women very well, do you?” Fergus looked up at the older operative and met his gaze, before breaking into a big smile. He laughed. “You want me to pull up her file and check out her likes. Don’t you?” With crinkling eyes he grinned at him. “Yeah.” “Okay … I’ll get back to you with anything I find out.” “Thanks … I owe you one.” However, while Fitzgibbons was dispensing his pearls of wisdom to reassure a despondent Fergus and in the middle of their friendly banter about his relationship with the Med nurse Bóinne Rivière, Murtagh’s phone rang. He looked at his friend. “Wait here I’ll be right back,” he ordered then went into the back room to answer it. Picking up the handset Murtagh Fitzgibbons spoke into the receiver. “Hello?” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Fergus Claudel was cooling his heels waiting for his friend to re-emerge from his back room, but he was taking his time about it. He was getting a little testy and those demons in his head he’d been talking to the weapons’ expert about reared their ugly face again as he began to think the worst.

“Hey … Murtagh? You okay back there?” he called out. When his buddy didn’t reply, Fergus decided to check if he was okay, and made his way into the back room to see what had happened and why Murtagh was taking so long in reappearing. On entering the room, he found his friend standing there listening to whoever was on the other end of the line with his head bowed and the receiver in his hand. He gestured for Fergus to be quiet and raised his hand to stop him from saying anything else. Seeing that the colour had drained a little from his friend’s face he immediately became worried about what was being said to his buddy. He watched Murtagh’s body language and knew something wasn’t quite right. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ “Yeah? … Oh ... I'll be right there,” he replied nonchalantly to the recipient on the other end of the line. He looked over at Fergus for a moment, then turned away from the quizzical look in his eyes.

Fergus knew one thing though; his buddy was talking to either Operations or Madeline. However, he couldn’t read his expression as to which one of Section’s leaders it was. “Is there anything else?” Murtagh asked realising what was required of him. “No … That’s all.” In a composed voice he responded. “Very well … I'm on my way.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued on FRIDAY 5th JUNE when we find out where Jamie has taken Claire.

#jamie and claire fanfic #jamieandclairecrossover #jamieandclaireau #outlander fanfiction #the lallybroch library #LFNoutlander #covert operations

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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The United States vs. Billie Holiday: The Federal Bureau of Narcotics Was Formed to Kill Jazz

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This article contains The United States vs. Billie Holiday spoilers.

Federal drug enforcement was created for the express purpose of persecuting Billie Holiday. Director Lee Daniels’ The United States vs. Billie Holiday focuses a cinematic microscope on the events, but a much larger picture is visible just outside the lens. Holiday’s best friend and one-time manager Maely Dufty told mourners at the funeral that Billie was murdered by a conspiracy orchestrated by the narcotics police, according to Chasing the Scream: The First and Last Days of the War on Drugs by Johann Hari. The book also said Harry Anslinger, head of the Federal Bureau of Narcotics, was a particularly virulent racist who hounded “Lady Day” throughout the 1940s and drove her to her death in the 1950s.

This is corroborated in Billie, a 2020 BBC documentary directed by James Erskine, and Alexander Cockburn’s book Whiteout: The CIA, Drugs, and the Press, which also claims Anslinger hated jazz music, which he believed brought the white race down to the level of African descendants through the corrupting influence of jungle rhythms. He also believed marijuana was the devil’s weed and transformed the post-Prohibition fight against alcohol into a war on drugs. The first line of battle was against the musicians who partook.

“Marijuana is taken by… musicians,” Anslinger testified to Congress prior to the vote on the 1937 Marijuana Tax Act. “And I’m not speaking about good musicians, but the jazz type.” The LaGuardia Committee, appointed in 1939 by one of the Act’s strongest opponents, New York City Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia, ultimately refuted every point made in the effective drug czar’s testimony. Based on the findings, “the Treasury Department told Anslinger he was wasting his time,” according to Chasing the Scream. The opportunistic department head “scaled down his focus until it settled like a laser on one single target.”

Federal authorization of selective enforcement should come as no surprise. Just this month, HBO Max released Judas and the Black Messiah about how the FBI and local law enforcement targeted the Black Panthers and put a bullet in the back of the head of Fred Hampton after he was apparently drugged by the informant. In MLK/FBI (2020), director Sam Pollard used newly declassified files to fill in the gaps on the story of the U.S. government’s surveillance and harassment of Martin Luther King, Jr. Days ago, The Washington Post reported the daughters of assassinated civil rights leader Malcolm X requested his murder investigation be reopened in light of a deathbed letter from officer Raymond A. Wood, alleging New York police and the FBI conspired in his killing.

During the closing credits of The United States vs. Billie Holiday we read that Holiday, played passionately by Andra Day in the film, was similarly arrested on her deathbed. She was in the hospital suffering from cirrhosis of the liver when she was cuffed to her bed. They don’t mention police had been stationed outside her door barring family, fans, and well-wishers from offering the singer comfort as she lay dying. They also don’t mention that police removed gifts people brought to the room, as well as flowers, radio, record player, chocolates, and any magazines. When she died at age 44, it was found that Holiday had 15 $50 bills strapped to her leg, the remainder of her money after years of top selling records. Billie intended to give it to the nurses to thank them for looking after her.

As The United States vs. Billie Holiday points out, the feds had been watching Holiday since club owner Barney Josephson encouraged her to sing “Strange Fruit” at the integrated Cafe Society in Greenwich Village in 1939. Waiters would stop all service during the performance of the song. The room would be dark, and it would never be followed by an encore.

The lyric came from a three-stanza poem, “Bitter Fruit,” about a lynching. It was written by Lewis Allan, the pseudonym of New York schoolteacher and songwriter named Abel Meeropol, a costumer at the club. Meeropol set the words to music, and the song was first performed by singer Laura Duncan at Madison Square Garden.

Holiday and her accompanist Sonny White adapted Allan’s melody and chord structure, and released the song on Milt Gabler’s independent label Commodore Records in 1939. The legendary John Hammond, who discovered Holiday in 1933 while she was singing in a Harlem nightclub called Monette’s, refused to release it on Columbia Records, where Billie was signed.

The song “marked a watershed,” according to David Margolick’s 2000 book Strange Fruit: Billie Holiday, Cafe Society, and an Early Cry for Civil Rights. Influential jazz writer Leonard Feather called the song “the first significant protest in words and music, the first significant cry against racism.”

Holiday experienced the brutally enforced racial segregation of the Jim Crow laws during her trips south with her bands, according to Billie Holiday, the 1990 book by Bud Kliment. She was also demeaned at the Lincoln Hotel in New York City in October 1938 when management demanded she walk through the kitchen and use the service elevator to get on the stage. Holiday also caught flak for being considered too light skinned to sing with one band, and was on at least one occasion forced to wear special makeup to darken her complexion.

Holiday was 18 years old when she recorded her first commercial session with Benny Goodman’s group at Columbia Records, but knew firsthand that an integrated band would be more threatening than an all-Black group. According to most biographies, Holiday began using hard drugs in the early ’40s under the influence of her first husband, Jimmy Monroe, brother of the owner of Monroe’s Uptown House in Harlem.

Anslinger, the first commissioner for the Federal Bureau of Narcotics, was an extreme racist, even by the standards of the time, according to Chasing the Scream. He claimed narcotics made black people forget their place in the fabric of American society, and jazz musicians created “Satanic” music under pot’s influence.

The United States vs. Billie Holiday doesn’t shy away from the drug czar’s blatant racism, but Garrett Hedlund’s Harry J. Anslinger doesn’t capture the full depths of the disgust the man felt and put into practice through his selective enforcement. Hedlund is able to mouth some of the epithets his character threw at ethnic targets, but most of the actual quotes on record are so offensive there is no need to subject any audience to them today. The film barely even mentions the strange and forbidden fruit imbibed in slow-burning paper that Anslinger obsessed over almost as much as Holiday’s song.

Movies

Judas and the Black Messiah Ending Shows Horrific Legacy of COINTELPRO

By David Crow

Culture

Ma Rainey’s Life and Reign as the Mother of the Blues

By Tony Sokol

Commissioner Anslinger came to power during the “Reefer Madness” era, and shaped much of the anti-marijuana paranoia of the period, according to Alexander Cockburn’s Whiteout: The CIA, Drugs, and the Press. His first major campaign was to criminalize hemp, rebranding it as “marijuana” in an attempt “to associate it with Mexican laborers.” He claimed the drug “can arouse in blacks and Hispanics a state of menacing fury or homicidal attack.”

Anslinger promoted racist fictions and singled out groups he personally disliked as special targets. He said the lives of the jazzmen “reek of filth,” and the genre itself was proof that marijuana drives people insane. On drug raids, he advised his agents to “shoot first.” Anslinger persecuted many black musicians, including Thelonious Monk, Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie and Duke Ellington. When Louis Armstrong was arrested for possession, Anslinger orchestrated a nationwide media smear campaign.

The Federal Bureau of Narcotics’ “race panic” tactics had a double standard. Anslinger only had a “friendly chat” with Judy Garland over her heroin addiction, suggesting she take longer vacations between films. He wrote to MGM, reporting he observed no evidence of a drug problem.

Anslinger ordered Holiday to cease performing “Strange Fruit” almost immediately after word got out about the performances. When she refused, he sent agent Jimmy Fletcher to frame the singer. Anslinger hated hiring Black agents, according to both Whiteout and Chasing the Scream, but white officers stood out on these investigations. He did insist no Black man in his Bureau could ever be a boss to white men, and pigeonholed officers like Fletcher to street agents.

Donald Clark and Julia Blackburn studied the only remaining interview with Jimmy Fletcher for their biography Billie Holiday: Wishing on The Moon. That interview has since been lost by the archives handling it. According to their book when Fletcher first saw Billie at the raid on her brother-in-law’s Philadelphia apartment in May 1947, “She was drinking enough booze to stun a horse and hoovering up vast quantities of cocaine.”

Fletcher’s partner sent for a policewoman to conduct a body search. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll strip,” Billie said before stripping and marking her territory in a provocative show of non-violent defiance by urinating on the floor (another action Daniels’ movie glosses over). Holiday was arrested and put on trial for possession of narcotics.

According to Hettie Jones’ book Big Star Fallin’ Mama: Five Women in Black Music, Holiday “Signed away her right to a lawyer and no one advised her to do otherwise.” She thought she would be sent to a hospital to kick the drugs and get well. “It was called ‘The United States of America versus Billie Holiday,’” she recalled in Lady Sings the Blues, the 1956 memoir she co-wrote with William Dufty, “and that’s just the way it felt.” Holiday was sentenced to a year and a day in a West Virginia prison. When her autobiography was published, Holiday tracked Fletcher down and sent him a signed copy.

When Holiday was released in 1948, the federal government refused to renew her cabaret performer’s license, which was mandatory for performing in any club serving alcohol. Under Anslinger’s recommended edict, Holiday was restricted “on the grounds that listening to her might harm the morals of the public,” according to the book Lady Sings the Blues.

The jazz culture had its own code. Musicians not only wouldn’t rat out other musicians, they would chip in to bail out any player who got popped. When it appeared Fletcher, who shadowed Holiday for years, became protective of Holiday, Anslinger got Holiday’s abusive husband and manager Louis McKay to snitch.

Two years after Holiday’s first conviction, Anslinger recruited Colonel George White, a former San Francisco journalist who applied to join the Federal Bureau of Narcotics. The personality test given to all applicants determined White was a sadist, and he quickly rose through the bureau’s ranks. He gained bureau acclaim as the first and only white man to infiltrate a Chinese drug gang.

White had a history of planting drugs on women and abused his powers in many ways. According to Chasing the Scream: The First and Last Days of the War on Drugs, after White retired from the Bureau, he bragged, “Where else [but in the Bureau of Narcotics] could a red-blooded American boy lie, kill, cheat, steal, rape and pillage with the sanction and blessing of the All-Highest?” He “may well have been high when he busted Billie for getting high,” according to Chasing the Scream.

White arrested Holiday, without a warrant, at the Mark Twain Hotel in San Francisco in 1949. Billie insisted she had been clean for over a year, and said the dope was planted in her room by White. Bureau agents said they found her works in the room and the stash in a wastepaper basket next to a side room. They never entered the kit into evidence. According to Ken Vail’s book Lady Day’s Diary, Holiday immediately offered to go into a clinic, saying they could monitor her for withdrawal symptoms and that would prove she was being framed. Holiday checked herself into the clinic, paying $1,000 for the stay and she “didn’t so much as shiver.” She was not convicted by jury at trial.

Afterward White attended one of Holiday’s shows at the Café Society Uptown and requested his favorite songs. After the show was over, the federal cop told Billie’s manager “I did not think much of Ms. Holiday’s performance.”

In 1959, Billie collapsed while at the apartment of a young musician named Frankie Freedom. After waiting on a stretcher for an hour and a half, Manhattan’s Knickerbocker Hospital turned her away, saying she was a drug addict. Recognized by one of the ambulance drivers, Holiday was admitted in a public ward of New York City’s Metropolitan Hospital. She lit a cigarette as soon as they took her off oxygen.

In spite of being told her liver was failing and cancerous, and her heart and lungs were compromised, Holiday did not want to stay at the hospital. “They’re going to kill me. They’re going to kill me in there. Don’t let them,” she told Maely Dufty.

Billie went into heroin withdrawal, alone. When Holiday responded to methadone treatment, Anslinger’s men prevented hospital staff from administering any further methadone, even though it had been officially prescribed by her doctor. Drug cops claimed to find a tinfoil envelope containing under an eighth of an ounce of heroin. It was found hanging on a nail on the wall, six feet from Billie’s bed where the frail and restrained artist could not have reached it.

The cops handcuffed her to the bed, stationed two policemen at the door and told Holiday they’d take her to prison if she didn’t drop dime on her dealer. When Maely Dufty informed the police it was against the law to arrest a patient in critical care, the cops had Holiday taken off the list.

Outside the hospital, protesters gathered on the streets holding up signs reading “Let Lady Live.” The demonstrations were led by the Rev. Eugene Callender. The Harlem pastor, who built a clinic for heroin addicts in his church, requested the singer be allowed to be treated there.

Holiday didn’t blame the cops. She said the drug war forced police to treat people like criminals when they were actually ill.

“Imagine if the government chased sick people with diabetes, put a tax on insulin and drove it into the black market, told doctors they couldn’t treat them, then sent them to jail,” she wrote in Lady Sings the Blues. “If we did that, everyone would know we were crazy. Yet we do practically the same thing every day in the week to sick people hooked on drugs.”

Holiday’s social commentary didn’t end with “Strange Fruit.” She wrote and sang about racial equality in the song “God Bless the Child,” her voice captured the pains of domestic violence. Most of Holiday’s contemporaries were too scared of being hassled by the feds to perform “Strange Fruit.” Billie Holiday refused to stop. She was killed for it. But never silenced.

The United States vs. Billie Holiday is streaming on Hulu now.

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q00kies · 6 years ago

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00Q fic rec list

So, those are my favorite 00Q fics and I thought I might make a list of them ! Most of these include pining and emotional constipation on some level.

The favorites

Sigh No More, by dhampir72 rating : T words : 20K

Bond wants nothing more than for someone, just once, to be waiting for him at the airport when he returns home.

My favorite. The characterization is beautiful and gives depth to a damaged, vulnerable James Bond. “Do you want me to arrange a car for you?” Q asks. “I want you to come get me,” Bond says. [...] Q says: “Okay.”

come a lily, come a lilac, by pdameron rating : T warning : AU - flower shop words : 8K

"Most people just pick whatever flower they think is prettiest. It doesn’t require a lot of input from me.” The man walks up to Q, leaning against the counter between them. “Well then, what can I do to get your input?” (In which Q runs a flower shop, and his newest regular is almost definitely a spy.)

This fic features all the good tropes : violent mutual pining, misunderstandings, mild angst, fluff, humor. The characterizations and banter are excellent. pdameron is my favorite 00Q writer, you should read everything they’ve written.

Ordinary Numbers, by Bootsnblossom, Kyptaria rating : T warning : AU - different first meeting, AU - Q is not Q yet words : 44K

More than anything, Mike Taylor wanted to be ordinary. Being a genius, he learned early in life, meant people expected too much. A career at the MI6 Help Desk seemed the perfect way to guarantee a lifetime of obscurity, until he got a very unusual tech support call.

Excellent plot and detailed writing. Such a worthy and satisfying read.

Ulysses, by girlbookwrm rating : T words : 89K

“Paperwork for the new head of Q-Branch,” Tanner said.“Of course.” The words were like glass in his throat. Smoke inhalation was a bitch. His brain felt slow and foggy, like it was full of smoke too. “Who shall I take them to?”M lifted one white brow. “They’re for you, Quartermaster.”Bond and Q are drawn together by names, work, and a certain Aston Martin. In which Q is kidnapped once, Bond is poisoned twice, and Eve is a badass on at least three occasions. AKA that time I tripped and wrote 80,000 words of 00Q.All titles unapologetically stolen from Alfred, Lord Tennyson.

This also features all the good tropes imaginable. Like, everything you need. Delicious read. Brillant writing. Dialogues and narration were clever. Beginning is Skyfall and Spectre rewrite but don’t let that deter you, it only lasts for 2 chapters or so and it’s well done.

Long-ride / slow-burn

Lay it down, by damphir72 rating : M words : 81K

Bond and Q agreed: their relationship was nothing more than physical. Until it suddenly isn't.

sick fic. Bond takes care of Q. Similar to Where You Are, with such dedication and softness and love.

Nodus Tollens, by Only_1_Truth rating : T words : 88K

Nodus Tollens: the realization that the plot of your life doesn’t make sense to you anymore Q's life at the technical help department of MI6 was decently quiet and paid reasonably well - it even gave him vacation time, although he rarely used it. So when Q was finally coaxed to leave work for a bit and relax, he thought that Paris might be fun. Of course, that was before the gunfight, witnessing a shooting, and being kidnapped by a strange, blue-eyed gunman named James Bond.

Yours, J, by swtalmnd rating : E words : 39K

Bond sends letters. Q is vexed. Q-branch starts a betting pool. There are an appalling amount of sweets. Also, 002 is a bit of an arse.

haven’t finished this one yet but recing it because it’s GOOD. pining hell “He was the one person James Bond didn’t want to seduce”. urhhh

Quriosity, by dr_girlfriend rating : E words : 79K

COMPLETE! Bond finds himself increasingly curious about his enigmatic Quartermaster. Excerpt: "Your prior hotel is no longer secure, I will direct you to a new location. Your luggage has already been transferred. A field agent and medic from the Diréction Générale de la Sécurité d'État will be waiting at the side entrance. I have cleared them both personally." In contrast to his crisp dry English, Q's pronunciation of the French words was fluid and flawless, the throaty tone of the fricatives sending a surprising jolt of awareness straight to Bond's cock — all the more remarkable given his degree of blood loss. "You're wasted on Q-branch, you have the voice for a phone-sex call-in line." The words slipped out of Bond's mouth without forethought, although he had plenty of time to think in the sudden pause that came afterward and stretched on for endless moments. Bond hadn't realized until now how Q was always there, with an immediate reply. In all their banter Q had never before been at a loss for words. Ever.

classic. very in character : the banter, the dynamics. good tropes.

Humor

Dramatic Arts, by scioscribe rating : T warnings : none words : 2,9K

In which Spectre is actually Bond's poorly written attempt at falsifying a mission report. Q wants a flight simulator, Eve wants more lines, and M wants a drink. Everybody's a critic.

So If You Give, by TheCatOnTheMoon rating : T words : 6,1K

Bond gives Q things because of reasons. Q thinks that Bond completely misses the point.

Hilarous. MI6 works like B99. Q is everyone’s darling.

some guys just can’t hold their arsenic, by pdameron rating : T words : 5,8K

“Motherfucking - goddamn - fucking shit!” “Good lord, Q,” Bond says from behind him with no small amount of amusement. “One would think you’d never been in a quarantine before.”

a lot of pining and them being dumb. hilarous dialogues. the writer writes WELL.

By no Ordinary Means of Communication, by laughtershock rating : E words : 7,9K

Q can’t help but wonder how, exactly, his life has come to this (The one where Bond discovers post-it notes, Q discovers how not to talk about feelings, and together, they fight crime make things far more complicated than necessary.)

this is here because I love the sex scene in it : Q gets plugged for a meeting.

million dollar question, by skylights rating : G words : 5K

Q doesn’t bend for anything and Q certainly doesn’t break for anyone, especially when it comes to stubborn double-ohs intent on making Q’s life hell, so when Q wakes up on a Saturday morning to 12 new texts from Bond and the incessant ringing of his flat’s doorbell, Q makes sure to bring a gun to answer the door. “Delivery for one…Quabik Quadree?” Q feels the weight of the Glock 19 in the pocket of his dressing gown and sincerely wonders whether to shoot the delivery man or himself. (or, that fic where everyone wants to know Q's name and stupid things happen in the process)

Fluff

A modest proposal, by Tokyo_the_Glaive rating : T words : 3,3K

Or, five times Bond asked Q to marry him, and one time Q beat him to the punchline.

there’s love to be had, by pdameron rating : T words : 1,2K

“I won’t begrudge you your happy ending, Bond. If you want to ride off into the sunset, MI6 won’t stop you,” Mallory says. “But I will say this. If you do walk away, take care with what you leave behind.”

(In which Bond has a bit of an epiphany on the bridge and finds that he can't leave MI6 just yet.)

I don’t take your pleasure for granted, by CatchClaws rating : M words : 6,2K

Q tries to talk himself out of having a crush on James Bond. Bond makes that rather difficult.

In which Bond reads sci-fi books. Well written. Banter is delightful.

please stay, by pinknamjoon rating : T words : 2,7K

Bond keeps flirting with Q while he's on missions, both over the comms and through surveillance cameras, and Q is extremely flustered.

Name on my skin, by the runawaypen rating : G warning : SOULMATES !! words : 900

Everyone has the name of their soulmate written on their skin. And Q can't help but feel excited to learn that the James Bond written on his wrist is one 007. It's a shame James doesn't know Q's real name. Things could have been simpler.

Angst (with happy ending. always)

Remember me, by Jen (ConsultingWriters) rating : T words : 5,6K

Bond has lost his memory. Q has lost his love. "What have I forgotten?” Bond asked; Q watched him, trying to find the James he knew. “Nothing that you won’t work out on your own, if it’s really important,” Q said carefully, before returning every fraction of his attention to the computer in front of him.

dying noises

Loneliness is a disease, by fairyjimjam rating : T words : 9,5K

Q stands up, nearly breathless, and ventures towards the lift. Bond is back. He's back. Back. Back Back Back- "I need a car." Q stops in his tracks. He's not back. No of course he isn't. Q's chest hurts. "Have fun at an automobile shop then," is what slips out of his mouth.

Q is absolutely miserable after Bond’s left and Bond is clueless. Sad pining hell. What’s new. Ending is dubious though.

just like old times (please, don’t ever change), by Rosslyn rating : T words : 5,1K

Sometimes when Q is alone in his workshop and there is an experiment that needs to be supervised and he can’t go home and he can’t sleep, he watches Bond’s vitals.

canon

as permanent as stone cathedrals, by pdameron rating : T words : 6,0K

Q has been in love for two years, six months, and twelve days when James Bond walks away, leaving him with a bleeding head and a broken heart on a dark and noisy London bridge.

If you didn’t get the hint, yes, go and read everything this author has ever written.

Bittersweet, by dr_girlfriend rating : M words : 14K

The first time Bond flirted with Q, it was purely out of self-defense. The second time Bond flirted with Q was largely manipulation. The third time Bond flirted with Q, he just wanted to feel something. The fourth time Bond flirted with Q was out of sheer boredom.

Somehow, flirting with Q became something of a habit for Bond.

And then, it became something else.

features rejection hmm delicious. ‘Those who love to pursue fleeting forms of pleasure, in the end find only leaves and bitter berries in their hands’

Missed chances, by cherrygoldlove rating : G words : 2,7K

Eve leaned across Q's desk.” Bond has someone!” Q's eyebrow lifted as he sent her a quick look from above his glasses. “He has someone every thirty minutes.” He returned his gaze to the screen and continued to type; “No, not like that! He has someone long term, they're dating!”

misunderstandings, jealous Q, fake relationship, angstish, heartbreak, pining what more ?

Favours, by dhampir72 Rating : T Words : 6,1K

James Bond never looks at Q unless he wants something.

it’s not angst but idk where to put this. pining.

Omega verse

The two fics below are mpreg-free, don’t feature any consent issues and are full of pining. Alpha!Bond and Omega!Q

A Matter of Convenience, by junetangerine (culuyetille) rating : E words : 19K

‘twas why the whole thing had been sanctioned in the first place: minimal disturbance of the status quo, just a blip in their routine, no consequences. So what if the Quartermaster had had an untimely, dangerous heat and 007 had been the one assigned to see him through it. Both of them knew better than to let anything come of it. (Alpha/Omega dynamics)

Light omega fic. This is the only omegaverse fic you need to read. Wonderful !

Where you are, by dhampir72 rating : E warning : WIP 5/7 chapters BUT chapter 5 can be considered as a satisfying ending. words : 44K

An Omega unable to create life is a creature to be pitied, or at least, that is what society says. Q is fine with it, really. He had never wanted children anyway...and settling down with a mate never truly sounded appealing. So he’s fine with it: being alone, bearing no children. It’s fine.Until it isn’t.

Angsty omega fic. Q is diseased, Bond takes care of him with such dedication and softness and selfless love. I cried. (no tragic ending)

Porn without plot

Gloria in excelsis, by feelslikefire rating : E warning : barebacking words : 3,8K

Q has a dirty secret; Bond has an attraction and now he's got the excuse to act on it. Smut featuring glory hole(s).

glory hole

Resource sharing, by rsadelle rating : E Warning : dom/sub, Bond/Q/Trevelyan threesome, double-penetration words : 3,4K

Q experiences what it means when James says he and Alec share everything.

#00Q #james bond #quartermaster #Q #in honor of #bond 25 #00Q fics #00Q fic rec #00Q fanfiction #recommendation #the reason why there's not enough dhampir72 fics in this list is because i haven't read them all yet

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d-noona · 4 years ago

Text

AERO

Chaper 6: The Search

"If I'd just gotten my ass kicked by a size three. I might be inclined to mind my own business." - Im Jaebeom

At his computer console, Jaebeom fast-forwards through a video surveillance tape from the previous day, freezing on Seven as she approaches the adjacent building with a delivery. He blows up the image until Seven's face fills the screen, her eyes looking right into the surveillance camera, right at him. He studies the picture for a long contemplative moment.

Ruben enters the room and looks over his boss and studies the photo his boss seems to be engrossed at "Glad you're getting your money's worth outta that tape. Had to grease the guard a hundred for it."

But with this Jaebeom doesn't hear him. He's utterly lost in the image of the young woman on the screen. Ruben teases him "You trying to ID the perp or a new girlfriend?"

Jaebeom snaps out of it and responds "If I'd just gotten my ass kicked by a size three. I might be inclined to mind my own business."

With this Jaebeom gets up from his seat, grabs his wallet and a 9mm out of his drawer. Heads straight out of his apartment to his SUV and drives off for the day.

Jaebeom arrives at JYPE X-press, he enters and looks around at the motley assortment of messengers, then crosses to the dispatch counter where JYP barks out an order to his not so merry men. "Pick-up at four-eleven going to Gangnam" He tosses out the package to Mark who catches the parcel with ease accompanied by the boys Youngjae and Jackson with deliveries on each of her hands.

Jaebeom approaches the boss "I'm looking for a lady who works here"

Not giving the young man the time of day Jyp arranges the packages for the next deliveries and responds "Ladies would be elsewhere."

With this Jaebeom flashes the picture of Seven which was lifted from the surveillance video. He slides it up to the stubby man "Know where I can find her?"

The man scans and surveys the photo and smirks at Jaebeom.

"You don't want to. Listen brother, she may be easy on the eyes but she's trouble trust me." Then Jyp leaves the station with packages on his arm and calls out for his messengers "Hot run two-oh-two Sansome" the old man kept passing on the packages to his workers with Jaebeom trailing behind him not giving him the peace he needed for work.

"I need to talk to her" says Jaebeom. He feels the patience leaving his body as the old man continues to ignore him. Jaebeom then has had enough, he pulls out an envelope with large sums of money and extends it to him.

"How about you give me her name and address?"

Jyp eyes the money and pockets it. "Seven something. I got no clue where she stays. But she normally hangs out after work with a bunch of these losers at a place called The Crash."

Jaebeom tilts his head and purses his lips. He salutes the man and leaves the building. Putting the coordinates of the place on his GPS. The GPS advises him that it's ready to go, he drives off the night headed to look for the beautiful thief.

As Jaebeom enters the bar, he sees Seven and a friend playing a game of eight ball. He purposely observed her from afar at first. She was wearing nothing but simple black sleeveless shirt, black pants, black gloves and black rubber boots. She had no make-up on yet her skin is tanned and flawless. Her eyes were intense and brown as she concentrates on beating her friend at a game. Black hair flowing beautifully from her back as it sways showing markings on her skin. Tattoos as he scans her carefully. She has a tattoo of an angel on her back with cherry blossom edging on both her left and right shoulder. From a front another tattoo catches his attention on her upper left chest just right below her collar bone. Some sort of an ECG reading.

She seems to be having fun tonight...

As Jaebeom surveys her. There's something about the way she smiles. Her body is relaxed but her eyes are weary, as if she was hiding a secret from everyone else. Jaebeom decides to approach Seven while she was speaking to her friend. Whilst walking towards her Seven looks up and sees him approaching.

"So this guy walks into a bar and says..." as Seven intensely gazing upon Jaebeom's eyes without blinking, he swore when a flash of light from the bar swept by her it looked as if he was staring in to a cat's eye.

He smiled at her and responded "We didn't get a chance to finish our conversation the other night." Without taking her off Jaebeom, he felt compelled to stare into her eyes as well.

Seven unmoving speaks at her friend who seems confused "Summer, say hi to my good friend..." the man cuts her off "Im Jaebeom" he says as he hands his hand to shake the hand of Seven's friend.

Summer being an ever loyal friend just looked at Jaebeom and gave him a brief respond "Hey."

But Seven and Jaebeom just stood there still looking at each other. Sensing that it's time to make herself scarce, Summer looks at her watch "Xena's on", then she splits.

"Sorry about your window" as Seven breaks her gaze upon the handsome man. Jaebeom does the same "Can we go somewhere and talk?" the two then heads out of the bar.

The two walk in silence for a moment, an easy affinity between them. After a moment Seven slightly gave Jaebeom a glance "So...How'd you find me?"

Jaebeom stared at her features ever so softly there was something about her that's enchanting him to no end. Obnoxiously he gave her a smile "It wasn't that hard."

She stops dead at her tracks, eyeing the man who was standing before her "Am I supposed to be flattered by all the attention?" As she snickers at him and walks a bit faster making Jaebeom speed up his pace.

"Well, now you know who I am, where I live. I figured I better find out who I'm dealing with in case you were looking to hurt me." He answers her earnestly.

They continued conversing whilst walking through a forgotten and condemned park. Surrounding them are old rusted rides all long forgotten. Seven sits on one of the old swings as Jaebeom followed the urge to push her slightly. She then turns to her side only seeing the Jaebeom's peripherals.

"So? Now you tracked me. What do you think?" as she continues to just sit by the swing.

Jaebeom moves to her side sitting on the empty space on her right. He looks at her "Hmmm...Too early to tell."

Seven giggles at him, catching the man by surprise. It's hard to think that this girl sitting beside him giggling over nothing actually took down Ruben and broke his window.

She then continues on "How does Mrs. Informant Net like being married to a guy on everyone's hit list?" she asks with a very innocent but serious look on her face. Flustered by her straightforward question he blushes, then she laughs at him obviously catching the man off guard.

"Aww, he blushes, how adorable. For someone who does cyber hacking I must say this is a surprise." As she continues to laugh on her own.

"Janna is not my wife." He replies to her.

"Girlfriend?" she quirks up an eyebrow on him.

"No. Janna Reid is the wife of James Reid. Her husband was murdered. She's one of my sources." As he intently looks at Seven's face to see if he can catch any type of emotion. To his dismay she never changed facade and stood up from where she was sitting as she continued to walk around the park.

"Tell me Im Jaebeom, what's your shot in all this? Being a famous underground pirate slash cyber journalist can't be much of a pay day."

He follows her as she walks around "Fortunately, my needs are met in that department" he says.

"So what, you just like the sound of your own voice?" Seven mocks him.

Jaebeom smiled in amusement. "Look around at all this Seven. This place was built by people till the pandemic and bomb happened on 2020. They blinked and overnight the government, the police, everything intended to protect the people had been turned against them."

Seven stops and turns at Jaebeom "You miss the good old days. Even though there were still poor people who died from diseases when they didn't have to...and rich people spent obscene amounts of money redecorating their houses to match the cat. Those good old days?"

Jaebeom sighs "Well at least people had a choice, even if they took it for granted. And now they obviously don't."

Nonchalantly the girl continues to walk "So what are you gonna do about it?"

"Something..." As Jaebeom answers, they continued to walk in silence for a beat.

Then to break the silence Jaebeom decides to speak up again. "That was a pretty extraordinary display of athleticism the other night. In fact, a little too extra ordinary. You wanna tell me how?" But he looks up at her and she's gone.

Jaebeom was left all alone on an empty park, looking for Seven who seems to have vanished in to thin air.