#Corbin's saloon

[lboogie1906]

Walter “Wiley” Jones (July 14, 1848 – December 7, 1904) was a businessman in Pine Bluff, Arkansas, who was one of the wealthiest African Americans in his state. He owned the first streetcar company in Pine Bluff and a park in the city that housed the fairgrounds. A devotee of horse racing, he owned stables and a race track on the park grounds. He owned a saloon. He was active in civic affairs and was an advocate for civil rights.

He was born in Madison County, Georgia. His parents were George Jones, a white planter, and enslaved, Anne, they had six children.

In August 1886, he secured the charter for the first streetcar line in Pine Bluff. He had one and one-fourth miles completed and the first car running by October 19, 1886, coinciding with the first day of the annual fair of the Colored Industrial and Fair Association, an organization of which he was treasurer. He owned the fairgrounds located on a 55-acre park he owned near Main Street which was called Wiley Jones Park. His stables included one stallion, “Executor” that was of particular note, and later his colt, “Trickster”. He owned several mares and a herd of Durham and Holstein cattle. In 1901, his thoroughbred pace, “Billy H”, broke a track record at a race in Windsor. In 1890, he purchased the second line in Pine Bluff, known as the Citizen’s line, from H. P. Bradford for $125,000. In 1894, he sold his streetcar company to another streetcar syndicate. In 1901, he founded the Southern Mercantile Company, making his longtime friend Fred Havis president and his brother, James, manager.

He was an active Republican and was a delegate to the 1880 RNC. He opened a manual training school, the Colored Industrial Institute of Pine Bluff (1888). He was an organizer of the Arkansas Colored Men’s Association. He was a delegate to the annual convention of the Colored Men’s National Protective Association. He was a Mason and along with Professor J. C. Corbin played an important role in the building of a Masonic Temple in Pine Bluff. He sold land to the Masons to be used to build the temple. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence

[hokkaidossoul12]

Here is another Showdown Bandit oc I made, her name is Maude Galloway (her last name used to be Adkins) and she is a blacksmith. She is 33 years old, and because she is a blacksmith she can carry around swords, blades and other kinds of weapons with her, she is also able to repair them and she was very much built to be fire resistant. She is good friends with Miner Murray, Lorelei Undertaker, Doc Carver, Lookout and is somewhat in good terms with the Faceless Bandit (in my AU), she is also friends with a few other folks as well as Mother Dove, Fowler (somehow...) Finnley, Corbin, Myra, Vivian, Carrie, Fannie, Bullettooth Vernon (somehow...), Vincent Greers and Luther, Luther and Maude are actually a married couple. She is around Doc Carver's height (maybe a little bit taller). Backstory: Just like Carrie, Maude was also one of the first puppets that had arrived to Showdown Valley before the show began (she was near the end of her teen years at this time), the puppeteers had chosen a role for her which would be a blacksmith, that meant she had her own Smithy. She was the only blacksmith in the entire Valley so...her role was especially important because she was responsible for making every puppet's weaponry, even the Faceless Bandit's scythe (in my AU). But, nobody in the Valley knew that Maude had actually met the Faceless Bandit nor became a distant friends with the faceless man, it was because she wanted to make sure that Faceless wouldn't get caught and accused of stealing from Maude which...wasn't the case at all. Then, slowly as the years went by Maude got to know most of the puppets inside and outside of the Valley, like Doc Carver who she makes threading needles for, and Penny who she makes special parts for supplies in her shop. It was after a while of making supplies and giving them to the fellow residents while receiving money in return...Maude felt like she had an empty space inside of her for some reason but...she didn't know why. This empty space had began to chip away at her to where even when there were other puppets visiting her she felt lonely as she constantly worked day in and day out. It made her feel a bit melancholy and very restless, yet...she still continued on with her job, knowing that it was important to not lose focus of her work. Everything felt like that for the female blacksmith until one day...she was greeted by someone new, she had been tempering (when a blacksmith heats up metal or other types of minerals to soften them so it is easier to make them flat) at piece of silver to make an axe from it, her face being covered by a black wielding mask. Maude was too focused on her work that she hadn't heard the door to her Smithy open and loud coughing, but... the sudden loud sound of minerals clustering together had finally caught her attention. She had finished up what she was doing and went up to the counter, Maude's face still covered with a black wielding mask so the puppet couldn't really tell who she was, "uhh...hi, I have come here to bring in the minerals for you..." the puppet spoke in a soft voice, they were obviously a male too, Maude then grabbed the black mask around her face and slowly pulled it off. "Murray had recently gotten sick and was unable to come in today, so I decided to come in-" the male puppet paused for just a minute and looked at the blacksmith, she had fixed her hair and dusted off the ash-like substance that had clung to her apron. "...f-for...him..." the young male finally finished his sentence, the blacksmith had smiled, she presumed that the young male was a miner just like Murray but...she had never seen this male miner before. "thank you, I hope he feels better soon..., and you must the new miner, Mr...?" Maude asked, waiting for an answer, "o-oh, Luther Galloway, or you ca-an j-just call me Luther or...Mr. Gallos" the male miner spoke, Maude couldn't see that the young miner had caught her off guard. She smiled at Luther, "nice to met you, Mr Gallos, my name is Maude Adkins, or you can just call me Maude" the young blacksmith spoke cheerfully, deciding to just go by his nickname. Maude then gently grabbed the bag of minerals that Luther had given her and put them away, then...she suddenly gave Luther a bundle of cash, "here, since your a working man...I'll give you a payment for collecting those minerals for me." With that, the young miner thanked Maude before heading out the door. For some reason, Maude's heart had begun to beat at a rapid pace as she had spoke with the Luther and...she found herself sinking down the counter the minute he left, her face heating up a bit, Maude didn't have any idea why she felt like this...but maybe it would only happen once. But, Luther had begun to visit her more often and...every time she did...her heart had began to race as her face had heated up a bit, she and Luther had slowly got to know each other more each time Luther had visited her. They got to know each other more and more until finally, Luther had made a move on her and had asked her out on the date, Maude of course accepted, her heart fluttering and the smile never left her face. Her and Luther both took a day off work to have the day out, despite Maude's job being important, they both did some fun activities and even went to the saloon where they dancing and got drinks. Then, on the same night, they went to a cliffside where they had their first kiss. It was soon that the empty space inside of the blacksmith with filled and...she no longer felt like she was lonely thanks to Luther being there for her. After ten long years of being a couple was when Luther had asked Maude to marry him, Maude ended up accepting with happy tears in her eyes, then they planned their wedding which would be into a few months time. Once the time came around, Maude and Luther had invited most of the Valley to be there and it turned out beautifully (and Maude's last name was changed to the same as Luther's [Galloway]), but...the funniest part was after the wedding Corbin had decided to borrow Maude's wedding dress and show Luther, that sent him and everyone into a fit of laughter. It was a few months after the wedding where the two married couple decided to have a child, they were both happy about the idea, but...this was also the day that Maude's life would change forever, and it wasn't a good way. That same day, Maude and Luther went out for a long stroll, sitting down by a lake before gazing out, not noticing how dark it was becoming. Soon it was starting to become night, Maude and Luther had both began to notice, Luther taking Maude's hand, "we should get home, right now!" he spoke in a panicked voice, the both of them getting up from the ground, then...they heard the unmistakable sound of a stringless. Then, before the two knew it the whole area was surrounded by stringless, Luther and Maude tried to be as quiet as they could to not be seen but of course...the miner stood on a branch on the ground, attracting all the stringless' attention, Luther quickly stared at Maude. "RUN!" Luther shouted, grabbing Maude's hand and began to pull her along, Maude began running with Luther while the huge crowd of stringless ran after them. They began to lose sight of the stringless as they got closer to their home, Luther looked at Maude "we're almost there! just a little further!" he said, but suddenly Maude had heard the sound of Luther fall to the ground and had quickly stopped, hearing him cry out in pain, she swiftly turned around to see him on the ground, a single stringless grabbed onto Luther and slowly began to cut his strings and slowly cut his body. "LUTHER!" the female blacksmith cried out as she looked back at him, Luther had tears in his eyes as he shouted "go on without me! I'm already a goner!", but Maude refused to let him get killed. She ran at the stringless that had ahold of Luther, the stringless scratching underneath Luther's eye before the blacksmith sliced the stringless' head off with the sword she carried with her, she then saw Luther's foot was snapped off by the stringless, she heard the stringless approaching fast. "Please...just go, we'll both die if you try saving me..., please..." the miner sobbed,  female blacksmith hearing what Luther said and began to tear up as well, then Maude let out a cry "I'M NOT GOING LEAVE YOU HERE TO DIE! AND IF I DIE TOO THEN SO BE IT!" she screamed, grabbing onto Luther's body and using what strength she had to carry him toward their house, the stringless were just a few metres away from them. But, the female blacksmith knew that only one of them would survive, she quickly opened the front door and shoved her dear Luther inside, she suddenly felt one of the stringless grab her and begin to tear at her arm, so she quickly slammed the door shut, locking it. "MAUDE! NO!" Maude heard Luther shout as she saw tears run down his face, "it's ok, love, I'd rather it be only one of us..." she smiled, tears fell from her eyes and the crowd of stringless finally grabbed her, she cried in anguish as the stringless scratched her paint away and snapped every last one of her stringless. Then...after her last stringless was cut she lost all her senses, everything seemed to become a blur to her before her vision went completely black and she dropped to the ground, dying right on the spot, the last thing she heard was the sound of Luther crying out as he saw her die right in front of his own eyes.

She likes: Being kind to the folks around her, getting her hair done up, making or fixing weapons, making jewelry from minerals, when she given rare minerals (she makes special things out of them), getting visited by any of the fellow miners, when she gets visited by Luther and making sure Luther is safe.

She dislikes: Stringless (she is afraid of them unless her friends are getting hurt by them, then she attacks and defend her friends), when children play around with her equipment (she's scared they will get hurt), when she or her friends get threatened, when someone sneaks up on her, whenever someone talks about Luther badly to her (she gets defensive), seeing dead animals, and when she is being put into a stressful situation (sometimes).

[littlelanemedia]

Have you heard of Servente's Saloon and Market? This place has a beautiful old bar that has been cleaned up beautifully, and a drinks menu that offers only beer, wine, and spirits. However, at the top of the spirits list I spotted a little item with a $2 surcharge for “speciality drinks”, and I just had to know what these were. I’m pretty sure the answer from Sally, the wonderful server, was close to “I can mix you a martini if you really want”, however Sally doesn’t claim to be a mixologist and customers like me are few and far between I assume. Nevertheless, it was 12pm at this point, and if you think I was leaving without a midday Martini, you’re dead wrong. Sally mixed me a great vodka Martini with some local Corbin Sweet Potato Vodka, and classic Cinzano Dry Vermouth, then finished it off by throwing a lemon twist in there. It may have been the unique vodka, environment, Sally’s personality or just the entire experience, however it was one of the best damn Martini’s I had tried in some time and if I’m ever back I look forward to spending more time at the @serventes_saloon and Market. #MiddayMartini #Serventes #meetmeinTuolumne #VisitCalifornia #VisitGoldCountry #RoadTripCalifornia #MyTuolumneCounty #GoldRushRally #RoadTrip #California #Hertz #Sonora #Yosemite #GoldCountry #HighSierra #LittleLane #BeautifulBooze #drinks #LiqPic #cheerstoalcohol #drinkpunch #feedfeed #craftedmixology #barprints #lifestyle #cocktail #cocktails #drinkpunch #worldsbestbars @visitcalifornia @meetmeintuolumne (at Servente's Saloon and Market) https://www.instagram.com/p/BxyKjZAFi7Y/?igshid=qd2dlxf6kwjm

[concussed-to-pieces]

The Empire

Fandom: WWE

Pairing: Baron Corbin/Roman Reigns

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Thirst Party Crew, welcome aboard! It's my birthday today, so I got a little (a lot) indulgent. We return to Suplex City! Tagging @tox-moxley, @oraclegazes, @hardcorewwetrash and a huge Thank You to @culturalrebel for their fantastic input! Enjoy!

The Brogue Kick Saloon

“The Shield!” Seth had said excitedly, of course he was excited. His daddy's money knew no end. He was one of the lucky ones, having been scooped up from an orphanage early on and groomed for greatness. “We'll dispense justice and shit like that, it'll be totally badass!”

Who wouldn't have been on board with that idea? Every kid dreamed about being a superhero, about wearing Kevlar and being so goddamn special that nothing could touch you. And in this city, the idea of being a deliverer of justice that wasn't as corrupt as the day was long was tantalizing all on its own.

The Shield.

It was perfect for a while. Roman felt like they were actually helping, the grateful looks on the faces of people they assisted more than enough for a couple of former gutter kids like he and Ambrose. They may not have superpowers, sure, but hard fists, quick kicks and Dean's motor-mouth were more than enough for them to deal with numerous Acolytes, so many members of the Family.

Seth wanted more though, not content with the offerings of thank-yous. He began calling for more aggressive patrols, more thorough sweeps. He wanted attention. Dean was ready for that, obviously, born and bred to fight was Dean Ambrose. Roman was the most cautious of the three of them and the idea of looking for trouble instead of just trying to prevent it made him uneasy.

Rollins was the first one to get hurt, of course. An Acolyte caught him across the back of his knee with a knife and he'd panicked, thrashing and making the wound a thousand times worse before Roman could knock the guy out. Old Mick Foley (who lived at the soup kitchen) had hollered at them from his doorstep, ushering the three men into his dingy quarters behind the kitchen.

“I see you boys out there almost every night, doing a real good job of keeping folks safe.” He'd said kindly as he patched up Seth's leg with tiny, expertly-placed stitches. “Just make sure you don't bite off more than you can chew, okay?” Roman implored Seth with his eyes to just shut the fuck up and be polite for once in your life, Rollins as Ambrose cracked his skull against Mick's in a fond gesture. Dean had always had an odd kinship with the mysterious older man, Mick returning the forehead bash after a moment. “Ambrose, I should have known it was you under that mask. God only knows who you other guys are, but you're making me proud keeping the Acolytes and Wyatts humble. It's dangerous work.”

Mick said things sometimes, back when Dean and Roman were nothing but scrappy teenagers picking up a hot meal at the soup kitchen. Things that got Roman thinking. One time Mick was just rattling on about the Underground, like how he had firsthand experience in dealing with the Deadman (yeah yeah, sure, crazy old Mick) and Roman had watched as Mick tugged his shaggy hair to the side for the first time and started nervously fidgeting with where his right ear had been. Roman also heard things on the streets and in the shelters. Things like that the fearsome creature Mankind was missing an ear and had lost it in a brutal brawl when another almost mythological level individual, Big Van Vader, had gone toe-to-toe with the maniac man of the Underground.

Roman never asked, but if he viewed Mick with a little more wary respect...well, it was probably for the best anyway, the guy fed a lot of people with his soup kitchen. A soup kitchen rumored to be kept afloat with warring donations from Seth's adoptive father Mr. Helmsley and the shadowy Undertaker, but one couldn't be too picky in the City That Showed No Mercy.

Seth's recovery period was longer than he would have liked. Roman figured that with the self-proclaimed brains of their outfit laid up, maybe they should tuck away their capes. At least for the time being. Dean kept his ears open for trouble but followed Roman's lead of laying low.

Reigns was eternally grateful for the shrewd business mind he had inherited from his long-gone father, investments of every penny tidily made years in advance for when he would be grown and wanting a little more out of life than a tiny apartment. The purchase of the old Kliq night club was a strategic move. The strip it was on was bustling by all accounts, properties being scooped up by the Triple H Corporation like hot cakes.

The club wasn't much to look at, bearing the same worn appearance as most of the battered buildings in Suplex City. But Roman knew deep down that with time and care, it could shine again. It had been a real hotspot back in its heyday. Roman could just barely remember how fancy the gold gilding and red paint used to be; the place had closed down when he was around eleven years old. Bankruptcy had a way of striking in the city when you least expected it, he guessed, especially if you weren’t paying attention.

His paint swatches and floor plans were put on the back burner when Seth made his triumphant solo return, exposing a coven of Family members that had been ritually torturing numerous members of the abundant homeless population. Dean was just happy to have an excuse to lace his ass kicking boots back up. Roman privately thought that something was wrong with Rollins. If he'd been aggressive before, now he was a goddamn man possessed. Always on the move, swinging from the rooftops dusk to dawn in shiny new gear with Dean and Roman trailing further and further behind. The time off had been hard on him, Roman supposed.

Seth should have known better than to try and fuck with the Family so boldly. Being the adopted heir of the Triple H Corporation had always come with boundaries that shouldn’t be crossed, for his own health. Rollins always griped about the ‘leash’ Stephanie and Hunter kept him on. But as much as he hated it, as much as he railed against it, it was still a leash that kept him safe. He didn’t seem to understand that Roman and Dean didn't have such luxurious ties, and one night Dean didn't show up.

The amount of sleep and blood Roman lost searching for Dean almost did him in; he woke up at Mick's battered and frantic and the older man had shoved him to lay back down. “We need to find Ambrose!” Roman's hand pressed to his poorly-bandaged ribs. He hadn't had time to stop when one of the Family came at him with their lantern, glass, metal and oil shattering across his side with a loud, hot explosion. He'd just torn his patchy velcro apart, mopped at the blood and clumsily pulled a chunk of his undershirt over the wounded area, zipped back up and kept moving forward through the dark. He didn't even remember it hurting, too scared and furious to care.

Mick gave him a sad look and Roman's throat closed up. No, no, please--

The older man had refrained from speaking while he helped clean Roman's side. “I can guess where Dean is.” He said finally. Roman's heart sank as Mick started rubbing over his ear.

Roman took the brunt of the beatings for their little Underground excursions ever since they’d lost Dean and the song and dance got a bit fucking tiring. Rollins didn't even seem to care that Dean was gone, too interested in his own game of superhero to bother looking for clues whenever they ventured below the streets of the city. Roman always returned with a few more tunnels mapped, a few more ways to figure out the labyrinth and a few more bruises, but Seth couldn’t seem to be fucked beyond the first couple feet of whichever manhole cover they’d disrupted.

Brief hope came in the screaming, barely human individual that Owens Powerbombed into unconsciousness in the alley behind the Brogue Kick Saloon. He was thin, so thin, reddish-blond hair sparsely peppering his body and covering his face. In his first brief moments of clarity, he would cry and tell them his name was Zayn, that he'd come here looking for a better life but he'd gotten so lost.

Kevin Owens was much more patient than he'd let on, and apparently a huge softie when it came to strawberry blond guys who could use some meat on their bones.

Sami Zayn, the fabled Underdog Of The Underground (and didn't that throw Roman for a loop that this scrawny guy was the Underdog), slowly regained most of his humanity, able to have halting conversations with Roman and Kevin about what had happened to him. He offered no insight on Dean, but he painted a picture of the Underground that was startlingly different from what everyone had thought.

“They fight for sport down there. The whole place is like a gladiator pit. They fight for Him.” Sami spoke slowly, so slowly. “Even if they think they're free to do as they please, everyone fights for Him.” His hands shook. “The Demon Balor, Viper,  Beast, Empress. Owned by the Family, but they're all His.” The Deadman's grip was apparently absolute, and heaven help you if you fell out of his good graces.

...

Roman had gone to Hustle as a last resort and his desperation almost did him in. The hunt for Ambrose was ended by The Beast's fists and The Viper's deadly strikes.

When exactly Dean had resurfaced, Roman wasn’t sure. He still remembered the call he got from the frantic O’Shaunessy in the wee hours of the morning, the debilitating guilt that he felt because he’d traded Dean’s life for his own. Heyman drove a hard bargain.

“I know ya’ ran t’gether, I need ya’ to calm his arse down.” Sheamus sounded distraught, the unfamiliar accent thick over the phone. “I dinnae wanna’ bother ya’, Reigns, but he’s in a damn bind here hollerin’ abou’ ye an’ Rollins. Rollins dinnae answer.”

Ambrose was halfway out of his mind but he still recognized Roman, though not how Reigns or O’Shaunessy wanted. Dean was furious, screaming brokenly at the large man who was all but frozen in the doorway, “you didn’t help! You left me down there to fucking die!” Ambrose flew into a frothing rage at the sight of Roman and Sheamus only barely managed to snag him around the waist before he was snapping his teeth in Reigns’ face. “You and Rollins, you fucking piece of shit! I expected it from the rich boy, but not you, we were brothers, dammit!”

Sheamus didn’t know what had happened between them, and he didn’t need to. Once the large redhead had Dean essentially restrained Roman took a cautious step forward and cupped Ambrose’s face. Dean’s teeth clicked together as he tried to bite Roman’s fingers but Roman ignored the attempt, pressing his forehead to Dean’s. Like he used to do before, when Rollins was tearing off ahead of them and Dean was still trying to catch his breath.

“Ambrose, Christ.”

Dean stopped struggling for a second. Jerked around and then paused again, eyes half-closed while Roman murmured to him. “I c-can’t…Ro, please, m’sorry, make it stop…” He groaned.

“No Ambrose, you’re right. You’re right. I gave up. I failed you. I didn’t think I would ever see you again. Rollins…I don’t know what happened.” Roman shook his head. “It was like he didn’t even give a shit. I went down alone so many times, followed so many leads. I even went to Heyman, but I couldn’t…I’m so sorry, Dean.”

“R-Roman…” Dean had never said his name like that, almost a sob. Sheamus relaxed his grip a fraction and then Dean was lunging, yelling nonsense words and clawing at Roman wildly.

Roman hated the sympathy in Sheamus’ eyes when he’d left once Dean had cried himself out, the hand that the red-haired man rested on his shoulder feeling too heavy. But he hated himself far more. Dean was right, he had abandoned him to the bloodbath of the Underground. Sure, they could blame Rollins until the cows came home, but the fact of the matter was that Reigns had given up. His life had been threatened and he’d bitched out. He could have done more. He should have tried harder, pushed further, taken more abuse.

Maybe he could have saved his brother.

…

The years went by and The Empire opened to the public, Kevin proposing to Sami in a shocking moment right after Roman had cut the stereotypical ribbon. Sheamus had toasted the soon-to-be-married couple with Ambrose’s hand in his own. Roman was intensely grateful for Sheamus’ dedication to Dean, feeling the guilt in his chest ease off a little every time he saw Dean smile up at the redhead.

He and Ambrose never made up officially. But one night when Roman had visited the Saloon to warn them that the Acolytes had started moving more aggressively, Dean dragged him in for a quick headbutt at the door. That was it, but Roman decided it was far more than he deserved. Ambrose didn’t have to know about what he had done. Shit, Owens and Zayn were the only ones who knew the full story and they weren't exactly a talkative duo. Roman didn’t think he would be able to handle Dean being that infuriated with him again, “you didn’t help! You left me down there to fucking die!” so he kept it to himself.

Rollins stopped communicating with him altogether. Probably for the best, he and Roman had an ugly falling out over Dean and Roman had come scarily close to strangling his former brother.

“He’s always been a few sandwiches short of a fucking picnic, man. We’re better off without him. Stronger. Smarter.”

Roman couldn’t recall ever wanting to hurt someone more than he had at that moment. But he managed to keep himself under control (if only just), tossing Seth out on his ass with a stern, “don’t come back unless you’re in serious trouble, got it?”

Ever the strong, brave brother was Roman Reigns, one more thing on his shoulders.

...

Baron Corbin came roaring into the City That Showed No Mercy as the weather grew colder with all the subtlety of a brick through the front window of Royal Arrangements (and whoever had decided that was a good idea sincerely needed their head checked, the last thing any sane person would want was one of Regal's boys after them. Especially Pete!).

He was a big man with a bigger bike, tattoos that would make The Viper jealous and a rumored mean streak that ran deeper than the Underground. The fact that he arrived on a Friday (and Friday the thirteenth, no less) meant Roman wasn’t exactly able to devote any sort of attention to the fact that there was a new person in town.

He did not expect the application slipped under the front door of the club sometime early Monday morning, reading and rereading the neat, slightly-cramped handwriting as he drank his coffee. Prior experience looking/being threatening. Can't dance worth a damn but willing to learn if necessary. He chuckled a little bit at the idea of that guy tangling with the likes of Colin or Jericho on the stage. Just learning how flexible Big Colin Cassady was had surprised him, so it was an entertaining prospect. But no, he had more than enough talent on his hands at the moment what with people jumping ship from Hustle, and even a few office-workers-turned-dancers from when Del Rio Import And Export closed down.

Could use another guy for the door, at least until the spring. He mused to himself. That way Kevin can have another day off. Be with Sami in the mornings. Normally on Kevin’s days off Roman pulled door duty, and then on Sami’s days off Roman tended the bar. Having an extra body would let him get more paperwork done. Plus, if the guy had any sort of decent personality maybe he could offer him bar hours.

Baron was soft-spoken for being as large as he was. He didn’t twiddle his fingers or cross his arms, instead sitting as straight as possible in the chair across from Roman while he conducted the interview. For all intents and purposes he seemed like a shoe-in for the job, level-headed and able to take orders if he needed to.

“Sign here and you’re an official member of The Empire staff.” Roman watched as Baron’s face lit up and he felt…something in his chest loosen the tiniest bit.

…

Kevin got along with Baron as well as Kevin got along with anyone, which was to say that Baron stayed out of Kevin’s way and Kevin hadn’t tried to eat him alive yet. Sami was still a little wary of people who weren’t Roman or Kevin, so Reigns didn’t expect much in the friendship department from him.

Baron was strangely respectful of all the talent Roman employed, both the regulars like Cass and Jericho as well as the part-timers like Perkins, Dawson and Dash. His answer when Roman quizzed him on it offered a little more insight on the quiet man.

“My mom used to do this. The dancing. She loved it, loved the attention. You always hear stories about people who get forced into this field as a last resort.” Baron stared down at his own hands. “It was the only thing she wanted to do, though. She said it made her feel powerful, bein’ up on the stage with guys all over her.” He gestured at the stage, where Big Cass and Roman's MC, Enzo, were running through their routine before the place opened for the night. “You aren’t forcing anyone to be here, man. Nobody’s beholden to you or any of that bullshit and everyone knows not to touch. It’s…refreshing.”

Roman shook his head, leaning back in his chair. The revenue paperwork could wait a minute or two. “I never wanted this place to be like that. I couldn’t handle that prostitution cover kind of club. People want that, they can go to Heyman’s place.” He knew he sounded more bitter than he ought to. “Folks come here when they’ve had a bad day. Folks go to Hustle when they want to forget who they fucking are.”

“Good on you, man.” Baron seemed wistful, tacking on a, “Wish my mom had worked here.” Roman knew that tone of voice. But Baron didn’t continue like most people would have. Instead he just got to his feet, straightening out his vest silently.

Roman could take a hint, returning to his paperwork. The numbers swam in front of his eyes though. Why the hell had he badmouthed another establishment in front of an employee? That was juvenile shit, regardless of how justified it was. Roman groaned, rubbing his eyes and putting his forehead on the table. Just for a second...

He should have known that working at Hustle was a bad fucking move. The place was crawling with the Family and Acolytes, all throwing their money away on the different fighting pits or the strippers and the outrageously-priced drinks. But he was out of options and the pay they promised was excellent. Not to mention the fact that everyone knew Paul Heyman had dealings with every seedy character in the entire Suplex City underbelly. If there was going to be someone who knew about Dean, it would be Heyman. Roman figured working there would enable him to finish financing his own dream, as well as give him the best chance he had at someone who could help him find Dean.

Because of his intricate tattoo he was packaged as an ‘exotic attraction’, rare and expensive. He thanked his lucky stars that when he, Ambrose and Rollins were The Shield they'd had the foresight to cover up, since his arm piece was a dead goddamn giveaway. Roman remembered feeling disgusted with himself after the first night, his skin crawling every time someone approached his elaborate golden cage. The only thing that kept him from quitting on the spot was the promise of getting in good with Heyman. He had known what he was in for, but for some reason it seemed a hundred times worse when he was being leered at.

Roman didn’t have to strip. Shit, he didn’t even have to fight that often. He knew he should be thankful, he was a hell of a lot safer than the scrawnier guys like Kendrick or Swann because he didn't look like an easy win. Years of rooftop running and strict workout regiments from Rollins had finally done him some good. But being marketed as an ‘exotic’ never failed to rub him the wrong way. Heyman was (allegedly, according to Cena) a little disappointed when he found out Roman wasn’t going to snarl and pace in his cage like a fucking wild animal.

“He wants you to act like a savage, man.” John Cena wasn’t a person known to be cruel, but he could be…more blunt than was comfortable. Roman wanted to punch him more often than he didn’t.

Roman should have thrown in the towel right there, but he was stubborn. So goddamn stubborn. And then one morning, he got caught by Punk in Heyman’s office-

“Boss? Hey, Reigns.” Someone was shaking his shoulder and Roman jerked upright.

“What! What, what is it?” he asked blearily.

Baron’s laugh washed over him. “Stimulating stuff, huh? I walk off and you take a nap. Put down the work for a little while, Reigns. Give your brain a breather. Cass has a question for you anyhow.”

…

The night Roman noticed The Viper in the club, Kevin was off. And as much as Roman wanted to jump down Baron’s throat for letting the psychopath into his establishment, he had a sneaking suspicion that The Viper hadn’t come in through the front door.

Roman felt that old, familiar panic squeeze the air out of his lungs as he bolted for his office behind the bar. What do I do? He had hoped he would never see The Viper or The Beast ever again. He had stopped looking for Dean! He’d kept his end of the bargain! Why would Heyman do this to him? The Empire wasn’t big enough to threaten Hustle in the slightest, this didn’t make any sense!

And now that guy, The Viper, was in the middle of his club. Innocent people were fucking everywhere, it was like a playground for that maniac. It was going to be a bloodbath and Roman didn’t have the goddamn luxury of hiding in his office and waiting it out like the coward he was.

He had to do something.

Roman squared his shoulders, opened the door again. The first burst of music and lights was always disorienting and he closed his eyes, like he had a thousand times before.

“Boss?”

Reigns jumped about a foot as Baron stared down at him, looking a bit confused. “J-Jesus Baron, warn a guy huh? What’s up?” Roman finally stammered, trying to look around the larger man to keep tabs on The Viper.

“You alright, Reigns? Not looking so good. You sick or something?” Baron asked worriedly. Roman wanted to ponder the concern in the voice of the other man, but he finally caught sight of The Viper again and it was like time slowed to a halt for him. Everything faded away and Roman was left in darkness with The Viper once more…

“I didn’t expect that an employee of mine would stoop so low.”

Coming back to consciousness after CM had kneed him in the face and stomach a few times was terrifying. Roman had no idea where he was. It sure as hell wasn’t Hustle. His nose felt like it was broken.

Paul Heyman stood in front of him, his hands clasped behind his back. The smile on his face just made Roman even more nervous. “Snooping in my office, Reigns? Didn’t you learn anything from your stint as a play vigilante? Rollins was the only smart one in your bunch, I guess.”

Roman growled around the bandanna he’d been gagged with. Leave it to Heyman to lead him into some kind of trap. But shit, leave it to himself to walk into it like a bumbling idiot. An office left unlocked? With how paranoid Heyman was, that should have set bells and whistles off in Roman’s head.

Two people were prowling in the shadows of the room they were in. Roman kept on catching glimpses out of the corner of his eye. It might have been Punk. If he was lucky one of them would be Punk. Heavy footsteps and then light, skittering ones. Paul was still rattling on and Roman took the opportunity to slowly test the security of his bonds.

Either Heyman had Punk ready and waiting to knee him in the face again or they had severely underestimated Roman’s strength, because the ropes were already frayed.

It wasn’t CM in the room. The soft hiss was Roman’s first clue and his blood ran cold. The Viper.

“I brought a few people who you might remember. I know they remember you.” Paul’s chuckle was mirthless.

“I’m sorry. I have t-to--” Roman floundered, the panic setting in as he watched The Viper crane his head and scan the crowd bathed in flickering lights.

Baron followed his line of vision, eyes narrowing. “Who let him in here? He didn’t have an ID so I turned him away.” He growled, sounding annoyed.

“Him not having an ID is the least of our problems. Guy can drop a room full of people. We need to be care…ful.” Baron had headed off before Roman finished speaking, the tall man easily making his way through the mass of patrons. “Wait, Baron!” Roman yelled, his voice lost in the pulsing music. He had no choice but to hurry after him, managing to grab his arm before he was spotted by The Viper.

“What, boss?” Roman could hardly hear Baron, resorting to yanking him even closer.

“You can’t! This guy will fucking kill you, Baron!”

“He shouldn’t be in here! You obviously don’t want him in here, I didn’t let him in here, so he’s going to fucking leave!” Corbin roared.

“Will you think for a second?! This guy could seriously injure a lot of people if you upset him!” Roman refused to be intimidated, shouting right back. “Use your fucking head, Baron!”

“You want me to use my head, Reigns? Fine.” Baron ripped his arm free of Roman like it was nothing, Reigns left grabbing at air as Baron cleared the distance between himself and The Viper much too quickly. Corbin apparently caught The Viper off guard when he slammed his forehead into the other man’s, flooring him easily. “What’d I say at the door, asshole?!” Baron yelled.

Roman was flabbergasted. He’d never seen anyone get the upper hand on the damn snake and yet here was Baron, kicking the guy in the ribs. It has to be a trick.

…

“Talk, fuckstick.”

Roman had called Kevin in, apologizing over and over in a shaky voice when he answered the phone. Now, Owens loomed over the back of the chair they had tied The Viper to. The man with the scarred and shaved head looked incredibly uncomfortable. He was sweating bullets and kept wriggling in his bonds every couple of seconds. Clearly, being caught was not part of the plan tonight.

Corbin bared his teeth. “I said talk. You wanted in, you’re in. Better start talking, you piece of fucking garbage.”

The Viper cocked his head to the side, studying Baron. Roman flinched at the motion and a sick grin slowly spread across the snake's face. “He’s afraid of me…but you’re not.” His voice was soft. It always was. “Why? Is it because you don’t know any better?”

“I’ll ask the fucking questions, thank you.” Baron snarled. “Why are you fucking here? Start fucking talking before I start breaking your fingers.”

“You don’t scare me, Baronnnn.” The Viper hissed and Roman shuddered, his leg knocking into Baron’s. The taller man’s hand was abruptly on the back of Roman’s thigh, steadying the jitters of his body.

“That’s because you don’t fucking know better, Viperrrrr.” Baron mocked, giving Reigns’ leg one last pat before getting to his feet. “So I’m going to teach you to know better.”

The Viper narrowed his eyes, opening his mouth to retort and Corbin struck, wrenching his right index finger backwards with a quick, loud snap! The Viper yelled, sounding more pissed off than in pain as he thrashed.

“Nine to go.” Baron rumbled, his hand already moving to the next digit. “Want to try again?”

“Wait! Please, wait, I’m no good to Him broken, he’ll kill me!” The Viper begged.

“All the fucking better.” Owens commented dryly.

“Who fucking sent you?” Baron hovered over the other man’s fingers.

“It was the Family, the Family. They own me, they own everything. They wanted me to scout…H-Heyman said…” The Viper faltered as Roman’s whole body snapped to attention at the name. Reigns clenched his fists, feeling a cold sweat drench him.

Dammit.

“What about Heyman?” Owens pressed, shooting a worried look at Roman.

“He knows! Of course he knows, Roman knows everything about Heyman!” The snake sounded hysterical. “Why don’t you ask him? Ask the one in the golden cage. Ask him how well he took his beating, ask him how hard he cried when Punk broke his nose and the Beast busted his head open on the concrete and I ripped his back apart! Ask him, ask him!” Crazed laughter exploded out of the bound man. “Ask him about the friend he fucking abandoned to us, ask him about Ambrose! Ask him about how he tried and tried to find his brother, while Rollins played hero up on the rooftops far away from us! Oh yeah, Roman knows everything--!”

Kevin’s arm wrapped around The Viper’s neck, finally stopping his manic rambling. Reigns only realized he was trembling when Baron squeezed his hip, hard. He felt sick to his stomach. “Are we done here?” Kevin asked, sounding bored. Owens was always simmering, but in an eerily calm way. It was like he was constantly thinking, forever planning his next move. Even with his arm cutting off the other man's air Roman could almost hear the gears turning.

Baron’s mouth curved into an unpleasant smile. “I think law enforcement should handle you from here, Viper.” The Viper wheezed for breath with Owens' arm pressed into his throat, eyes wide in horror. “Boss, how long does it take our fine officers to get here? Five minutes? Three?”

“I-I’ll go call them now, usually about three?” Roman replied weakly.

Baron cracked his knuckles.

The music out in the club muffled any noise The Viper might have made before Officers Breeze and Fandango arrived on the scene. Roman couldn’t make himself go back into his office before they escorted the snake out, instead sitting at the bar and nursing a glass of water. Sami left him alone for the most part after bringing him his water, seeming to realize that something was very wrong. Roman felt numb, the beating he’d received at the hands of The Viper and The Beast years ago playing over and over in his mind like a shitty clip show.

Stupid him, believing Heyman when he’d said that would be it. He had thought he would be safe, he’d given his word that he wouldn’t ever return to the Underground and he’d stopped searching for Dean. He had cried and begged on that cold concrete floor at Heyman’s feet, pleaded just to know that Dean was alive even while The Beast battered his body with his fists. Roman didn’t care what The Viper did to him, what The Beast did to him as long as Ambrose was alive. Because if he knew for a fact that somewhere down there Dean was still fighting, there was no way in hell he’d stop trying to find him.

Paul hadn’t deigned to answer him, just standing there impassively with his hands clasped behind his back. Roman had finally shattered when The Viper had split his back open with the chair, resorting to pleading and bargaining for his own life before he finally lost consciousness. All the while his heart heavy with shame at how weak he was. He woke up in a gutter a block away from The Empire, a pink slip stapled to the remains of his shirt. Aside from it being his official notice of termination from Hustle, Paul had taken the time to carefully write in, “remember our agreement, Roman.”

William Regal was the one who helped Reigns stumble back to The Empire, the older man easily hefting him upright without so much as a ‘by your leave’. “Do I need to call the authorities?” He’d asked quietly, voice a little more clipped than usual. At Roman’s frantic head shake he’d sighed. “I must open up for the morning, but I’ll send young Tyler over to check on you. If you need anything, Reigns, let us know. You’re a good fellow. I hate to see you like this.” Roman remembered clinging to Regal, his eyes burning with tears that he couldn’t shed. What would William think if he knew that Roman had traded Dean’s life for his own? Some strong, brave brother he was, some fucking friend.

A hand latched onto his arm, startling Roman out of the looping nightmare, and then someone was hauling him off his barstool, almost knocking him over with the force of the motion. Roman raised his fists, milleseconds from swinging before he realized who it was that had moved him. “Christ, Baron.” The relief he felt was short-lived as he took in how ripshit the larger man looked.

“You wanna’ explain to me what the fuck is going on here, boss?” Corbin snapped. “Because I’m feeling like I might be the only one in the fucking dark!”

Roman scrubbed his hands over his face. “It’s nothing.” He said finally.

“Like hell it is!” Baron grabbed his arm hard, fingers digging into the tattooed skin. “You’re coming with me, and you’re telling me exactly what’s going on here. And if you don’t, I’m fucking gone!”

“I told you it’s nothing! Let me go!” Roman strained against Baron’s hold as the other man forcibly walked him to his office. Roman balked at the sight of the chair, the bits of rope still tied to it making him shudder.

“I’m warning you, Reigns.” Baron grunted. “You keep lying to me, I’ll zip the fuck up and head out.”

“I am the authority in this goddamn building, Corbin! I should fucking fire you for putting your hands on me, never mind the fact that you directly disobeyed an order!” Roman snarled back, struggling in Baron’s grip. All the other man did was cinch his arms tighter. “Let me go, dammit!”

“Listen to me. You were obviously scared stiff, so cut the tough guy bullshit. I don’t know what he did to make you scared.” Baron’s voice dropped even lower. “I wasn’t about to let him hurt you. Or anyone else, got it?”

Roman felt a little of the fight ooze out of him, his shoulders drooping. “I-I had to…I couldn't...” His voice failed him, dissolving into nothing.

Baron sighed heavily, Roman feeling the motion of his chest expanding against his back. “I don’t need to know. I get it, okay? It’s none of my fucking business anyways.” He said finally. “You’re safe. Your club is safe for the time being. I’m sorry I got carried away. The way you were acting made me nervous and I kind of just...lashed out.” Baron apologized, attempting to let Roman go.

But Reigns hugged his arms tightly, just for a second. “Thank you, Baron.” He swallowed thickly, not sure why he felt like he needed to cry all of a sudden.

Baron made a noise in his throat, one hand moving up to pat Roman on the top of his head like he was a small child. “Shh, you’re okay. Don’t fucking thank me for doing my job, man. I’m here to keep this place and everyone in it safe. Owens would have done exactly the same thing.” He paused for a second. “You can thank me by not firing me, and also maybe helping me figure out how that weirdo got in here, okay boss?”

“Fuck, my paperwork.” Roman groaned, knocking his head back against Baron's chest. He had expected Corbin to release him once he'd let go of his arms, but he was pleasantly surprised when the taller man didn't.

Baron rested his chin easily on Reigns' head, arms still tight around him. “Nope. We need to secure our perimeter, man. Keep your patrons safe. Owens can hold down the fort. He knows to get Jericho if he needs backup.”

“I can't just--”

“You can, and you will. We have a responsibility. The quicker we get this sorted out, the quicker we can get you back to your precious paperwork.”

The huge hand prints in the dust on the floor of the basement were more than enough to send Roman right back into a panic. The trapdoor. Once bolted and padlocked down securely, the wood and metal now laid in a tangled pile of scrap, with more prints around the gaping opening. At least The Beast hadn’t come any further than there.

“Fuck is this shit? Look at these marks.” Baron said, sounding almost excited. “You guys got Ninja Turtles in your sewers or something?”

“No, just fucking nightmares. We need to fix this. The sooner the better.” Roman replied, already making a list in his head of the things he would need. “Nakamura isn’t open this late, otherwise I’d just head over to Strong Style and grab a sheet of boilerplate. I should have known the lock wouldn’t be enough, fuck.”

“Well if you’ve got some scrap lumber around I can probably rig something up for the night.” Baron offered.

Roman scrubbed his hands over his face again. Christ, he was exhausted. “I need to get some coffee into me. You’ll probably need some too. I’ll have to stand watch down here for the night, make sure nothing-”

Baron waved him off. “Nah man, I think I can handle this. Coffee and power equipment are a hell of a combo, but I’ll make it work.”

…

Acolytes in his back room two days after The Beast was in his basement.

Roman felt like the universe might be against him and he’d had it up to here with the harassment, letting out his old Shield battle cry and tackling one of the robed figures. Roman put a little heart behind his attack and ended up launching himself and the Acolyte through the back door, rolling down the steps and crashing to a halt in the alley behind The Empire. The Acolyte flailed wildly beneath him as the other three scrambled after them and Roman bolted to his feet. He knew how they fought, knives and fists an often-lethal combination.

But they all took off running, fleeing the scene. Roman saw red. “Oh no you don’t, assholes!” He yelled, sprinting after them. It wasn’t hard to guess their destination, but seeing as how he’d given his word that he wouldn’t go to the Underground ever again Roman had to catch at least one of them if he wanted to get anything rectified.

He heard Sheamus’ booming voice right before he rounded the corner behind the Brogue Kick, the older man swearing in Gaelic. Roman skidded to a stop after he saw the Acolytes leap the fence at the far end of the alley, bending over and trying to catch his breath. “You guys see 'em go by? Christ.” He gasped out.

“Yeah Reigns, but they're probably halfway to the Casket by now. There was a group of 'em, you dumb shit. You know better than to try and take those guys on. Too many knives.” Dean scolded. A smaller individual sat next to Ambrose, busily stuffing their face full of colcannon. Roman felt like they might be one of the people that sometimes turned up behind The Empire begging for food.

“Motherfuckers were in my back room. They trashed the place. I lost my cool.” Roman shot Sheamus a pleading look as he fought to get his hair back out of his face. O'Shaunessy seemed concerned, glancing at Dean.

“I ain't kicked an ass in a while.” Dean mused, not appearing to notice the fourth member of their party slipping off the steps and back into the shadows of the alley. “I ain't been to the Casket since before the Underground, though. Probably shouldn't go back.”

Reigns felt guilty for even putting the idea in Ambrose's head when he saw the way Dean's whole body shivered momentarily, the way Sheamus quickly grabbed the other man's hand. “Ah, never mind guys. You're right, Dean. Bad move, trying to take on a group of them. Especially in territory they're familiar with.” Roman quickly backtracked.

“I agree with Reigns, Ambrose. S' no good.” Sheamus mouthed thank you to Roman as Dean slowly nodded. “I am sorry abou' the damage done, Reigns. We can help tidy up, if ya' need more hands?”

“It was only a couple of bottles, I should be okay. Thanks.” Roman winced. “I may have done more damage to the door throwing one of them out than four of them did getting in.” He bid them farewell and slowly made his way back to The Empire, fighting to get a handle on his temper for most of the walk. It was almost time to start getting ready for the night so he unlocked the front door and stepped inside. A loud voice met his ears and light streamed from the back room into the main area of the club.

“--fuck he is, Kevin it looks like a fucking bomb went off in here! I don’t know…the back door is all fucked up, I already checked the basement--“

Roman leaned against the doorway of the room, that odd feeling in his chest back as he watched Baron rant into the phone and pace. The stupidity of what he’d done finally caught up to him and Reigns cringed. He could be seriously injured or dead in a gutter somewhere for all anyone knew, one didn’t normally pursue Acolytes. He cleared his throat and Baron looked up, unceremoniously ending his call with a curt, “never mind, he’s here.”

“There were Acolytes.” Roman began, feeling like he might be in trouble. The door to the outside was hanging by one hinge, a few bottles broken on the floor. It looked like there had been a struggle, like someone had gotten dragged off. He hadn’t really thought about it, too upset with the idea of being fucked over for the second time in less than a week.

“You went after them by yourself?”

Oh yeah, he was definitely in trouble. Roman nodded slowly. Baron exhaled a long, irritated growl of breath. “How the hell have you lasted this long, man?”

“I just got so fucking pissed off. Wasn’t thinking straight but…I’m tired of being a fucking pushover, tired of being scared that some asshole is going to set his man-beasts on me.” Roman shrugged. He knew it sounded flippant and he was waiting for Baron to accuse him of lying again.

Baron shook his head after a minute, jerking on the bottom of his leather vest to straighten it out. “I…just wait for someone next time, boss. Damn near gave Owens a heart attack. We weren’t sure what happened to you. Think about how pissed off he or Zayn would be if you got fucking stabbed or some shit.” He said gruffly.

“What about you?” Roman didn’t know why the hell he’d even asked. The words hung awkwardly between them and he wished he could take them back.

Especially when Baron replied nonchalantly, “You’re the guy who signs my checks, obviously I’d be a little upset, boss.”

…

Thanksgiving Eve found most of the neighborhood at the Brogue Kick Saloon, playing pool and enjoying a cold drink with a piping hot bowl of colcannon or soup deej or. The gutter kid that Ambrose and Sheamus had taken in looked much healthier than the last time Roman had seen them, that was for sure. Their face wasn’t quite so pinched and they actually smiled up at Baron and Roman when the two men entered from the street with Big Cass in tow.

Roman found a lot of Sheamus’ advice invaluable when it came to The Empire. This was his first real business venture, after all, so any and all input he could get was good in his book.

Dean hauled him in to whack their foreheads together while Sheamus was occupied with pouring Regal’s lone glass of stout. “M’ proud of you, big bro.” Ambrose said quietly. “Doing fine over there. Your dad would be fuckin’ stoked if he could see you.”

Reigns hadn’t planned on hiding in the bathroom for damn near half an hour trying to get his emotions back under control, but life was strange that way. Every time he looked up and caught sight of himself in the mirror everything went to pieces inside him. He never knew his mother and his memories of his father faded with every passing day, but he and his father had the same eyes, the same laugh.

“Roman, my son Roman! Strong as he is brave, and brave as he is strong!” His father used to jokingly announce him when he came to his hospital room after school, laughing in between coughing fits when Roman would launch himself at the bed to hug him and rattle on about what he'd learned that day.

The mirror reminded Roman of everything he'd lost and he hated it, clenching his fists on either side of the sink as his whole body fought the urge to just curl up and cry for hours. He tried not to get into states like this. It was too dangerous, he had way too much at stake to be able to break down whenever shit got too heavy for brave, strong Roman fucking Reigns.

Sami was the one who ended up finding him, the bearded man not saying anything before he wrapped Roman in a hug. Reigns couldn’t help the pathetic heave of his shoulders as he cried, the way his fingers dug into Zayn’s shirt.

“Oh shit, is this a moment or…?” Baron’s voice interrupted Sami quietly murmuring to Roman. He sounded awkward. “I mean, I can leave if it is. My bad, guys, I’ll just-”

“Will you shut the fuck up and get over here, Christ.” Sami grumbled in annoyance. “He needs us, Baron.”

It was barely a second before another set of arms settled heavily around Roman’s waist, Corbin wiggling into the hug more than a little clumsily. “I don’t really do hugs.” Baron grunted. “What the fuck happened?”

“I dunno’. Walked in on him like this. He was gone for a little while, figured I’d find him.” Sami replied quietly over Reigns’ head. “Also Kevin is cheating at pool.”

“We were both cheating, you twit.” Owens snapped, making Roman flinch. When had Kevin gotten there?! “You guys better have a great explanation for why you’re having a grabass festival without me, especially with my damn husband.” A hand fondly rumpled Roman’s neatly-ponytailed hair. “Motherfucker.”

“Th-thank you, guys.” Roman finally croaked out. “You're so fucking good to me, shit.”

“We care about you, Roman.” Sami said gently. “You gave me a second chance at life, gave so many people security and peace of mind when Del Rio closed up shop. You even took in Styles when he jumped ship from Hustle, and that was dangerous considering you know as well as I do how much of a breadwinner he was for Heyman.”

“It's alright, man.” Owens' voice was much softer than Roman was used to. “You don't have to be the Big Dog all the time. You're allowed a day off.”

Roman just shook his head and hugged them all a little tighter.

…

Before Roman knew it the time had come to have their annual holiday celebration. He had offered The Empire as the location this year, their neighborhood revel getting a little too large in number for Sheamus's Saloon to contain.

He was kept busy running back and forth with Regal and Pete in tow as they discussed decorations for The Empire and took notes. Little sketches began to clutter Roman’s desk instead of his usual paperwork, how centerpieces should look and where the garlands would be. The Brogue Kick volunteered to take care of the food, and Sheamus had given Roman and Sami some great ideas for toddy add-ons (why hadn’t Roman thought of spiked cherries before?!).

With all the planning going on Roman didn’t have a spare second ever, so when a timid knock rapped against his office door early on the morning of the party he was perplexed. Trent and Pete weren’t due to come by until at least eight and it was barely six now. He opened the door, stifling a yawn as he did. “Oh! Baron, ‘sup?”

Corbin looked nervous, which might have woken Roman up a bit more if he hadn’t been so damn tired. “Reigns…boss, I uh…I mean, stop me if this is a little forward, but everyone's been working really hard and shit and I-I was wondering if there was any way I could maybe be more help? I mean, I don’t do much during the day except tinker with my bike, and there’s only so much tinkering to be done. I…I don’t feel like I’m farm--shit, earning my keep, y’know?”

Roman blinked up at him, confused. What the heck had he been about to say? Farming his keep? That shit didn't make sense even to Roman's exhausted mind. “You want to work more?”

“You have a lot of the other guys doing stuff during the day too, I just figured…”

“Sami and Owens have been my friends for a while, Corbin. I wouldn’t be able to stop them from helping me even if I wanted to.” Roman said wryly. “Styles thinks he has to get in my good graces or some shit, I think. Either that or he's got the hots for Jericho. Maybe both.”

Baron chuckled, seeming to relax somewhat. “Well, keep me in mind. I know Cass probably has the 'reaching high stuff' category covered, but if he needs a breather, I could be your guy, boss.”

After Roman dozed off on his pile of forms out in the main room for the third time and woke up with Pete's heavy, fur-lined jacket draped over his shoulders he finally decided that maybe...maybe the paperwork could wait until after the party. Regal's boys hardly needed supervision. Jericho was doing an excellent job of directing them, all the while leafing through Roman's sketches pinned to his worn-looking clipboard. AJ hovered by Chris's shoulder, offering input and beaming when Jericho praised him. Roman got the feeling that he may have his hands full when it came to those two, vaguely recalling that Styles had been a bit of a pain in the ass during his time at Hustle.

Sheamus had Ambrose and their gutter kid (apparently dubbed Mite) running back and forth across the street delivering the food, so that was taken care of. Sami was all over the bar, speaking in excited bursts with Kevin about the plans he had for the evening beverages. Corbin had been placated for the moment with helping Regal and Trent cart over the decorations.

All in all, it was shaping up to be an excellent evening.

Old Mick made his usual entrance. Fashionably early, clad in a full Santa suit and lugging his familiar, massive pot of spaghetti and meatballs. John and Nikki managed to stop by for a few minutes before they opened Hustle that evening, offering warm wishes and an ornate fruit basket to the staff of The Empire (courtesy of Mr. Paul Heyman, of course).

Roman crumpled up the card on the basket after he read the brief message. 'Well played, Reigns.' He wasn't sure what the hell that was supposed to mean, whether Heyman was pissed about AJ or The Viper, or if it was just more cryptic bullshit. Quite frankly Roman couldn't bring himself to give a tenth of a shit. Tonight was a night for celebration.

Even Mr. Helmsley and his wife Stephanie made an eventual appearance, surprising the hell out of everyone. They didn't normally leave the high rise district to play with the riff-raff, but apparently Irwin Schyster had made it abundantly clear that he wasn't missing 'The Empire Holiday Revue'. Roman liked the sound of the elaborate title, but he was far more pleased with the way Hunter and Stephanie looked at everything.

Stephanie seemed ready to jump out of her skin, watching Santa-Mick make his jolly rounds with narrowed eyes. That is, until Sami slid a fresh toddy garnished with a lemon wedge across the bar and offered her a soft, “how are you tonight, ma'am?” Few people could resist the charm of Sami Zayn.

Hunter went straight to Ambrose, slapping him on the back and asking him how he was, “still working at that dump, huh kid?” Helmsley was a ruthless businessman but that was as far as he reached, reportedly having turned down numerous collaborations with Heyman. Though the old Kliq Club going out of business may have been helped along by a few bad deals on the side of The Triple H Corporation. Roman never understood why Hunter hadn't tried to buy him out on the property, but he figured he should probably just count his blessings and leave it at that.

Cass, Jericho and Styles had a special couple of things planned for the night, and it was a hell of a show. Apparently Regal's boys had been practicing with them in secret. Roman whooped as loud as everyone else when 'young' Tyler performed a strongman act that was flawless, the final cartoonish flex of his muscles and twirl of his well-kept mustache more than enough to light the place up. The wink he threw to Stephanie Helmsley certainly didn't hurt. Pete and Trent were a hit as well, ending their own short routine with an impressive (but not indecent) amount of clothing gone. Pete even got to keep his jacket! Roman looked to where Regal was sitting, a little worried that the older man might be upset with his employees. But William looked like he was thoroughly enjoying himself, a smile quirking the scar on his lip.

Roman wasn't sure when the goddamn Phenom, Undertaker himself had showed up at his club, he just knew that at one point he turned around and saw Sami chatting amiably with the large, black-cloaked figure. Granted, Christmas Eve and Day were usually considered truce days among The Family and The Acolytes, but Roman would prefer if the monsters kept to their realms. His preferences apparently fell on deaf ears. Demon Balor nodded cordially to him from a shadowy corner far from the muted lights of the stage, eyes glowing unnaturally. Beside him sat none other than the masked Empress Of Tomorrow, her flowing robe immaculate.

Roman had the sneaking suspicion that perhaps the boilerplate might need to be replaced after tonight's party. His suspicions were confirmed when Baron sidled up to him and muttered, “basement.” Sure enough, the thick metal had been removed so forcibly that it was embedded in the ceiling. No huge hand prints though, thank fuck, just a scorch mark in the middle of it. Undertaker.

Reigns sighed and took another sip of his drink. “Fuck it. It'll wait until tomorrow.” He said finally. “Nothing will happen tonight.”

“Are you sure?” Baron's concern was touching and Roman was a little too drunk for that, especially since Baron had made it abundantly clear that all Roman was to him was a check-signer.

“Do you really think they wandered in through the front door?” Roman retorted. “Owens would never let them in without a fight and they know that. It's too late now, Baron. What we get to do now is leave their preferred door open and hope that jolly old Saint fucking Mankind can work his magic to keep things mellow.”

“Shit man, I don't know how you do it.” Baron admitted after a moment of silence. “I feel like I'm walking on eggshells up there and you're just sliding around, dealing with legends and shit.”

“I grew up here, Baron. You get used to it. The fucking mystique wears off and you're left with the tarnished bullshit of worn-out tricks and maybe, maybe, a few legitimate monsters.” Roman tipped his glass towards the other man. “Liquid courage helps.”

“I guess fucking so.” Baron grinned at him, all white teeth and eyes crinkling at the edges and fuck, Roman was so fucked if he didn't get his ass back upstairs and away from him. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. Baron looked nervous again, his back straight and whole body tight. “Hey uh, boss? Can I ask something?” He mumbled, focusing on his hands.

Oh no. Roman felt his heart start to thunder in his chest. Oh no, oh no. “Yeah, what's up?” His brain was apparently still on the 'pretend everything is fine' setting.

“D-do you...uh, does The Empire have a policy on relationships? I mean, Zayn and Owens are married and stuff, so they would be exempt, but you didn't seem too upset about Styles going after Jericho. I'm just...I need to know.” Baron's face hardened at the end of his ramble and he crossed his arms.

“Oh.” Roman said weakly, his heart screaming not me, not me, I'm the guy who signs his checks, remember? “I don't...I m-mean, there's no official policy in place, Corbin. I expect professionalism, and who you do is kind of your own business, you know? I uh...you and Big Cass, huh? That's cool, man. I'm happy for you.” Roman managed to force the trite phrase out before he lost his nerve completely.

Baron's shoulders slumped. He seemed disappointed for some reason that Reigns couldn't wrap his mind around. “I...I'd better get back outside. Gotta' keep the place safe. S'what I'm here for, right?” His tone was bitter and Roman's drunk brain remembered that he'd been outside in the cold for most of the evening.

“Hey wait, take a break, eat. Get a drink from Sami before you go. Warm up.” He insisted, unable to stop his hand before he laid it on Baron's arm. “Did you have any of Mick's spaghetti? He says it's seasoned with hunger, that's why it always tastes so good.” Roman had no idea why he was still talking. Corbin obviously had shit to go do (like Cass his mind supplied helpfully). “Sorry, I uh. Sorry. Head up there and. Um. Food.” He apologized, flushing and removing his hand.

Baron fixed him with a look that had Roman squirming, and not exactly in discomfort. “Reigns,” Baron began, then muttered, “Shit, just forget about it.”

Baron was halfway up the fucking stairs when Reigns' drunk ass decided to react. “Forget about what, Corbin?” He shouted louder than he meant to, making Baron freeze.

“I fucked up.” The taller man answered quietly. “Please just...never mind. Go back to the party, Reigns.”

Just forget about it. Roman ended up sleeping in the cellar, curled up next to the gaping hole in the floor. And if he cried, well, he was very drunk so that made it alright. Brave and strong Roman Reigns. Just forget about it.

He woke up with an aching head and a shiny new boilerplate hatch over the hole. A black and purple bow was stuck to the top of it and Roman couldn't help the raw laugh that he let out. Merry Christmas to me.

…

January and February passed in their usual gray, slushy blur. Come March, Baron dragged out his bike and started prepping for his eventual departure. He didn't really talk to Roman anymore, not like how he had before the holiday party. Always brief, polite. Very much the employee, no longer the friend.

It hurt, but Roman understood. He hoped that Cass and Baron had some sort of system worked out, maybe a long distance relationship via Skype. Either that or it had just been about the sex. They didn't really act couple-y, so Roman wasn't too sure. And it really wasn't any of his business, so he sure as hell wasn't about to ask.

The knock came in the wee hours of the morning, waking Reigns up from his usual pile of liquor orders and electric bills. “Come in.” He groaned, not bothering to raise his head from the desk.

“Boss, I'm leaving.” Roman watched dully out of the corner of his eye as Baron's legs shifted his weight back and forth. “Weather's finally good. I can make decent miles.” Baron cleared his throat. “I uh. Thank you. For taking me on.”

“No problem.” Roman replied, still not moving his head as he pulled open one of the drawers in his desk. “Here, s'last check. For gas. Food.” He waved the envelope in the air.

“Boss...”

“Don't fucking 'boss' me, Corbin. You pretty much single-handedly got The Viper behind bars, which is no damn small feat. If only for that, okay?” Roman shut his eyes as a large hand closed around his own, Baron removing the envelope after a second too long. “You've been a big help around here, man. I know Cass will miss you. Sure there's no way I can get you to stay?” Roman finally looked up, false cheer dying as he saw the stony look on Corbin's face.

Baron turned to leave. “It wasn't fucking Cass.” He grumbled.

“Well it sure as shit wasn't me either.” Roman had no idea where the hell that came from, flinching when Corbin whipped back around.

“The fuck did you just say, Reigns?” Baron's voice was deadly low.

“I-I...” Roman hated his fucking stammer, the way his voice died on him. He was trying so hard just to keep it together and he didn't need this shit. Ever the brave, strong Roman Reigns he thought bitterly.

“Shows how much you fucking know, I guess.” Corbin slapped the envelope back onto Roman's desk, planting his fists on the wood to pin it there. “Dammit Reigns, why the hell do you have to make this so fucking difficult?”

“Difficult?” Roman was thoroughly confused once again. I thought I was making this shit easier.

Baron glared at him for a few breathless seconds and then growled in frustration, “Forget it!”, threw his hands up and left.

…

The old fairgrounds housed nothing but an overabundance of memories for Roman. Before his father had gotten so sick, they would visit sometimes, to ride on The Spinnarooni. Roman only just recalled poking his nose over the edge of the Ferris wheel cab for the first time, the way his stomach had dropped to his shoes when he saw how high up he was. But his father was there to tuck Roman's face into his side, laughing and calling him brave beyond his years. “So much courage in your heart, my son!”

It hadn't felt like courage in quite a while. It felt like a damn rock. It felt like The Beast's fists and it felt like guilt and it felt like just forget it.

Roman kicked a pebble over the edge of the crumpling cement jetty at the far end of the fairgrounds, watching as it sank out of sight beneath the trash-choked water. Summer made the ground waver in the heat and Roman wondered for a crazy second if trying to become a mirage was easier than dealing with his dumb, courageous heart. If it was so full of courage why the hell did it falter at every little thing?

Soft footsteps alerted him to Mite's approach before they drew up alongside him, a hand taking his own and tugging him back from the frail side of the jetty. “Don't worry, it's not deep enough here.” Roman tried for a joke but it sounded a lot more grim when he said it out loud. Mite shook their head and frowned, pointing in the other direction. Towards the city. They still weren't much for talking but Reigns could guess. Go home, Roman. “Why?” He asked. “It isn't like Kevin and Sami can't handle The Empire without me.”

Mite's face somehow got even more stern. Go home, Roman. He finally relented, letting himself be mobilized to return to reality. Getting lost in the past wasn't exactly doing him any favors, after all.

The motorcycle parked outside The Empire stopped Roman dead, and Mite patted his hand comfortingly. Then, before Roman could even react they fucking bolted, abandoning him to stand slack-jawed in the road for another minute or two.

He came back.

That courageous heart of Roman's was weary and bruised but not shattered yet, slamming against his ribs as he circled around back. He almost bumped Corbin's chest when the taller man rounded the corner. “Reigns, thank fuck.” Baron pushed a small, rectangular parcel into Roman's hands, then grabbed his jaw gracelessly and kissed him hard. “Forgive me, for fuck's sake please forgive me.” Corbin begged, pressing their foreheads together. “I'm an ass. I'm the biggest fucking dickhead. I hurt you and all I had to do was fucking talk to you, I'm so fucking--”

“Wait, wait.” Roman panted, still a little out of breath from the kiss and oh my God, he came back. “Are you staying?”

Baron nodded furiously.

The space in the upper area of The Empire was mostly for storage purposes, but Roman had cordoned off a small section for his bed and a single chair. It was here that he sat to open the parcel, Baron pacing nervously while he did. It was a stack of postcards, five of them. Roman's brow furrowed and he flipped the first one (Kansas) over.

I'm an idiot. I'm an idiot and the worst part is knowing I'm an idiot. I'm an idiot for leaving. I'm an idiot for hurting you. I'm an idiot for writing this shit out on my spare postcards but I don't have any real paper. I'm an idiot for writing this shit out like you're going to read it, like you'll even give me the time of fucking day. You don't have a mean bone in your body, but you giving me a chance is the last thing I deserve.

Florida came next and the lump in Roman's throat grew.

I didn't realize how hard it was for you. I didn't understand until that night with that motherfucker, that Viper guy. He was fucking ranting and you just started shuddering all over your body. I don't know if you even knew you were doing it. You looked like you were going to pass out. The shit that guy said made me want to kill him, how he talked about hurting you like it was a thing to be proud of. Normally I've got a pretty decent hold on myself, but the way you reacted...I lost my cool in the worst way and I'm so sorry. I don't really do hugs, I'm not good at them.

Roman put the postcards down for a second, huffing in a breath to try and calm himself. He had nightmares about that night sometimes, about what would have happened if Baron Corbin hadn't cracked his stubborn head into The Viper's without a thought for his own safety.

Georgia was next in the pile but Corbin tipped his chin up, searching Roman's eyes. “Are you alright?” He asked quietly, one hand cupping the back of Roman's neck. Careful, so careful.

“Not really, no.” Reigns admitted shakily. “I'm supposed to be brave and strong, Baron. But it gets really damn hard and God, I'm fucking tired.”

“Can I help?” Fingers moved down the skin of Roman's arm, following the zigzags of his traditional tattoo. “Let me help.”

“I don't know if you can, Baron. If you leave again, I don't-”

“I'm never leaving again.” Baron insisted.

“Yeah? Convince me.” Roman growled. “Because as I recall, when you left last time not even the guy who signed your checks could get you to stay.”

“I know. But I didn't come back for that guy.” Baron's eyes softened. “I came back for the busted-up guy with the badass sleeve of ink and the heart of fucking gold. I came back because I'm an asshole and I missed you.”

I missed you.

“When you told me to forget it...”

“I'm bad at shit. I'll get better at shit.” Baron kissed Roman's forehead. “I promise you that.”

Roman felt his resolve crumpling, hands already pitifully tangled in the fabric of Baron's tight shirt. “I missed you too.”

“Christ, I hoped you would.” Baron murmured. “I'm so damn sorry, Roman.”

“I don't know what to do, Corbin.” Reigns confessed helplessly after letting himself be held for a few minutes. “Everything is just so heavy all the time, I don't know how to handle it anymore.” It was both terrifying and a relief to say out loud. “I used to be so damn strong, Baron. Nothing could phase me.”

“You're still strong. Guilt and grief fucking cheat when you're having good days and it makes them feel a thousand times heavier on your bad days. Let me take care of you.” Baron pressed Roman to lay down on his back, the taller man smiling at him. “You don't need to be strong here. You can just be you. It's alright.”

Roman covered his face, groaning, “Fuck, I want to believe your bullshit.”

“S'not bullshit.” Baron lifted the hem of Reigns' t-shirt and pressed a kiss to his stomach. “How can I convince you? Pet names? Flowers and chocolates? Help with the paperwork? How about a ride on the Lone Wolf?”

Roman peeked out suspiciously from in-between his fingers. “Is that a euphemism or did you seriously name your motorcycle?”

Baron hummed. “Might be both. You'll have to wait and see.” Roman's laugh felt rusty but good, especially when Baron joined in. Roman tugged at Baron's shirt and the other man quickly stripped his vest and shirt off for him. It had always been easier when Roman didn't have to ask with his words. Baron seemed to understand that, smoothing the hair back from Roman's face. “Christ, Roman, I'm so sorry.” He murmured. Roman fumbled out of his shirt and Baron sucked in a breath, large hands greedily mapping out the new area with single-minded purpose. “Fucking shit, Reigns.” Fingers ran over the scarred patch on his side where Roman had been burned on the hunt for Dean. “I'll keep you safe from now on. Nobody will ever do this to you again.”

Roman wanted to believe him, and that might have been the scariest thing of all. Corbin made him feel safe, like he was actually worth protecting. It should hurt because Roman was still guilty, but Baron was being so careful. The couple of times Roman had hooked up with other men had been lackluster. He'd wanted it to hurt. Not because he liked it, but because it should, it was what he deserved and what he was familiar with. People were willing and so was he, who cared if he didn't get off on it? Roman knew it was the only thing he had earned and while he wasn't happy he was pretty fucking resigned to it.

As Baron unbuckled his pants and dragged his boxers down Roman tried to relax. This was the hard part, the part when Baron would shatter all the pretty words he'd said about no one ever hurting him again. Roman knew all the ways to move to make it seem like it was good, like he was enjoying himself, “I'm just not hard because it's an off night.” The sooner this part was over with, the sooner Baron could get back to saying kind, gentle things to him and hopefully not leaving again because he was disappointed.

Reigns didn't realize he'd closed his eyes until he heard Corbin asking him to open them. He obeyed, feeling a weight settle on his thigh as he did. Corbin was in between his legs, cheek resting on Roman's thigh. Roman's cock was barely half-hard, obviously not on board with the plan and Baron seemed perturbed. “Reigns, if you don't want to do this we don't...I mean, I did kind of just blow in here so I-”

“No I do! I do!” Roman said quickly, too quickly, propping himself up on his elbows. It's an off night for me.

Baron's eyes narrowed. Normally, people were really invested in getting Roman to flip over onto his belly so they could give him what he asked for. Baron, however, was really invested in sucking Roman's dick. Which shot all of Roman's plans out of the water. That didn't hurt and Roman didn't really know what to do with himself because Christ, Corbin was good at that but he didn't deserve it and also Baron was teasing. Corbin seemed perfectly content to do nothing but kitten lick Roman's cock until the sun came back up, fingertips barely brushing the base. Roman found himself getting legitimately hard and he threw an arm over his eyes, hopelessly turned on and at total war with his guilt.

“Look at me, Roman.” Corbin ordered for the second time that evening. “I don't know why the hell you're letting me do this if you're not planning on enjoying it.”

“I can't, s-shouldn't.” Roman hated how his voice was already cracking.

“You're allowed to enjoy shit, Reigns.” Baron reprimanded him gently. “I can be strong tonight, okay? It's your night off. It's not wrong to like what I'm doing to you. It's not bad to like what I'm doing to you.”

“But I--”

“No buts. I want you coming and screaming my name at some point before sun up. Other than that, I think I'm pretty flexible.” Baron shrugged. “Until you believe me. Until you're comfortable. I don't care how long it takes. Because you deserve it, okay?”

Roman felt the weight in his chest finally ease and he was pretty sure he almost broke Baron's nose with his pelvis when he rolled forwards to hug him tightly. “Fuck, I missed you so much.”

“I've thought about doing this to you so many damn times, taking you apart and making you fucking shake in my lap.” Baron said fiercely, like he was trying to convince Roman. His fingers closed around Roman's cock for the first time and Roman keened into Baron's shoulder, hips arching up of their own accord. “Fucking touch me already, Reigns. I know you want to.” Baron begged. “Let me help, dammit, be fucking weak and greedy for me. I've got you.”

Roman flushed (he didn't know why, Baron's hand was on his cock for fuck's sake) and Baron made a helpless noise of want, rubbing his groin against Roman's thick thigh. When Reigns finally reached out his hand and shakily touched Baron's chest it was like he couldn't stop, yanking Corbin even closer and burying his face in the other man's neck. Corbin's excited sounds spurred Roman on more than he wanted to admit, his hands growing bolder by the second as Baron praised him quietly, reminded him that this wasn't wrong.

Baron's tattoos were fascinatingly vibrant where Roman's were monochrome, and Reigns found himself with his palm firmly planted on the taller man's inked heart, fingers digging into the skin hard enough to make Corbin grin at him. “Shit, shit, wait.” Baron finally panted, tugging Roman's other hand away from his zipper. “I can't yet, gotta' calm down.”

“But I--” Baron's kiss cut Roman off and Reigns growled into the taller man's mouth as he came all over his fist. Roman sank his teeth into Corbin's lower lip and the other man groaned embarrassingly loud.

“Fuck, I'm going to love this.” Baron licked his fingers criminally slow, seeming intent on getting every last drop. “M' gonna' open you up, make you beg for me.”

Roman expected it to hurt now but Baron made good on his word, taking his damn time as he prepared Roman's body for him. Thick fingers sloppy with lube stretched him, slowly one after the other and Roman found himself hard and leaking again by the time Baron was finally satisfied, the taller man allowing Roman the privilege of peeling his tight pants down his thighs. The tattoos continued on the skin there and Roman dimly noticed the one that said 'Farm Your Keep' in flowing script above Baron's knee.

Baron urged Roman up over him, hand gripping the base of the condom firmly after he slid it down over his cock. “I want to watch you. Take as much as you want, but let's just say I really hope you're interested in more than one round.” His knowing smirk bordered on insufferable.

Roman felt greedy and weak, his entrance over-slick and aching for what Baron had promised hotly in his ear while he crooked his fingers inside him. Baron had been patient, much more patient than Roman believed he needed to be. He wouldn't break for fuck's sake. Hadn't yet.

Baron's sound when Roman finally slid the head of his cock past his entrance was amazing, a low, heartfelt groan that threatened to make Roman come on the spot. Reigns being on top allowed him to decide exactly when Baron would get more or less of him and the power was dangerously heady. He ended up with his hands covering the swallows on Baron's chest, bracing his body weight easily as he carefully lowered himself down.

Corbin's hands cupped Roman's jaw, thumbs rubbing over the other man's facial hair. “You ever done it like this before?” Baron asked through clenched teeth, his smirk popping back up when Roman shook his head. “Always from behind, right? Hurts less that way, they don't have to see your face and you don't have to see theirs.” Baron was apparently a goddamn mind reader.

“Y-Yeah.” Roman stammered, finally coming to a stop. He sucked in a shaky breath, trying to force his body to adjust quicker to the intrusion.

But Baron was having none of it, a hand firmly gripping Roman's thigh to keep him from moving. “When you're ready, Reigns. Feels good to me no matter what, so when you're ready.” Corbin reassured him quietly, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“You'd better not.” Roman choked out. “I'll fucking hunt you down if you do and sign your face with my fist.”

Corbin ran his fingers over Reigns' inked arm, a smile softening his features. “That's fair, especially with how I left. Christ, I missed you so much. Wanted you like this from the first time I saw you on door duty at your own fucking club. You're handsome enough to be inside on stage and yet here you were owning the damn building, wrinkling your beautiful face worrying, working your fingers to the bone on forms and shit.” Roman ducked his head a little self-consciously but Corbin caught his chin. “Nope, eyes up.” Baron murmured. “Be greedy. Be weak for me.”

“I'm trying. It's...” Roman trailed off, rocking his hips back and forth against Baron's. Corbin's cock dragged over his spot suddenly and Roman's body stiffened. Oh-! Beneath him, Corbin let out a fucking growling noise that made Roman shudder, Baron's hand moving to press to the continuation of ink on Roman's chest. “Baron, fuck.” Reigns finally sobbed, unable to keep quiet anymore when gentle fingers soothed his messy hair back from his face. “Fuck, Baron, fuck.” He felt dumb but his brain couldn't figure out anything else to say as Baron rolled his hips up hungrily. “I'm trying, I promise, j-just--”

“Shh, you're fine.” Corbin grinned at him, making the worry in Roman's stomach ease off a bit. “Jesus Christ, you are so damn fine. Look at you go, I'm gonna' make you come so hard.” Baron tugged a spare elastic off his wrist and then proceeded to quickly rake Roman's dark locks back into a haphazard ponytail. “Wanna' see you when you do, want to watch your face.”

“God, please--” Roman's prayers were answered when Corbin wrapped his hand back around his cock. “Oh! Fuck, Corbin!” The moan felt like it was ripped out of him but it was so damn good, so right.

“That's the idea, yeah.” Baron grunted, winking when Reigns tried to give him a stern look. “Don't even bother, man. I can feel you getting all tight around me so it's a lost damn cause.”

“Are you close?” Roman panted, closing his eyes as Baron nodded jerkily and quickened his hand on Roman's dick. “Never come while someone else was fucking me.” His groin ached with the closeness of his orgasm, Roman ducking his head so he could touch his forehead to Baron's. It had never been like this before. Reigns felt hot and good all over his body, his heart seemingly trying to beat its way out of his chest.

“Their fucking loss.” Baron snarled through his teeth. “You deserved so much better.”

“Shit, I hope so.”

“I know so.” Baron cupped the back of his neck, kissed him hard and that was all it took. Roman cried out when he came again, his hands balling into fists on Baron's chest as he shuddered and rocked his hips weakly. “Fuck's sake, Reigns--” Baron dug his fingers into the skin of Roman's hips, thrusting up into him fiercely and off-tempo before finally coming to a stop with a loud, satisfied moan.

Now he leaves. Roman didn't want the thought but was gone as quickly as it arrived because Baron almost immediately dragged him down to lay on his chest, fingers stroking carefully over Roman's hair. Reigns closed his eyes, relaxing into the other man's grip against his better judgment.

“It's only about a thousand degrees up here, huh?” Baron whispered after several silent minutes had gone by. “I mean, I figured I would work up a sweat anyway, but shit.”

Roman swatted him on the ribs, making the taller man yelp. “You deserve to suffer in the hell garret for the shit you pulled.” Roman scolded, reaching over to turn on the air conditioner.

Baron smiled good-naturedly, crossing his arms behind his head. “Very true. How many more times should we bang, do you think, before you forgive me?”

“Depends on whether you'll leave after you get me to forgive you.” Roman fidgeted with the slick mess on his stomach, reaching for his t-shirt to wipe it off. But Baron caught his hand.

“I'm not leaving if you don't want me to, Reigns.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Hey, hey.” Baron's voice dropped a little when Roman teared up. “Shit, don't do that. I'm so ugly when I cry. If you start, I'm gonna' start, and it's just going to be a fucking nightmare. Buck up, Reigns, you're stuck with my ass.”

“Really?” Roman asked.

Baron nodded, brown eyes crinkling at the edges when he smiled again. “You're getting the worse end of the deal here, man, but I'm willing to swap off if you get me a little drunk beforehand.” Baron's offer made Reigns snort in a somewhat-undignified manner.

He knocked his forehead against Baron's a little harder than before, to let him know he was serious. “Never again, got it?” He meant for it to sound firmer, like an order.

Baron seemed to understand though. “Yeah, I got it. I promise.”

I promise.

Activate (Strong Style)

[synthsizedproductions]

The Game

“What in the twelve pits is all of this?”

I leaned my elbows on the table and laid my chin on my interlaced fingers. “Those are your bargaining chips.”

“You gotta be kiddin’ me. Who asks for this kinda shit in a game of tiles?”

I shrugged nonchalantly. “I told you this was a high stakes game. If the risk is too high for your tastes, you can go back to town empty handed.”

“High stakes is one thing. Askin’ for someone’s first born is a completely different thing. What happens if I don’t have kids?”

I gave him another bored shrug. “I suppose I lose out, then.” I watched his eyes skim the short list of precious things I was asking him to give over. “Fine. Won't matter any once I win." He signed the list and crossed his arms. “Now what?”

"Now, the rules of our little game. Fifteen rounds including dealer selection. Start of the round, you pick one of the nine bags I have separated my winning into. If you fairly win the round, that bag gets added to the pot. If you lose, you will pick one thing from that list to add to the pot. If one of us fairly wins nine rounds, the game is over. Either way, whoever fairly wins the most rounds gets the whole pot at the end. This is a winner takes all game."

"Sounds easy enough"

"Sounds that way, doesn't it?" I took my bag of tiles from the backpack at my feet.

"Whoa, buddy. I don't play with other people's tiles. Don't trust you to not have a rigged set." He placed a tile bag on the table. "We use mine or I walk."

I shrugged, pretending I hadn't already planned for this variable. "Suit yourself." I gestured for him to choose a tile first.

He chose a tile at random, taking a secretive look at it with a smirk. "Hope you're ready to lose, kid."

I picked my own tile and returned the smirk. "Pride paves the road to ruin.”

And so we begin.

I knew the outcome of this game, but I liked playing with my food. It always made the victory so much sweeter when the fly tangled itself in my web. 

The more rounds I won, the more nervous Corbin became. “What’s wrong, Corbin? Scared you’re going to lose that eternal spirit you just bet?”

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t even believe in spirits or souls or what have you. All magic mumbo-jumbo. Ain’t no matter, though. You’re gonna lose and I’m gonna be a wealthy man.”

I looked over my tiles with a sly grin. “Perhaps.”

Everything about the game changed after I won my sixth round. We both knew if I won a single round more we would have to play through the last three rounds to determine a winner. Corbin didn’t want that. The odds were not in his favor and he was very aware of that fact.

Desperation clouds the mind.

Corbin fell right into my trap the moment he traded several of his tiles for ones hidden in his sleeves so he could win a round I was almost certainly going to take. I didn’t win a single round after that.

I helped Corbin collect his tiles and his winnings as he gloated about his victory. I cared little for what he had to say. None of it mattered to me. They were the ramblings of a fool who had signed away everything for a pile of money he wouldn’t even get to keep.

Corbin loaded the last of the bags onto his horse and grinned at me, shoving Peter’s cursed wallet into his pocket. “No hard feelings, right, kid? I ain’t gonna have trouble about what I did or did not do to Pete?”

“You won, didn’t you?”

He laughed gruffly. “That I did. See you around, Sylvester.” I watched him leave the property with a shake of my head.

“You really spun that one well, Sy.”

My good mood was ruined by Xivole’s voice from behind me. I turned to glare at him as he settled into one of the chairs of Peter’s front porch, allowing my disguise to melt away. “Why are you here, Xivole?”

“Thought I’d watch you conduct business. See firsthand how a professional like yourself works these days. Well played with that ‘fairly winning’ wording. Little obvious, but he didn’t seem like the brightest candle in the box. I was a little confused when I was watching you in the saloon. Didn’t peg you for a handshake kinda gal.”

I rolled my eyes. “Nothing wrong with handshake deals, Xi.” I silently cursed myself for using his nickname especially when it made him put on that stupid grin of his.

“That’s not what you told me when we were partners. I miss those days sometimes.”

“That makes only one of us.”

He put his hand over his heart dramatically. “You wound me, Sy.”

“Don’t tempt me to make that more literal.”

He smiled as he stood. “Don’t you miss this banter? We made a great team.” 

I shook my head and made my way back into Peter’s cabin. “I was a very different person back then. I like working alone these days.” I stood on one side of the threshold while he stood on the other. “You should go, Xivole. I have more work to do.”

He pouted at me. “All work and no play makes Sylana a dull Demon.” He laughed as he turned and walked toward the rising sun. “See you around, Sy.”

I closed the door after he disappeared in a cloud of dust. “Not if I’m lucky.” I picked up the signed list Corbin had left behind, examining my winnings. “Cheaters never truly win.”

[austincitysaloon-blog]

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[lboogie1906]

Emmett Hercules Holmes (July 7, 1872 - 1948) was one of Spokane’s first African American residents, as well as an important politician in the young city. He was born near Vicksburg, Mississippi. His mother wanted to move to the Northwest, which seemed to provide more opportunities for Blacks. They found themselves in Minneapolis, with two dollars and fifty cents. He secured a loan of train tickets to Spokane Falls, Washington Territory, for the family on the word of his former employer, using his luggage as collateral.

The family arrived in Spokane Falls (1888) and he found employment as a bellhop at the Grand Hotel. He worked as a porter for a small saloon and the Seattle Lakeshore and Eastern Railroad. He worked for two more railroads, the Spokane Falls and Northern Railroad and the Spokane International Railroad, both in construction and as a porter.

He began working as a butler for D.C. Corbin, an important and influential entrepreneur in the city. After a brief time spent in public office, he returned to Corbin’s employment for twelve years. He served one more decade under Corbin’s employment. He and his wife were both given a lifelong pension as part of his will.

He began his political involvement at the age of sixteen when he joined the John A. Logan Colored Republican Club of Spokane Falls. He was elected secretary of the Spokane chapter of the Afro-American League. He pursued a civil suit against the Washington Water Power Company for preventing him from eating at a restaurant they owned.

He was appointed deputy treasurer of Spokane County. He was appointed by the Washington Governor as the identification officer for the Washington State Penitentiary. He served as postmaster of the state legislature.

He was elected leader of the Negro Masons of Washington. He helped found two churches in Spokane, the First African Methodist Episcopal Church, and the Calvary Baptist Church.

He had held more government posts than any other African American in the state. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence

[hokkaidossoul12]

I have another OC I made, her name is Myra Yates and she is a shopkeeper, she is about 23 years old. She doesn’t have weapons but instead has powers like  being able to change her form (into five different things or half of one of the things, her five forms are her banshee form (of course), a brown doe, a white squirrel, a brown and red frilled lizard or a light brown cougar). In her banshee form she lets out a screech which can explode eyes and make ears bleed, she can also faze through walls as a banshee, she can also sense if a puppet is about to die or is dead and knows where the bodies are. She has a mother (Josie Yates) and father (Willard Yates), she is good friends with the Faceless bandit, Penny Hemsworth, Mother Dove, Finnley, Dorothy, Cashmere, Corbin Croc, Carrie Lanscaster, Luther galloway, Maude Galloway, Fannie Richmond, Vincent Greers and Vivian Webb, Vivian is also Myra's girlfriend. Her height is around Penny Hemsworth’s height (in my AU).

Backstory: Backstory: When Myra was a young girl, she grew up with her parents, Josie and Willard. Before Myra was born, her parents were very poor and barely had enough money to afford food, water and even a proper home to stay in. Josie was pregnant around this time and both parents thought that there was a big chance that Josie would lose Myra before she was even born. Before they became poor, they wanted a baby for so long but...after they became in dept many months ago because of how much they spend on Josie's pregnancy that ended up both getting into a poor condition. It seemed for them everything was at loss, at least it seemed that way, but... that all changed very quickly for them. Within the next morning, Josie and Willard were both huddled on the ground in their very, very worn down home when they heard a knock on their door. They with both scared that it was someone coming to boot them out of their home, Josie's eyes filled with tears at the thought, Willard comforted his very emotional wife, hugging her and kissing her cheek while telling her "whatever happens...I'll make sure you're safe...even if it kills me." Willard finally picks himself off the ground and shakily makes his way towards the door, he paused in front of door, afraid to open it, but he finally brought himself to grab the rusty door handle and open the door. A young boy who dressed and looked very wealthy stood at the door, it was one of the richfolks' children, Willard was sure that this kid would most likely get Josie and him kicked from his home, he sighed and readied himself for what the boy was going to say. But...the boy didn't do anything that he'd expected, instead the boy asked about his financial situations and told Willard he knew about Josie's pregnancy. Willard was confused and nervous at first but he ended up speaking out honestly to the boy, then... the boy suddenly gave Willard a money slip, this confused Willard even more than it did and looked down at the slip, his eyes widened, there was thirty thousand dollars on it. That money was enough to repay their dept as well as buying a new house, proper food and water, new clothing and much more, but...he also he had to owe the boy back, "t-thank you...b-but what do I-" Willard was cut off by the boy, "don't worry about owing me, I giving this to you because you need it, both of you do..." the boy spoke in a calm sympathetic tone as he gave the older male a small smile. This caused Willard to freeze, his eyes welled up with tears, they young boy's eyes widen and tried to ask if he did something wrong, not understanding why Willard was crying until the older male hugged him, the younger male hugged him back. After Willard pulled away he asked what the young boy's name was, the boy answered, Micheal...that was his name. After a few moments, Micheal said his goodbyes before leaving the doorstep and walking out of the property and in the direction of town. Several months had passed, Willard and Josie payed their dept and ended up moving to a new home, they bought food, water, brand new furniture, clothing and other stuff they needed, then a week onward was when Myra was born. As Myra grew up, she was given all the best care from her parents, but...because her parents were too focused on her and getting her new things they nearly went into dept again, but Willard wasn't going to let Myra be put through what they did, so...Myra's father decided to try finding a job, unfortunately...he couldn't find any sort of job around the time no matter how hard he tried to find one. It came down to where going to run out of food, water and even lose their home. But...one day, Willard found another way to make money, gambling. Both Josie and him thought that it would be a bad idea at first, unfortunately...that was the only option they had left to keep the three of them out of dept, so that's what Willard did. For many months, Myra's father went off to the town's saloon to gamble for money, he was very careful with how he played and always knew when to tap out and go home, which resulted in him coming home with lots of bandit bucks, which was plenty of money to keep them out of dept for months on end. It got to a point where even Myra's mother began to gamble too, both of them getting plenty of money afterwards, this went pretty smoothly three years. That was until one day, a mysterious figure had began making an appearance in the saloon, drinking and gambling til it's hard content, but...it seemed to also have a knack for cheating certain puppets who had big win streaks. One day, both Myra's parents decided both to go to the saloon during the night, they of course got someone to babysit Myra before planning to go out. As Willard and Josie were gambling that night, they mysterious figure was there watching them gamble, they both knew that the figure would try start a game with them and cheat them out of their winnings...so they thought of a plan...but it wasn't a pleasant one, they thought if they out-cheated the figure and make them lose the match. Of course, they were right, the figure did try to start a new game with them so they went along with their plan and...their plan worked, Josie and Willard won the game by out-cheating the figure but...this seemed to anger the figure a lot. Suddenly, the mysterious figure stood up from their chair, stood up from the table, grabbing the big table before the figure growled and smashed the table with it's bare hand, breaking it in half. Josie and Willard got up from the table backing off, the figure storming over to them, suddenly the figure revealed itself to be a black ghoul with blood red eyes. It towered over them, it's voice deep and menacing, "SO...YOU THINK YOU COULD OUT-CHEAT ME, HUH? WELL, YOU'RE VERY NAIVE FOR DOING THAT..." the ghoul chuckled before grabbing Josie and Willard by both their throats and throwing them both into a table, the table tipping to the ground with Willard and Josie underneath, bruising the couple badly, the ghoul laughed as he floated over to the couple. "YOU SHOULD'VE STAYED HOME WITH YOUR PRECIOUS DAUGHTER! BUT NOW...SHE'LL SUFFER FOR YOUR MISTAKE!" then before Josie and Willard could react, the black ghoul suddenly formed into a ball of dark light before disappearing out the saloon door, Josie and Willard looked at each other in panic as they raced out the door as quickly as they could out the door and tried running as quickly as they could back home to Myra. Meanwhile, Myra was sitting next to a heater in the living room, warming herself up as she sipped on some flavored milk. Soon...it was time for young Myra to go to bed the babysitter went to Myra and waited for her to finished her milk and once Myra was finished with it the babysitter took Myra's now empty cup and went to rinse it and put it away, but...once the babysitting had gone out of the room that same ball of dark light had fazed through the wall and into the living room in front of Myra, suddenly the dark light had formed back into the black ghoul, young Myra looked up at the figure with fear in her eyes as she shook. Then, without a warning the black ghoul grabbed Myra, lifting her off the ground, locking it's eyes with her as tears welled up in the corners of her eyes. Then, when Myra's parents had finally made it to the front door and bursting inside their own home, they along with the babysitter heard young Myra screaming loudly, the babysitter and Myra's parents rushed into the room to save Myra but...it was too late. Myra's eyes turned black as she was being held by the black ghoul, the ghoul let out a cackled before putting Myra down and disappearing, Josie and Willard's eyes filled with tears as they rushed to Myra's aid, their precious little girl laid in their arms unresponsive but not dead. In the morning, young Myra finally came back into consciousness, shaking and crying at what the black ghoul had done to her, so Willard and Josie then agreed to each other that they would never gamble again after what had happened to Myra, they instead made sure of Myra's safety instead. As many years passed onward (Myra would be about twenty) Myra had gained powers since her experience with the black ghoul, it got to a time where Myra had to move out of her parent's home and start living on her own. Once she packed all her things she left her home, she found a small house to move into, she also found an empty abandoned store to which she took it for her own and decided to start her own business. After three years went by, she met Vivian and they became a couple from then onward.  

She Likes: Singing, making and selling her own stuff, crafting cute supplies (like animal stickers, cute stamps, notebooks, mini bags, colorful bottles, music boxes, mini instruments (except for wind music instruments), juggling bags and mini kits), making accessories (like animal slippers, boots, hats, cute bow ties and hair bows, cute mouth and eye masks, glasses, and bell necklaces), visiting Vivian and hanging out with her, socializing with other puppets and making friends with people who she can relate feelings with.

She Dislikes: When she gets flirted with by other puppets (except for Vivian), when other puppets mess with her friends or her (Showell, Fowler, Otto, Vernon and Betsy), being used as some sort of hostage for a bandit, being forced into doing something she's not comfortable with (it causes her to snap), losing control of her forms (especially her banshee or cougar forms), and irregular patterns or clusters of small holes or bumps (she has Trypophobia).

[hokkaidossoul12]

Here is another SB oc I have made, her name is Carrie Lancaster and she is a performer (she sings and dances for the puppet in the saloon of Showdown Valley). She is 37 years old, she has a cyan pistol (like this www.pinterest.nz/pin/476397085…) when she necessarily needs to. She is good friends with most of the folks in Showdown Valley, like Showdown, Lorelei, Penny, Doc Carver, Banker, Dorothy, Oddzball, Mother Dove, Cashmere, Finnley, Corbin Croc, Myra, Vivian, Luther Galloway, Maude Galloway, Fannie Richmond, Vincent Greer and a few others, she is kinda friends with Faceless but...doesn't really talk to him as much(mainly cause she doesn't know where he is half the time.) She is taller than Vivian by two feet. 

Backstory: Carrie was one of the first ever puppets that had arrived in Showdown Valley before the show began, it was the puppeteers that had planned for her to be one of the most popular performers in the Valley. As more and more puppets had arrived, Carrie had began to socialize with the new coming puppet and become friendly towards them, she sung and dance to make them happy. Then, when the Valley's saloon had finally opened up she was the one assigned by the puppeteers to singing and dance for the fellow puppets that decided to come in as they drank, gambled, and even slow danced to Carrie's singing. But, it wasn't just her singing on her own, she also had other assigned puppets musicians that played their instruments to the songs Carrie sang, this also began her bond with them too. Soon, the saloon began to slowly grow more and more popular as new puppets were added, Carrie eventually caught wind of who they were, Doc Carver..., Banker...,Lorelei Undertaker..., Penny Hemsworth..., Showdown Bandit..., and the Faceless bandit. Carrie hadn't quite met the six of them in person before despite hearing a lot about them from some of the many folks who made small talk with her every now and again, but...it was one day in particular that she had got a very...unexpected visitor. It was like a normal day for her, the saloon was packed full of puppets who came to drink and gamble as usual, she had stepped onto the stage to sing and dance like she had done every other day when...a big, gruff looking bandit in a torn grey cloak had stepped inside the saloon. At first the bandit seemed to look very normal but... as he walked inside the saloon...he hardly even had a face, instead...he had big cuts where his eyes and the rest of his face would've been and even a few cuts on his jaw too. Carrie then began to notice how most of the folks in the saloon had now cleared completely out of the bandit's way as well as seeing the fear in their eyes but, she had just sighed and gestured to the musicians to start playing. Once Lancaster had began her performance she noticed that the bandit in the grey cloak sitting in one of the bar stool and was staring right at her, she tried to not make it noticeable that she had looked right at him, though for some reason it had kinda...bothered her in a way and made her feel nervous. A few hours onward, she had finally finished her performance for the day and got herself ready to go back to her home, she packed up her things, got given her pay backstage before heading out the back exit of the saloon, it was a quick way of her being able to get back to her home. But, as she was slowly making her way back home...she felt like she was being followed, she just tried to brush it off and continue to make her way back home, then the moment she finally reacted the front door of her house...she could hear heavy and threatening footsteps behind her and the moment she did she pulled out her keys as quickly as she could and unlocked it, she swiftly went inside, she went to shut the door only for it to be blocked by a foot in the door. Carrie had then quickly threw her stuff onto the ground and away from the door so that she could use both hands to try forcing the figure out of the door but...suddenly the shoved open with such a force that had sent poor Carrie falling to the ground with a skid. She saw the figure step inside and begin to walk toward her, she panicked as she scrambled to find the nearest weapon she could grab, she felt along the ground for anything she could grab until she had grabbed one of the floorboards to reveal a sharp bladed weapon underneath. Just as Carrie grabbed the blade she felt a big hand grab a hold of her leg before pulling her toward them, as soon as the person had pulled her close enough she aimed the blade at them, it turned out to be the big bandit she saw from before with the torn grey cloak. Carrie breathed heavily, not knowing what exactly the Faceless male would do to her, it seemed that he was kinda offended as Carrie pointed her blade at him, so he grabbed her arm with one of his big one, "jeez...what gave you the need to pull that on me? I though that maybe you'd be more welcoming...", Carrie shook her head. "well maybe you shouldn't have followed me back home like that! you really creeped me out, you know?" she sternly spoke back at the grey torn cloak wearing bandit, Faceless realized that he may have acted a bit like a creep trailing behind her like that. He apologized for his behavior, she forgave him but made sure to tell him to not do it again, then...that seemed to somehow lead into a very long interesting conversation that left the both of them talking for ages. After a while the Faceless man had to leave the area, remember that there would be a chance of him getting caught by another puppet, and so...that is where Faceless and Carrie's distant friendship began.

She likes: Writing, playing card games (despite being very rusty), Singing and dancing, being on stage to perform, helping other puppets look nice (only for puppets that she is nice to), making other puppets happy (when she performs for them), being there to help someone with problems (both physical and mental problem and being understanding about it), and being able to stand up for other puppet's rights. She dislikes: Otto (she gets angry because he spreads rumors around), Frenzy (she doesn't like him), when her friends get judged or hurt by another/other puppet/s (others puppet are Dr Nepolean, Fowler, Showell, Betsy, Otto, etc), other puppets wanting to pick a fight with her, when the performing area around her is invaded by an annoying puppet, and when other puppets try to ruin her performances.

[hokkaidossoul12]

Here is another showdown Bandit OC I made, his name is Luther Galloway and he is a miner. He is 32 years old, the main weapon he has is his pick axe (the one he's holding) that was made by his wife, he does use other weapons but he many only uses his pick axe. He had managed to become friendly with the beast (the big stringless puppet in the happy mines), he is friends with Mother Dove, Fowler, Corbin Croc, Finnley, Carrie, Fannie, Vincent Greer and Maude Galloway, Maude and Luther are actually a married couple. He is one and half feet shorter than Doc Carver (in my AU) Backstory: Luther was near the end of his teen years when he was built by the puppeteers (he was about twenty to twenty-one), like all the other puppets that were built Lorelei was the one to free him from his box. He, of course, had to earn a living like all the other puppets that had inhabited Showdown Valley as well as socialize and get to know a few of those inhabitants. It was after a few weeks of getting used to the area he was given a role by the creators of the show, he was a miner and had to work alongside another puppet by the name of miner Murray. He would begin his role the day onward so that Lorelei could inform Murray about Luther beforehand so that Murray wasn't put through the stress of figuring out what exactly was going on, it would also give him time to prepare for Luther's arrival and plan out a few tasks that Murray could give him. Then, once that day came around, Luther woke up early, getting his clothing on and got ready to head out the door and toward the Happy mine, good thing was that it wasn't that far of the walk to get there and took him the time span of about fifteen to twenty minute. As soon as the young orange-haired male had reacted the area where Murray would meet him was where he stood and relaxed for a few long minutes, then it was finally then when Murray had arrived to greet Luther and shake hands with him. "hello, you must be Luther Galloway, yes?" Murray asked Luther with a small smile, "yup, sure is..., you can just call me Luther or Mr. Gallos if you'd prefer" the younger male answered with a cheerful look on his face. Within a few minutes, Murray had given Luther some supplies and showed him exactly what he should be doing, how he should do it safely, and what necessary precautions he should take if there is an emergency. Then, before Luther could enter the mines Murray had quickly pulled him back, "oh, I should mention, make sure you keep out of the beast's sights, and please do NOT let it get loose, alright?" Murray spoke in a stern tone, his facial expression changing from a happy grin to a serious frown, Luther gave the older male a surprised and concerned look "the...beast?", Murray then realized that he probably didn't know what the best was. While they went through the mine Murray explained to Luther quickly what the beast was and how dangerous the giant stringless puppet was, this was enough to freak Luther out and put him on edge, "but don't worry...it won't get you as long as it doesn't get free, but if it does...make sure to keep hidden...", Luther nodded at the older male, making sure to keep his words in mind. After a few months went by Luther began to get used to his job, he collected up minerals from the mines and gave it to Murray for the older miner to give to the blacksmith that lived on the other side of the Valley, this was always the routine for Luther until one day his routine was changed. Murray had gotten sick from working overnight in the happy mines and was too weak to walk to the smithy to bring in the minerals, so he instead Luther insisted on doing it for Murray, the older miner told him exactly where to go and gave him a note to give to the Blacksmith. Luther then went out of the mine and made him way into town, greeting a few puppets as he walked by, while he did he wondered what the blacksmith had looked like, Murray talked a lot about this certain puppet and all of it was very positive things. He was so caught up in his thought that he'd already made it to the location of the Smithy, he went to the door and pushed it open, the smell of smoke and hot air filled the air as he coughed and tried to cover his face from the smoke, he then went up to the counter and set the bag of minerals he had down onto the counter, the minerals clustering together and made a loud sound which had caught the blacksmith's attention. They finished what they were doing and went up to the counter, the blacksmith's face covered with a black wielding mask so he couldn't really tell who they looked like, "uhh...hi, I have come here to bring in the minerals for you..." Luther spoke in a soft voice, the blacksmith grabbed the black mask around their face and slowly pulled it off. "Murray had recently gotten sick and was unable to come in today, so I decided to come in-" Luther paused for just a minute and looked at the blacksmith, "they" were a "she" and she... was young beautiful woman, "...f-for...him..." the young miner finally finished his sentence. "thank you, I hope he feels better soon..., and you must the new miner, Mr...?" "o-oh, Luther Galloway, or you ca-an j-just call me Luther or...Mr. Gallos" Luther answered, he was caught off guard by the beautiful young woman in front of him. She smiled at Luther, "nice to met you, Mr Gallos, my name is Maude Adkins, or you can just call me Maude" the young blacksmith spoke cheerfully, she gently grabbed the bag of minerals from her bag, then...she suddenly gave Luther a bundle of cash, "here, since your a working man...I'll give you a payment for collecting those minerals for me." With that, the young miner thanked Maude before heading out the door. Ever since that day Luther had thought about Maude almost every day and for some reason he couldn't get her out of his head, in the end, Luther began to insist to Murray that he would deliver the minerals to Maude just to be able to see her and even talk to her. Soon, he and Maude began to get to know each other more and more until finally, Luther decided to make a move and ask her out on the date, Maude of course accepted and they both took a day off work to have the day out, they both did some fun activities and even went to the saloon where they dancing and got drinks. Then, on the same night, they went to a cliffside where they had their first kiss. It was after ten long years of being a couple was when Luther had asked Maude to marry him, Maude ended up accepting with happy tears in her eyes, then they planned their wedding which would be into a few months time. Once the time came around, Maude and Luther had invited most of the Valley to be there and it turned out beautifully (and Maude's last name was changed to the same as Luther's [Galloway]), but...the funniest part was after the wedding Corbin had decided to borrow Maude's wedding dress and show Luther, that sent him and everyone into a fit of laughter. It was a few months after the wedding where the two married couple decided to have a child, they were both happy about the idea, but...this was also the day that Luther's life would change forever, and it wasn't a good way. That same day, Maude and Luther went out for a long stroll, sitting down by a lake before gazing out, not noticing how dark it was becoming. Soon it was starting to become night, Maude and Luther had both began to notice, Luther taking Maude's hand, "we should get home, right now!" he spoke in a panicked voice, the both of them getting up from the ground, then...they heard the unmistakable sound of a stringless. Then, before the two knew it the whole area was surrounded by stringless, Luther and Maude tried to be as quiet as they could to not be seen but of course...the miner stood on a branch on the ground, attracting all the stringless' attention, he quickly stared at Maude. "RUN!" Luther shouted, grabbing Maude's hand and he began to pull her along, Maude began running with Luther while the huge crowd of stringless ran after him. They began to lose sight of the stringless as they got closer to their home, Luther looked at Maude "we're almost there! just a little further!" but then suddenly before Luther could even react he felt something grab his foot, tripping him over as he landed on the ground, breaking his foot off as he hit the ground, he cried out in pain and looked behind him, a stringless which had been lying on the ground had grabbed Luther and slowly crawling up his now footless leg, breaking his strings while he was on the ground. Maude turned back quickly and saw what had happened, "LUTHER!" she cried out as look back at him, Luther had tears in his eyes as he shouted "go on without me! I'm already a goner!", but the female blacksmith refused to let him get killed. She ran at the stringless that had ahold of Luther, the stringless scratching underneath his eye before the blacksmith sliced the stringless' head off with the sword she carried with her, she then saw Luther's foot was snapped off by the stringless, she heard the stringless approaching fast. "Please...just go, we'll both die if you try saving me..., please..." the miner sobbed, his leg in agony as he stared up at the female blacksmith who began to tear up as well, Maude let out a cry "I'M NOT GOING LEAVE YOU HERE TO DIE! AND IF I DIE TOO THEN SO BE IT!" she screamed as she grabbed onto Luther's body, using what strength she had to carry him toward their house, the stringless were just a few metres away from them. But, the female blacksmith knew that only one of them would survive, she quickly opened the front door and shoved Luther inside, she suddenly felt one of the stringless grab her so Maude quickly slammed the door shut, locking it. "MAUDE! NO!" the miner shouted as tears ran down his face, "it's ok, love, I'd rather it be only one of us..." she smiled, tears fell from her eyes and the crowd of stringless finally grabbed her, scratching off her paint and snapped every last string attached to her body, Luther cried out in grief and anguish until he passed out. Next thing the miner knew was that he woke up in a bed, Corbin sitting beside him, once the younger red-haired male saw the miner eyes open he immediately hugged him "oh god! Luther!" the young male spoke, "I saw your body laying on the ground within your home, the door was locked and...your foot was amputated and you had a scratch on your face." Luther looked down at where his footless leg was, but it looked as if his foot was put back together and held by metal staples, he felt his face and also felt the same chips there too, Corbin looked at Luther, "what happened? and where's Maude." Then, the next thing Corbin knew Luther broke down, tears dripping from his eyes and he made a sound Corbin had never heard him made before, the miner looked at him "we were attacked by stringless, one of them almost killed me...but Maude saved me, in the end...Maude locked me inside a-and...and..." he sobbed hard, the tears never stopped falling from his eyes, "the stringless killed her..." this caused a few tears to drip down Corbin's face, he hugged Luther, "I'm sorry that this happened..." the younger male spoke, sympathy in his voice. It was hours later in the day where the news about Maude's death finally went around town, ever since that fateful day Luther had never forgotten the last words Maude said to him before she was killed. (sorry that the end of the backstory was sad, also...about his hand...that is a totally different story) He likes:  Playing chest, Writing Journals, Working in the happy mines, collecting up different minerals from the mines (for Maude), collecting up bits if minerals to try polish himself, helping others who get stuck in the mines, Being able to visit Maude and help her out with things she needs. He dislikes: Getting unwanted attention, other puppets reading his journals, when certain puppets hold his mining equipment, puppets questioning him about Maude (in the backstory you’ll find out why), whenever certain friends or his lover of his get hurt (like Finnley, Corbin, Mother Dove, Maude and Carrie), and when other puppets try forcing him into uncomfortable situations.

[synthsizedproductions]

The Set Up

I examined my new disguise, making sure I had all the right features. It would be unlikely Peter's associates would invite a woman to play in their rigged game. A young man would be a more likely target. Besides, it amused me to make myself look just enough like Peter to be his son. I enjoyed creating a character for these kinds of deals. It kept life interesting. 

I straightened my vest as I walked out of my rented room above the saloon Peter told me his associates gathered at for their weekly game. One of the resident ladies was leaning on the railing and gave me a flirtatious smile. I gave her a wink and a tip of my hat as I walked by her.

"Evening, Miss."

She put a hand on the front of my shoulder and examined me. "Do I know you, hun?

"Unlikely, Miss. Never been to these parts before. Got into town last night."

"Business, pleasure, or both?"

"Business, mostly."

"Only mostly, city boy?" She lightly ran the backs of her fingers along my stubbly jawline. I put on an appropriate amount of blush for a young man the age I was portraying. "Maybe if you finish with your business, I can treat you to some country pleasures."

I feigned a nervous laugh as she leaned against the railing again. "If I've got time, I might take you up on that, Miss."

"Rose. You can call me Rose, city boy."

"You can call my Sylvester, Rose." I tipped my hat to her again as I made my way downstairs. The saloon was still fairly empty. A few patrons chatting at the bar and a couple more of the resident ladies scoping out their potential clients for the first part of the night. I sat at the bar and surveyed the drink choices.

"Why the disappointed look, lad?" 

I turned my attention to the burly Elf behind the bar. "You don't have my favorite liquor."

"What you lookin' for? I hide the good stuff from the riff raff." He gestured with his thumb to the men standing at the other end of the bar.

"Torik's Blood Wine."

He silently sized me up before he nodded once and disappeared into the kitchen. He returned with a dusty bottle with glass too dark to see through. He popped the cork off and poured the thick red liquor into a tumbler for me.

"We don't have many requests for this. I'm not going to have any trouble tonight, am I?"

I sipped my drink, feeling warmth spread through me. "It isn't my aim to cause trouble. Came to pay respects to a friend who recently passed."

"You're one of Pete's friends? Didn't think he kept friends of your sort."

"I suppose we were more acquaintances. I have to collect a debt from his associates."

He clenched his jaw with a sharp exhale. "Pete said he was going to seek some...help for the troubles those fellas were plottin' in the shadows. Guess he didn't listen when I warned him not to bring a Demon into this. Too late, now, I suppose. Don't bust up my bar and don't harass the residents."

"Violence isn't my forte, sir. I'm much better with the tiles than my fists."

He gave me a gruff grunt before going to attend to some newly arrived patrons, leaving the bottle of blood wine with me. I laid more than enough money on the bar and took the bottle and glass with me to a table in the corner. I watched as the saloon filled with patrons and patiently awaited my targets.

I didn’t have long to wait before a small group of men walked in and immediately went to a table in the far corner of the saloon. My main target went to the bar to order their drinks, so I tilted my head and concentrated on what they were saying. 

“Evenin’, Reibus.” “Corbin. What can I get you and the boys tonight?” “The usual will do. Minus one for poor Pete, of course.” “Of course.” I heard the barman line up three shot glasses and pour some whiskey in them. Mid-shelf from the smell.  “You boys playin’ tiles tonight?”

Corbin downed one of the shots and tapped it on the bar for another. “That’s the plan, though it is difficult to have a good game with only the three of us. You know any suckers, I mean, players who might want in?”

“No one that hasn’t gotten sick of your antics. All the regulars won’t play you. You’ve heard the rumors, haven’t you?”

Corbin scoffed. “The ones about me killin’ my best friend? Yeah, rumors spread like wildfire in a small town like this. You don’t think it was me, right, Reibus?” There was a dangerous edge to Corbin’s tone.

“Course not, Corbin. I know you better than that. Why don’t you ask the new fella’ in the corner if he wants to play. He mentioned he was here looking to learn a thing or two about playing the tiles.”

I took the opportunity to glance around uncertainly at the other patrons in a lost way.

“Who is he?”

“Didn’t ask his name, Corbin. He’s some city kid lookin’ to live a wild and free life like all the others.”

“Easy mark if I’ve ever seen one. Thanks, Reibus.” Corbin dropped off the shots at his table and made his way over to me. “Hey there, stranger. Heard you was looin’ for a game of tiles.”

I put on a nervous smile. “I was, yes. I’m rather new to the game, but I learned the basics before making my way out here.”

He grinned down at me. “You can join our game if you’d like. I’ll warn you, though, we’re experienced gamblers and deal in some fairly steep bets.”

I frowned at him. “I sadly might have to turn down your offer. Most of my money went to making my way out here. I was supposed to meet someone here that was going to help me get on my feet, but he hasn’t shown up.”

“Don’t worry about that. We’ll front you some cash. We can all spare a portion of our pots.”

I smiled up at him and stood, extending my hand. “Sounds like a deal, Mister. My name is Sylvester.”

“Folks call me Corbin.” He took my hand to shake it, yanking his hand back and staring down at it.

“Something wrong, Mr. Corbin.”

He shook his head slowly. “Nothin’. And it’s just Corbin.” He brought me over to his table, still rubbing the middle of his palm. “Boys, this is Sylvester. He’s gonna join us tonight, but needs a small loan from each of us to play with.” The guys made not well feigned annoyance as they made a small pile of money in front of the seat in the corner which Corbin directed me to sit in.

“I really appreciate your kindness, gentlemen. I’m sure you’ll win the whole pot back.” We all had a small laugh as Corbin began passing out the tiles from their carrying bag.

Here goes nothing.

[austincitysaloon-blog]

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