#ESPECIALLY if she’s being held hostage to get someone to cooperate who she knows will be Mad if she’s hurt during the fact

[quietwingsinthesky]

another fact about millie: worst hostage in the entire world because she is insufferable about it. the minute she knows you Need her for something, she is going to start pushing what she’s allowed to do and say. girl who thrives with a gun to her head because she knows you need her alive and can’t pull the trigger.

[kankuroplease]

Ik it’s pretty early to be asking this, especially since we didn’t even get to the point of her existing- kakuzu x Riki hc wise- but could you share some sycee hcs

I’ve had some time to think about her/what her life may be like, so I do have some headcons

Sycee named after an ignot because Kakuzu chose it.

Shortly after her birth, Riki took her to Konoha to visit her mother’s grave and claim her sword for Sycee.

She was an eerily easy baby, only fussing when she was hungry or needed to be changed

Very observant of her surroundings as a young child

Listening to the wildlife all around and people watching

That’s how she figured out their family isn’t the norm

Most mother’s aren’t mixing poisons in their kitchens/let their kids sample them and most fathers weren’t taking their daughters on bounty hunts

She was given some independence as long as she followed her parents rules; 1. Give no personal information 2. Stay out of villages 3. Always carry a weapon with her 4. Don’t hesitate to kill someone that wants to harm you 5. Don’t follow them when they’re working

She struggled making friends because of how mature she acted and her training compared to the countryside civilians. Play tag? Why? What’s the goal. Want to sword fight instead?

Her being so young and curious led her to break rules 2 and 5, which ultimately led to her being held hostage

She doesn’t remember much but the man’s blade pressing against her face, the burning pain of it cutting her flesh and the rain of blood falling on her.

The thick scent of iron while she slipped on blood soaked stones and stepping over bodies still haunt her dreams

She later learned that her life came at the cost of many innocent people that day and the guilt of that eats away at her

But after those events and her parents war path to retrieve her, Riki would bring Sycee to join Madara in the cave.

She hates being cold, the dark, and she doesn’t know her grandfather so of course she hates it

Listening to her mother and grandfather talk about these delusional ideologies and plans would frighten her

Not as much as Zetsu did though 💀 that creature can stay FAR over there

Honestly helped her develop her poker face and ability to remain silent

On one hand, she’s sure she can tell her father she wants to stay with him, but on the other she’s not old enough to hold her own and not be a burden during his hunts, so she’s essentially stuck

Fhl

The only silver lining were the times her mother would take her to stay with her father which, thankfully, was a regular occurrence

When grandfather brings home a half crushed boy, she really wants nothing to do with the whole situation

But she is curious enough to watch the bandaging process

Noting how her mother’s attitude started to change after this new kid arrived

Telling her she needs to train harder and always doing that that hand fidget thing she does when lost in thought, more and more

Sycee followed her mother’s wishes and did train harder to put her at ease, but she drew the line at telling her anything she overheard

She actually easily amused and giggled whenever Obito had a little freak out before going silent again

By then, Sycee knew about the Akatsuki, her parent’s involvement, and Madara’s plans for an “ideal” world

And she wants nothing to do with it or the war it would bring. The nightmares from the aftermath of her hostage situation make it so she never wants to be responsible for the lose of innocence

She counted the days until she could claw her way out of the hellmouth she was born into

Once she was old enough, she moved to Amegakure simply to cooperate on a surface level, but avoided actually joining the Akatsuki/her parents suspicions

Working as an assassin, she takes on the worst of the worst. Earning her a reputation as someone with a death wish, but truly it’s just she can’t bring herself to kill someone who doesn’t deserve it

She even was able to make friends with a few of the working women around Ame, who get a thrill out of hearing about her missions

They gave her a copy of icha icha which she threw out her window in shock after finding out it was THAT kind of book.

She wouldn’t be self conscious about her scar anymore, but she also doesn’t like the attention and questions it brings

It’s the most free she’s felt in a long time. With the only downside being she doesn’t hear many crickets or see a lot of butterflies

Occasionally teaming up with her father, just to see him.

Often combining her wind and fire chakra’s to create large fire whirls to capture and incinerate their targets no Kakuzu isn’t happy if the body isn’t identifiable, but she’s also working here

Ignoring Hidan as much as humanly possible. As a result, he thinks she’s hard of hearing

Neither Kakuzu or Sycee correct this assumption and just share knowing glances

Or Sycee will just give him the middle finger

[deaconusdelirium]

Fight your demons

Requested: “what if the reader slipped in and out of what happened and what’s not. Like, switch Crosshair out with the reader, after they get their chip removed, she’s just really scared about hurting the Batch and especially Omega, maybe she just has a mental breakdown and then that’s when everyone notices how much you’ve lost yourself. I’ve also noticed you have more Crosshair lovers than the other, so go ahead and do Crosshair. Soft! Please🥰”

Oh man, that definitely hits the feels

———

You ran, ran far, Gerreras soldiers weren’t cut off, and they sure went going to get back to him. “Commander. We caught a few of Gerreras men, six to be exact” you stopped, making the other Elites as well. You held a fist up, “Fall back, we’ve got what we need” “but the orders were to eliminate all of Gerreras troops” the guy who thought of himself higher than the group spoke up, throwing an attitude already, the others looked at him. They knew he said something, “oh?” You turned, facing him, “I’m the commander here, you take orders from me. And I say we fall back, let those two go, they’ll tell Gerrera we’re here. He’ll send out more of his soldiers. Then we’ll strike, got it?” You explained, walking closer as he backed off, “yes, commander” he nodded, standing straight again as you took off towards the Regs who had the hostages.

They weren’t far, but that didn’t mean you could walk. By the time you got there, there was eight of them, “we caught two sneaking around” you hummed, walking up to the soldiers, “let’s make this easy and short. Where’s Gerrera?” “like we’ll tell you” one of the guys spat, “oh I’ll make you, starting with her” you pointed at one of the ladies, the Elite grabbed her. Forcing her to her knees. “Talk” the soldiers looked at her worryingly, “don’t! Tell her, I’ll be fine” the woman spoke, “let her go” “talk and then maybe I will” they all glared at you, the Elites stood behind them, just in case they got any ideas. They seemed to talk to each other, you watched as they exchanged words between them “We lay our life down for Gerrera, we’re not telling you anything” their heads held up high with pride.

“Fine, kill her” the Elite that was holding her, shot her, making Gerreras squad yell and try to break free. “Last chance, all of you” you warned, wasting time on people who weren’t worth it. “Didn’t you hear the first time? Or can’t you get anything through that helmet of yours? We’re not saying anything.” The supposed leader spoke for them all. You leaned over to the ‘executioner’ as he always did as told. “Kill them all, leave the one at the end alive” you said, he gave a swift nod. Telling the others as the guy at the end flinched as his teammates fell, the sound of leaves crunched under your boots as you walked up to him. Kneeling down to meet his eye level, “you’re chosen for a reason, now, I promise not to hurt you if you tell me, where Gerrera is” he shook, looking at you. “He left, but his caravan..” he finally spoke. “Uh huh” “they’re the vulnerable ones, down the road, just before you caught us” you stood up, walking away, “thank you for your cooperation, your no longer needed” you shot him, making the troopers around look at you.

“You said you wouldn’t hurt him if he told you the truth!” The woman slightly raised her voice at you, “and he’s lying, we have scanners all over this planet, more than one. If someone was disobeying orders to help Gerrera, we would still have others to tell us if a ship has left or not. And they’re has been no word on that, however. The caravans most likely here, I’d say far off considering we have troops a few clicks out and we would have found them by now. We have no use of a liar with us” they listened, you were right. If someone did betray the Empire, then there were still others loyal, and they would immediately alert you. They watched as you walked off, coming to your side again. “Find them” you told others as they got into squads and set out.

The caravan wasn’t hard to find either, it seemed like they didn’t know that you were there. Now you watched as they quivered by their ship, holding each other. One of the Elites spoke against your orders, “we signed up to be soldiers, not an execution squad” he spoke, the others unsure if they should follow the man, “you know why they put me in charge?” You asked, he turned to face you, the other Elites stepping back, knowing he was done for “it’s because I’m willing to do what needs to be done” you shot him as the others backed up again, looking at you. “Good soldiers follow orders, finish the mission” you told the others as they walked closer to the civilians. You watched as they complied with your orders, feeling a bit of pride grow for your squad since they almost stopped questioning your ways.

—

You woke up, gasping as tears had already made their way down your face in your sleep. The image played like it was moments ago, but it seemed like forever, you touched the side of your head. The feeling of the small scar there told you that the chip wasn’t there anymore. You felt like you were trying to breath, your eyes watered again. As you heard Hunter run in while a sleepy Omega jogging after him, her eyes widen as she seen you. “Y/n, Y/n are you ok? What’s wrong?” Hunter came to kneel at the edge of your bed, his hand touched your arms as you pulled away, “don’t...” pulling away from his grasp. “Y/n?” Omega called out, walking towards you, her hands held out to grab yours. “I said don’t, go away” Omega looked at Hunter worryingly, he nodded to her, she walked out feeling sad. “Y/n, what happened, is everything alright?” Hunter asked, his voice gentle as to not make you anymore upset. “I.. I don’t want to talk about it” you held your knees up to your chest as you spoke through your arms. He understood, standing up and walking out the door “I’ll be here if you need me” he said before leaving.

You wiped your tears with the end of your blanket, regaining your breath as you calmed yourself. “Problem?” Crosshair asked, leaning against your doorframe with his arms crossed, he was the only person you didn’t want to show tears around, considering he was more intimidating than Wrecker and Echo. “No” you answered shortly, sitting there as the thought of innocent people were gone. “I know you’re lying,” he spoke, coming to sit at the end of your bed, “I’m listening” he said it like he does it all the time. I mean, he did, he mostly listened to Tech rant about things he didn’t understand. And he liked listening to him, he didn’t mind at all. You didn’t answer, but he seen as you came to touch your head again. Oh, he knew now.

“You’re worried?” He questioned, hoping to at least get a short answer from you. He didn’t sound upset or moody like he usually was, you scoffed, “more like scared... and worried. I pushed Omega and Hunter away- but I was just so.. scared I’d hurt her. I remember it like it was just today, those innocent people” he was surprised at how easily you pried open. “Those children, just like Omega. They died at my hands, I did it without hesitation. I knew what I was doing yet, I didn’t. It felt like I couldn’t control myself. It seemed right, but now, now it’s wrong” did being under the influence of the chip take that much of a toll on you? Was it like that for all clones? He nodded, “I didn’t mean it, it just..” tears fell as you cried, “it hurts to even think I did that. I would never have done that” you wiped them away, Crosshair felt like he needed to do something.. anything.

“It’s not your fault. It’s the chip” he spoke, trying to reassure you. “And that chip, ugh it still feels like its there and” you cut off as you rubbed the scar. “I just want to be my old self again, one who wasn’t being used by everyone to get what they didn’t want to do, done. I hated it, I hated every second of staying with those Elites, and having to see Rampart almost all the time when I reported back to Kamino” it sounded awful, it must have been too. “I just wish I could forget about it” you confessed, finally feeling like you were able to breath after getting that all off of your chest. And he didn’t judge, he didn’t say anything rude like he always did. You silently cried to yourself, Crosshair didn’t say anything for awhile. You felt like you made him uncomfortable, “sorry, I just..” you apologized, wiping your tears away as embarrassment replaced your self pity.

He didn’t know what to say, it sounded like nothing could be done to help you. So he did the one thing he could think of, he turned and pulled you into his arms. Unsure if he was hugging too soft or too tight, he didn’t even know if hugging too soft was a thing. “Cross, you don’t have too” “shh, just.. relax” you smiled weakly at his attempt to sooth you, and you did relax. His warm embrace felt comforting, something you’ve never felt before. Maybe it was because you’ve never been held or hugged, or maybe because you just tried and needed someone to listen after all you’ve been through. He stayed like that for a long time, he felt the occasional hiccup of you trying not to cry again, he moved away, and so did you. You watched as he stood up, then came to lay down. He pulled the covers over him as he made you lay down. He wrapped his arms around you, but what if this was too far for him?

You laid there, still, not wanting to step over his boundaries. You grew tired, finally putting a hand on his side, making him tense up, but soon relax under your touch. He gently squeezed you, making you slowly come closer until you were holding onto him. “Cross?” You asked, whispering to him while facing his chest. “Hmm?” He was curious to know what you had in mind again, “tell.. tell me this is real?” You hesitantly spoke, grabbing his shirt and holding as much as you could of him in your grasp. “It is.. why?” He waited for your answer, “I’ve had dreams like this, when I was back on Kamino with the Empire. Where one of you held me, mostly you. I missed you guys terribly, then I realized it was always a dream” his cheeks grew warm and his heart broke at the thought of you missing them.

They didn’t mean to leave you all the time, but they had too. “You’re back with us now, don’t worry” he said, tangling his legs with yours and holding you closer. The sound of his heartbeat was new, you actually felt it, and his breathing was something to add onto. It matched yours, or did yours match his? It got late, and you still couldn’t sleep, what if your chip instincts came into play without you even knowing, and then you hurt one of them. Crosshair seemed to be sleeping, but you weren’t sure as you kept tossing and turning every minute, “Y/n, what is it now?” He asked, finding you far away from him when the side you were sleeping on was empty. “I couldn’t sleep, and I didn’t want to wake you... sorry” “there’s no need to apologize, come on” he pulled your arm, making you lay beside him again.

It felt a little better, but not enough to make you sleep. He took note of it, “it’s not there anymore if you’re wondering” he knew you were worried about to chip, so his hand came up to softly rub your temple with a feather like touch. It seems to make you sleep, considering you weren’t moving and your heartbeat slowed to a gentle pace, and your breathing was shallow. Was this all it took to make you sleep? His question was answered as you snuggled into him again, it may have been new to him too. But he had already loved this new found form of touch and reassurance. He only wished he could take away your darkest memories and never have you think of them again, but if this helped you sleep at night knowing someone was finally there, then he would be there every night to fight your demons.

———

Wow. I like this one, although... lemme know if you clones want it softer cause I feel like it’s not soft enough...

[tinyboxxtink]

"....So I Married A Monster" *Chapter 8*

Chapter 7

Chapter 9

OHEMGEEEEE!!! A new chapter!

I appreciate the patience this week/last week guys, It's certainly been-- challenging. And it's not over yet, but I did want to get you a chapter since you all have been so understanding and lovely.

That being said I really am here just to break your heart with some good ol' angsty angst. MWAHAHAHHAAHA.

Enjoy.

I may try and put out another chapter tonight, but we will only be getting to 10 with this one I'm 90% sure so I want them to be good chapters.

Tag List

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@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

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@mrsrafaelbarba

@word-scribbless

@storiesofsvu

@believinghurts

==========

“Sir, I’m going to need you to calm down,” An officer told him.

“No!” William screamed. “That man kidnapped my wife--”

“She’s NOT your wife!” Rafael cut him off. “You can verify that, she’s his ex-wife,”

“How ‘bout I verify my foot up your ass, dickhead?!” Lewis screamed.

“Lovely, Lewis,” Rafael rolled his eyes with a sarcastic laugh.

“You son of a--” Lewis lunged for Rafael but an officer held him back.

“BOTH OF YOU, GET OUT,” The nurse escorted the two men to the waiting room. “Family only!”

“But she’s my--”

“EX” Rafael finished. “And I’m her--”

“BOYFRIEND,” Lewis snarled. “Not HUSBAND,”

“I’m more concerned about the you're blood covered in, Mr.--” A female officer interjected.

“Barba,” Rafael finished.

“It’s my wi--” Lewis started, but saw Rafael’s eyes glaring at him. “Y/N’s blood, my ex wife,”

“And exactly why are you covered in her blood Mr. Barba?” The officer continued to question him.

“Because I--” He began to explain how he had rescued you from that monster.

“BECAUSE HE RAPED HER!!” Lewis screamed again.

“Alright, Mr.--”

“Loomis,” William stuck out his hand. “Billy Loomis,”

“That is BULLSHIT,” Rafael snapped. “His name is William Lewis, look him up,”

“Alright, you come with me, you go with Cooper,” The woman officer instructed her partner to take Lewis the opposite direction.

“Fine with me,” Rafael grumbled as the other cop dragged Lewis away.

“Alright so why don’t you start from the beginning, Mr. Barba,” She pulled out an iPad from her back holster.

“....How far do you mean, officer?” Rafael asked as they sat down in two waiting room chairs.

“Why don’t you call me Sherrie,” She softened her tone with a small smile. Ah, so she was going to play good cop with him.

“How far do you think will help me understand this?” She continued.

“Well,” Rafael rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s complicated,”

“....How so?” Sherrie raised an eyebrow. She had that look on her face; the same one Olivia got when she didn’t believe a word a perp was saying. Great.

“Well first of all, that man is not who he says he is,” He pointed towards where Lewis had been taken. “His name is William Lewis, and he is a wanted rapist and murderer in several states, including New York,”

“Ah, New York,” Sherrie nodded. “Is that where you're from?”

“Uh, yes, New York City in fact,” Rafael clarified. Why did she say it like that? She used a tone that he should be using. That disdain, that condescending tone. That just pissed Rafael off even more.

“I see,” Sherrie nodded as she jotted down things on her iPad.

“Look just because I’m from New York and you people--”

“Us people?” Sherrie gave him a glare.

“...You all,” Rafael changed his tune. “Think ‘down’ of us New Yorkers--”

“Oh I believe it’s the other way around, Mr. Barba,” Sherrie scowled. Well, she did have a point.

“....Lewis lives there too,”

“Really?” Sherie raised an eyebrow. “Because I just searched his name in our database and Mr. LOOMIS is a non-offender, born and bred New Jersian.

“That is a load of shit!” Rafael stood up. “I am telling you, he is a psychopath. He has several identities across the god damn country, and he’s--”

“Not on trial here, Mr. Barba,” Sherrie finished.

“And I am?” Rafael scoffed.

“We’ll see,” She gave him a look.

“Por el amor de Dios....” Rafael muttered, along with a few other obscenities in spanish. “Look just call the NYPD. Talk to Sergeant Benson of the SVU Unit” Rafael instructed her.

“SVU hmm?” Sherrie raised an eyebrow as she typed.

“Yes!” Rafael cried. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you! I am the Assistant District Attorney of New York City! I would never, ever hurt anyone. Especially not Y/N. I love her,”

“Right,” Sherrie nodded. “Alright well I’ll call her after we’re done here, okay?”

“Sure you will,” Rafael muttered with a roll of his eyes.

“Do you really wanna start an attitude with me, Mr. Barba?”

“Rafael,” He exhaled. “My name is Rafael,” The more she used ‘Mr. Barba’ the more he felt he actually was on trial. “And I’m sorry, I just-- I’m scared,”

“For you or for her?” Sherrie questioned.

“For her!” Rafael got excited again. “Lewis raped her and tore her rectum, then went and took a shower after haphazardly bandaging her, like it was no big fucking deal!”

“And you know this, how?” She asked in a suspicious manner.

“Because she called me,” He continued. “She called me earlier and told me he had her hostage,”

“He was holding her hostage?” Sherrie continued to use a suspicious tone.

“Yes! And I can prove it!” Rafael suddenly remembered the picture Lewis had so cockily sent him.

The one of him holding a gun pressed to your back. The image would haunt him forever. He went to get his phone, but it wasn’t in his pocket. Shit, it must still be in the car. He had hastily dropped it as soon as he told you he was coming in to get you.

“Shit,” He muttered.

“Is there a problem?” Sherrie asked.

“I have a photo on my phone, but I must have left it in my car,”

“Conveniently,” She nodded.

“NO!” Rafael stomped his foot. “Look if you’ll just let me go get it--”

“Right,” Sherrie scoffed sarcastically with a laugh. “Let me just let you ‘run out to your car’,”

“You can follow me, escort me, whatever,” He huffed. “I have nothing to hide,”

“Alright then,” Sherrie followed Rafael outside the hospital doors, but his car wasn’t there.

“Shit,” He muttered. “They must have towed it because I just parked in the ambulance bay and got Y/N help,”

“Oh, mmhmm, I’m sure that must be what happened,” She rolled her eyes.

“This is insane,” Rafael half laughed at the absurdity of the situation. He felt like he was in an episode of the Twilight Zone. He was being treated like a convict while Lewis was the golden boy of Jersey. This was a nightmare.

“Can we just--” Rafael ran his hands through his hair, trying to think of something, anything that would clear his name.

“Can you just call the NYPD, please?” He begged Sherrie. “I swear to you, Olivia Benson will clear my name and tell you all about William Lewis,”

Sherrie looked at him for a long moment, debating whether to cut him some slack. On the one hand, he was covered in your blood, and had brought you in. Also, he was from New York City, so God knows how slick he was. On the other hand, he did look genuinely scared and pitiful, and if he had the balls to ask her to actually call the NYPD, maybe he was telling the truth.

“Alright Rafael, I’ll humor you,” She finally nodded, typing NYPD into Google. She got the number and began dialing it, waiting for someone to answer.

“Hi, yes this is Officer Reagan of the Jersey PD-- Is there an Olivia Benson there?” Sherrie asked as she gave Rafael a side eye. There was silence for a moment, then she began to speak.

“Hi yes, Sergeant Benson. This is-- Right. Do you know Rafael Barba?”

“Mmmhmm, well he’s here at Jersey County Hospital having brought in a woman who had clearly been assaulted, and he--” Sherrie stopped as Olivia began speaking very fast and loudly.

“Look ma’am there’s no reason to-- Yes her husband-- alright her ex husband, Billy Loomis-- Alright allegedly this ‘William Lewis’. Whoa there ma’am-- Sergeant, there’s no need to get hysterical,” Rafael chuckled to himself as he watched Sherrie get chewed out by Olivia.

“...Well yes he is here, but I really don’t feel comfortable having you take him into custody, Sergeant. This isn’t your jurisdiction, so I’m sorry but you have no claim on Billy, or William, or whoever,” Sherrie was getting fed up with Olivia’s attitude.

“Uh yes, that is so, sergeant. If you’d like to take it up with my sergeant, feel free to come down here and-- well fine! Good, we’ll be here. No I will not be letting Mr. Barba go, he’s still a-- you know what, I’m sick of this. You wanna come down here and raise a fit for your man here, go right ahead,” Sherrie hung up the phone and looked at a now smirking Rafael.

“I told you,” He smirked.

“Yeah well you’re not going anywhere until this ‘Olivia Benson’ gets here. Which I assume will be pretty soon,”

“Your assumption is spot on,” Rafael chuckled to himself. If there was one thing he could count on, Olivia would come running to his defense at the drop of a hat.

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

Meanwhile

“Look I’m telling you, that man abducted my ex wife in the middle of the night and raped her,” Lewis was scrambling.

“And how do you know this, Mr. Loomis?” Officer Cooper asked.

“Because I was there,” He explained.

“And why were you at your ex-wife’s house?” Cooper asked skeptically.

“We--” William was thinking on the fly.

He was still fuming from the balls on Barba trying to rescue you, and agitated that he got the male cop who wasn’t so easily manipulated as a woman would’ve been.

“We were reconciling,” He lied.

“Reconciling?” The officer raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“I told her earlier today that I had made a mistake leaving her and my family, and that I wanted to come back home,” He explained. “And then I offered to pick up our girls from school and meet her at home, while she broke it off with that bastard,”

“Broke it off?” The officer questioned him. “So they are in a relationship?”

“...Yeah,” He muttered.

“So how exactly did her boyfriend kidnap her, if she went to him willingly?”

“....He got pissed when she tried to break it off,” Lewis was spinning a thread of lies now. “He called me and told me that if he couldn’t have her, nobody could,”

“I see,” Cooper nodded, typing on his iPad

“So when she came home to me and the girls, he followed her. We didn’t know until he broke in and kidnapped Y/N,” Lewis now focused on keeping his ‘concerned husband’ act. He was pretty sure he had a good story going.

“Mmm hmm,” The officer nodded as he continued typing. He wasn’t even acknowledging him; that was making Lewis’s blood boil. He liked being in control; he hated being ignored.

“Look can I check on my wife, please?” He tried going for the sympathy card again, knowing he wasn’t getting anywhere with this guy.

“Legally she’s not your wife anymore, Mr. Loomis,” The officer finally looked up to Lewis once more. “So technically you have no legal right to see her right now, as you’re not her current family,”

“I AM HER FAMILY GOD DAMMIT!!!” Lewis screamed, losing his cool. He quickly panicked and dialed it back. “I mean, she’s always going to be my family. Her and my precious girls,”

“....Right,” The officer nodded, not amused by his little temper tantrum. He had seen guys like this before; controlling, hot tempered husbands. He had grown up with a man just like that; it was one of the reasons he became a cop.

“And where exactly are your ‘precious girls’, Mr. Loomis?” He added. Guys like these, they lost their heads when they felt cornered. Lewis probably hadn’t even remembered they existed.

“...They’re at home, asleep,” He said softly.

“Alone?” Cooper raised an eyebrow.

“We live like two blocks from here officer,” Lewis lied again, having indeed forgotten about the girls. “I didn’t want to scare them, they’re asleep in their comfy beds, totally oblivious to this nightmare,”

“And exactly how old are they?” Cooper gave him a look.

“...Old enough to be alone for a bit,” Lewis shrugged, hoping he’d take that as an answer.

“Well, at the risk of ‘worrying’ them, I think I’d better send an officer over there to check on them, don’t you think?” The officer asked in a accusatory tone.

Lewis really did want that, he was actually starting to worry about them. He actually had told Maggie that you felt sick and were in your room, and he was going out to get you medicine. But this guy was already clearly skeptical. If he told this officer where you actually lived, he was going to accuse him of child endangerment.

“...Mr. Loomis?” The officer called to him, but he was busy plotting an escape route.

Lewis glanced around the room, gauging how many people were in the vicinity. It was a bunch of pathetic patients with random injuries and illness’s waiting on a doctor, some ER nurses, a receptionist, the two cops, and him and Barba. Then he glanced at the gun in the officer’s holster, a plan formulating in his head. He wanted you all to himself, that was for sure. But you and your fucking white knight might have just outsmarted him for that to happen. Unless... the line you had said earlier about the girls being leverage. He hated the idea of exploiting the girls like that, but he was not going back to prison, and he was not losing those girls.

“Mr. Loomis!” The officer repeated in a louder, angrier tone. Lewis finally looked at him with a very sinister smile, eerily calm.

“...Ah officer, maybe you should take care of that first,” Lewis pointed to something behind him. As soon as the officer turned to see what he was talking about, Lewis yanked the gun from his holster and fired two shots into his head.

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

Across the room, Rafael and Officer Sherrie immediately flinched and ducked at the sound of the loud bang from the gun. People began screaming and running around in panic, most of them heading out the front doors of the hospital. Rafael’s eyes widened in horror as he realized Lewis had gotten a gun and had just murdered an officer. He turned to Officer Reagan who looked at him in shock, and a bit in remorse. She knew she had gotten the situation wrong, and now her partner had paid the ultimate price for it.

“Lewis, look just calm down--” Rafael tried to reason with Lewis, but the manic look in his eyes showed him he wasn’t going to get anywhere.

“Why don’t YOU calm down, counselor?” Lewis smirked as he raised the gun to Rafael. If there was one sure fire way to ultimately punish you for trying to run off with the do gooder, it would be getting rid of him altogether.

“No, Lewis don’t--” Rafael barely got out a plea for his life before Lewis had shot a bullet into his chest. More people screamed, and Officer Reagan rushed to help him.

Lewis took this opportune moment to run out of the hospital. He sprinted into the parking lot and picked the first car he saw to break into and hotwire, speeding out of the parking lot back to your place. He had to get the girls before cops found out where you lived. He’d figure out where to go from there.

From inside an examination room, you had started to come to as the IV bags of blood began to fill your system back up. You had barely had a chance to sit up before you heard the first shot go off. You immediately knew it was Billy, he had found you. You saw the doctor and nurses that were in the room with you slam the door shut to keep you all safe from Billy. You could see through a window into the lobby just enough to see Rafael with his hands up, before Billy put a bullet in him. You watched in horror as Rafael slumped to the ground, and a woman officer rushing to help him.

“NO!!!!!!” You screamed, trying desperately to get off the table.

The doctor and nurses held you down and slapped hands over your mouth to keep you quiet, terrified Lewis would come in there next. But to their relief he dashed out the door, and the hands were removed from your mouth. However they kept you pinned down so that you wouldn’t pull your IV’s out, inadvertently letting blood gush out all over the patient room.

You watched helplessly as nurses swarmed Rafael and rushed him off to another part of the hospital altogether.

What kind of nightmare had you woken up to?

[kannra21]

I dare you! - even before the anime confirmation - suzue and daisuke headcanons lolol gonna take the risk?

Yea I thought ab something, for instance how they met and all that stuff. It's fairly different. In the novel, she came to the Kambe household as a secretary but from the anime we can conclude that she's so much more than this. In anime she can't be considered father's secretary since his parents both died I guess, although it wasn't mentioned but the creators pointed it out in a way.

Since that's clear, I made a couple of hcs/scenarios featuring their relationship from the begging. Hope you enjoy. ^^

- Kambe and the co needed to investigate the suspect of whom they had recently gathered information on the possession of suspicious substances. They didn't know exactly what it was about but they hoped they wouldn't arrive at the wrong time and encounter the entire mafia, in which case Daisuke decided to take the rest of the police department members as reinforcement in the case of an emergency. Daisuke has never needed any help, he often relied on his advanced technology and fortune, but this time was different and he clearly doubted that he could take on a couple of their men by himself. He's not a fool, he'll assign as many people as needed, just tell him how much and he'll find himself fine agents to cooperate with.

- When they reached the place he entered first, climbed the stairs and came across a room whose doors had a circular glass window. He cautiously peered through it and noticed eight men. Among them was also their suspect who was holding an open suitcase and showing it towards a person who was obviously someone from a higher rank. He held it before him like he was waiting for his approval. He couldn't make out anything else since the lighting was really bad and there were also three SUVs parked at the side of the entrance. Were there more people in the cars? He couldn't tell.

- He took his high-tech glasses to analyze his surroundings. He realized that the suitcase contained some dangerous chemicals involving nitrogen. Nitrogen-based explosives are considered incredibly volatile and Daisuke decided that this was no situation for messing around. But then he saw a girl with them. She emerged from the shadows and stood by the mafia boss's side, she looked somewhat insecure but knew that she was supposed to be there despite the tension building in the room. And then in the midst of their negotiations he heard him say that he'll pay for a bigger amount in exchange for the girl.

- She looked shocked beyond belief. She didn't want to enroll into yet another criminal organization. Just from her reaction Daisuke could conclude that she was nothing like the rest of the people she worked for, perhaps she was just a victim? Taken as a hostage so she could do their dishonorable job? He heard him say that the suspect could create more goods with her help. He admitted that they were running out of material recently so he offered her as the ideal tool. He praised her capability and skillful hands, that she was qualified for production of weapons, especially firearms.

- She objected, expressing her disapproval of the whole idea. She was nobody's minion to let herself be manipulated so casually. She didn't want that. The mafia boss seemed vividly unnerved by her attitude, she was lucky to be so pretty otherwise she'd experience a faith worse than death.

- Before the situation could get out of control Daisuke opened the door and dropped a gas bomb. The thick smoke filled the room and everyone started coughing. With his high-tech equipment Daisuke could still identify everyone and he entered the scene, ran past the group of distracted gang members and tried to save the girl by taking her hand. Since she also couldn't see much, she started to resist and she managed to kick him a couple of times before he took her by force and carried her somewhere safe. When they took a refuge, he called his police colleagues who then entered and started shooting. The mafia members were shooting as well but to no avail so they got into their cars and tried to flee. The police waited outside creating a barrier but with enough speed and force they succeeded in breaking it and escaping their sentence. Daisuke was disappointed, it was supposed to be a clear catch but it seemed like their cars were built of some fine titanium-like material which allowed them to push through it a lot easier. His thoughts got interrupted by the tight clenching of the woman's hands on his jacket, she was still holding onto him from all the fear she just expected.

- He got worried so he took her hands and shifted a little to look at her face. He asked her if she was okay and if she was going through some sort of a panic attack. She told him that she was fine. She still looked somewhat stressed out so he stroked her hair to calm her down. It was considered a normal police approach towards victims and children, it's not like he had compassion towards anyone in particular, he never did. He was a millionaire detective with no sense of empathy. They stood up and he decided to take her to the police station so she could give her report. When they arrived and got seated in the office she introduced herself. Her name was Hamada Suzue and she was working as a weapon constructor for the mafia boss, she knew of mechanics and engineering but also some other kinds of small jobs she used to do in the meantime. She got involved with them by accident and needed to keep up with their wishes for the past six months. She revealed everything they were doing, the plans she overheard them talking about and their lab for creating all sorts of things.

- After the interrogation she proved herself to be quite useful and gave them a large amount of information. Daisuke then went to drive her home but she said the mafia knew where she lived. It was unfortunate because everyone had already gone to their homes by now so they couldn’t organize a night watch. It would be too dangerous to leave her alone by herself anyways. Daisuke suggested she take her things from home and move in with him for a while until they finally caught the criminals. She began to refuse but he assured her that it was the right thing to do.

- Eventually she agreed and did as she was told. When they reached Daisuke’s mansion Suzue couldn’t believe her own eyes, she practically stared at the unique sight in front of her. When they went inside, she looked around and found herself fascinated by the whole place. She asked him where he got all this from and he replied that he was a millionaire detective. She told him that it was wonderful, that he must be so lucky. But then he looked a bit down and replied that it wasn't really like that, Suzue then looked somewhat sad and apologized. Daisuke ordered the servants to prepare dinner for them and during that time he showed her where her room would be.

- The servants, despite knowing that Daisuke's business was none of their concern, were still curious enough to ask him who was the girl that he brought with himself. He replied that it was a victim who needed a temporary accommodation until they imprisoned the criminals. Telling them that, he left and headed for the dining room. The servants gave each other knowing looks, they knew perfectly well where this was going. Daisuke could have called a hotel room for her but still decided to keep her here at his place. When she moved all her things to the closets, she joined him in the dining room and they ate.

- The atmosphere was nice and cozy. The ambiance so beautiful and luxurious and the food delicious. It was some type of unusual food since Suzue ate it for the very first time. As they ate, they talked a little about themselves and got to know each other. Suzue's discussions mostly revolved around work and so did Daisuke's. Despite working for the bad guys in the past couple of months, Suzue realized she didn't resent her work, in fact, it motivated her even more to promote her knowledge and skills. She had earned her bachelor's degree for a reason and she wanted to achieve herself as a person, to gain respect and approval. The only misfortune that struck her was that she entered into business with bad people, and now she claimed that she has learned from her mistakes. Suzue took the opportunity to thank Daisuke for the rescue and accommodation.

- Although she didn't come from an aristocratic family, Suzue had fine manners and a cheerful spirit, something Daisuke admired about her. She was so talented, so smart, so capable. She's doing things he couldn't even imagine himself doing without HEUSC, she was a real sight to behold.

- Daisuke talked about his detective work and motivation behind it, his past and the loss of his parents. Suzue felt bad but he told her it was fine, that it was something he needed to get used to. She asked him if he lived with someone to which he replied that he was alone. Suzue admitted that her childhood also wasn't all that great and that she lost confidence in pursuing relationships because of being surrounded by thugs, Daisuke on the other hand, felt proud that she felt comfortable with him and his place. They needed to grow up into responsible adults by themselves, they fought so hard to become people they were today. She concluded that they were lucky for how far they have come and wished Daisuke all the best, she said that past doesn't define a person and that each struggle is a steeping block to reach one's true potential.

- And then she got up from her seat and came to Daisuke's side. She placed a hand on his cheek, thanked him for the dinner and apologized for hitting him at the mafia hideout. Daisuke smiled a little and told her it was nothing. Then she left the dining room, leaving Daisuke alone with his thoughts. She was so respectful and kind through the dinner but something changed, the sudden confidence and flirtiness wasn't necessary, Daisuke concluded. It's like she was honest through the whole conversation that all of a sudden she remembered something that made her change her attitude, that sudden change of personality worried him. She's still hiding something. He chose not to make a fuss over it but still decided to keep his eyes and ears open in case something happens.

- He left the room and found a couple of servants spying on them. They panicked and apologized for their inappropriate act. They admitted that they just wanted to be supportive of their boss and the pretty lady. He said that their shift was over and that they were allowed to leave their work. As he watched them disappear into the dark hallway Daisuke felt embarrassed, did they really just look that close and comfortable with each other? No, it must be their imagination.

- He was climbing the stairs and just as he was about to enter his room Suzue stopped him and looked a little discouraged. He wondered if there was something wrong and she asked him if she could spend the night with him. She explained that the trauma of being surrounded by the hooligans took a tool on her and that she couldn't fall asleep. Daisuke felt uneasy, before fifteen minutes ago she was flirting and playing confident but now she's traumatized and frightened by her dreams. Either she developed some sort of PTSD, bipolar or she's trying to manipulate him into something which lowkey frightened him. His detective senses screamed at him that something was fishy about the situation but he decided to let her into his room, maybe she was just afraid.

- As he put his things away and went to take off his jacket, he felt something thin and cold pressed against his neck. A knife, wonderful. He should have listened to his instincts. He told all his servants to leave their work, it meant no one could help him anymore. Suzue told him to hand her the gun, he did so and she threw it on the floor far away from their reach. Now she didn't have to worry about him hurting her, so she ordered him to reveal important information they had gathered during the investigation. Daisuke asked her why she was doing this and she replied that she must have a plan B in case the mafia finds her anyway. If she proves herself to be useful and gives them away all that information maybe they'll spare her the torture and take her back in. Daisuke felt sad, realizing that she still didn't feel safe with him, that she didn't trust his words. It seemed like she was betrayed by the authorities before, that it wasn't the first time. Daisuke wanted to fix that, he just wanted to gain her trust again, this time for real.

- He laid his hand on hers, not to take away her knife but to calm her down. This time it wasn't a classic police procedure towards victims, he did this because he genuinely cared about her and he wanted her to know that. He told her about how much he had been in the police force, about his high-tech equipment, alarm system and other surveillance components, the basement where he kept all his weapons and aids in the case of emergency. He told her that he even does boxing and admitted that he could've disarmed her at any given moment but still decided not to do it because he didn’t want to hurt her. Suzue lowered the knife and let it fall out of her hand. She was so shaken, insecure, desperate. She said that all she really wanted was to finally trust someone and feel safe without having to make up for it.

- Daisuke slowly approached and hugged her, she hugged him back and cried. This was the first time Suzue could actually rely on someone and she was very grateful. He said that her past was being too hard on her but he also reminded her of her own words, that past doesn't define a person. He let her stay in his room that night.

- The next day he woke up to see a tray with food placed by his side and Suzue greeting him. A breakfast in bed? She told him she did it just for him after what happened the last night as an apology for being a nuisance. Daisuke was preparing himself to properly mock his servants for making their guest doing all the work but she stopped him by saying that it was entirely her idea and that they had nothing to do with it. Daisuke thanked her and asked how he should repay her to which she replied that she didn't want that, that she didn't want him to make up for anything. This reminded him of her words from the last night, that all she wanted was to feel safe without having to make up for it, she wanted him to feel the same way. So it was supposed to be a mutual understanding? When Suzue realized that, in all her determination to make things better between them, she didn't notice that she was ordering him around and acting very impolite to which she panicked and started apologizing.

- Daisuke smiled and he actually found it quite sympathetic. Listening to a stranger in his own home was oddly satisfying. It felt so normal and domestic, it reminded him of the days when his family was still together. No, he shouldn't feel so nostalgic just from a nice gesture from a stranger. A certain stranger who decided to step a foot into his world. Daisuke felt a warm feeling overflowing him, is she really supposed to be just some random stranger? They talked only yesterday and yet it felt as he knew her very well from the conversation they had.

- He thanked her for the meal, returned to his bed and tried it out. This was the very first time he tasted someone else's cuisine that wasn't from servants or specialized chefs. It was exiting in a way; she didn’t know his taste and everything she made was based entirely on her own preferences. He took a bite and couldn't believe how good it was. The flavors were nicely balanced and the texture was good, nothing too bland nor spicy. He complimented her cooking and she looked happy and proud of herself.

- After breakfast he needed to go back to detective work. He was still kind of worried that Suzue will feel uneasy being by herself so he showed her the basement with weapons and video surveillance so she could see what's happening in the house at any moment.

- Needles to say, when he came back he realized that she turned the basement into a workshop and he found her working on a weapon he has never been in a possession of. She greeted him and said that she noticed he didn't have enough firearm despite calling it the weapon's room so she took matters into her own hands and constructed something by herself. Daisuke, instead of warning her about messing around with his belongings without permission or criticizing his lack of equipment, decided to take a look at what she had made for him. She made a sniper rifle, he examined it and noticed it was correctly handled in every way. He decided to try it out on a dummy and it also worked perfectly. Daisuke smirked, showing her his satisfaction. He allowed her to do things like this more often.

- Daisuke has been away from home often lately and Suzue was not allowed out for her own safety. It was pretty boring for Suzue and even if she was allowed, she could only do so with Daisuke's escort. When he returned home she asked him if she could take part in his missions which he refused, saying that he didn't want to expose her to unnecessary danger. It's true, he took her to dinners and everywhere outside to spare her the boredom but she asked this time because she wanted to be useful. Daisuke finally decided to give in and let her do as she pleased. Arguing with her wouldn't do him any good and outraging her might even lead to an worse outcome, because she would probably come out on her own and get into trouble which would then result into him being guilty since police officers are the ones who're supposed to take care of their victims' safety. He couldn't really do anything about it, she was so determined and passionate about her goals that he had no other choice but to play along. Daisuke noticed that she was the first person to ever control him that way, he never let himself be manipulated by anyone. He was the millionaire detective, no one was supposed to get into his way of things and yet, this woman had the audacity to interfere and shape things the way she wanted. This was the first time Daisuke realized that he felt something more for the person he shared his mansion with.

- Suzue tried herself in the role of a spy and seductress so thanks to her help, they managed to uncover several other dealers and smugglers. She wasn't afraid this time because she knew that she was being put under constant watch and Daisuke decided to borrow her his high-tech equipment because he was this worried. Daisuke never shared his equipment with anyone, at this point it was obvious that he started acting so unlike himself, that he actually cared for her well-being.

- As they lived longer and longer with each other Daisuke discovered something new about her every day, all positive things. He adored her driving skills and when she told him that she was also in the possession of a pilot license, he felt so proud. He supported her in everything she was doing and she couldn't be happier to return his kindness with whatever he asked her to construct.

- The day has finally come when they managed to capture the mafia Suzue was working for. Now she was a free woman, she could go home and continue living her own life. The thing is, she couldn't. She was so happy living with Daisuke and she could finally use her talents for good, for helping the police and other innocent people like herself. It's like she finally found a place she could belong, Daisuke felt like home to her. When she waited for his answer she wasn't expecting him to kiss her. He was holding back all this time and hid behind his aristocratic politeness that he managed to deceive her, making her believe that he was just kind and supportive of her without any ulterior motives. She laughed with tears in her eyes, she was so happy and they returned home, holding each other's hand.

- They got married and in the two years since living with him, Suzue has adapted to a rich lifestyle and mastered all manners while Daisuke showered her in luxuries.

- He couldn't judge her at this point, because he knew that everyone would do that in her place, so he asked her if she had decided to marry him because of his wealth that he owned. To his surprise, she said no. She admitted that she was never the type of woman to be influenced by money so easily. She stayed with him because of him, and that was the only thing that mattered.

[ladyseaheart1668]

Endless Summer Book 4 - Daughter of Vaanu (Chapter Forty-Seven

Description: The Catalysts take action!

Tagging: @endlesshero1122 @whatmcsaid @mysteli @xo-endlessmayhem-xo @feartheendlesssummer @tigerbryn11

Chapter 47: Breakout

Jake

We're fed at some point, a couple hours after we've been caged up. Three covered plastic trays are slid through a space under the door about three inches off the ground, followed by three plastic water bottles that roll lazily toward us before curving right or left and coming to rest against the cage wire. For a moment, we don't move, exchanging wary glances. Finally, I sigh and stand up, marching over to claim one of the trays and bottles.

“Come on, y'all,” I mutter. “No one's getting helped by us starving ourselves.”

Sean and Michelle slowly follow my lead. I take my tray back to my corner and pull off the lid to find a thin hamburger patty, a spoonful of mashed potatoes that look like they've been browned under a heat lamp, and about a half cup of dull green wrinkled peas and faded orange carrot cubes.

“Prison food,” I mutter. “Brings back memories.”

“...Doesn't seem very substantial,” Sean says uncertainly.

“I'm guessing they're more concerned with keeping us alive than healthy,” Michelle sighs. “Eat, Sean.”

“I am...”

“No, you're not. Don't play innocent. You're planning to pick at your food until I finish, and then you're going to claim you're not hungry and offer me the rest.”

I can't help but snicker at the way Sean jumps guiltily, flushing as he mumbles some excuse. Michelle purses her lips fixing him with a stern glare.

“Don't make me tell you again, Sean Gayle.”

I snort. “Better listen to your wife, Cap.” I feel my wry smile flatten as I break off a piece of my hamburger patty with my fingers. “...She's absolutely right. They're not worried about keeping us healthy, so we can't afford to turn away food or water. Not until one of us gets bad enough to need extra  food.”

Sean doesn't directly respond, but he does eat. Michelle meets my eyes briefly, but I look away quickly, focusing on the tasteless sustenance on the tray. Still, I can feel her gaze on me.

“...No one's going to get that bad, Jake. I'm not letting that happen. We're going to get out before it gets to that point.”

“Damn straight,” I mutter. “Alodia needs me.” I stuff hamburger patty into my mouth to avoid further conversation. And because I need to eat.

We all clean our own trays. After about a half hour of silence, we start to drift closer to each other. Close enough that we can start to talk quietly among ourselves. Hopefully quiet enough that the goons guarding us don't hear.

“So...what exactly is the plan here?” Sean whispers. “We need a way to get out of this cage, past the guards, out of whatever kind of compound we're in...and then a way to get home. And to get home we need to figure out where we are to begin with.”

“I can take care of the first part,” Michelle murmurs. “I have a hairpin, and Grace gave me a few lock-picking lessons a few years ago.”

Sean raises an eyebrow. “She did? Why?”

“I was stressing out over exams, and learning how to pick locks gave my brain a break, okay? Can we focus?”

“I get that much,” Sean protests, still whispering. “But why lock-picking and not...sudoku? Or knitting?”

“If I had learned knitting, I wouldn't know how to get us out of here, would I?”

“We'll need some kind of diversion to keep the guards from st—” I cut myself off as I register the sound of footsteps approaching. Heavy footfalls, and as they get closer, there is an accompanying reek of cigar smoke. Lundgren, with more armored goons behind him. He unlocks the door. For a moment, I'm tempted to shout, “Run!” and have us all rush out, but that wouldn't end up well for us, so I bite my tongue. But I'm regretting it a moment later when Lundgren drags me to my feet with a hand around my throat and my friends are pushed back against the cage walls by the others. I grip the meaty wrist under my chin, trying to get under the thick fingers crushing my windpipe. He brings his face in close. Close enough that the cherry-red tip of his cigar comes uncomfortably close to my skin.

“Time for you to come with me, Wolf,” he hisses, “We got a few things to discuss.”

Aleister

“...You're sure about this information?” Police Chief Agatha Greer asks, frowning at the printed-out pages I have placed on her desk.

“Absolutely. My sister is already en route to the American embassy in the Dominican Republic with our head of security.”

“That isn't necessary. We can forward this information to the embassy.”

“And I encourage you to do so. But it would be wise to encourage them to wait for my sister and Ms. Namazi's arrival to contact the Coast Guard.”

“...Why?”

“So that Estela and Zahra can accompany them, naturally.” I can see from the set of the police chief's mouth that she is unconvinced. “I realize you may have qualms about sending civilians into a potentially dangerous hostage situation, but those women have likely faced the very criminals who are likely keeping our friends captive right now, and they are more than capable. Besides that, no one is getting on that island without Zahra Namazi.”

“...You do realize, Mr. Rourke, that with this information, a warrant to search your family's island could be obtained with relative ease?”

“Of course. This is not defiance, Chief Greer. As I said, those are our friends we believe are being held on that island. We want them back out of harm's way. But our security system was designed to protect a relatively unguarded island from intrusion by anyone who might mean harm to the property we keep there, or to the island's delicate ecosystem. Tripping the system will set off...traps. Noxious stimuli. Sound waves. Non-lethal, but designed to incapacitate the intruder until someone arrives to turn them off. ...They would not distinguish between the kidnappers and the rescuers. And if the alarms are tripped, it is possible our friends would also be affected.”

“And the alarms can't be deactivated remotely?”

“They are not designed to be, no.”

She looks at me for a long moment. I wonder if she is thinking of asking me why not. Why our security systems would be designed so that the local Coast Guard would not even be able to set foot on the island to investigate an intrusion. I wonder if it has occurred to her to wonder what we are protecting. Instead she says, “...Then, it is highly unlikely that these security...blips...are a distraction.”

“Indeed. It is also highly unlikely that they were achieved by someone without intimate knowledge of Rourke International's systems.”

“...A disgruntled employee perhaps?”

“Given their targets, I do not believe so. There is a long list of targets I would expect a disgruntled employee to go after before these particular people. Myself. My sister. My wife, my son, my sister's girlfriend. My father-in-law. Or my mother-in-law. My sister's maternal uncle.” I deliberately leave Estela's mother off the list. As far as most of our employees know, both of our mothers are long buried. It would be difficult to explain to an outsider that my mother is an AI and hers was recently reincarnated. “Those who have gone missing are very dear friends. But there would be no reason for our average employee to assume that they are so much closer to us than our partners and blood-relatives.”

But clearly the police chief is not behind on the gossip. “...I was not considering that they were disgruntled employees of yours. Or at least...not that they had been hired under you. Everett Rourke Senior had a particular obsession with the young woman who went missing from California, didn't he?”

I nod slowly. “...Yes,” I admit. “He did. ...Are you suggesting that someone employed under my father might be the one orchestrating this? As some sort of...what, a tribute to my father?”

“You don't sound particularly surprised by the suggestion.”

I shrug. “The possibility occurred to me, too. But...it isn't as if I could immediately point to a suspect. Or a motive.”

“...If it comes to it, would you cooperate in allowing us to question your employees?”

“We are an international corporation, Chief. ...I imagine you are not interested in wasting time in this investigation, and would only be questioning employees that you have a solid reason to suspect.” I hesitate a moment, but I feel compelled to set my jaw and look her in the eye. “...If any current employee has had a hand in the disappearance of my friends, I want them out of our employ. If you can trace their disappearance back to someone in our company, I would gladly put the cuffs on them myself.”

“I doubt that will be required of you, Mr. Rourke. But I'll do my part to see that this whole situation has a happy ending.”

Jake

A backhand across my face makes my teeth rattle and leaves me smarting. I hold in a cry, gripping the arms of the chair I'm tied to, and keep my eyes screwed shut until my ears stop ringing.

“Thought we were gonna talk, Lundgren,” I growl when I trust myself to speak again. “So far, I ain't hearing anything outta your shit mouth.”

“Talking ain't much fun,” he replies, shrugging. “And I ain't got much to say.”

“Then you mind I do the talking?”

“You got something to say?”

I raise my head, feeling the contempt seeping from my eyes and my voice when I say, “I was wondering if there was word on my wife. Any idea when she's getting here?”

Lundgren leans over, bracing his hands on his thighs. “Let's say I know. Let's say I know exactly when she's coming. Why do you think I'd tell you?”

I try not to let my shoulders slump. “...Can't blame a guy for trying.”

“Who says I can't?” Another hard backhand gets my ears ringing again. I can't hold back a grunt, especially when the next blow comes before the last one's stopped smarting. And then there's a third, and a forth. When a weak yelp finally slips out, I get a moment's reprieve, and I get my tongue back under control.

“...Won't ask why you're doing this. Gotta say, it's funny you never try to defend what you did.”

“Yeah? You find that funny?”

I don't dare try looking at him. My eyes ain't focusing right, and I don't want to look at him anyway.

“They say every man's the hero in his own story. Even Rourke tries to pretend he's benevolent. Or at least that he deserves power because he's smarter than everyone else or more ambitious or whatever.” Now I do raise my head just a little. “But you...you don't pretend it was ever about anything other than stepping on anyone smaller than you. I guess that's kinda like thinking you deserve power if you can get your hands around it, but you ain't never tried to pretend that's a virtue.”

“So you admire honest dishonesty?”

I force my eyes to focus so I can glare at him properly. “Didn't say I admired it. Only thing worse than a bully is one who knows he's doing wrong but does it anyway.”

Lundgren crosses his arms, looking down at me with contempt. “I ain't never claimed to be a complicated man, Wolf. I ain't looking to convince you that you should've sided with me. I can tell ya till I'm blue in the face it would've been better for your health, but you probably realize that. Men like you and Darwin are too damn hung up on your principles to see sense when it's staring you in the face.” He reaches out to grab a fistful of my hair and drag my head back. I gasp as the sudden motion sends a sharp pain lancing through my neck. “...This, Wolf...it's just about getting what I want outta you. I just want to see you suffer.”

“I thought as much. But thanks for clearing that up.” He lets go of my hair and circles behind the chair. I can't turn my head enough to see where he's gone, but I hear the rattle of small metal objects behind me. In spite of myself, I feel my pulse quicken. When I speak, my breath catches a little. “Let me guess what you got there: thumbscrews, hot pokers, and pliers for teeth and toenails?”

Lundgren chuckles. “Loving the bravado, Wolf. Maybe you can help me decide where to start.” He circles around to face me again. He's got a police truncheon in his right hand now, and he taps it menacingly against his left palm. “Wanna start light, ya know? Build it up.”

“Sure, I get it. It's like sex, right? Don't wanna blow your load too quick or you're left frustrated.”

He hums noncommittally, trailing meaty fingertips over my neck and shoulders, pinching here or there or grasping my chin and turning my face toward him only to let go again a moment later. I feel like a dog in a kennel show. At first, I don't even realize what it was that made him pause at the same time as I startled in my chair. Then the scream registers, echoing from somewhere else in the compound; a protracted howl of agony that makes my blood run cold. I know that voice.

“...Mike...”

Lundgren steps back, smirking. “Your armor's cracking, Wolf.”

I look up sharply, tugging at my restraints. “What have you done? What have you done to him?!”

“Think I'd better go look in on that,” Lundgren remarks absently. “I'll be back when I feel like it.”

“Wait!” I scream desperately as he strides out the door. “Where is Mike?! What have you done to Mike?! Lundgren!”

The clanging of the metal door as it shuts securely behind him cuts goes through me like an explosion, and then there is an unbearable silence.

Zahra

I've been working for five years on strengthening security around the island to keep the Vaanti safe without the protection of the time bubble or the crystals. It doesn't take much to send an encrypted message to Seraxa, warning her that there will be outsiders poking around the island and that Elyys'tel needs to lock down. The data collected from the security breaches suggests that the kidnappers landed somewhere on the southern tip of the island, so not close to any major Vaanti settlements. But it only takes one sighting to put their whole damn race in danger. Unfortunately, getting the Coast Guard to cooperate with me and Estela is predictably frustrating.

“Lieutenant Torres,” Estela says, her voice low and icy as she struggles to keep her temper in check. “Zahra and I know that island. None of your team have ever set foot there.”

“That is not enough to justify bringing two civilians into a potentially hostile situation,” the Lieutenant replies. “Besides, La Huerta's tiny.”

“It's got an area of about forty square miles,” I retort. “And there are at least half a dozen places they could be holding our friends within a ten mile radius of the point of breach. Half a dozen abandoned compounds, volcano shelters, or labs nestled in a dense jungle.”

“It's been almost two days since our friends went missing,” Estela adds. “There's not going to be much time to waste. If you let us guide you, everything will go faster.”

“You could give us a map.”

“We don't have maps of the island!” I snap. “We've never needed them! And don't talk about us giving you directions, because neither of us trust you not to get lost. We'll stay outside while you storm the compounds, but we're not staying on this ship.”  

Torres looks at me like I'm a piece of gum stuck on the bottom of his shoe. Or a gnat buzzing in his ear.

“You're not going to help your friends by fighting me on this.”

“Actually, we are. Because you letting us help you is the only way our friends get helped.”

Torres sighs, rubbing his hands over his face. “...I am going to regret this.”

“No,” Estela says flatly. “You will not. Not if you're smart.”

“If I were smart, I wouldn't be letting a couple of civilians talk me into bringing them along on a rescue mission.”

“You would if you those civilians were your best chance of a successful mission.”

“Yeah, well, we'll see I guess,” Torres grumbles. “Forgive me if I'm not all that confident.”

“You're forgiven. You've never met us.”

Torres rolls his eyes and me and gets up to stalk up onto the main deck, leaving me and Estela in silence. Estela sighs, coming to sit beside me, gazing over my shoulder at the screen of the laptop balanced on my thighs.

“Any luck figuring out who sent that email?”

I shake my head. “Figuring out who sent it is a puzzle for another time. Right now, I'm more concerned with reading up on Project Galatea.”

“So what have you figured out?”

“Looks like Project Galatea was some kind of AI that Cassandra Chandler was working on. Or...Cassandra Sullivan at the time. And if I'm understanding what I'm reading correctly...the project data was stolen. And probably sold to Rourke.”

“Hnn,” Estela sneers. “And I expect he used it to create Iris. So he wasn't the entirely self-made man he claimed to be. Aleister will love this.”

“Yeah...I think he probably got a lot of Iris from Project Galatea. But Iris probably wasn't his first attempt. The message said that to find Cassandra's child, we have to consult her first baby. I think there may be a version of Galatea around somewhere. Probably somewhere on the island.”

“Let's hope it is. We don't really have time for a wild goose chase. Actually...let's just hope everyone we're missing is on the island. Then we don't have to worry about tracking down Galatea.”

“That would definitely be the best case scenario,” I agree. “Worst case scenario is that this actually is a wild goose chase. That one of Rourke's pets sent this along as a distraction. Hell, Project Galatea might even be fabricated.”

“Then for now, we focus on the island. We focus on finding our friends.”

Sean

“...I don't think we can wait any longer.”

Michelle looks at me. Her expression is grim and determined, but there's fear in her eyes. “Sean...we can't be rash if we want to survive this.”

“We can't just sit around indefinitely, either!” I whisper. “We can't be sure Lundgren intends to bring Jake back at all. At this point, we don't even know if Mike is alive!”

“And if we're both killed right here? Who's going to help Jake and Mike then?” She crosses her arms, sighing down at the floor. “...I don't...disagree with you, Sean. But we still need a plan.”

I draw her into my arms, bending slightly so that I can whisper in her ear. “Okay. You're right. So. There's two of us...and currently, there's two of them. So what do we do?”

“We have to take them out somehow. And arm ourselves so that we can deal with anyone else who comes around.”

I let my gaze slide over toward the guards and find my eyes drawn to their belts. Batman-style utility belts. ...Murder-y Batman. They've got sidearms, taser guns...and...several canisters with bright red spray buttons.

“...Hey, Michelle,” I murmur. “...What do you suppose is in those canisters?”

“Not sure. Pepper spray, maybe?”

“...Think we could use it?”

“I think we should try to use anything we have at our disposal. Including pepper spray.”

“Well. Then let's put our heads together.”

Jake

I don't know how long Lundgren spends beating on me. He probably wasn't kidding about starting light and working up. He spends most of the time he's in with me working around my head and face, but he does get me in the gut a few times, and at one point he kicks the chair over to have at anything he can reach with a belt like he's a drunk lowlife dad waling on his kid. ...Like he's goddamn Marcus Gayle... I can't help thinking it as I lie on a rough concrete floor with a chair still strapped to my back, gritting my teeth against the fiery sting of synthetic leather against my flesh. Weird what you think about when you're trying not to think about the pain. When it hurts just enough that you might still have some ability to distract yourself. That's not going to last. I know that. In a few days, I won't be able to think about anything but the pain. I'll be screaming. ...Like Mike...Where is Mike? Oh, god, where is Alodia? What are they doing to her? What are they going to do to our daughter?

...I shouldn't have left her. I knew I shouldn't have. I knew it before I got on the fucking plane that I should have stayed with her. If I had listened to my goddamn gut instead of rationalizing until I convinced myself everything would be fine . . .

I don't know what makes Lundgren leave off me when he does, but I don't question it. I don't say a fucking word. I keep my teeth clenched and try not to groan. I feel a whimper sticking in my throat, trying to claw its way up, but I swallow against it like it's a giant horse pill I'm choking on. I'll end up giving him the satisfaction if I'm here much longer. I know that. But I'm holding out against that inevitability as long as I can. He doesn't say anything. Just leaves the room and slams the door locked behind him, leaving me in a windowless room with a single, dim bulb fixed to the ceiling as my only source of light.

I let it out. I let out what I've been holding back. Not all of it, and not all at once, but I start to let the air out of that balloon in little moans and whimpers and quiet, shuddering sobs. Crying for myself, for my brother, for my wife, for Sean and Michelle and the fucked up direction their honeymoon has taken, for Diego...wherever he is. God, I hope he's with Alodia. Please, just wherever those two are, please let them be together...

My tears aren't dried yet, but somewhere in my brain, it's clicked that I'm secured with ropes, not chains. Braided, nylon ropes. I can work my way out of ropes. It won't be easy. I'm secured with my forearms pressed to the arms of the chair, palms down. I'll have to get my arms turned if I want my fingers to have a chance of reaching the knots. It's gonna take effort. It's gonna take time. It's damn sure gonna hurt. But it's all I can do right now.

It's for Alodia. Every effort I make here, it's all for her. I grit my teeth and curl my hands into fists. The muscles of my forearms constrict against their restraints. I hold it as long as I can stand before releasing and trying again. Gotta wear the rope down. Like water smoothing down a stone. Like filling a bucket drop by drop. Another fist. Another drop in the bucket.

Hang on, Alodia. I'm coming.

Estela

A small unit of Coast Guard sailors under Torres' command disembark with us on the island, once Zahra has disarmed the security system to let us through. I don't know what precisely their titles are, but apparently they have the authority to help our friends and take their kidnappers into custody, so I really don't care. We draw up on the beach in a lifeboat, and I find a place where the small vessel can be secured against the rising tide. There is still more than a hint of distaste in the way Torres looks at me and Zahra. I can't say I entirely blame him. I am not arrogant enough not to realize that he has a perfectly good reason to believe two civilians would be a liability on this rescue mission. And now we've gone and forced his hand. But to his credit, he isn't being petty about it.

“So how do you think we should go about this?” he asks without making it painfully obvious he is trying not to sigh.

“I suggest we start by letting Iris sweep for anything unusual,” Zahra replies.

“Iris?” Torres repeats, Zahra pulls the drone out of her backpack, holding it up to show him.

“AI drone. A project of Rourke Senior's, but she's been reprogrammed to work for us now. She's linked up to our security satellites, and has a few sweet sensors and tracers of her own built in. She might not get us exact facial matches or anything, but she can give us a clue where to start, and she'll let us know when we're getting warm.”

Zahra clicks the drone on and opens her hand to release Iris, who hovers in the air for a moment before her hologram flickers into view. The sailors raise eyebrows and exchange glances, clearly interested in this piece of tech and curious to see where this is going. With Imogen Rourke's consciousness in control of her program, Iris is more human now than when we first met her, but that also means she's human enough to know when she needs to downplay her humanity. She keeps her expression and movements particularly artificial as she blinks down at Zahra.

“Hello, Zahra,” she chirps. “How can I help?” Of course, she already knows what Zahra needs. We discussed everything at length on the flight to the Dominican Republic.

“Iris, I need an approximate visual scan of the island at present. Can you do that for me?”

“Enabling all scanners...all scanners enabled...opening to all frequencies...connecting to satellite  security system...connection successful. Converting all data to visual...conversion successful. Connecting to Zahra's phone...”

Zahra's phone chimes from her pocket. She pulls it out and grins triumphantly, turning the screen to show off the image. Torres leans in for a closer look, frowning skeptically at the image on the screen.

“Is that a satellite map? We have access to satellite maps.”

“Not like what Iris has access to. This isn't just satellite imagery.” She turns the phone back to look at the image herself as she taps and glides her fingertips over the screen. “It's all the data Iris can gather, converted into visual data that I can interpret, and it's all recent enough to be relevant. It even shows hot spots, like...” she trails off abruptly, frowning at the screen. I feel my heart flutter with anxiety.

“What is it? What did you find?”

“...I'm pretty sure it's a plane.” She looks up at Torres. “Definitely not an authorized flight. Jake McKenzie and Mike Darwin are the only pilots with clearance to land on the island, and they'd normally land on the northwest strip near where the resort used to be. But there is another strip a couple miles from here—and it's not far from one of the old bunkers.”

Torres frowns a moment. Then he nods. “Okay. I guess we know where to start looking. ...Lead the way, ladies.”

Jake

It's not long before the spots where the ropes make contact with my right arm start to burn. I grit my teeth and keep going. No surprise, it gets worse, progressing to a line of hornet stings that makes me suck in my breath every time I move. I'm starting to see blood on the ropes by the time I finally succeed in turning my arm over, and the pain is making my throat feel like it's slowly closing, but I can bend my fingers toward the knots at my wrists now, and that's enough of a start. I've been here for hours, at least. I'm thirsty enough to know that. God, there's probably a lot I'd do for a drink of water right now.

Every muscle in my body tenses as the sound of the door's locking mechanism unlatching reverberates through the room. My heart hammers against my ribcage, my blood singing in my ears, my fingers starting to sweat and slip in their frantic and futile attempt to get one of the knots undone before the door opens. For an instant, light floods over my face, stinging my eyes. But then Lundgren's shadow blocks it out and the door closes again, shutting us up in the shadows with the acrid smell of cigar smoke. He crouches down next to me, balancing on the balls of his wide feet as he takes the cigar from between his teeth and breathes the smoke into my face. He hooks a meaty forefinger under the braided band of nylon around my forearm.

“Been busy, Wolf?” he sneers. He taps his cigar and a smoldering ash falls onto my cheek. I flinch. I can't help it. “Yeah, figured you would try something like this. You're a determined idiot that way.”

He clamps his cigar between his teeth again and pulls a switchblade out of his boot. There's a small click as he flicks it open, the light from the single bulb swinging slightly above my head winking off the blade's edge. He rests the blade on my cheek.

“You could use a shave.”

“My wife likes the fuzzy look,” I retort. I feel the blade's point trail down my neck, over my shoulder and down my arm. It doesn't really register that he's cut through the bonds around my forearm until he's slicing through the ones around my wrist. My first instinct is to go for the ropes on the other arm and tug them off. But his first move is to grab my raw, bleeding wrist and squeeze. I hear myself make a strangled noise as the pain wedges my breath in my throat and makes my eyes water. I can feel him staring at me as he holds on for a few seconds, but I can't look him in the eye. He lets me go, and in the next moment, he's dragged the chair upright again with me still in it. The violent, disorienting motion turns my stomach and sets my head whipping back and forth on my neck. I've hardly stilled before Lundgren grabs my hair and drags my head back. He leans close, breathing cigar smoke into my face.

“I'm ready to hurt ya a little more, Wolf. But I'm gonna be sporting this time. Give ya a fighting chance.”

I feel his knife wedging under the nylon cords on my left arm and cutting me loose. He's got me by the throat before I can fully register that both my hands are free. They fly to his wrists now, fighting to keep the heel of his hand off my windpipe as he drags me bodily upright.  

“You're weak, Wolf. Always were. Scrawny, shaggy dog. You got soft on the run. Civilian life has made you softer. Maybe you should thank me for the fact that I'm gonna kill you before your brat kid can make you saggy and turn your hair gray.”

“F-fuck you...”

The room blurs abruptly behind him. Pain flares in my neck, and then in my shoulder and the side of my head when it connects with the hard concrete wall. I can't hold back a cry. Lundgren laughs.

“That's right! Yelp, Wolf! Yelp for...”

I look up as he trails off. He's scowling, but not at me. His gaze has turned toward the door. When the ringing in my ears settles, I realize what's got his attention. Just beyond the door, there's the sound of shouting and running footsteps. His fingers around my throat loosen just slightly. I wonder for an instant if there's any chance of me getting a good kick to his balls in, but before I can take aim, the door slams against the room's interior wall. I feel a grin split my face.

Sean and Michelle, both armed with rifles, stand in the doorway, their weapons aimed at Lundgren.

“Drop. Him.”

[darkwoods-darkdreams]

Imagine you’re a thief (I)

You rarely strayed into the wilderness. Towns were always better for you to make a living. Forests and coasts were only good when you were hiding from guards or people you had stolen from. But something else had lured you into the wilds. A nearby town was full of rumours that there was an elven ruin somewhere nearby. The accounts of other villagers narrowed your search to the north. You guessed that the ruin had been carved into the cliff, meaning that you had to find a safe way down. You managed to find an easier path, a hill instead of a vertical drop.

Sure enough, when you reached the bottom, there was a set of stone doors decorated in what you recognized as elven patterns. Torches were on either side, but it looked like they hadn’t been lit in days. There was no heat. No embers. Whoever occupied the ruin had been gone for a long time. All the better for you. If someone was inside, you would have a much harder time stealing something and leaving without being noticed. Besides, taking hostages was something that you tried to avoid.

The doors opened without problem. You hesitated, wondering if there was some sort of magic trap waiting. But the familiar static of magic against your skin never came. It was safe. For now, at least. You descended the stairs, the light from outside fading into darkness. You would have tried lighting one of the torches on the wall, but you worried that the light would attract any ships passing by.

You reached the bottom of the stairs, the room almost too dark to see anything inches away. You paused, listening for noise or anything that would reveal someone else’s presence. But there was nothing. You moved to the side of the room to a desk, fumbling for a lighting a candle. The desk was covered in various bottles and tubes filled with different colours of liquid. Elven artifacts, especially books and tools, always sold for a high price. If you slipped out with a few things, you wouldn’t be burdened and, if the elf ever returned, they would likely not notice that anything had been taken.

You grabbed a phylactery and one of the smaller bottles, stashing both in your bag.

“You are not supposed to be here,” A voice spoke behind you.

You tensed, immediately grabbing the candle and turning around. There was someone standing in the middle of the room. No, not someone. Something. Ribbons were draped over darkness, glowing a faint green. You hadn’t seen it when you had first entered the room. How could you have missed it?

“You have also taken something that is not yours,” The thing stepped closer. Stone and dirt. You had heard of such a thing before. It was enchanted in order to serve as a guardian. The elf was gone, but the ruin was hardly abandoned. One hit from such a creature would either kill you or knock you unconscious. You couldn’t afford to let it get close.

You ran, finding the nearest door and opening it. You didn’t bother trying to shut it. You just kept running. But the heavy footsteps faded. The guardian couldn’t fit through the doorway. It was only meant to deter thieves and intruders at the entrance. But with no other way out, you were stuck until it was distracted. Perhaps it would drift into dormancy. However, if it stopped at the door, you would still be trapped. Your only chance would be when the elf returned. If they ever returned. Nonhumans were being killed left and right in certain cities. Elven mages usually had to travel in order to sell their wares.

You needed to find a place to hide. You passed by a workroom and a library before you reached the end of the hall. Opening the last door revealed a bedroom. There was a wardrobe and space beneath the bed. You could even stand behind the door and slip out when the elf wasn’t looking.

You chose the cabinet. You pushed aside various robes and pressed your back against the wood frame. It felt like hours passed. The stone guard never moved. It waited by the doorway, ruining your chances of escape. You were beginning to grow nervous. What if the elf never returned? Would you really be stuck in the ruin until you either risked your life or died trying to leave?

Finally, something changed. You froze, listening as the guardian shifted. When it stopped, you heard a new sound. It was lighter, quieter. You didn’t have time to place it before someone spoke.

“Master,” It was the stone guard, “Welcome. I should warn you that there is an intruder in your home. They fled to the hall before I could deal with them.”

“Ah,” Another voice replied. It didn’t carry the same deep vibration. If anything, it sounded human. But you knew better than to think that, “And who is this intruder?”

“A human woman. Considering she took some items from your desk, I would gather that she is a thief.”

You cursed under your breath. You had hoped that the guardian would stay dormant long enough for you to sneak out before the elf had any clue you were even there. You would have to find a better opportunity.

“A human woman?” There was a snicker, “How strange. I wonder where she’s hiding. Stay by the stairs. I’ll go look for her.”

The footsteps trailed into the hallway, then diverted. He was checking the workroom. A few more steps, then a pause. He was in the library. You pulled out the bottle you had stolen. It wasn’t much, but if it managed to throw him off, you might be able to run past him. Evading the stone guard would be another feat entirely, but at least you would have something to work with.

He was in the room now. You could hear him slowly step through the doorway. You tensed, but tried to keep still. The wardrobe could easily creak and give away your position. Still, there were finite places you could be hiding. You regretted not choosing to stand behind the door.

“You can come out now,” The elf spoke, “It’s best that you do so now, though I don’t mind searching for you.”

Your grip tightened on the glass. There was an amused lilt to his voice. He clearly wasn’t intimidated by you being in his home. And why would he, when he was a mage? You had no power in comparison. You held your breath, waiting for him to open the cabinet.

“…No? Do you really want to continue this game? Well, I hoped you picked a good hiding place.”

You put a hand over your mouth to keep your slow, deep breaths from being heard. He was moving closer to the wardrobe. Just as the doors opened, you threw the bottle. It shattered, red smoke billowing from the glass. It quickly filled the wardrobe you were standing in before you had the chance to hold your breath. You coughed, eyes watering as you stumbled, getting tangled in the robes. The smoke turned blue, then faded. You finally freed yourself from the furs and fabrics, stepping out of the cabinet.

However, you were met with the sight of the elf standing in front of you. He wore ornate robes similar to the ones you had been tangled in. He brushed off some broken glass from his chest. The front of his clothes had a dark spot. The potion you had thrown had hit him in the chest, soaking the material. He crossed his arms, obviously annoyed with you using one of his own creations against him. His hair was longer than you had seen on most men, parts of it braided. He was taller than you were, and beneath his robes he looked to be quite lean. He was just like you imagined an elf to be. He even had pointed ears.

But your vision shifted. Dizziness overcame you. You staggered, then fell to your hands and knees. The potion’s fumes had taken hold. You tried to clear your head of the fog, but it was only worsening with each second.

“So, you really did come here to steal,” The elf walked past you, removing his cloak and hanging it on a hook fastened to the side of the wardrobe, “To tell the truth, I’m not surprised, though you are the first to come here. Most don’t venture out into the wilderness unless they need something.”

What had you thrown? Your heart was racing, its rhythm thick in your ears. You straightened a bit, trying to get up, but your legs refused to cooperate. Your breathing was ragged as you removed the phylactery from your bag and set it down on the ground, “I-I…” You shifted, growing feverish, “I didn’t know that anyone still lived here. It looked abandoned. I wouldn’t have taken anything if it seemed like someone was still living here.”

“From what I’ve heard in the nearest village, that isn’t entirely true,” He replied, standing in front of you once more. He was right. You stole from practically anyone if you believed you could get away with it. You had hoped that your lie would make him sympathetic.

You managed to get to your feet, albeit shakily. You felt strange, your knees quivering when you tried pressing your legs together. The elf was still between you and the door. If the potion didn’t wear off soon, you would stand no chance in escaping. You swallowed thickly, “Please, I’m sorry, I-“ Your words caught in your throat when he stepped closer to you. He definitely wasn’t afraid of you.

“Do you know what you threw at me, little thief?” His hand were clasped behind his back. He tilted his head to one side, amused.

You nodded. You didn’t need him to tell you. It was an aphrodisiac. One that worked on humans but not elves, it seemed, judging by his lacking of any sign of arousal.

“Since you’ve apologized and returned everything that you stole, I’m willing to offer you a choice. The first option is that you leave now and never come back. Of course, this is rather dangerous, given your current condition. Anyone that finds you is likely to use it to their advantage, man or beast. Now, as for your second choice,” He stepped closer to you, inches away from your body. You stepped away, only for your back to hit the wardrobe’s doors. You could see that he wasn’t as unaffected as you had thought. His pupils were dilated and his gaze drifted away from your eyes, wandering across your mouth and chest. But his eyes flickered back to meet yours, a hand moving to your side, “I can help you with your little predicament until the potions wears off. Then you’ll be free to go.”

It was actually quite generous of him. Granted, solving your problem would also solve his. You wouldn’t be able to leave in your condition. If the villagers you stole from found you, then you would likely become a captive and forced to stay there for the rest of your life as their toy. You couldn’t stomach that option, so you chose the other.

You pulled him closer, kissing the elf fervently. He responded immediately, his grip tightening on your waist. Every touch felt like sparks dancing across your body, setting your soul on fire. He never rushed anything. A caress was slow and gentle. A kiss was passionate, but never forceful. Each time he withdrew, his mouth lingered ever so close to yours before drifting to your neck. He pulled at the ribbon binding your dress at an agonizing pace. It was if he was savoring every inch of your skin that was revealed to him, worshipping your body with his own. You wanted nothing more than to cut to the chase, but he was determined to prolong the act. When you tried to touch him in more intimate places, he grabbed your hand and guided it back to his chest. You could feel the smirk as he kissed you, knowing that you were growing impatient.

You removed his robes, cursing under your breath each time a layer of fabric fell to the floor with yet another still covering his body. He laughed, helping you with some of the clasps and ties until he was finally naked before you. Despite his lack of clothing, he never shied away. He stood with the sort of regality and poise you expected from a king, and yet he was but a mage. It nearly caused you to hesitate, but the elf’s lithe fingers threaded through your hair, tilting your head up so he could ensnare you in another kiss. Your reluctance faded, your body aching for him.

You nudged him toward the bed. He lied back without complaint, watching you hungrily as you climbed onto the bed. You straddled him, ghosting your hands over his chest. You could feel him between your legs, the slightest movement brushing him against your entrance. You shivered, both from the cold air against your warm skin and the feeling of being so close to satisfaction.

The elf sat up, his fingertips tracing up your back. Once he reached your shoulders, one hand moved to your breast, then down your stomach. When his palm settled against your hip, he quickly moved. You thought that he was trying to enter you despite lying beneath you to earn a cry of approval, only for your balance to shift. You ended up on your back, your hands on either side of your head and your legs around his waist.

He grinned, “Did you think that you were in charge, little thief? You’ll have it later, but you’re at my mercy now,” He leaned down to kiss you again, his warm touch wandering to your thigh, pulling your legs tighter around him. His hand moved between your legs, positioning himself at your entrance. You squirmed, panting heavily as he went deeper, filling you. You heard humans boasting that elves were miserable lovers in comparison to them, but the elf before you was the opposite. When he buried himself within you completely, your back arced off of the bed. He filled you so well. You had slept with men before, but they paled in comparison. You weren’t sure if it was because of the potion or simply his body and talent, but you knew that you wouldn’t last long beneath him.

His thrusts were slow but rough. He held you close as his hips rolled into yours, kissing your neck. You gripped his shoulders, trying to anchor yourself as you were brought closer and closer to the edge. The elf withdrew, taking a moment to observe you in the midst of pleasure. You wondered if the potion was wearing off on him and he was beginning to regret having sex with a human.

But he grabbed your thighs and gently pushed them back. You shut your eyes, turning your head to the side as he moved deeper. You couldn’t help but moan in approval, squirming beneath him.

“Are you pleased?” He asked. You nodded, but he wasn’t satisfied, “Speak up, Cerbin.”

“Yes,” You gasped, looking up at him, “Please, I’m-“

“I’m aware,” His voice still held that amused tone. He was enjoying himself, both from giving and receiving pleasure.

You looked away, nails digging into his skin as you felt your body tense. You were so close. You felt light-headed, but you couldn’t tell if it was from the potion or his actions. Perhaps it was a combination of both. You cried out, legs quivering in his grasp. Your walls twitched around him, which only made you moan louder.

The elf hissed. He hadn’t expected your orgasm to drive him to the edge. He had wanted to pleasure you until you begged, to hear your voice desperate and wanting for him. The potion had clouded his mind and set a fire beneath his skin. He couldn’t hold himself back or separate himself from you. Your soft skin and sweet voice made him only bury himself as deeply as he could, making small thrusts as he panted, coming down from the heights of pleasure.

You stiffened when you felt heat, the warmth pooling inside of you. You felt a strange pressure in your womb, but it only made you want more. The potion was still in your system. Just one bout wasn’t enough. Just as the elf relaxed, you pushed him to one side. When he fell back against the bed, you straddled him, inhaling sharply as he entered you again. Your braced yourself against his chest, feeling the lean muscles beneath your fingertips. His hands moved up your arms, then down your body. His gaze followed his touch, almost mesmerized as he traced patterns. He sat up, an arm around your waist as he ensnared you in another kiss.

When you awoke, you knew that something was wrong. Something was nudging you, but it wasn’t a sensation you were familiar with. You sat up groggily, feeling like you had been drinking too much. But the elf’s bedroom made you remember the events of the night before. He wasn’t in the room, though you could hear the faint sound of clinking glass. He was probably working on something.

His whereabouts, however, were the least of your concerns. The persistent movement that had woken you up was still going. You reached down out of instinct, rubbing your hand over your stomach to stop the prodding. But your sleepiness immediately vanished when you realized that your body didn’t feel quite right. Your stomach had swollen outward, firm beneath your hand. You looked down, eyes widening in horror. You were pregnant, though you couldn’t tell how far along you were. It was far too quick for any pregnancy you had seen. You were visibly showing within hours. You couldn’t recall the number of times he had poured his seed into you.

You looked to the door, thankful that it was shut. You didn’t know if the elf had seen your condition. It was probably a side effect of the potion. Either way, you had to leave. If one night of passion caused by a potion resulted in you being over halfway to birth, then you didn’t want to spend any more time in such a place. You had to find another town with new people to steal from.

But you knew one thing for certain; you never wanted to be anywhere near magic again.

[lady-divine-writes]

The Big Damn Kiss & Character in Peril. :)

Hello, love! I’ve missed you so much

Okay, so the instructions said to send a ship, but I’m going to assume you want Klaine. If not, feel free to send me another ask. 

The thing I love about these two tropes together is that with Klaine especially it would have to be something over-the-top and positively ridiculous. Like I’ll say it’s Blaine in trouble - something to do with Cooper borrowing money from the wrong people, and he calls on his little brother to come rescue him. Except Blaine knows nothing about criminals or espionage. There will be that tension when he has to leave Kurt behind (because he can’t tell him what’s going on - he doesn’t want his fiance hurt) and maybe they even break up, but temporarily. For the greater good. So Romancing the Stone style Blaine has to travel to some far off country that he has no business being in, like Cuba; misses his connection with the bad guys; takes a left when he should have taken a right; maybe even ends up in the clutches of another pack of bad guys mistaking him for their cash cow, which puts him in the awkward situation of having to spill his guts to try and make them believe him - which happens with the help of the obligatory truth serum. But he ends up telling them EVERYTHING - that he actually resents Cooper, that maybe it wouldn’t be an altogether bad thing to let him stay in the custody of hardened criminals for a few days ... or months. So what if he comes home minus two fingers and an ear? At least, for the first time in his damned life, he’d be held accountable for his actions! And then he goes off on a tangent talking about Kurt, and how wonderful Kurt is, and wishing he hadn’t screwed things up with Kurt, and these bad guys start getting the idea that they can pawn off Blaine on Kurt to recoup some of what they lost with this frickin’ snafu. So they get Kurt’s deets from Blaine’s cell phone and tell him that they have his (ex for the moment) fiance, and Kurt doesn’t believe them. He thinks it’s Blaine trying to get back into his good graces after what he pulled breaking up with him. The kidnappers even send him a pic, but the way it’s staged, Kurt thinks it’s from a party at a bar or something and hangs up, refusing to answer any more calls from Blaine’s phone after that. But it’s bothering Kurt and when he tries to call Blaine back hours later, Blaine’s battery has died, so Kurt decides to go down to wherever and find him. Isabelle refuses to let him go alone so she tags along. In the meantime, Cooper’s kidnappers have gotten in touch with Blaine’s kidnappers (before the battery dump) and now they’re playing a game of dueling hostages while Blaine, having had a bad reaction to the truth serum, is straight up weeping in the corner and moaning, “Kurt! I love you, Kurt! Oh why did I leave you, Kurt!?” interspersed with random verses of a Katy Perry/Adam Levigne mashup that makes no sense but sends him into literal fits of sobbing every time he reaches the refrain. Meanwhile, Kurt and Isabelle are lost in the jungle when we find out that through the House of (something vaguely ethnic) she has random cartell connections, and they offer their assistance, their leader constantly referencing (with an inconsistent and inexplicable English accent) some spot of trouble Isabelle helped them out of decades back. (We eventually find out that cartell leader lady and Isabelle were lovers, but that’s another story). At some point, we stumble into the dramatic climax where Blaine’s kidnappers and Cooper’s kidnappers meet up to trade off, and Kurt and the cartell find out and show up. Everything goes off without a hitch, which is to say it turns into a complete and total disaster. There’s a huge gun battle where everyone shoots as well as your average storm trooper and Kurt ends up dispatching three baddies with an iron pipe he uses as a sword. Blaine, now officially sober, tries desperately to tell Kurt about everything and apologize, and Kurt kisses him to shut him up. That’s not the big kiss, it’s just a kiss. Anywho, adrenaline is running high, and the good guys all end up back together, except the bad guys still have Cooper and what the hell do we do about that? No really. What do we do, because I’m stuck. Oh yeah, Blaine distracts everyone with a song and a plucky dance number (because it’s about time, right?) and Isabelle and her lover are about to nab Cooper, when someone gets an eyeline on Kurt and is about to shoot him thru the head. The only person who sees is Blaine who leaps into the fray, blocking the bullet with his shoulder, and going down for the count. And then, out of nowhere, the army shows up and rounds up both sets of kidnappers on un-Cooper related charges. Cooper, Blaine, and Kurt are swept away into choppers and airlifted back to the states. There’s a surgery montage, “Oh, my God, is he going to make it?” “Yes, but he’ll have to play guitar other handed from now on.” “Noooo!” But all is well with the AnderBros and Kurt. Kurt and Blaine get married in Blaine’s hospital room by the hospital chaplain (who’s Baptist, so it’s all good), Cooper makes amends to his disfigured brother ... somehow (he’s Cooper, so it’ll be mildly backhanded anyway) and as the credits roll, we see Isabelle and cartell leader lady have escaped and are hiding out in the Balkins, sunbathing naked on the beach. Cartell lady hands Isabelle a glass of champagne, Isabelle leans in and takes it, and then Big Damn Kiss! The end XD

[toast-tit]

Piano Man

Chapter Seven

mob!Tom x reader

Warnings: language, violence (like more than the usual)

A/N: Message me if you want to be on the tag list.

Summary: The Ecclesiastes Pub catered to a plethora of people. Prostitutes, college students, successful businessmen and London’s most wanted. Bartenders and waitresses learned to tune out conversations from their customers quickly if they wanted to keep their head. However, people will still come looking for trouble, even if that trouble revolves around Tom Holland, the most feared mob boss around

~ ~ ~

A blinding light shone down on my face and my eyes opened, squinting through the brightness to see the shadow staring at me. There was a burning sensation on my neck and I struggled move my hands to feel it, only to realize I had been tied up. “Wha...why am I here?” My voice was hoarse, breaking with every word I said.

“My employer told me to take my time with you,” the shadow said and I noticed he was wrapping something around his knuckle. “You must’ve done a number on him, miss,” He chuckled darkly. “Your employer?” I questioned, hoping to get a name. No doubt it was the younger man from the night at the bar. I had practically snitched to Tom and gotten his accomplice killed.

The Piano Man’s voice was something of a ghost. It was haunting me since I couldn’t recognize it and I wanted to scream. I felt stupid not being able to recognize something so easily memorable, but my mind was coming up empty.

“Turn the light off, Rigsby,” a different, unfamiliar voice said to the Piano Man. In my peripheral vision, a silhouette of another man leaned against the wall. “You sure?” Rigsby asked and the man nodded. Seconds later, the light went off and another one turned on revealing the face of the Piano Man, or in other words, revealing Cooper’s face.

I was completely dumbfounded. My words were escaping me as the man who was to kill was one of my closest friends, the man I told all of my secrets to. Cooper, or the Piano Man grinned and waved at me, “Long time no see, Y/N. How’ve you been?”

“Could be better,” I said through gritted teeth. Cooper looked down at the floor and smiled before pulling out a kitchen knife. I eyed the blade with a heavying amount of anxiety, not wanting it to come any closer to me. “See, I really wish I didn’t have to do this to you of all people, but my client payed a hefty bill. What the fuck did you do?” He asked.

He inched closer and so did the knife. Soon enough the tip of the blade was touching my cheek. It was so cold and threatening, like it had its own personality. “Except I know what you did,” Cooper cooed, dragging the knife lazily around my face, “You told me every single detail of how you snitched Mr. Barton out to your fuck buddy Tom.”

I took my eyes off of Cooper and stared at the man behind him. It was indeed the young man from the night at the pub, with a bandage around his left eye. He was bigger than I imagined and a lot scarier now than then. “I thought you loved the Holland mafia,” I spat at Cooper. Strike one. Cooper pulled the knife away and socked me in the face. It stung like a bitch and I knew for sure my nose was broken now. Tears were running down my eyes uncontrollably, blurring my vision.

“My father loved them. Not me, Y/N,” He walked in circles around me. Cooper walked out of my eyesight and my heart beat faster knowing that I couldn’t see whatever he was about to do next. “But my father never really did love me,” he said, “It was always the Holland gang, bitching and moaning about how James had never come to visit anymore. He became so fucking obsessed with them he missed almost most of my adult life!” Cooper stopped in front of me and glared, “And then you came along.”

“Are you fucking serious, Cooper? You became a hit man because you weren’t getting enough attention at home?” My voice wavered, but I kept my words clear. Smack. He slapped my face and some of the blood that trickled from my nose went into my mouth. I spit out the blood and hair at his face. Cooper didn’t react, he simply wiped it off and continued. “Honey, I was killing people before you ever did,” he grinned wickedly and my stomach dropped.

He noticed my discomfort and laughed, “What? You thought I wouldn’t know? Y/N Y/L/N, a sweet and adorable lass with a penchant for vigilance. You’re as bad as me, mate.” “That’s a fucking lie,” I said. He should’ve killed me by now, why was he biding his time?

Suddenly the knife in his hand went straight into my leg and I cried out in agony. Cooper leaned in real close and snarled, “I hope he finds you, Y/N. I hope he finds this place and sees your lifeless body on display for him, just like his brother.” He took the knife out and blood start spilling from the wound. This was it, I wasn’t going to die from a piano string, I was going to bleed out. Y/N Y/L/N, the next Julius Caesar.

The young man now walked up to me and yanked my hair, pulling my head back. “You should’ve stayed quiet, bitch. You’d still have your house, a job, and even that ugly ass fish,” he said. I swallowed my words and just stared at him, hot tears running down my eyes as pain consumed every fiber of my being. I felt myself becoming weaker as the blood kept coming out; I was becoming more submissive.

The young man’s hand was around my throat in no time. It hurt like a bitch, grabbing where the piano string had sliced. I could barely breathe, considering he was crushing my throat. I was looking around the room hurriedly, starting to feel very panicky. This was my reality. I was actually getting tortured, holy fuck.

My eyes were rolling to the back of my head and I felt myself losing consciousness when he let go. I practically screamed for the air to come back to lungs, wheezing and choking on nothing. My neck was definitely bruised and it was now a struggle to inhale. “Hate to break it to you,” my voice was broken and it was hard to spit them out, “But I think I like it better when Tom chokes me.”

Cooper chuckled, “After all this, you still want to crack jokes?” The younger man backed up and Cooper walked closer, the piano string wrapped around his knuckles. I eyed it and I began to feel smothered. My breathing quickened and my eyes watered. Shaking my head, I scooted away the best I could, watching Cooper laugh at me sinisterly. One of the back legs of the chair got caught and I fell over, hitting the back of my head on the concrete floor.

Cooper kicked my chair back up and I met his eyes. There was a glimmer of evil in them and I knew that it wasn’t Tom that was the epitome of the Devil, it was Elias Rigsby, the man who was once my friend. Oh betrayal, you bitter god, how is something so horrible so complete?

Cooper wrapped the string around my neck, the metal cord slicing into my throat once again. I cried out, but it was smothered by my lack of oxygen. Shapes started to float around the room and I stared at the young man who sentenced me to a death like this. Even as my eyes began to close, I didn’t take them off him.

And I especially didn’t take my eyes off the fact that Harrison Osterfield showed up out of fucking nowhere and shot him in the back of the head. Harrison kicked the lifeless body once and shot him three more times, despite being obviously dead.

Cooper’s grip had loosened but not completely. I became a hostage of sorts . Harrison’s gun was fixated on Cooper who was fixated on my throat. “Let go of the string, Rigsby,” Harrison said, inching closer. As he did so, the string cut closer and I was losing blood by the second. My head began to bob back and forth, and I didn’t even have the strength to lift my pinky finger.

The piano string was replaced with the knife and Cooper held it to my throat. “I let go, Osterfield. Now bring in the big man, I want to speak to him,” Cooper said. “No can do, Rigsby. Holland doesn’t speak to little bitches like you,” Harrison replied and the blade began to break skin.

“Me? The little bitch?” Cooper mocked offense, “I expected better, Osterfield. I expected an almost James Bond look alike and what do I get? A slinky little man who thinks calling someone a bitch is innovative. You’re nothing to me, bring Tom fucking Holland out or she’s dead.”

Harrison eyed me over before saying, “She’s dead anyway, Rigsby. Drop her, then we’ll talk.” My heart shattered. He was right, however. I probably had only a few more minutes of consciousness left before the dark would consume me. Cooper was only bargaining with a corpse with minutes to live, it was useless.

However, Cooper cooperated and dropped me. That was the last straw on my body. I closed my eyes and let the darkness sink in, filling my aching soul with ease. My hearing was muddy and the last things I had heard were shuffling, arguing, and a gunshot.

CHAPTER EIGHT

TAG LIST:

@financialinstability @magical-fairy-princess-stuff @nobodyslord @spider-stud @wywholland

[ilovehighhats]

Reticulum, ch. 01

I’ve been sitting on this way too long...

John Brown wasn’t always John Brown.

For instance, he was born Ricardo Sanchez. Not too daunting a name. So, when he used to be a CIA operative he worked under several aliases: Tim Perkins, Paul Schwartz, Karim Sayif.

He considered himself a patriot. That’s why after Joker’s attacks on Gotham he felt the need to do more. Being one of the dozens of unimportant agents, stationed in an unimportant country, tracking as it ultimately turned out insignificant people… That wasn’t enough. He wanted to be someone who could do things really ensuring the safety of his compatriots - both domestic and abroad.

This is how he ended in DHS. The Department of Homeland Security, still shiny and new and building up its ranks. Brown fit right in, with other idealistic hotheads and solemn gruff men.

Bane’s siege of Gotham was the event that shook him to his core again. All those unimportant people he used to trace, suddenly were way more threatening than he could ever imagine. Led by one of the goons who, back in his CIA days, seemed trivial and inferior. Who names himself Bane? Is every third-country warlord or a mercenary worth the hassle of a laborious operation prepared to infiltrate his organisation? When there are coups, civil wars, genocides and other atrocities, all around?

James used to think of those people as lesser men. He read an account once, of a woman kidnapped, abused, tortured until she didn’t even resent her abductor and it only solidified this conclusion. Animals. There were exceptions, there were reasons and explanations, but ultimately he didn’t care. Not unless they were big names with prospects of big promotion attached to their file.

Bane was one of those unimportant meagre mercenaries to him.

That is, until League of shadows, under his command,  invaded his country.

He found all the faults and flaws of his understanding of the importance of marked targets. He learned how dangerous a mass of anonymous savages could be when led by a madman. The worst part was, he encountered Bane before and thought him ridiculous and inconsequential.

He was there for his colleagues whining over a witness who apparently suffered a bad case of Stockholm Syndrome. But neither them, nor their superiors felt the need to waste their time and resources on some hired gun working in forgotten parts of the world. After all, there were coups, civil wars, genocides and other atrocities to be taken care of...   

But then the forgotten came to their home and mangled its shiny city. Gotham was in ruins. Saved in the last minute by a vigilante, no less. The animals who Brown hunted down held the entire nation hostage and the government danced to their tune, scorned and shamed by the world. Their president, a figure of contempt between the leaders, thrust down from his pedestal of the leader of a free world.

Some leader, with a foreign terrorist cell right in the middle of his lands, occupying a city, gambling with millions of lives. For months. To all those atrocities that were happening beyond blown up bridges, the country sends only one group of operatives. And they were unsuccessful, their lifeless bodies hanging for all to see, displayed as yet another mockery, right in their face.

Batman’s rescue of Gotham was a fluke. Brown promised to himself he would never let a criminal seem too unimportant to catch.

And he’d start his penance with making sure his biggest mistake was really dead and buried.

oOo

There was no body.

Brown read through all of the reports on Bane and his activities during the siege. The last day he has seen people reported him fighting the police and Batman, an old-fashioned brawl on the steps of City Hall. Stupid. Bane was not a stupid animal, he was cunning, so why did he go along with that pitiful last stand of Gotham's finest? Why did he lose control of his city? Where did he go?

There weren’t many leads in his investigation, most of them have been thoroughly followed by his predecessors who took Bane more seriously. Like Bill. Until recently no one knew that Bane was the one responsible for Bill Wilson's death, that he orchestrated the crash of the plane in Uzbekistan, he faked Pavel’s death. The mercenary must have known of Wilson's obsession with him, and he used it to his advantage, killing two birds with one stone. Now, Brown was left with boxes of information that was carefully and systematically checked.

There was one nugget of possibility left, though.

The scribe, the one who was abducted by Bane and then left in a hospital in Armenian countryside. A very unusual thing to do for any kidnapper, and especially for someone as meticulous and organised as Bane. Brown read her files over and over again, and he saw all the blunders his fellow agents did. How they let her lie blatantly to their faces. How they misplaced tapes and left him only with copies of transcripts, old and faded. How they left big unanswered holes in her testimony. How no one followed up on the facts, she did provide.

He used up his vacation days to visit the hospital and the doctor who treated her. He found the monastery.

No leads were left there.

The doctor wasn’t eager to cooperate, and Brown did not have any means of making him talk. The monastery was inhabited by monks, and they didn’t let him walk around and check the rooms he read about.

This was a wild goose chase. The only foothold he had was the scribe. So he went to talk with the woman herself.

Norway was beautiful. He fell in love with deep sky over his head, the rolling clouds and tempestuous see in harmony even though they were ever changing. It was damn expensive though, and he wondered how a scribe could afford a stated of the art house out in the country, in what looked like a very prosperous place. Granted, the cottage wasn’t very big, but it was very obviously new and packed with all amenities, and to top it off designed by someone minimalistic and practical.

In other words, it must have cost a fortune, and not a small one.

He parked his car way down and had a nice stroll first on the tarmac road, and then up some steps. Broad wooden planks were first, then the path wound down to flat stones, and the entryway was hidden between a wall of natural rock and the glass panel of the house itself. Hidden from view, secluded and cosy.

He knocked and heard a faint woman's voice reply,

“Come in!”

The door opened easily, and he tentatively peeked inside.

“Mrs Wolf?”

There was a murmur of fabric somewhere to his left, and he stepped in to get a better look. His host was in bed, weirdly raised way above the level of the house, clearly waiting for someone else than him.

Awkward.

She had a coughing fit which let Brown look around the house undisturbed. It looked like she was alone.

“Who are you?” She wheezed out eventually. “I was actually waiting for a friend to pick me up, I don't have much time before my visit to the doctors.”

“I see. My name is Brown. I'm with Homeland Security.“ He tried to be as pleasant as possible. This was his only lead.

The woman scoffed.

“Homeland,“ she practically spat. “Wouldn’t it be easier to understand if you said you’re with US Government?”

“Perhaps,” he said to placate her. He read the reports by other agencies and knew that she could be openly hostile. “I was wondering if we could have a talk. When you get better, of course.”

“Concerning what?”

“Bane.”

He observed as her face solidified into a stagnant mask. Was this trauma of the abduction, or was she hiding something else?

“Why would you want to talk with me about a dead man?”

“A missing man,” he corrected.

“Why would you want to talk with me about a missing man then?”

This was too much to be just a reflexive reaction to having her peace disturbed. She was hiding something. She knew something.

“I think you are a person he might want to contact.” The try was a gamble. It was true, and he did think that Bane could contact her, however, he left his cards too exposed if she was a seasoned liar and manipulator.

“He didn't through last ten years. I'll let you know if he changes his mind. Leave a card on the stairs please.” The dismissal was plain to see.

He wanted to try one more time to placate her. He could work the information out.

But then the door at the front of the cottage opened, glass panels sliding without effort, and in came a tall man. Like he was at home here.

“Helena,“ he greeted the host but kept his eyes firmly on Brown.

He came through the terrace. Thick scarf peeked out from a navy blue jacket, jeans were tucked in big brown boots, messenger bag hanging off one shoulder. He looked harmless enough, especially when he moved, wobbling carefully closer, the pain of every step visible in a rigid way he held himself.

But there was something off. His eyes were too sharp. Too familiar.

“We should go soon,“ he said. Nodded at Brown. “Tony Dorrance.“

“John Brown.”

Neither offered a hand to shake, but they kept observing each other.

What was it about this guy?

“You better go,” Dorrance said. His voice had an edge to it, a glimmer of certainty and command that was not meshing well with the image of a tired scholar.

The woman had another coughing fit, so Brown just nodded and left.

He would try to contact the woman again, and until then he will be mulling over that man. Who was he exactly?

oOo

Anthony Dorrance was an interesting man.

He was the person Helena Wolf talked about when she rambled on to him about her precious friend left to die in Gotham. Did she really believe what she said? Was she delusional?

Did Dorrance was such masterful manipulator he could pretend to be two people at the same time?

Brown started the work on him the usual way. Databases had the most rudimentary info; DOB, education, some jobs, some things he wrote. But it got interesting when he got to the pictures. The scars hinted at life way more interesting than the one portrayed in his files.

So he started working the man backwards.

He was in Norway for only a few weeks. Arrived with a plane from London. Both cottages were his, acquired a few years prior, so that wasn't suspicious in the least. What was, however, was how he got them. It turned out that the guy was not only a talented physicist but also a historian. Dealing with antiquities; old books and manuscripts mostly.

Suspicious.

Brown tried to trace his moves before London, and there he struck gold. The guy appeared in Azores two months after Gotham. But prior to that? A big black mysterious hole. He was in Gotham until May the previous year, but there was no movement in the months leading to the occupation of the city.

Was he there?

His name was on the list of suspected victims, struck down when he reported back to the British consulate on San Miguel.

How did he get from a besieged city to an archipelago in the middle of the Atlantic? And no less than five weeks after the occupation was thwarted? Why? Why didn’t he report to the authorities in the USA? Why wasn’t there any mentions of him crossing the border before the Azores?

Very suspicious.

Brown tracked Dorrance’s history backwards all the way down to his birth, but it didn’t yield much good.

He turned back to the Gotham episode. He turned up the photos and compared.

Did his eyes resemble Bane’s?

oOo

Much to Brown’s dismay, the forensic facial comparison was a flop.

Bane’s face was hidden by the mask the only visible parts were his eyes and two lines extending over them up to the middle of his head. Not nearly enough for any comparison.

But his gut told him he was onto something.

He decided to approach this problem differently. He had a plethora of Bane’s pictures, so he gathered all the ones of Dorrance too and tried to see if there were any similarities. He found some, but not many. The slope of his shoulders, perhaps. His pointed stare, and the colour of his eyes.

Even to himself, all of that sounded pathetic.

Once, in the middle of the night working an entirely different case, he remembered a detail. Gotham’s police commissioner had a run in with Bane, just before the siege.

Brown went to interview Gordon, which turned out to be a bizarre experience.

“So you're saying kid, that he isn't dead?”

“He is presumed dead, and I would like to make sure of it. There was no body.”

“Yeah, like with Batman.”

“Exactly. Do you remember anything that could help identify him?”

Gordon scoffed, looking over the city. He invited Brown to the roof, which seemed odd at first. Even more so when the agent noticed brand new Bat-Signal waiting in the corner, the lamp pointed upwards, ready to call in a hero.

But he was dead. Wasn’t he?

“So many people focused on his bulk… I see what you're doing here, kid. You have good instincts.” The commissioner shook his head, trying to grasp faint wisps of recollection.

“Let me walk through what happened there. I went in pursuit down to the sewers. Two guys with me. Some idiot started shooting, and I don't know what blew up, but there was a big explosion. I was overwhelmed and got a nice hit to the head. If I were younger by twenty years then maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Well, they dragged me down the tunnels and brought to Bane.”

He stopped and frowned deeply.

“He was crouching, shirtless. There was a scar running the length of his spine, a nasty, ropey thing. No marks on his chest, as far as I could see. Some burns on his shoulders, but old and faded. I didn't get a long look at him, I was pretending to be dizzy. But what I remember the most is how enormous he seemed. Raw and brutal power radiating off him. Later, when I watched him on the television, he was still formidable, but I can't shake this dread that I felt then. Because he was terrifying even when relaxed.”

This was pure gold.

“Thank you. Thank you so much for sharing that with me.”

“You don’t think he’s dead, kid, do you?”

“I don't. There is a lead. A woman he might have wanted to contact.”

“What woman would be with a monster like that?”

“Maybe she’s a monster too.”

“Maybe.”

oOo

Armed with information from Gordon, Brown started working on Dorrance full time. He screened all of his accounts, all of his books, everything he could find on the man.

He was squeaky clean. Too clean to be genuine.

The fervour of righteousness burned in his chest, the elation propelling him forward.

His work suffered, but Brown was sure that finding Bane was imperative. Proving that Dorrance was him. That the terrorist who planned to kill millions with a bomb was alive and living peacefully, while all those families of thousands of his victims despaired.

And then he got a visit that stoked his conviction even more, that motivated him to try harder still.

He was looking at pictures of Dorrance, the scientist caught unawares shopping and walking around town. The last of the work Brown managed to squeeze while he still was in Norway.

Then someone brought a bag over his head and bound his wrist behind the chair. So fast he barely could comprehend what happened before he was panting quickly into the rough fabric scratching his nose. He couldn't see a thing but felt a presence shift beside him.

“You are investigating Bane,” the person said. It was a man, and he had some weird piece of tech that made his voice unrecognisable. Growling lowly, threateningly.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Batman,” the man said.

“Batman is dead.”

“As is Bane.”

“I have evidence that he may be alive.”

“I saw him die.”

“Did you check his body?”

“He was struck by a rocket, straight in the chest, then propelled ten feet away with a blast. He can’t be alive.”

“How are you not dead then?”

“A trick.”

“Are you the only person in the world capable of such tricks?”

There was no answer. He struggled against his bounds and found out that the knots were loosely tied. On purpose.

When he took the bag away, he was once again alone in the room.

Some of Bane’s pictures were missing.

oOo

The second visit to Norway was official. Brown showed his findings to his bosses and implored. He just needed to check. To make sure. What if it turned out that this guy was somehow connected to Bane? He didn’t tell them outright he thought Dorrance was the masked man, he had enough clarity of mind not to sabotage himself this way. But he plotted and schemed. The proof that tipped the scale was Dorrance’s scientific work.

Brown convinced his people that is was all coded messages to terrorists.

The antiquities were an obvious giveaway of laundering money too.

But before the bureaucratic machine was moved into action, he wondered whether to give Mrs Wolf one last chance at redemption.

[thinktosee]

STOCKHOLM SYNDROME, SLAVERY AND MILITARY CONSCRIPTION – BEHAVIOURAL MANIPULATION AND CONTROL THROUGH COERCION and FEAR

“I think a lot about him especially when it comes to my writing or what kind of teacher I want to be. David was fearless and uncompromising of his values in everything and that only pushes me to do better, because I can practically hear his signature critique otherwise.”

-         Zylph, U.C. Undergraduate and David’s friend from St. Joseph’s Institution International High School, singapore

A. INTRODUCTION

Image courtesy picturequotes.com

Military conscription, slavery and hostage-taking are immorally coercive processes designed to oppress, disorient, intimidate, disenfranchise, affect, subjugate, manage, re-orientate and control the victim’s behaviour and actions. Their basic premise is FEAR or the overwhelming ability or threat by the bully, criminal or aggressor to inflict unimaginable physical or psychological pain/distress or both on the victim. These criminal acts originate from a personal desire by the bully/aggressor/criminal for social, political and or economic advantages. These crimes go against the public interest, and yet, they were and still continue to be framed by the bully as mutually beneficial -  “cooperate and nothing will happen to you.” Or “It’s for your own good. You will like it”

B. DEFINITIONS and CONTEXT

1. Stockholm Syndrome

Poster for the 2018 movie, “Stockholm.” Image courtesy www.imdb.com

“A psychological response wherein a captive begins to identify closely with his or her captors, as well as with their agenda and demands.” (1)

On Aug 23, 1973, two criminals’ attempt to rob a bank in Stockholm, Sweden led to the taking of 4 hostages. They were only released on Aug 28. However, the victims refused to testify against their kidnappers (2). Perhaps the words of Natascha Kampusch, a victim of another tragic kidnapping may explain this phenomenon :

"I find it very natural that you would adapt yourself to identify with your kidnapper," she says. "Especially if you spend a great deal of time with that person. It's about empathy, communication. Looking for normality within the framework of a crime is not a syndrome. It is a survival strategy.” (3) 

“Stockholm Syndrome” could essentially be said as a coping or survival mechanism by the victim, in the light of the prolonged ordeal which she encountered.

"It's some kind of a context you get into when all your values, the morals you have change in some way." – Kristin Ehnmark, a hostage in the 1973 Stockholm bank robbery (4)

2. Slavery

Image courtesy www.independent.co.uk 

“A condition in which one human being was owned by another. A slave was considered by law as property, or chattel, and was deprived of most of the rights ordinarily held by free persons.” (5)

Slavery is as ancient as human civilization. In Exodus 9:1, the Lord commanded Moses to tell Pharaoh to “Let my People go….”  From the 16th to the 19th centuries, we learned that Africans were abducted and traded as slaves by the millions to the New World of the Americas. (6) Perhaps unbeknown to many of us, the European colonials were also actively slave-trading in the Dutch East Indies. (7) Slavery’s connection to colonialism, be it European-imposed or localized (8), is undeniable. It was a system of exploitation and discrimination of the human worth in the worst possible way. Slaves were denied their rights to freedom and dignity. This institutionalization of slavery was possible through an elaborate system of governance, laws, customs, education, and other forms of physical, social and psychological coercion, manipulation and restraint. It ensured the total submission of the slave. What was considered immoral or abnormal in one place, was legalized and normalized in another. The slave felt trapped, disenfranchised and helpless. His identity, his very existence, was violently crushed. A new identity was imposed – a tradeable and replaceable product - a slave. Fear, once again was the underlying tool. This time it was wielded by the slave owner and supported by the state.

The American Civil War of 1861-65 was about slavery. I like to highlight an example - the basis for the decision by the State of Mississippi to leave the Union :

“[O]ur position is thoroughly identified with the institution of slavery-the greatest material interest of the world... A blow at slavery is a blow at commerce and civilization….” (9) (10)

This statement should always be remembered, particularly since slavery continues to exist in its various tragic manifestations today, as this title of an Oct 2018 report by the United Nations attests :

With 40 Million Forced into Modern Slavery, Third Committee Expert Urges States to Protect Rights of Women, Girls, Companies Must Remedy Violations (11)

A slave may also be someone we know – an abused live-in partner, worker, child, or hostage. Fear, that potent tool of a criminal, is the favoured modus operandi.

Our family’s copy of a classic. A great dramatic tale of Southern plantation life, (built and sustained by slave labour) during the American Civil War and Reconstruction era. Hollywood made this into a movie in 1939, starring Clark Gable and Vivien Leigh in the lead roles. (12)

3. Military Conscription

Image courtesy abc.net.au “Why Australia said no to conscription.”

“Conscription, also called draft, compulsory enrolment for service in a country’s armed forces. It has existed at least from the time of the Egyptian Old Kingdom (27th century bce), but there have been few instances — ancient or modern—of universal conscription (calling all those physically capable between certain ages). The usual form — even during total war — has been selective service.” (13)

Compulsory enlistment or mandated militarized public education is slavery. It presupposes the state, that is, the ruling few, has a claim on the life, freedom, choice and dignity of a citizen, for the public good (I have not encountered any instance where this so-called public good is reasonably and satisfactorily justified. We should thereon read the term “public good” broadly. I submit that in reality, it means for the “good of the self-serving ruling class.”)

Modern conscription may be traced to the Prussian state in the 19th century. (14), (15). This was a period of wars and carnage, including the Napoleonic campaigns, in feudal Europe. (16) The Prussian kingdom deemed it necessary to introduce universal conscription for the security of the “fatherland.” Military expenditure then was said to be as much as 75% of the state’s budget, far above the average of 25% across Europe. In most respects, Prussia could be said to be a militarized kingdom. (17) The French statesman, Count Mirabeau was believed to have said, “Prussia was not a country with an army but an army with a country…” (18) This is a weighty distinction, and it still applies to this day, especially among us who wonder about the youthful soldiers who are shipped far away to another continent to engage in wars in “defense” of their home and country. Or just as curiously, youth who are conscripted and still not allowed to vote or voice their opinion on the matter.

Conscription, especially in peace-time is harmful to the conscript. It is designed to upend the conscript’s identity, with a corollary to establishing a new one, with an affiliation to the military-state apparatus and its agenda. It may be further expressed as follows :

“The tactics of a thought-reform program are organized to:

1. Destabilize a person's sense of self,

2. Get the person to drastically reinterpret his or her life's history and radically alter his or her worldview and accept a new version of reality and causality,

3. Develop in the person a dependence on the organization, and thereby turn the person into a deployable agent of the organization.” (19) 

C. CONCLUSION

          Image courtesy cnn.com

Slavery, abduction and conscription have a common feature – the power dynamics overwhelmingly favour the criminal or offender. The methodologies employed are also similar – fear, threat, harm, disenfranchisement, anxiety, intimidation, inducements/rewards and the like. The objectives too coincide – to control, oppress, induce conformity, empathy and helplessness, with a view to “own” the victim. That’s right – a conscript is a slave and a victim too. Abduction is obviously illegal. Slavery, within its traditional definition, is no longer legal. Time also to call out conscription for what it truly is – brain-washing-cum-slavery.  

Slavery exists so long as we live in fear.

Image courtesy Amazon.com

“Fear is the greatest weapon in God’s arsenal. It is why the church concocted Hell.” 

-   Cardinal Franklin, played by F. Murray Abraham, in 2018’s “Robin Hood.” (20)

 In the Spirit of David Cornelius Singh

By David’s father

https://thinktosee.tumblr.com/

 Sources/References

1. https://www.britannica.com/science/Stockholm-syndrome

2. https://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-22447726

3. https://www.theguardian.com/world/2010/sep/11/natascha-kampusch-interview

4. “Promises to Pay (Vol. 1) : Banks, Battles and Bellies”, p235. Rezvi, Masood. 2018. Published by K.M. Rizvi

5. https://www.britannica.com/topic/slavery-sociology

6. https://www.bbc.co.uk/bitesize/guides/zy7fr82/revision/3

7. https://www.thejakartapost.com/news/2015/10/05/two-centuries-slavery-indonesian-soil.html

8. “Race and Slavery in the Middle East. An Historical Enquiry. Lewis, Bernard. 1994. Oxford University Press. Chapter 1.

9. https://www.aclu.org/issues/racial-justice/five-truths-about-black-history

10. https://avalon.law.yale.edu/19th_century/csa_missec.asp

11. https://www.un.org/press/en/2018/gashc4244.doc.htm

12. https://www.rogerebert.com/reviews/great-movie-gone-with-the-wind-1939

13. https://www.britannica.com/topic/conscription

14. Ibid.

15. http://ghdi.ghi-dc.org/docpage.cfm?docpage_id=3895

16. https://www.britannica.com/event/Napoleonic-Wars

17. Ibid.

18. Chap 7, “The Prussian Military State.” Showalter, Dennis. “Early Modern Military History, 1450-1815.” For readers who wish to learn more, we also suggest separately exploring the connection between Prussia and Imperial Japan.  

https://link.springer.com/book/10.1057/9780230523982

19. https://culteducation.com/cults-in-our-midst2.html

The reference here is based on the research findings of Prof. Margaret Thale Singer and originally published in her tome, “Coercive mind control tactics.” Prof. Singer performed extensive research studies on trauma experienced by POWs and cult members. She was the leading authority on the subject. A brief overview of her research is also available via this link : 

http://www.psychologicalharassment.com/coercive-mind-control-tactics.htm 

20. https://www.pluggedin.com/movie-reviews/robin-hood-2018/ 

[puckish-saint]

yooo glad to hear you're feelin' better and ready to accept requests again ^-^ So could I request how Sombra, Reaper, and Widowmaker would do if a young child was brought into Talon, either because they have exceptional combat or tech related skills Talon wants to exploit or they're being held there as a long term hostage to ensure someone's cooperation? Like how would they interact with the kid, if at all? (sorry if the asks a bit long ;-;)

An agent picks the child up fromkindergarten, but it’s Widowmaker who sits in the back of the car,a small handgun cradled in her hands that the girl eyes bothfrightened and awed.

“Do you work for my mama?” she asksas she fastens her seatbelt as if she’s being picked up by randommen in black suits every day. The words stranger danger evidentlymean nothing to her.

“It is more accurate to say that yourmother works for us.” Widowmaker says. At least now she will, sheadds silently. The agent lets the autopilot drive and while the carpulls out of the school’s parking lot together with half a dozen ofother parents with their children, he turns around and waves hisphone.

“Lets take a photo so your mommywon’t worry, alright?” he suggests and whatever else the childmay be, camera shy she is not. She makes faces at the camera, makesthe agent snap picture after picture, usually with Widowmakersomewhere in the background although at least once she sits on herlap and pretends to brush her hair.

“You could braid it,” the girl saysand Widowmaker, whose patience for people who are not targets or herhandlers runs low at the best of times, yanks her hair out of thechild’s grasp.

“I don’t want to braid it.” shesays and hopes that is the last of it.

Amélie and Gérard thought abouthaving kids but never acted on the impulse. Her career was tootime-consuming, his work too dangerous to make child rearing arealistic option. And though she used to make the occasionalappearance before young ballet students her contact with children hasbeen minimal. Thus she had no idea about young children’s lack oflong-term memory.

“You could braid it.” the child,Widowmaker doesn’t bother to memorise her name, says. It’s been alittle over two weeks and the times the girl suggested braiding herhair ranks in the dozen. It’s hard to believe she really doesn’tremember, but that’s how she asks, with the same enthusiasm as ifshe just figured out the potential of tying hair together inappealing patterns.

Once again she pulls her hair out ofreach and hopes the child’s lips wobbling won’t mean it will cryand make a scene.

“I already told you, I do not want tobraid it.”

As if she hasn’t heard the childcontinues, merrily ignoring her lunch that might keep her mouth shutfor a few minutes.

“It’d look really nice with bows init. Down here,” she holds the tips of her hair. “And here, here,here, here,-”“Yes, I get it.” Widowmaker glares at Reaperwho hasn’t laughed but is also very pointedly not laughing. Insteadof helping her deal with this persistent little menace he puts aglass of orange juice in front of the same and goes back to readingthrough the mission data for his next op. It’s his first contactwith the child, not living on base as she does, so he couldn’tpossibly know how annoying the little pest is. She’s supposed tostay in her room at all times, but instead of having her food broughtto her she gets to sit at the kitchen table and count the long longlist of hair accessories she owns.

“And a tie that has three bobbles onit, and another tie that has one big bobble on it, and a clip thatlooks like a fish.”

She stops to breathe and Reaper, thebastard, uses that pause to ask, innocent as can be: “Oh? Whatcolour is the fish?”

“Don’t encourage her.” Widowmakerhisses, but it’s too late, and for the next twenty minutes she hasto listen to the painfully dull conversation only a five year old canlead, about what colour her fish is and the many many differentcolours in which fishes come. Reaper nods and contributes to theconversation, because he gets to leave and kill things soon, whileshe’s stuck here, having to listen to this nonsense all day, everyday. Whatever project Talon needs that child’s mother for, sheprays it ends soon and they can all rid themselves of her.

While Reaper is off somewherereenacting slasher films, Widowmaker gets her first reprieve from thechild that insists on following her around wherever she goes.

“They called me in to work on the newsoftware,” Sombra says, patting the child on the head in a gestureas condescending as it is inattentive. “Heard you have a fan.”

“I’m the fan.” The child saysproudly and receives another pat for it. Widowmaker groans and wishesTalon had a job, any job for her to escape this little monster.

“You will not be so smug once she’sfollowed you around for an entire day wherever you go,” she saysand emphasises, with a glare at the child, “Wherever you go.”

All she gets for her efforts is a widesmile, but at least Sombra provides a little distraction and givesher the first time in weeks off to herself. She’s looking forwardto living up to her name again, to being called her name again,unlike the child who somehow figured out she used to be called Amélieand wouldn’t use anything else to address her. She’s not Amélie,especially not to a snotty brat who has more hairclips than brains.

Sombra, meanwhile, explains what Talonis all about.

“Can’t believe you don’t knowyet. They didn’t even make you take the entrance test?”

“What entrance test?”

While Sombra boots up the computersshe’ll be working on, an internal network not connected to thelarger one that practically runs the base, she lists all the things aprospective agent of a super secret organisation needs to do to provethey’re worthy of being accepted.

“Well, first they have to prove theycan find their way anywhere-”“I can do that.”

“Can you? Well, you’d have to beable to find, say, the officer’s lounge just by askingpeople.”Again the child she confirms that she’s able to dothat. Sombra hums thoughtfully.

“Well, next agents have to prove theyare strong. Someone your size must be able to carry something theweight of … say a sixpack of coke? I think there is some in theofficer’s lounge, but of course, you’d have to find your waythere, and then you might not even be able to lift it-”“I cando it! I’ll prove it, look!”

And off she goes, intent to prove thatshe has the makings of a Talon agent. Sombra sits down at herworkstation and kicks back, laughing at Widowmaker and the troublesshe had with the kid. Amateur.

A sixpack of coke, warm slippers andsilky brushed hair later, Sombra’s genuinely beginning tocontemplate getting Talon to expand into child labour. Nothingsinister or backbreaking, of course, she’s not a monster. But thelittle goblins make for good entertainment if one knows how tomanipulate them.

“... nine apathetic, sympathetic,diabetic old men on-” The kid gasps for air and Sombra shakes herhead and clicks her tongue, as if she’s disappointed and not on theverge of hysterical laughter.

“You’ll have to do better thanthat. A real secret agent can do the whole thing in a single breath.”she says and sends the child off into another attempt to pass hermade up test, allowing her to work quietly and with a steady supplyof soft drinks.

Gabe takes the child away from herhours later when he returns from his mission, undoubtedly to get herto fetch his own slippers. Maybe the newspaper. Could she teach hertricks if she got treats from somewhere?

She shouts the suggestion after Gabewho gives her the finger, probably in no small part because she keepscalling him Gabe.

She keeps working and doesn’t thinkmuch of the child until much later that night when she wanders intothe kitchen to find Widowmaker, enjoying her first yoghurt in weekswithout having to yank her hair back from curious fingers.

“Hey, you see the goblin?”

Sombra falls silent when Widowmakerholds up her finger and shakes her head.

“I just forgot about it, what reasoncould you possibly have to remind me of its existence?”

There’s a beat of silence.

“I wanna see how much gross stuff Ican make it eat.”Widowmaker sighs and rubs her temples, wavingin the general direction of the door.

“The bosses foisted the thing onReaper last I knew. When he complains remind him he encouraged it.”

Sombra makes it her business to knowthings, it’s her trade, her passion, her overarching goal in lifeto know more than anyone else. That’s why she knows Reaper’s realname, and Amélie Lacroix’ birthday, and that Gérard Lacroix wasinfertile but never told his wife. She even has a copy of theadoption papers that were found in his desk after his death, halffilled out and hidden underneath case reports classifiedintelligence. She understands Widowmaker’s distaste for children,something she doesn’t share with the woman she used to be. And sheunderstands, or thought she understood, what Gabriel Reyes is allabout. A family lost or never had didn’t feature in the equation.If he wanted one or not, he’s lying in a bed half his size readinga silly story to help a young child fall asleep in a room that’snot hers, cared for by people who are not her family. Sombra watchesunseen as the child curls up closer against his side like it’s themost natural thing, like the monster seeping dark tendrils when hedoesn’t pay attention is supposed to be there.

“Is Mama fine?” The child asks whenGabriel pauses to turn the page. It must have been on her mind forsome time, but she wouldn’t have asked Widowmaker who’s annoyedwith her, or Sombra who messed with her. She waited for the ghosthaunting this place to come home and read her a bedtime story.

“She’s fine,” Gabriel says andnot even the hoarse rasp of his voice bothers her. “Her work isdangerous, but we’re looking out for her. And for you, so no badguys can get to you.”

Even Sombra almost believes they’renot the bad guys the child needs protecting from. She slips awayquietly, suddenly no longer interested in messing with the kid.Gabriel’s voice, picking up the story from where he left of,follows her long after its physical echo has faded.

[notesandcoffee]

Opinions 4.16-7

I keep getting the sinking feeling that I've missed something horribly important, no matter how I interpret this episode. I've watched them both several times at this point, and things aren't just adding up for me. I'm hoping writing this will make things clearer for me, so bear with me if it's not super-polished. UPDATE: kinda helped, but not really. Feel free to shoot me an ask if you’re confused, because chances are really high I am too.

Our blacklister for the first part is a bee-shirted lady hunting down bad guys in a revenge quest. I just really enjoy the thought of all of those moving parts together, but I kind of wish that we got more of a glimpse into her daily life as an apiarist rather than just her wearing her bee-shirt as therapy. I wanted to bee more invested in her, and I wanted to see evidence of the fire, rather than having it bee in an infodump there at the end. But adding all of that in would have taken screentime from other plots I prefer, so I suppose it worked out in the end. In the first part of our two-part premiere, Dembe kidnaps Aram out of Janet's arms and into the trunk of a car, which he stops to force Aram in to... the trunk of another car. Dembe has a master plan in mind to clear his name with Reddington, and that is to figure out who opened the safe first, which is why he needs our master hacker, despite not knowing the slightest else about him. Aram pulls the data from the safe, and in a bit that hits too close to home for me, the data that he pulls is fucking useless unless he can break the encryption. Around this time, Dembe realizes that Aram  doesn't want to harm him, no matter how much he waves a gun at Aram, and the two tag-team to break into the security company to get the encryption to figure out who made it into the safe. Aram's protective, hyper-analytical personality is matched by Dembe's stoic loyalty to Reddington, causing Aram to pick up on things Dembe wasn't really planning on telling his hostage. With all the courage that comes from shit-talking "Agent Zuma" in front of the guard at the crypto-security company, Aram manages to steal the encryption key without much of an issue, until his colleagues show up to collect Dembe for Reddington. At the same time, Aram's kidnapping sets off a sequence of events in the P.O. Cooper and Ressler take turns taking shots at Red, both worried for their colleague. No one's really wrong in this scenario, but considering the amount of sympathy that's been garnered for Red, the rest of the P.O. comes across as callous to the audience. Red and Liz are searching for Dembe via his daughter (and granddaughter), the only two other people Dembe cares about. The relationship between our leads appears amicable, although there are a noticed lack of sentimental moments between the two in favor of Red's long stories and Liz's focus on the search. Red also calls in Glen, who happens to be in the middle of helping a Spanish-speaking driver, and is easily the funniest part of the premiere. Glen and Red bicker and get under each other's skin while both men are giving Spanish instructions to a confused señora, with Liz tagging along in the backseat. It gives everyone (literal) whiplash how quickly the scene ends and we're left with just Red and Liz again, but I'm always happy to see Glen in an episode. The interactions between Elise Janet and Navabi are cutthroat and tense, with each making suppositions about the other. After hearing of Aram's kidnapping, Navabi grabs Janet and immediately begins interrogating her for answers, without hearing the rest of the briefing. Not to be outdone with the emotional outbursts, Janet spends a solid amount of time trying to provoke Navabi into a reaction at their relationship. Navabi is mostly focused on getting Aram back into a not-kidnapped state, but she's barely holding it together around Janet's constant prodding, mostly by talking about Aram and his past. By the time Aram confronts her, she's done with talking about him and his relationship, having heard everything she needs to know through Janet. He gives a heartfelt statement about how he actually feels about her, and she responds in turn by trying to terrify him. Love triangles are such a bland "romantic" plotline in general that it's hard for me to believe I'm looking at one, but here we are. Everyone's trying their hardest to be mature about the whole thing, but no one actually is. While there's plenty of character development to be had here, I'm confused as to why I should be invested in this storyline. No one comes out on top in any scenario. If Aram had told Navabi earlier just how much her intensity scared him, or if Navabi had been a bit more clear with her intentions when she started, or Janet could just... stop fucking trying to get Navabi to punch her for a half-second, I would have reason to root for someone. That being said, other fans are more endeared to Navabi in a way that I don't relate to through this story, and want Aram to stay with Janet, so more power to them. I'm just having a hard time figuring out who it is I should be cheering for, even though my fave is in it. For the record, I don't like Janet with Aram, because she seems more intent on controlling him and showing him off than she does actually healing the damage she did while undercover. The episode even acknowledges this at one point, as Janet throws herself at Aram as he stares over her shoulder at Navabi. From the way Aram talks to Navabi at the end, being openly honest with her about what he loves admires about her, it's not hard to guess why Janet would be as insecure as she is. But Navabi, of course, turns it back on him in an apathetic rage. She has every right to, of course, but I can't help thinking that Aram is likely more of an anxious mess after that interaction than anything else. Friend. At any rate, that's not really what people are talking about, is it? This is the point where things start to fall apart, at least for me. Full disclosure: this is my understanding of events. This may or may not be correct, but it is mine. I had to write out most of the episode to merely understand what happened, but since it's been capped and recapped by now, I'll spare you that draft and just cut to the analysis. It's revealed that Katheryn Nemec -- better known to Liz as Mr. Kaplan -- poisoned the wine and is responsible for Red's episode. There was nothing surprising or dramatic about the reveal, as the audience knew the whole time about her struggle to stay alive, but I think I would have preferred at least the attempt at humor to help balance out how dark the whole idea was. Instead we got Creeper McCreeperson blowing himself up after a fight in the woods to help protect a woman he had chained to the bed at one point. Okay, then. The difference between Kaplan and every other villain that we've had on the show is that the past isn't a thing that separates the audience from Red and the villain. Luthor Braxton knew Red before Liz, brought it up with him as he taunted him while the audience was left completely in the dark, but that's not at all the case here. Here, the attempt is made to walk us through how exactly Kate became a villain, outlining her relationships with Katerina, Annie, and Nikos all in a span of minutes, memories triggered while on a gruesome road trip literally digging up Reddington's past murders. The explanation in flashback doesn't really work how it might be intended to, for me, but it is an attempt nonetheless. We know that Kaplan's spent more time backing up Red and being there for him independently of Elizabeth; it doesn't make sense that Kate would betray Red so quickly in such a span of time, especially when her main loyalty is to Liz, and not Red. Liz has nothing to be obviously gained by betraying Red at this point, though Kaplan makes the argument before Red leaves to turn himself in. I think I would like to see Kate really struggle with the idea of betraying Red in her own mind in upcoming episodes, to really underline that betraying Red and Liz, by extension, is something she isn't at all used to. I did actually like the idea of exploring who Kaplan is and why she's such a close asset to Red, but I really wish that it was clearer where exactly the pieces fall in this case. I felt like the exploration of Kate's backstory really needed to be two episodes, and a lot of the things that would have held the story together must have ended up on the cutting room floor, likely due to time. Little details that would have made Katerina more human and not just a personal illusion, Masha's personality as a toddler, and Kaplan's life when she wasn't with the Rostovas. There were quite a few unanswered questions by the end of the episode, and I found myself trying to make sense of a myriad of continuity errors -- just in the episode itself, outside of the story arc it's located in. To cite an example I wrote too much about in a previous draft, why is "the American" described as blond when he's clearly not? And why is Dembe worthy of forgiveness for "betraying" Red when Kaplan is not? How did Kaplan get ahold of the fulcrum in a shitty motel room after a week of being inside? Why is there so much weird emphasis on Katerina's sex life? That last question was actually enough to throw me out of the story about the third or fourth time it was mentioned, and I was left wondering why we needed to care about it. The American -- later referred to as "Raymond" and very clearly not Spader -- was with Katerina in the car, but Spader insists to Kate that he had an affair with Katerina as well. It made me wonder which I should be believing, and it felt disrespectful to Katerina to watch. And Katerina's bisexual, by the way. I will not get into discussions or arguments about it because it's 100% true. Moving back to my previous point, there are a lot of continuity errors, most of them un-accidental. Kaplan's memory is shattered, and we're seeing odd-placed clips that describe her time only after meeting Katerina. In the ending story in 4.11 ("The Harem"), we hear about Kaplan's sister being involved in witness protection. Red spends the better part of that episode tracking down information related to Kate's sister, risking Liz's life in the process, making Kaplan's story -- the whole story -- of deep importance to Red. This incident had to have made an impact on Kaplan, but of all the memories we see, that isn't one of them. Either it happened before Kaplan met Katerina, it didn't happen at all, or Kaplan's memory is shattered beyond repair. The first is plausible, the second is not, and the third opens up a possibility that we don't see confirmation of on-screen -- the idea that Kaplan's memories aren't 100% accurate. One of the recurring themes of "Blacklist" is it's use of memory and how the mind can play tricks, and in some cases, torture. We spent the better part of 2 seasons trying to get into Liz's childhood memories, and spent a whole episode in Red's memories of Katerina and their relationship. But the main difference here is that if we are in Kaplan's memory, if it is shattered, it's not explained to the viewer the same way as it is with Liz and Red. Kaplan's memories are presented as unfiltered flashback, the kind that you see in a kind of extended montage. There's no hazy lighting to show that it might be a memory of a memory as we've seen in Liz, no explanation scene as we saw with Red. Just the idea that being shot in the head twice probably isn't the best way to remember the past. What does all of this mean? Is Kaplan on a weird revenge quest against Red, or a rescue mission for Liz? What's her best-case scenario in this situation? Is Dembe going to pay the same consequences as Kaplan, or is he forgiven? Has Agnes moved out with TK? Why would we not get an explanation for the gross incontinuity that is Kaplan's memory, or even a hint that it may not be accurate? What actually happened to Kaplan's sister, and why did Katerina pick Sam to take care of Liz? And who am I supposed to cheer for? The audience surrogate is Liz as a premise, and she's torn over the idea of Kaplan and Red feuding, and Red offers very little comfort in that regard. I would like to see Red actually acknowledge Liz's pain and try to comfort her. It would provide a sentimental moment between the two of them, and we would see more of how Red feels about the ordeal. Twitter kept pace with our breakneck episodes, and it was hard for me to keep up with everything and my cocktail at the same time. In truth, I think that's how I prefer it, so I won't complain. Hatley's back to interacting with all kinds of feedback again, too, but it seems most of our friends in the writers' room have been quiet, for the most part. I wonder what that's about.

[havsgast]

okay so @darklordtomarry tagged me in a thing

rules: list the first lines of your last 20 stories (or however many you have all together). see if there’s any patterns. then, tag your favourite authours.

so... i’m tagging @percysweetheart because we all know i love your writing

anyway, have some first lines paragraphs from unposted fics

1. Definitions and cages (harrymort)

Stockholm Syndrome [definition; noun]      an emotional attachment to a captor formed by a hostage as a result of continuous stress, dependence, and a need to cooperate for survival

Hostage [definition, noun]      Archaic. a security or pledge

Dependence [definition; noun]      the state of relying on or needing someone or something for aid, support, or the like

Survival [definition, noun]      the act or fact of surviving, especially under adverse or unusual circumstances

Unusual Circumstances [definition]      having part of your soul connected to that of a child prophesized to kill you

--

The man that had risen out of the melting cauldron was an impostor.

Impostor [definition, noun]      a person who practices deception under an assumed character, identity, or name

author’s comment bc why not: what i’m currently procrastinating to write on. also everyone will hate me because i love definitions

2. The Phoenix Experiment (tomarry)

The Phoenix Law Experiment: How does a relationship form between two alike subjects who are introduced to a new environment at the same day and time?

Experiment practitioner: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore Test subjects: Harry James Potter (25) and Tom Marvolo Riddle (27)

Day 1: Introduction to new environment (September 1st, Thursday, 8:15 am)

“And this is where you’ll be working. Mr Potter, Mr Riddle, welcome to Phoenix Law.”

“Thank you,-”

“-Albus.” / “-Mr Dumbledore.”

“Play nice, gentlemen. Remember, we’re working together for the greater good. Now, goodbye and good luck.”

“Thanks.”

author’s comment again: once upon a time i thought it’d be cool to write a fic without any descriptions at all, but i’m considering rewriting it to make sense

3. The Girl-Who-Disappeared (tomarry/harrymort)

One-year old Claire Lily Potter looked on with big, hazel eyes as her mother stood in front of her cot; with arms spread wide and back straight her mother made for an impressive sight. Claire’s unruly black hair softened to the dark red shade of her mother’s.

“Not Claire, not Claire, please not Claire!” Lily Evans Potter begged at the cloaked stranger.

“Stand aside, you silly girl… stand aside, now…”

Curious about what was happening, Claire stood up in her cot. She looked towards the white wand that the stranger was holding. Would it make colourful smoke as her father’s wand did earlier?

“Not Claire, please no, take me, kill me instead-”

“This is my last warning-”

“Not Claire! Please… have mercy… have mercy… Not Claire! Not Claire! Please- I’ll do anything-”

“Stand aside- stand aside, girl-”

Claire looked on as a pretty green light filled the room. Her eyes were quick to mirror it, an unconscious decision fueled by her innocent fascination. She turned her eyes to the stranger that had stepped closer to her cot; her mother was no longer standing in front of it. Had her mother left? Oh, her mother was on the floor. Maybe the green light had made mother fall asleep? She stared up at the stranger again. The wand was pointed at her face.

“Avada Kedavra!”

At the exact moment that the spell hit her, Claire blinked. The world turned dark. She cried as the roof fell down around her. The sowilo-shaped scar on her forehead knotted itself together when she cried harder because of the pain.

another author’s comment: it’s not hetero. i love my transgender son harry potter. also i should continue writing this....

4. Perception (tomarry/harrymort)

The summer holiday had started only a week ago, and Petunia Dursley was already having trouble entertaining her son Dudley. As a result, they were taking the train into London for the day. To Petunia’s displeasure, their neighbour Mrs Figg was away at the veterinary with one of her many filthy cats; resulting in Petunia having to bring her nephew along. Dudley was making his own displeasure known loudly as Petunia tried to placate him with promises of new games, ice cream, and watching a movie at the cinema.

Harry Potter, the unwanted nephew of Petunia, was watching as the scenery sped past them. He could hear his cousin Dudley throwing a fit in the background, and wisely tried his best to shut out the sound. It was his first time on the train and he wanted to enjoy it. Harry still felt beyond lucky that Petunia thought bringing him with them was the lesser of two evils, although he should feel insulted that his aunt did not trust him to be home alone. He had long since stopped being offended by anything his relatives called him and had accepted that they thought that they were in the right. The easiest road to survival was to agree with the ones giving him a room and food - even if the room was a cupboard and the food was scarce.

author’s comment once more: MY CANNIBAL!HARRY AU THAT I LOVE WITH MY WHOLE HEART

5. Nyctophilia (hedric/tomarry)

One of the first warnings that parents gave their children was to not be alone outside after darkness falls. They told horror stories about the monsters that awaited nightfall, the monsters that ate lost children. As with all stories, they held a grain of truth. As with all stories, the children grew up to disregard them.

Harry loved the darkness. Xe found comfort in it, a safety that the daylight didn’t have. The air was crisper during nighttime, and the starlight didn’t judge as harshly as the sun. Most nights, xe climbed through xyr window and up on the roof. Harry spent those night laid on xyr back as xe stargazed. Xyr parents were less happy about it. Way less happy about it.

“Hadrian!” xyr mother yelled at xem through xyr bedroom window. “You need to come back inside! It’s dark!”

“Soon!” Harry yelled back. Xe had barely been outside for an hour, and the sun had just disappeared behind the horizon completely. The sky was turning from pink and purples to black. Xe didn’t want to go in at all, but xyr mother could be just as stubborn as xe could be, if not more so.

“Now!” she demanded. Harry could picture the worried frown on her face, and with an annoyed sigh xe decided to give in. Xe could always climb out again in a hour, after xyr parents had gone to bed. Xe had done it before. It was a bit of a task as xe barely reached 155 cm, but xe had a lot of determination. With practiced movements, xe climbed back inside through the window. Xyr mother looked at xem, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Hadrian, how many times do I need to tell you? The monsters will get you one of these nights.” she berated xem.

author’s comment (don’t you just love these?): this fic is literally everything because it has so much like... HARRY USING XE/XEM/XYR PRONOUNS AND MULTIPLE NAMES BECAUSE XE IS GENDERFLUX (this ties in with my experience as genderfluid and changing names more often than pronouns)

6. My heart is underwater (enjoltaire? enjolferretaire? i can’t remember)

Dragons soared in the sky above him, and his mother was among them. Grantaire craned his neck and squeaked, trying to capture her attention. He hadn’t eaten in days because she had been gone, and he didn’t yet know how to hunt on his own.

He was young, not for a human but for a dragon. Just a hatchling, who had yet to get used to his limbs. His eyes were open and he knew how to call for his mother, but any other abilities had yet to come.

It was then, while he was waiting for food, that he heard them. The ancient ones, the dragons that had lived since the beginning of time. They were whispering. He heard their voices in his head, whispers that sounded like stories. They talked about soulmates and destinies that had to be fulfilled. Grantaire listened, wary of the ancients’ tales.

author’s comment: i’m still les mis trash okay, i fully intend to get back to my les mis wips one day

7. You’re beautiful, I’m afraid (enjoltaire)

August 28, 2015. Friday.

Ugly. Disgusting. Fat. Unworthy.

The words echoes in his head. They started to in elementary school, and follows him since then. He goes to university now, and there are no longer any classmates that shouts at his back, but the words have left permanent scars. He can never forget them, and why would he? They are true.

Grantaire drags a hand through his hair, his fingers getting stuck in the unwashed curls. Had he dared look in a mirror, he would have seen a malnourished boy with big hair and scars. As it was, all his mirrors had been covered since he hit puberty. When he looked down on himself, he only saw a pudgy stomach, fat thighs, too hairy legs, and dark skin full of blemishes.

author’s comment: honestly this one is very important to me

[sserpente]

Words: 2364 Warnings: kidnapping (duh), violence, mentions of rape

A/N: Boomer’s back! I missed our cheeky Aussie, did anyone else? Just a quick side note—I thought a lot about how to write this Imagine, for obviously, Amanda is a coloured woman. Given that many RCs are not, I want to hereby remark that it is in no way mentioned whether the Reader is Amanda’s biological daughter or adopted, so I can be sure all of my readers can enjoy reading the same. ♥ Don’t forget, we’re all beautiful just the way we are!

University had been all but exhausting today. With two of your professors complaining how you had not handed in an essay that had been due today, all you wished for now was a hot bath, a good book and maybe a jar of chocolate cream to calm your nerves.

Being Amanda Waller’s daughter wasn’t easy, after all. While other students faced everyday problems like break-ups, financial problems or not being able to decide what to wear for the next party, you kept finding yourself in life-threatening situations.

Not that you wanted to be a part of her Task Force X madness in first place, especially not when you had heard that she basically forced alleged super villains to cooperate by putting a bomb in their necks. No, there was no alignment with the government on your part, for you had made clear you wanted your jobwise career to go in a completely different direction—writing was what interested you. Books, scripts or poems, you did not care. Wherever there were words, you read them, devoured them with your eyes.

A sigh escaped your lips. Amanda had been reluctant at first, wanting only the best for you, despite her harsh attitude sometimes. Deep inside, however, and so you knew, she loved you dearly and would do anything to protect you—even if that meant that she had to admit to one weakness. A weakness that could be leveraged.

You frowned uneasily when you suddenly heard a strange rustling in the bushes next to the empty path you were walking on. It was twilight already, the street lanterns not yet turned on and the sun saying her last goodbye before disappearing on the horizon to be replaced by the moon. A full moon.

There was no time for you though to admire the wonders of nature, for the creature hurtling out from behind the bushes startled you to the core. You wanted to scream and to run away, shout for help, anything. But you were frozen on the spot, your hands clutching your bag tightly as your lips parted in shock.

The creature, as you figured only the fraction of a second later, was a man storming towards you, his movements too quick for you to recognise his face as he wrapped his left arm around your waist, his right hand covering your throat, ready to squeeze your windpipe at any moment.

“Yuh scream an’ yah’ll regret it dearly.” A throaty voice, thick with an Australian accent, whispered hoarsely in your ear, a hot breath brushing against your skin. You swallowed thickly, your eyes widening in horror.

Self-defence, self-defence, self-defence! What was that move your former self-defence teacher had showed you when someone grabbed hold of you from behind, threatening to strangle you? No matter how hard you tried, you could not remember. Instead, you felt the stranger—a muscly man with rather shabby clothes—drag you back behind the bushes.

He’s going to rape you, he’s going to kill you… Your fearful thoughts were the last thing going through your head before you felt a light sting in your arm, a hostile liquid surging through your veins. Then, there was nothing but darkness.

“An’ I said I had a plan, craziness. Yah wait fah me where I told yuh tah. Nah, she won’t. She ain’t gonnah blow our fuckin’ heads up. Not if she wants her lovely lil’ daughtah back. I have. I’ll know all of Waller’s lil’ secrets by dawn, now shut up an’ call me when yuh done.”

It was his voice that ripped you from a dreamless and unpleasant sleep, your body still fighting the intruding liquid that had drugged you, forcing you into unconsciousness.

Your head was drowsy, your mind clouded. It took you a minute to recall what had happened.

You had been walking home from university—all alone—until a man had suddenly grabbed you and abducted you, bringing you to God knew where. Had he raped you already? Where you going to be held hostage? Was he alone, were there others?

Immediately, you felt yourself panicking, your pulse quickening as your heart was in your mouth. Your rose rather clumsily from an old battered leather couch, taking in as much of your surroundings as possible. Maybe you weren’t too far from home. Maybe you’d be able to cry for help, to call the police and describe them what it looked like in your environment…

Your hope was soon crushed when your captor hung up the phone and let it slip into one of his pockets—there were many. If you wanted to secretly snatch it from him, you would have to be lucky. Unfortunately, however, he seemed to read your thoughts as he followed your gaze to his grey leather coat.

“Don’t even think about it, luv.” It was when he stepped into the light and you were to see his face for the first time. Fear and shock washed through you. Dark beard, unnaturally blue eyes… You knew this man. It was Digger Harkness aka Captain Boomerang, one of the lackeys Amanda had forced into her Task Force X program.

As for now, you were dealing with a dangerous and probably mad super villain who threw boomerangs as sharp as knives, killing people like it was a sport in the process.

Instantly, you began to shiver, attempting to move away—only there wasn’t much room to do so.

“Stop freakin’ out, I won’t hurt yah as long as yah cooperate.” He said with a malicious smirk, showing off a golden tooth as he did.

Cooperate. How would you cooperate? You had overheard him saying something about Waller’s little secrets. Was that the reason he had kidnapped you? Did Amanda know?

“I… please… I don’t know anything about Amanda Waller’s plans… my mother doesn’t involve me in—“

Interrupted by a sharp pain on your left cheek, your head was forced to the side. You realised with a start that Boomerang had smacked you.

“I’m not in a playin’ mood, luv. Save yuh lies fah the cops when I’m done with yah. Now,” He sat down on the couch next to you, positioning himself so you couldn’t get away. Please, God, let me get out of this alive.

Your breath was shaking when you finally turned back to him, forcing yourself to look him directly in the eye, even though it scared the hell out of you. That man was intimidating but you were not going to show him any kind of submission.

“I have a couple a’ questions fah yuh an’ if yuh answer them nicely, yah’ll make this a lot easier fah both of us. I’m not gonnah lie, yuh’re a pretty lil’ thing, I wouldn’t want tah mess up that beautiful face a’ yours.”

“Please… don’t… don’t hurt me… I-I… I will try to help but I-I don’t know anything about my mother’s affairs. She’s…” You suppressed a sob, “She’s very discrete when it comes to stuff like that.”

The Captain’s eyebrows rose and for a brief moment you feared he would slap you again.

“Carin’ mothah, huh? Makin’ sure her precious lil’ daugthah doesn’t get intah any trouble. Sucks fah her she didn’t put up any effort tah hide yah properly then. Yah clearly know who I am so yah know somethin’.”

Shivering, you bit your lower lip, attempting to move away once more. Being this close to him made you nervous but as soon as he noticed, he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you even closer to his muscly body. You could feel the weight of his heavy and deadly boomerangs underneath his grey leather coat.

“I-I only know about her Task Force X project. That she gathered a group of… of… vi-villains who were supposed to ensure the country’s safety from th-threats but… it-it got out of hand…” You stuttered, avoiding making any more body contact than necessary.

Boomerang scoffed. “Yeah, it got outtah hand, cos’ we made a move an’ stood up against this crazy bitch. Where’s Flag? Is he still trackin’ our whereabouts?”

Flag?

“I-I don’t know who Flag is.” Your sob was audible this time. If you didn’t get it together and tried to regain your composure, you would start crying in front of him. You couldn’t possibly give him the answers he desired and you were scared of the consequences that would pose to you.

“Flag. Rick Flag, the colonel? Idiot with three degrees an’ in love with a possessed archeologist?”

You shook your head, once more expecting him to punch you. The painful blow never came.

When you looked up, you watched Boomerang rolling his eyes before he grabbed your waist even tighter, his fingers digging firmly into your skin. You gasped at the sudden force, sure that he would leave bruises.

“What about Deadshot’s daughtah, is she safe? Does Waller know where she is an’ if yes, is she gonnah leave her alone? I kinda owe him a debt.”

Your lips parted in surprise. “Deadshot has a daughter?”

The Captain quirked one eyebrow. “An’ guess what, Waller still sent him out there, knowin’ his offspring could end up as an orphan.” He spat, his voice heavy with disgust.

“What? But… but it’s all secured!” You exclaimed, unsure of what to believe now. “My mother’s soldiers fight in groups and they are provided—“

“Do yah even know what’s goin’ on out there, luv? There’s a fuckin’ witch tryin’ tah blow this whole place up an’ take ovah the world an’ yah tellin’ me yah didn’t know? What kind of mothah is that crazy witch? She sent us on a fuckin’ suicide mission an’ yah know what? She doesn’t give a fuck whethah we’re gonnah make it out of there alive.”

“She… she wouldn’t send out her soldiers knowing that they couldn’t stand a chance.” You muttered, not quite believing his words. You were frowning know, finally daring to look him in the eye again, for you had concentrated your gaze on his golden necklace.

Boomerang’s face somewhat softened. “Well, clearly, she does. Reckon yuh beloved mummy didn’t tell yah about how many people she killed tah ensure the ‘national safety’.” When your eyes widened even more and frightened, disappointed and desperate tears came rolling down your reddened cheeks, he finally seemed to realise you indeed knew nothing about any of what was going on.

“I don’t… I mean I chose not to be a part of this. She asked me to join her but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to, not after what I had heard about her putting life-threatening nanites in the necks of… it’s… I-I’m sorry this happened to you. I know you… you do bad things but… no one should…” A whimper escaped your lips when the Aussie let go of you.

“Yah really don’t know anythin’, do yah?” All of a sudden, there was a soft and soothing tone in his voice, warming you from the inside out. How could this criminal go from deadly and aggressive to calming and gentle this quick?

“Please… please let me go, I don’t want to be a part of this.”

“I can’t let yah go, luv. As long as I have yah, Waller ain’t gonnah blow our freakin’ heads up.”

You whimpered once more, hugging your knees in an attempt to comfort yourself. Boomerang looked down at you, his blue eyes almost glistening with pity as he watched your pathetic state.

“Okay, look, here’s the deal. Yah stay here with me until we found this bloody doctah the Joker forced tah deactivate Harley’s nanite, so we can be sure tah be safe when we leave the country. But yah gonnah have tah stay in this apartment, alright? No funny business, no phone calls, no nothin’, an’ I won’t hurt yah, yah got me?”

You hesitated. Your mouth opened to reply but there was no sound escaping your lips. He was offering to let you go unharmed, even if he would do so a little delayed. Was it possible? That you would indeed make it out of this alive? Tears formed in your eyes—it was both relief and fear that washed through you now, causing the salty water to wet your cheeks.

“O-okay.” You finally replied, your voice almost breaking in the process.

Sighing, Boomerang pulled you in a tight embrace, pressing your face against his chest and resting his chin on your head. You were terrified, tried to push him away to no avail until you noticed he was indeed just hugging you to try and… comfort you?

“I’m sorry. I won’t hurt yah anymore. Yah gonnah be fine, alright? I’ll protect yah.” Involuntarily at first, your eyes fell shut as you finally relaxed and leaned into his touch, his muscly arms around you granting you a feeling of secureness. When was the last time Amanda had hugged you like this?

It was then you realised you had been wrong about those so-called villains all along. Perhaps Boomerang was tricking you into believing you were safe, perhaps his friends were on their way now to off you on the spot but for now, you couldn’t help but believe him.

He was but trying to save his own life, after all, getting free from the clutches of a woman who threatened to end his life if he didn’t act her way. It disgusted you deeply that woman was your own mother, that she had never told you about her dark schemes. You loved her, that much was for sure, but right now, you were disappointed—and you wanted to talk to her, ask her to stop this.

The sudden softness in Boomerang’s eyes startled you as he gently grabbed your wrists and helped you on your feet before wiping away a lone tear on your cheek and for a brief moment even made you forget that that man—murderer, bank robber and fugitive—had kidnapped you in first place. You had the strange feeling that you were his guest now, more so when he suddenly smiled at you.

“Are yah hungry? Cos’ me Spaghetti Bolognese is the best thing yuh’ll have evah eaten.”

[takadasaiko]

The Hargrave AU Drabbles: Alliances

Summary: With enemies like the Cabal, it can be good to have friends you actually trust.

Hargrave Drabble Master List

Alliances

“You're telling me that you believe there is a group of people within the government - ours and others - pulling the strings and manipulating… what? National affairs? World affairs?”

Christopher’s expression remained even, despite Harold Cooper’s disbelieving tone and incredulous look. The younger man crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you really telling me that of all the things that you've seen - especially since Reddington got in the mix - that this is where you draw the line?”

Cooper pulled in a breath and shifted in his seat. “I understand that Grey Matters is looking to make its own way. I commend you for that, Christopher, I do, but-”

“This is more than that. This is…” Chris closed his eyes. This was personal. This was his entire life being upended, and regardless of how the Cabal continued to manipulate his father’s company, they did. It was dangerous for everyone involved.

Dark blue eyes re-opened and focused on the Assistant Director. “I didn't realize you were comfortable letting someone else pull the strings. Reddington I get. You get something from him, but this Cabal is a parasite. Listen,” he reached into his bag and pulled  out a relatively thin file to hand to Cooper, “this is what we have so far. We may not have all of Halcyon's usual contacts at our disposal, but we’re uncovering things that the FBI wouldn't even know to look for.”

Chris watched Cooper scan the file, his brows furrowing a little at the data. He waited patiently until the older man spoke. “I'm not sure I want to know where or how you got some of this information.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of Christopher’s lips. They might have broken away from Halcyon, but Dumont still knew how to put the Artax Network to use for Grey Matters. He shrugged a little. “We’re good at what we do.”

“And exactly what are you asking us to do?” Cooper asked hesitantly.

Chris leaned forward in his chair. “I'm not naive. I know that's not enough information to act on, but it is enough to prove I'm not pulling this out of my ass. This is a real problem across the intelligence community, and I plan to be very careful with who I trust with this.”

Cooper frowned. “Does this have something to do with why you broke away from your family's business? Chris, if they're involved somehow-”

“This Cabal is the enemy, sir. Liz trusts you implicitly and I trust her judgement on that. We need trustworthy people on our side with this.” He pulled in a deep breath. “I'm going to keep digging, but I need your team to be aware of this.”

He waited a long moment before he watched Cooper’s stony façade give just a little. “Keep me in the loop.”

Relief flooded through him and he nodded as he stood, reaching a hand out. “Thank you.”

Cooper shook the offered hand. Christopher turned toward to closed office door, but paused at the sound of his name. “Chris,” he called, “how deep do you think this goes?”

“Deep, sir. You'll find a few names in there that my people have confirmed. Including Alan Fitch.”

“Fitch? What's your source on that one?”

Chris snorted. “He tried to bully me into falling in line with the Cabal while my father was being held hostage.”

Understanding flickered through Harold Cooper’s dark eyes and he nodded stiffly. Christopher took it as his dismissal and didn't loose a breath until he was outside the door.

“Well?”

Chris looked over to see his fiancé standing and waiting. “You were right,” he admitted softly.

“Cooper’s one of the good ones, and we need those in our corner.”

He nodded and offered a thin smile. “I've got to get back. Dinner tonight?”

“I'll see you at home.”

His smile broadened and he reached out, his hand finding hers.

“We’re going to get these guys, Chris,” Liz promised, and she stepped closer, her voice low. “We’re going to get them out of this.”

He blinked hard. “Liz, I'm not-”

“They're your parents. No one can blame you for wanting to protect them. Taking down the Cabal will do that.”

Her voice was soft, but it cut deep. It always amazed him how she saw through it all, often before even he did. Slowly he nodded, pulling her hand to his lips and pressing a quick kiss to her knuckles. “Aram find anything out about that old school data disc we found?”

“Smartest man I've ever known and even he can't crack it.”

“Let's put him together with Dumont. Between the two of them they'll get it.”

“Or get them so badly distracted that nothing will get done,” Liz said with a small smirk.

“Or that,” Chris chuckled. “See you at home.”