#Gonna try and give my brain a break from the chaos for a sec but I need u to know I'm thinking so hard about everything rn-

[spotaus]

Alright *cracks knuckles* time to get into my favorite chunk of worldbuilding central >:]

Ohh yeah, you got it perfect- I like to think Killer was the one who caught the knife, like, for dramatic affect probably an inch or two before it would've hit Dream straight in his socket (For narrative fun, maybe the same socket Nightmare is blind in because of Dream's actions earlier in the story). And Killer reels it back and sits back in his seat trying to hold in the sign of relief that he caught that because *holy shit* that was close??? Bonus points if he wasn't even paying attention (busy flirting w/ Ccino) and his alarm-bells went off in his head. He hands the knife back to Cross cross the table, but. Wooooo. And yeah, Cross won't ever let it go! He deserves to hold a grudge, and deserves to not have to forgive, because Dream did an unforgivable thing in his mind! Raugh!!!

Gonna be quick on this because I want to dig into the magic system, but- Yes! Horror and Cross get to have this nice, respectful, conversation where Horror lets him down gently instead of letting it go on (And I'm glad you noticed the note about it being before Crop! Because, yeah, Horror was never interested in Cross and probably never would be, and he's the kinda guy to just nip that kinda thing in the bud!) Now I'm thinking he and Horror have this silly brotherhood pact where they agree to talk about their love-lives with each other (usually just Cross tho) outside of Killer's earshot. So maybe Horror knew the Lust thing all along, and acts surprised when Killer finds out, and they never tell anyone-

His infatuation w/ Ccino at this exact moment in the story is exactly right! Ccino's starting to recover, and he's not picture-book style pretty, but there's still something Cross just adores (spoiler, he's still extremely pretty, but he also seems happy and healthy-). And yeah. Dream was handsome in the sort of Storybook Prince kinda way, and definitely had Cross wrapped around his finger w/o trying, but Cross never felt like Dream was in his league to begin with, so his crush was like a kid crushing on a celebrity lol-

And omg you're killing me with the Lust bit!! Ough it's so on point! Cross being so so flustered and obliterated that it's actually going his way, and Lust just being glad that Cross was the one to bridge that gap (because I mean, they managed to be friends a little, but Lust is a professional, he doesn't flirt (intentionally) on the clock!) so he got the opportunity and pounced on it! Ohh they're so so cute...

HAH- Dude I'm so so glad you found it funny because I was writing the drabble and I was like "I hate to be a malicious author, but also I can't let Cross hear about how good it is here, because the Guard usually don't actually hate it.... Oh! Lying man :]" And then chuckled about it writing the entire rest of the drabble! Misinformation that's completely unbounded! Love him for that!

Oh I love the idea that the rest of the staff find him so so funny and mess around and tell stories with him! Shep is actually a beloved member of the castle, if only because he can't stop lying and it adds an extra layer of drama to the castle when things are like. Super tame now that Night's in charge. (No affairs, new mates, burned cities, sacrifice nights, nothing! They have to entertain themselves somehow!) Shep is basically the unofficial Bard... And yeah, Night and everyone knowing his tells like second nature- So casual- (Night loves Ccino's cats. he might not know all their names, but he does make an effort to make it into a little paradise for them! No sub-par toys or food!) And dudeeeee. The idea of Shep coming to visit and Cross having just found out about the lying like a day prior being, "yeah?? I'm bad??? You lied to me!!" and Shep just being like, 'That's what I do, yeah. Back to the spying thing?' gods I love them-

Okay!!! Magic system!!! (Actually, first: The Bet was probably something along the lines of a challenge for their next training (deeply unserious). Like, whoever lost would have to do their next training session wearing a dress or a blindfold or smth. (Dust agreed because he knew he'd win, and Killer loves an excuse to do fun silly stuff that makes them have good memories together :] )

Okay. Now magic system. HOLY SHIT when I read this this morning I was sitting in my classes rotating this around in my head- Yes, first off! Entering Nim's stupid weather-repellant land totally saved his life, or at least made it better! His survival relied on way way too many chance decisions and happenings, because I do like the idea that Dust could've gotten fried by accident by his soul when he was still too young to absorb the excess the shocks gave to him- And OH GOD the idea that Dust knows how it feels to dust??? without knowing it??? feral of you, I love it so dearly. We're back to shaking you for enrichment because!!!! That gave me chills in such a cool cool way- The spell always revives him in time, it's always there, and he always feels a little better, so he assumes it's his own brand of monster fatigue or some other weird thing that he doesn't have time to figure out rn because he has work to do (Crime Lord, Knight, etc).

The concept that the only way to kill him is a super powerful sint-magic field is my favorite ever and we're putting that one into the books- And using a lil silly from your Drabble, I love the idea that he gets tired after the spell leaves his body by even a short distance for too long, and by that measure I like to think that when he was imprisoned? The only reason he wasn't initially fighting to get out (or causing a storm) is because the dampeners literally told his spell to shut up, and the spell had the choice to either Support Dust (which it chose) or to try and break him out and risk killing him in the process. He starts off really oddly relaxed for a smart crime-lord criminal, and has less energy than one would expect. It's kinda assumed that the longer he's back up and moving and getting used to trusting Night that he just got some kick back in his step, but it was actually the dampeners being removed that restored his energy!

The vision of him getting downed w/ a hit to the soul (Everyone knows he's a glass cannon, and they know the horrific sound of a breaking soul) and no one can get to him in time before they start seeing his form shake and shimmer like it's ready to dust. And then. Just the loudest sound of lightning cracking, bright light from his ribcage (glowing through his clothes), and just like you said, he gasps and sits back up before getting right back to attacking? He assumes it was a weird fluke, he got hit in the head and blacked out. Everyone else is panicking and feels sick because??? What the hell??? Monsters don't do that? Souls don't do that?? Dust??????

And ofc we've kinda already touched on this bit, but yeag. I love the idea so so much that magic looks different to everyone. That the intent is always the same but the actual appearance depends on how any one magic-user processes their own magic. And I love Error and Geno's perspectives and the way you framed them!!!

The note of the og mage not even recognizing their own work is so cool to me too, because you're right! That's Dust's now! For all intents and purposes, I bet that mage thinks Dust is dead (which is why this didn't make big news). They tried to come back to check up a few times (after Dust finally woke up and stablized) and his family allowed it to ensure their little boy was going to be alright, but then Dust ran away, and the Mage just assumed Dust ran away to die like a wounded animal (I think the mage had mostly good intentions, but they were also very un-confident in Dust's survival rate). Dust's spell is his own creation now, and the og mage would probably look at it and deny their involvement, because that's not their magic. Simple as that. (To Mages who studied? magic has a set form it takes and stays in once they set it, so Dust's conundrum is one of a billion reasons why Geno is so invested-)

And yeah, The others walk in and are just super duper confused, because Dust swore he had things under control- He was definitely visibly still surprised himself when the others showed up and he was still trying to figure out exactly why his magic just auto-fried the guy- And yes! They keep Dust there as a guard because they're 90% sure Cross could control any other magic and escape if he had the chance, despite the cuffs, so they're putting the one they Know can effectively counter-attack him in charge of ensuring he stays contained! (i love that Cross thinks of magic like Orders and Commands btw, that is a GENIUS look at it!! This magic system is so so cool and I'm glad you were inspired because I am eating this up.....)

Lastly: Yeah, Error is positive he made the right choice in claim on big brothers. I mean! Error explodes things, Dust explodes things, they're the explosion brothers :D

New Age AU (Cross' Spy Adventures)

Hi guys! I'm back! This one has been eating at me so forgive me if it's a bit rougher than the others, but I hope you still enjoy! (And if plot details don't seem to line up? Remember Cross has no clue what's going on yet :] )

Context: Cross has been asked by Dream to do recover information on his brother's next plans of attack. He's not a very good spy.

(Hi to @ancha-aus @papiliovolens and @mutzelputz !!!)

Stars this place was big.

He'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be on a castle grounds after so many years roughing it with Ink. Inns and taverns and tents. He wasn't sure how much he enjoyed being back in the throes of the rich and powerful's estates.

The cart-ride with the other new recruits had been pleasant enough, they were all decently friendly guys. A few were putting on that tough-guy facade, but none of them could've been older than 25. Fresh off the press, practically. Perfect soldiers to be brainwashed.

Cross had laughed and joked with them about what life in the castle might be like. How different it would be from the old daily grind. How maybe they'd pick up a hot partner in town on their patrols. How they hoped they'd eat like kings.

Though, Cross noticed that each of them got cagey when word of the King resurfaced. One birdish-monster mourned that she couldn't have served the last King, Nim, before she passed on to join the gods. Another spoke of the honor it would bring for him to serve the blood of Nim.

They seemed averse to even acknowledging King Nightmare's existence. Aside from his connection to Nim.

Now, the chatter was all silent, and Cross was among the many new soldiers who were ogling the castle as they passed around its outer wall and entered through a side gate.

It was, admittedly, impressive.

His own home kingdom had less of a castle, more of a monolith. It had been dense, and tall, and impossibly smooth. His father couldn't stand imperfection.

This castle was almost the exact opposite of what Cross had always known. The walls imperfect and overlapping, rather than brick it looked like it had burst straight up from the ground. Bumpy and imperfect and natural, and yet beautiful and structurally stable. He didn't linger on it, but he wanted to so badly.

Instead, he drew his attention ahead. To where a man stood, his armor decorated in the marks which indicated him as a reporting officer.

This man, a human with a crooked nose and a thick, black, beard held up a hand, and the driver of the cart tugged at his reigns, the horses pulling to a slow stop.

One by one, once given the signal, the soldiers filed out. Stating their rank, their camp of origin, and their name.

Cross was middle of the pack, and saluted the human as Dream had taught him and as everyone had done before him.

"1st Year Guard, Pierson Camp, Z." He reported.

He was not proud of his code-name. It physically hurt to say it with a straight face, but when he'd been talking about needing a new code name, Ink had excitedly suggested it.

Z, he'd said, Like 'X' but not! And Cross hadn't been able to shut the idea down when Dream had giggled and tapped his cheekbone, the spot just under his eyelight that held is scar.

Dream had called it fitting, and it'd been settled in a heartbeat.

Cross managed to say it aloud without any hint of suspicion and was waved off to join his fellow recruits.

They lined up haphazardly, but didn't dare to do more than grin and snicker between eachother at. Well. Anything, it seemed. They were taking this very casually compared to what Cross had been expecting.

Though, the moment the captain was done looking to the cart for any stragglers, he turned. The soldiers all went still and aligned themselves.

Cross wondered how they survived training if they goofed off like that so readily.

He watched as the cart which had brought them circled away, and he listened carefully as the man introduced himself.

"I am Captain Rogers. Your platoon will report to me for any and all management. I control your training schedules, your mealtimes, and your work hours." He called out to them, right there on the lawn "you are here today to serve the blood of the gods, and by Nim's watch you will not slack on your oath. No matter how much you loathe it here. Understood?"

Such a bold declaration of... unrest.

The soldiers, one by one, gave affirmative nods and salutes, Cross making sure he wasn't the first. He didn't want to seem too eager.

The captain led them about.

He asked for them to stay in formation, and Cross ended up towards the middle of the pack yet again, just close enough to hear the explanations of their duties, places on the grounds they were allowed to go, and what their daily routine was meant to be like.

Near the stables, they paused briefly, and the Captain was taking an extra long time explaining that the horses in the stables were not to be ridden without explicate orders from him or another commanding officer.

Cross couldn't help but notice the guys ahead of him whispering about something, and Cross followed their miniscule gestures off to the left.

A black cat, wirey and short-hair. It was standing in the shadow of a fence, and he didn't think he would've spotted it if it weren't for its big, green eyes. They were like little saucers in its head.

It was staring straight at him. Tail flicking. One ear twitched.

Cross tried to ignore it, but when he'd glance back, it was still there.

Until, suddenly, it wasn't.

By the time they moved on, it was nowhere in sight.

His old home hadn't had many animals, especially not roaming cats. He wondered if it was a 'barn cat'. Blue had explained the concept to him once.

Regardless, that thing was freaky.

Finally, after what felt like hours of walking, the Captain announced that their last stop of the night would be to their quarters.

He could practically feel the relief rolling off of the guys next to him, and it took am effort to let his shoulders sag even an inch in imitation. The guy next to him looked like he might fall over, and Cross shared none of that exhaustion.

They would start their assignments bright and early in the morning, each of them would have a more experienced guard join them as a guiding measure before they were left to the duties themselves.

A much kinder grace period than Cross had been expecting, honestly.

The Captain escorted them down the halls, long and twisting. Each one held soldiers out of uniform, turning in for the night, going through their routines. As well as some moving out for the night shift. They ignored the rookies as they kept to their own business.

The Captain swung a door open, only to immediately block the soldiers in front from entering the space of relaxation beyond.

"Ah, Ccino, I was worried we'd missed you." The Captain spoke up.

"Soldiers, back up. Stand at attention." Came an order next.

Cross was faster than the others in recognizing the order, but forced himself to wait until the others stumbled into him to start moving. He wasn't sure why they were getting into this stance, but he knew better than to start asking questions.

They all stood in the hall, and Cross caught a few snickers from nearby lounging guards as the rookies stood there.

"The King called upon me, so I wasn't able to meet you where we had planned," a softer, calm, voice rang, "I figured I would run into you here before you turned in for your first night."

The Captain stood before them, and beside him, exiting the barracks, was a monster.

Cross tried not to stare, but he couldn't deny that this was odd. He'd never known a captain to bend to anyone but a higher up. But...

This skeleton was dressed in a servant's uniform. Granted, it was made of a thick, soft-looking brown and tan fabric, with an apron with more embroidery than he thought he'd ever seen in his life, but it was nothing too out of place.

Surely it wasn't a Knight. No, he'd been told they wore masks. He could tell this skeleton was not a Knight. He could see the full skull, soft and gentle, calm eyelights, and a body Cross swore had never seen a single battle.

No. Cross, stop that.

He didn't tear his eyes away, but he forced himself to look back to the skeleton's shoulder. No eye-contact, but still facing him. Good.

"Soldiers, This is our Head of House, Ccino." The Captain gestured to the skeleton at his side.

The soldiers all remained silent, and the captain nodded.

"If Ccino ever gives you any sort of order, you listen." The Captain's voice was harsh with this, the same way he'd spoken about the horses, and the kitchen, and the private training rooms they'd passed. "No questions, no hesitation, no disobeying. You understand?"

The squint of the Captain's eyes were more than enough for Cross to know better than to ask. Something like this was unfamiliar, for sure, but he knew when a soldier was saying something he truly believed in. Lived by. For better or worse.

None of the other recruits seemed to speak up. Cross certainly didn't. He tried not to let his nerves show as this skeleton, Ccino, let's his soft white eyelights skim softly from one soldier to the next. When they came to him, he desperately avoided the gaze, practically staring a hole into the soft fur scarf wrapped around his neck, hiding his spine from view.

"It's a pleasure to meet all of you," That calm voice again, "As you heard, my name is Ccino. I manage the Castle, it's grounds, and the people who stay within our walls. This includes all if you, as of tonight."

He seemed rather put-together. Pleasant. Cross didn't feel any unease. He was positive, now, that this was not a Knight. Yet, he couldn't figure out why such a monster would be held in such high regard, unless, of course...

"As you heard, our King trusts my decisions regarding these matters, which is why he asks you listen to my requests. However, I don't abuse this privilege, and it shouldn't dissuade you from coming to me if you have any problems." Ccino pulled his arms to cross infront of him, and once again looked over the recruits. "You may be our guard, but that does not mean you shouldn't recieve help as well. If you cannot find me, ask another servant and they will get word to me."

Ccino seemed... kind. That had to be it.

The sparkle of admiration in the captain's eyes. The way some of the soldiers watched. Maybe Ccino was the golden light in this dark place? Though, that didn't seem quite right.

"Stick to your duties, remain diligent, and you will be cared for here." He said softly. "Now, stand down and go rest. Your training tomorrow will be thorough, and you will need the extra sleep."

Oh.

Cross recognized the order, and his body moved a bit before his mind could catch up. He relaxed, as much as he naturally could, and took a step. Toward the barracks. Then paused and glanced like a deer in the headlights to the Captain and the Head of House.

Ccino just smiled, and the Captain seemed stoic.

"Seems Z gets first dibs on the cots!" The Captain announced, and with his approval, humor seeping into his tone a bit, and laughter echoing from the older guard who'd been observing?

Cross made the quick duck into the room and grabbed for the first cot he saw. Bottom bunk, closest to the door, the easiest way he'd be able to leave the long room of bunk beds.

The others hurried in after him, some laughing, others cursing jokingly at Cross having noticed the test first.

The test.

Of course it'd been a test. A test to see if they'd recognize Ccino as an authority figure. A test to see if they took the warning seriously. Cross just listened to the superior officer. And... put himself in the limelight of excelling new recruits.

If there was one good thing, though it was mortifying, the others didn't seem to notice what it was. They were too busy teasing Cross for the grape blush that enveloped his face the moment he sat to think it over. The others assumed he'd just slipped up. Listened to the prettiest person in the room.

Once again, Cross wondered how they'd made it through training. Though, it was good they just thought he was a stupid lover boy. Better than them realizing he was following orders on instinct.

It'd been a hard sell, getting to sleep, but he'd managed somehow.

.

The morning was much easier than the night prior. He woke up before the sun, before a lot of the others even showed signs of stirring. It was good he got up so early, sneaking off probably wouldn't be much of an issue.

Tomorrow, then. He'd do his sneaking tomorrow, after he got a lay of the land today. From what they'd been told, he'd be supervised today. Everyone would. It was different from what the Prince had told him, but it didn't matter. Policies could change, and Cross knew better than to disobey new policies.

The castle inside felt like a maze yesterday, he'd hopefully have routes inside, so he'd be able to memorize at least a few escapes. Orient himself. Worst case he could break a window.

He didn't want to leave any trace, though. The best scenario, as Dream had explained it, was that he'd get in, get the information, and get out. A week, maybe a week and a half tops. Cross wanted to spend as little time here as possible. He didn't want to fall into whatever mind-control he'd been warned of. He didn't want to run into the Knights. He certainly didn't want to see Dream's twin.

Though, he was curious. What he looked like. If he could see the sibling resemblance between the Prince and his supposedly brainwashed ruler of a sibling. It was honestly none of his business. If the King never saw his face, that would be all the better. He shouldn't know Cross was ever here at all.

The thoughts swirled in hid head as he stared at the bottom of the cot above his. Wood slats, the whole thing was sturdy wood, with decent mattresses and blankets and pillows resting on its support. It didn't creak at all, which was good. And surprising. Everything in the castle seemed so nice.

Mm, must've been a thing for the people here. Serve the 'gods' and live in luxury. It certainly seemed that was how the Prince's camp had run as well.

Cross couldn't be sure how long he was awake, examining the room and sitting still, but the sun managed to rise into the sky by the time he'd heard the slamming knock on the door to the barracks.

It was easy for him. When the Captain swung the door wide open and announced, in a hardy shout, that they were to be in the hall in 5? Cross rolled out of bed the moment the door closed again.

It pained him to move so slowly. He couldn't be the first one out again. Couldn't be the first one dressed. He didn't know why it took so long for the others to change to their uniforms and rub the sleep from their eyes. Monsters and humans alike! They hustled, some of them, and Cross was grateful a cat monster seemed to gather herself more readily than the others. An orange striped cat, her nose and the tip of her tail a stark white. Cross only noticed her when she rushed for the door, and he let himself trail her a moment later.

Thinking back, she'd been at the back of the group yesterday, joking with some of the others. Cross wondered what the energy change was all about.

He didn't get time to worry about it, though. The hall outside the barracks was busier than it had been last night, and Cross found himself facing, not only the Captain, but also several guards. They each seemed to be in full uniform, different than Cross' or the cat's which marked them as trainees. They seemed stoic before their captain, and Cross almost felt a moment if relief. Maybe this was a decent show of artillery?

No, wait, strong soldiers would be bad for the Prince. He'd have to get through these guys.

He shook away the thought, listening in as he stood awkwardly in the hall, another recruit lumbering out to stand where he'd joined the cat already.

The Captain looked them over, before nodding.

"Harper, you're with Jenna." The Captain ordered, pointing from the cat before gesturing towards one of the guard directly behind him.

Cross tried not to let his eyelights give away his observance as the guard stepped around her captain. She seemed to be a bunny monster, lots of fur and long, floppy ears tied behind her head. She, Jenna, saluted the cat, Harper, and Harper saluted in return.

"Listen to what your mentor tells you, got it?" The Captain asked, and Cross saw a few others exiting as he said this.

Those who started moving down the hall, and the Capatin looked to Cross. It was a kick glance, one look-over, before he turned and looked over his shoulder.

"Z, you're with Shep." And a gesture guided Cross towards whoever his mentor for the day would be.

From nearly the back of the crowd, snaked a dog monster. Black and white, short-trimmed fur. His eyes were brown and intense, and after a moment Cross realized this guard was shorter than him. He didn't like that when Shep saluted, he had to peer down to salute back.

He hardly even registered that they were already moving off, not unlike the two before them had done, until he'd taken a few steps to follow this small royal guard.

"So, you're Z?" Shep asked him as they stopped a few halls away. This one was largely barren aside from a few servants. Along each wall hung a huge tapestry, woven out of heavy threads and hung by a long piece of metal along the top edge.

"Yes, sir." Cross responded shortly. Not giving himself a moment to stammer.

Shep looked at his quizzically, before he leaned forward and sniffed. Actually just sniffed at Cross. It was still a few inches away, they didn't make contact, but suddenly he worried he was stinky. He's bathed before hopping on the cart, and he hadn't been exercising much, surely-

"Ah, you're not from this Kingdom! Not originally, at least." Shep said then, leaning away just as quickly as he'd gotten close.

Cross blinked, and he was sure his skull didn't hide his shock as well as he'd hoped. "I can smell the pollen on you, newbie. We don't have those kinda plants in this kingdom." He explained, and Cross internally cursed himself. Would he have to run? Would he have to-

"You know, I'm not from this kingdom either, I was born to the west." Shep admitted then, easily, using a paw to gesture loosely at the space between them, "I bet we'll get along just fine, newbie. C'mon. I'll show you around your route."

Cross didn't even get a spare second to defend himself, or puzzle at why a foreign monster would choose to come here. Shep was already on his way, back turned and hurrying down the hall at a brisk pace.

"As far as I know You're gonna be taking over my old route, inner portion of the castle." Cross listened, but orders were his second nature. As they walked, he eyed the tapestries hung along the wall. Long and intense, and yet, there was a moment where Cross could see the colors were more faded and worn.

"You'll mostly just be patrolling, watching out for anything out of the ordinary, waiting to see if you're needed for any specific duties." The images showed monsters, humans, monsters again. Depictions of complex circles and red splashes dripping from weapons and hands. And he noticed a trend, eventually. These must've been the previous rulers. The past Kings.

"Your patrols will be alone, the rooms in the hall aren't too important, and it's mostly servants that pass through that way." Cross almost lost his rhythm as they drew to the end of the tapestry, though the hall kept moving. There on the tapestry was a depiction of two little skeletons, one which seemed strikingly similar to Prince Dream, even in his adulthood. Beyond, the tapestry simply stopped. It was odd that King Nightmare hadn't bothered to get it finished with his own visage. Maybe his puppetmaster was waiting to put himself there instead?

"Still important, anyways. The servants halls are the easiest ways in and out of the castle, so we can't slack off." They turned a corner, and Cross pried his eyes away from the tapestry and back before him.

They passed a few more halls, before Shep stopped dead in his tracks, and Cross reacted quickly, spotting the way he peaked around the next corner.

Across the way, Cross spotted that they'd run into another pair who had also stopped. Only when Shep saluted did Cross think to follow his lead.

From the hall he couldn't see, emerged a figure.

Cross kept his eyelights to the ground, but the steps, the shoes, the heavy cape, and especially the dark and slimey tendrils which snaked along in his wake? That was the King. The one Dream had been so particular about not running into at all.

Two sets of feet followed him. Closely. He didn't have to look up to recognize that they must've been Knights. The easy weight of their steps, how close they stuck behind the king, the weight of the one's magic? Surely. He didn't risk a glance until after Shep lifted his head again. Cross only caught a glimpse of a tiger mask turning another corner before the three figures were gone.

In the tense silence, Cross swore he could hear his soul beating. He wasn't sure if it was fear, or indignance, or something else, but he knew being so close to the King had not made him feel good. Dream had been right, something about that guy was wrong.

Shep glanced around, and his ear twitched, watching down the hall where they'd left to.

The group across from them was already moving, towards the hall Cross had just cone from.

"You know, you kids are lucky Newbie." Shep voiced then, eying up the human rookie who was passing by. "When I first joined the guard, the King cut my tail off to prove my loyalty."

He said it so easily that Cross was speechless. What did he mean? Was. His tail was docked, but...

"What?!" The panicked whisper came from the passing humans who had obviously been eavesdropping. He expressed the concern coating Cross's soul and freezing him in place.

"Yep. I heard he used it as a cat toy for the strays." Shep confirmed loosely.

"Shep." Came the snap of his name from the other trained guard, though they didn't move to deny his claim.

Cross hadn't heard anything about that from Dream. Of course, he also hadn't heard about this introduction process either. He was flying blindly here, and suddenly he feared for his limbs.

Shep simply shrugged and kept moving forward. Cross wanted, badly, to excuse himself right this moment and go back and claim he couldn't do it. But he was here now, and he had a Prince to help. And a whole lot of people relying on him to prevent more tragedies.

The training wasn't hard. Shep stood with him, made small-talk, told him all the tricks to ensure he knew when someone would switch off with him, and then they had lunch.

He hated to admit it, but the food was delicious. He hadn't had something so filling in... maybe ever. He couldn't put his finger on it, not quite, but for monster food, it felt solid. Warmer. He felt less hungry after, and a part of him wondered if that was how they did it. The mind control. Was it the food?

But, no, surely not. He was still set on his mission when he went right back to his rounds. The food was just... strangely good.

The rest of the rounds were easy. Simple. And there was at least an hour after where Shep willingly guided him through the rest of the building. At least, anywhere he could.

Cross noticed, once, that Shep broke a rule. He ducked into the kitchen. Returned to a surprised Cross with two pieces of bread and handed one to Cross before tearing into his own. Apparently, from what Shep said, the main kitchen wasn't off-limits. Not really. Just the private one.

He didn't ask about the difference, he wouldn't need to know, after all. He doubted plans of attack were stached in the cupboards of a pantry.

And just as swiftly as it had begun, it ended. Shep said he'd be around the training grounds tomorrow if Cross needed him, and released him to dinner. After Dinner, Cross went back to the barracks.

Many of the rookies were talking all about their routes, others complaining that they had gotten cleaning duties for being the last out of the barracks that morning. They'd start training tomorrow. Cross tried not to contribute much, but he liked listening in. Understanding more about the place. The people.

It sounded like the King had crossed quite a few of their paths as well, and they didn't seem happy about it. Discussing in hushed tones how weird the King was compared to the last. Dark, secretive, hardly even a ruler. Cruel. He heard the human from before shamelessly telling Shep's tail misfortune to the gathered group, who all seemed to be riled up by it, exchanging other horrible speculations.

He needed to get this information. He just... he couldn't do anything until the others were asleep. So. Morning it would be.

.

Cross was a coward.

He knew as much, deep down somewhere, but as he woke up early again, he thought through his plan. He didn't know where he'd find any of this information he needed, he didn't know anything beyond his own route. He didn't even know what he'd be finding. He'd know when he found it, he was sure, but the last thing he wanted to do was get caught

He should've excused himself during dinner to go search around, or chosen a buddy to go wandering with. Shep had told him some things, he knew the room where the Knights trained was the indoor room, and he knew some areas no one went to. He knew the hall where the Knights and King stayed, Cross found it interesting they all stayed nearby, and he'd promised himself he'd avoid the space like the plague. He knew so much, and so little, all at once.

And he waited, thinking, so long that he... he just got up as the others did. Moved to his station to rotate shifts with the night guards. He just... did his duties again.

Well, they weren't his duties. He had no obligation to be here, not really. But the Prince had told him a week. A week and a half. That would make the most sense for an in and out. So, he wanted to respect that. And he had orders now to act out. Surely if he slacked off it'd be noticed, right? Yeah. He'd just slip away before dinner and say he went to train a bit more. Peak into some doorways. No biggy. Surely.

He worried about what he'd do to pick up a slack he hadn't even lost, all day. All through his rounds. If he showed it, his replacement at his last post said nothing, and waved him off.

Cross wanted so desperately to go searching. But. Before he could pass by the hall which would lead to the mess hall for the servants and guard? He glimpsed them from down the adjoining hall.

Two of the Knights.

One with a hood obscuring his face, casting a heavy shadow over everything, his eyelights a dull white. Though he didn't see a mask at first glance, Cross had to make some assumptions based on the one beside him that they were both Knights.

The other had on leather training armor, and a tiger's mask, red ribbons hanging from it, swaying with weight. He could see the skeleton's grin peaking from beneath the mask, and noticed how the tiger draped an arm over the other and laughed.

Cross didn't even give them a second to notice him, swiftly stepping out of the corridor and towards the dining halls after all. He didn't want to get in the way. He didn't want to be on their radar.

He needed to know when they trained. When they'd all be occupied so he wouldn't have to worry about them catching him off-guard.

Off guard. Ink would be having a hayday with that one if he'd made that joke back at camp.

Cross just kept moving forward, ducking into the dining space before the Knights even reached that hall.

.

Three days. It took him 6 whole days to learn more. To learn where the information might be. To learn where the Knights usually were at any given time. To learn how to navigate the place better. To not worry about getting caught.

He'd gone back to Shep one day, to test if he'd be told to go off the dinner or if he'd be sought out. He was not, so he had his proof that no one cared so long as he was doing his rounds.

He'd sat and talked. Asked about the Knights. (Shep had little to say that Cross didn't already know). Asked about training. (Shep said he was always out here now, running routines.) Asked about the king.

And Shep was interested about him asking on the King. Cross almost fumbled, but said he'd heard a lot of rumors. Shep had been here a while. What was true?

And Shep told him stories. In a low voice. Of the King breaking spines, of throwing objects with his tendrils, of sentencing folks to death over minor transgressions. Of his ruthless rule and cruel first. How he brought in servants and guards by force. Ripping them from their homes. How the king would declare traitors and have them hung.

Eventually, Cross asked him to stop. He'd heard enough.

Some of those things he'd heard from Dream, or the folks back at that encampment. Others were new. Insider information. Things he'd never dreamed of.

It was informational, and Cross decided that he'd keep learning more, until he was sure he had the perfect moment to strike.

.

He wasn't the smartest, okay?

Cross had done his rounds, and the moment he was done, he scurried off towards his destination.

He paid no mind to servants or guards, and used a servant's hall to arrive in the location he needed. The hall where the King's Study was located.

Yesterday he'd investigated the war room. Entering and closing the doors behind him, the room had been a mess of papers and figures and notes. The maps of each neighboring kingdom alone were strewn on walls, like the ravings of a mad-man. None of them had plans of attack, though. The light from his eyelights had been enough to illuminate each one as he approached. Every single one was a new defensive plan. Ways to deploy troops if they were attacked. Not one seemed unprovoked which was... strange.

Cross was almost unable to find any sign of the King's next route of action for his destructive feats, so he was resigned to search the study tomorrow. His only solace was that exiting the War Room had only been met with a servant a ways down the hall, and a cat pacing by, paying him no mind.

The cats in this place were many. Cross had never seen so many cats in one place, and when he'd asked at dinner, it seemed that everyone thought they belonged to the Head of House, Ccino.

It would make sense, Cross had seen the embroidery along his apron, plenty of paws and cat-like figures along the hemlines, between the branch and tree motif the entire building seemed set on holding tight to. But, it amazed him that there would be so many, allowed to run free. The King must've been very lenient with his Head of House, to allow so many creatures free-roam.

...then again, the Knights wore masks decorated with Big Cats. Cross had finally caught a glimpse of the Lion, out on the lawn while he was talking to Shep. He carried an Axe twice the size of Cross' torso, and he seemed to wield it with hardly any problem. Cross just hoped the little beasts weren't being sacrificed. He'd heard about the barbaric practices from Ink once when he had his head on straight. He hadn't had the guts to bring it up to the Prince. Or Shep. Fearing the answer.

And so, now, he moved for the study. When he knew no one would be around, when no one would see him or bother him. He could dig through the information, tuck it away in his ribcage, and get out of dodge.

It was mid-day. Apparently the Knights tended to have training about now, and the King always supervised. So the forbidden hall, as the others called it, was dead and silent.

It wasn't hard to determine which door was the study, the door was carved carefully with a beautiful tree, and the handle was a shining gold, as though it got less use than the other rooms. He tested the handle, it moved, and he slipped inside.

Of course it wouldn't be locked. Who would have the guts to go snooping around in the private spaces of murderous tyrant kings? Well. Cross would, but that was besides the point.

The inside was lit by a few stray candles, and Cross tried not to marvel at the luxury of the room. Everything was carved out of dark wood, with golden fabric lacing the cushions of lounge seats and the curtains which covered the windows. It was darker, used, but still gorgeous. The daylight filtered in through an open window, giving it a warm ambience. Cross didn't know how a room used by such an unpleasant man would be so calm and soft.

There was a case along one wall, large and long. Hung inside were masks of all different shapes and styles. Some were decorated with swirls and gems, but most resembled animals. A crane, a swan, a horse, a sheep, a hawk, a wolf, they all stared out at him with blank, empty, sockets. He wondered if these were used or not, but they seemed untouched.

And beside that case, in the far corner, sat a heavy desk, with bookshelves filled to the brim tucked just behind it.

The desk was heavy, and it looked to be covered with papers, letter drafts, just a quick glance over the contents told Cross this was just what he needed.

He stood behind the desk, unable to stop himself from lifting the papers up into his hands. From here he could see the door, as well. He'd know if someone was coming.

The first paper he looked at seemed to be the draft of a letter, addressed to someone by the name of Crop. The handwriting was beautiful, and Cross was lucky Ink knew how to write in so many dialects, or he'd have trouble deciphering exactly what this was saying. The cursive was precise. And... it seemed a half-finished letter asking about plants. The state of a harvest? No, that's strange.

Cross lifted the few pages which had been tucked beneath the first, confused. These ones seemed to be written in a much more unsure writing, but they held what he could only call sketches. Showing clouds and plants and... fields? Cross wasn't familiar with farming, but he could recognize a field anywhere. The paper had a few words underlined and circled, and they seemed to be later additions, added overtop by someone else. The words seemed to be mentioned again in the letter draft? It was completely innocuous. If this was the King's letter, he was just asking about the wellbeing of a farmer's harvest. Asking about improvements.

He moved them hastily into a stack and set them aside, reaching for the next haphazard bundle of paper. That couldn't have been right.

The next piece he scooped up was in that same pretty cursive, but this time it wasn't a letter. Instead it was some sort of list. Locations, some crossed off, and some untouched. Was this what he was searching for? Surely this was it.

He moved to grab the next page that had been beneath it. It held more context, it seemed. Notes scribbled down about how these towns needed changes. Action. Cross looked to the first crossed-off name, one he recognized from one of the woman at Dream's encampment.

The paper read of a faulty justice system, a lawman who needed to be checked up on for counts of bribery and false accusations. She'd said the Knight, the tiger, had arrived and asked for their head of city guard, the one who enforced rules and kept peace in their small village. Two days later he was killed, replaced by someone the King installed, and he started jailing innocent folks.

Cross looked to the next one, a pass where travel had been haunted by the royal guard. He'd been told they'd done it to halt people from mining in the area, a crop of wealth the King wanted to hoard. But this said that it was a mountain pass with frequent and dangerous rocks lines thanks to a sudden increase in storms since his rule. Notes reminding of supplies, and pay, and signs. Signs.

The next was not crossed off. An issue of bandits ransacked the town when people would enter or exit. Notes in messier scrawl seemed to pose solutions. Ideas. One that was circled said 'Send Horror, Autumn'. It was nearing the end of summer now.

This did seem to be the list that Dream had suggested existed, my twin is organized, he'll have a list with extensive notes, but he'd said nothing about the way the list wouldn't actually contain anything incriminating.

He skimmed again, but it seemed like nothing harmful. One lower down even acknowledged a damage caused during some sort of raid and to divert funds to someone. A random shopkeep in an outer city. This didn't add up at all.

He folded the paper silently and stuffed it into his armor, but kept looking. No doubt there would be something else. One of the lower pieces, something hidden away.

But the papers atop the desk seemed just as helpful in nature. Even ones like drafted decrees or laws to impose later were not unreasonable. One even seemed to propose a ban on child labor. What kind of tyrant would pass up a chance for easy workers?

Digging through the drawers revealed nothing more, just an impressive collection of quills, ink, and more books it seemed didn't fit on the shelves behind him. He wouldn't find anything more useful than these documents, he was sure. He... he just hoped the Prince would be able to see whatever evil Cross was obviously missing here. He scooped up another piece, one of the decrees, and then the letter draft to that Crop. Maybe they could speak to him? No, the planning was up to Dream. He was just here to get the information and go.

And now that he had it...

Cross sighed a bit, he couldn't understand why these were the things in here. In this innermost sanctum where only the trusted went. Everyone feared this King so much, Dream claimed he and his master were such a threat. And yet all Cross could find was a record of damages, and a plan to enact damage control. It...

"Having some trouble finding the dirt?"

Cross felt his entire soul freeze up as the voice cut through the silent room. It was quiet, and deep, and a bit gravelly. He didn't recognize it, but that didn't matter, because he knew he had been alone.

Almost all at once, a wave of presence crashed over his awareness. That damp static that had passed by once in the hall. Trailing the King. He didn't have to look up to know it was one of the Knights somewhere before him.

"Our King isn't usually one to make a mess." The voice said again, calmly.

Cross dragged his eyelights up, hands tentatively hovering at his sides. There, sat comfortably on one of the chairs, was the hooded one. Dust, Shep had told him.

Now, despite the shadow cast by his hood, Cross could see the faint details of his panther mask, black and hidden away in the darkness of his cover. He seemed entirely at-ease, not a care in the world, watching Cross. If his soul hadn't been sinking into his gut, Cross would've even thought Dust found the situation humorous.

He steeled himself, watching. Could he try and bluff his way out of this? Somehow? How long had Dust been there? How much had he seen?

"Any chance you'd believe I was looking for a good book?" Cross asked, though the bold humor he'd attempted to channel in the way Ink had done so many times before fell flat. Maybe his growing panic was clouding his mind, or maybe he'd never been much of a comedian.

Dust just stared at him, tilting his head a bit. By the way his eyelights changed shape, Cross imagined his sockets had drooped to give an unamused stare. Not a great sign.

"Are you going to try and run, or can I catch a break today?" Dust just asked across the room.

Mm. Cross didn't have much of a choice here anymore. Dream had told him, drilled it into his skull, not to get caught. Especially not by the Knights. They'd torture him. Kill him. The stories of what they did to traitors... Cross couldn't let this knight get hold of him. Couldn't be trapped. He had to get out of here.

He promised Ink he'd be back.

With that thought, his sword summoned to his hand in a flash. It was big, and bulky, and not the best for an indoor fight, but he'd make due. He just needed to get away from this guy. That was all.

His summons was clearly a declaration of intent, because he heard Dust scoff over the rush of adrenaline running through him and roaring through his ears. All at once, the electric charge in the room seemed to up itself. Bones, blue, cracked downwards from the rafters and planted themselves sturdy before the door and the window. His two possible exits. Dust stood up and stretched his arms before him.

"Alright, let's get this over with." Dust voiced, then.

Cross nearly let his guard down in the first moment. He felt a charge of energy coming from his side, and narrowly vaulted over the desk to avoid the spiked and jagged bones which rose where his feet had just been planted.

Momentum carried him now, and his sword was already poised for attack before his mind quick processed it. He slashed at Dust, growing rapidly closer. Hid swing was met with pure white bones that stopped his swing, just enough for Dust to avoid the hit with a split second to spare.

He was quiet, as they fought. As Cross lunged and spun and threw himself forward with grunts of exertion. It was unsettling, how the only noises were the cracks of his magic ripping into existence or Cross's sword cracking them to pieces like a lumberjack's axe.

He kept his attention on Dust. The magic had a pattern. The room was buzzing ambiently, and right before an attack it was like being too close to a fire. Just briefly. Cross barely managed to avoid spearing his ankle thanks to the crackle. He wished he could be a bit faster, though. Cross couldn't feel where an attack was aiming like he normally could. Dust gave no indications as to where an attack would be channeling either, almost like he wasn't controlling them at all. He didn't like it, it was unpredictable, and was wearing him down fast.

Dust kept dodging his swings, no matter how fast he moved, and eventually Cross stumbled. His shoulder connected with one of the random jutting bones. Dust stepped back just before it pierced upwards, and Cross grunted in distress as it drove him back a step as to not get impaled.

That was apparently his mistake. The moment he wasn't close to Dust, bones seemed to crop up all around him, gutting at different angles, just barely piercing the bone, little cracks forming with the force. Cross could feel each one jab a bit deeper than the last. Each time he reversed to get away from one or break away an incoming volley, another would arrive behind him at a new angle.

He hated that Dust stood back. Watched. The only sign that he had even broken a sweat was a slight heaviness to the up and down of his shoulders, and while Cross hadn't lost much HP yet, he was starting to feel the exhaustion creep closer, and each little wound and crack seemed to be draining him. Was this the strategy? Play with him like a living pin-cushion? Was this it's own sort of-

Cross shifted his stance and unsummoned his weapon as he jumped up and out of the quickly growing ring of spikes. He had to act fast. He had to get out of here.

He grumbled a bit under his breath, he didn't like trying to do this, but...

The moment his feet landed, Cross summoned up his other piece of magic. The part his father had embedded into his soul early on in his life which made him so powerful. He was sure his normally white eyelight changed shape in the split second it happened. Red, bright red.

It only took a moment, a tug at the very being, hidden away in the Knight's chest. For a split second, he could feel the control of foreign magic slip into his own hands.

For a moment, it worked just as he knew it would. His fist trembled under the effort, keeping an eye on Dust as the other seemed to stare at him. The bones he'd summoned all seemed to sink away at once, recalled faster than Cross could've hoped. Dust seemed to feel his magic stop responding to him.

Cross just needed to get the Knight downed. Not dead. He just needed out.

He shifted stiffly. One, concentrated blast of bones at the Knight. He seemed like he didn't want to risk taking any damage. That was all Cross needed then. Some damage. And he'd be free to escape back to the camp. Away from these weird monsters with their weird magic.

He let his palm open, directing the force like he'd done so many times, channeling another monster's magic against them. Controlling it against their will.

The feeling of electricity rose again. It spiked. It. It gathered in his hand, that burning feeling he felt when an attack had been about to hit him.

What?

It was too late to recall the intent once he'd released it. The moment he tried to command the magic, he felt it all roll back over him. Bones meant to be aimed at their owner came jolting straight at his front. And though he stumbled back, he couldn't escape the searing pain of a fire too hot to process escaping his bones and immediately rushing up his arm, into his chest, down to his feet.

He had to imagine, with the loud sound like a cracking whip, that that was what being struck by lightning felt like. Molten metal in your veins.

Cross laid sprawled, dazed, on the floor as his control magic puttered out. It hurt to breathe. To see. To exit. He was half-convinced his arm was completely splintered apart after the pulse of raw magic that had filtered through it, but he didn't bother to look.

His soul begged him to move, to get up and run again, but darkness danced in his vision as he stared up at the ceiling. He failed his mission.

He hated to see as the Knight rounded into view, standing cautiously over where he was laid. Floored by the backfire of his power. If the knight said anything, he couldn't hear over the loud ringing invading his head.

Though, instead of stabbing him through like Cross had expected, the knight seemed to duck down. A cool feeling encased Cross' wrists (so the other hadn't broken apart) and his soul suddenly felt exhausted. He felt exhausted.

No matter how much he wanted to stay awake, to escape, he lost this fight fair and square.

[yelena-bellova]

Safe Haven: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

chapter three - Chapter Four: Madripoor - chapter five

Series Masterlist

Plot: Y/n, Sam and Bucky pay an eventful visit to Helmut Zemo in Berlin, heading to Madripoor soon after to get answers about the serum.

Word Count: 7.4k

Warnings: spoilers for episode.3, angst, violence, description of injuries, a few crumbs for the slow burn, breaking the law and looking good doing it

A/N: These chapters always end up being so long lol. I was going to include the nightclub scene but it would’ve made it too long so sorry, it’ll have to wait a few more days. Forgive my shitty Russian translations, I’m on Google Translate and that’s not saying a lot. 

----

“Not that it makes a difference, but I still don’t like this.” I’d voiced my displeasure about meeting with Zemo several times since we’d arrived in Germany. Even though we were already being led through the high security Berlin prison hallways, I still felt the urge to state my opinion. 

The guard that was guiding us gestured towards a door, “He’s just through the corridor.”

“Give us a sec,” Bucky said, the three of us coming to a halt in the middle of the hall. “I’m gonna go in alone.” “Why?” Sam asked.

“You’re an Avenger, you know how he feels about that,” Bucky looked to me, “You, I’m trying to keep as far away from him as possible.”

“It’s not like you two were known for frolickin’ in the sun together,” Sam remarked.

“I’m gonna say it again,” I took an assertive step forward, “I don’t like this.”

“He was obsessed with HYDRA,” Bucky pushed, “We have a history together. Trust me, I got it.”

Taking my cue from Sam, who didn’t fight him any more, I nervously watched Bucky stalk down the hallway to the corridor that led to our possible next step.

“Is he really okay?” I asked, watching Bucky’s figure until he disappeared, “I feel like we’re going a little too far with this.” “He’s invested, which means he’s desperate,” Sam answered, leaning his back against the wall, “This is a little too much though.” 

I copied his posture and we stood in silence, the occasional guard passing by. “What happened last night after I left the room? C’mon, you come out crying and you thought I was gonna let it go?” “Bucky and I were just…” I sighed, remembering the change that had happened between our two conversations, “Learning to get along. I told him about Steve, that’s never fun to relive.” “Ah,” Sam nodded, “Can I ask you something?” 

“Hm?” “You’re not mad at me that I gave up the shield, are you?”

My brows knitted together as I looked over at him, “Why would I be mad? Your decision wouldn’t have changed even if I was, would it?” “No, it wouldn’t have. But you were close to Steve too, you care about his legacy,” he went on, “We’re all angry about Walker. I don’t care if Bucky’s upset at me, but I always care if you are.” “Someone ever tell you you care too much sometimes?” I playfully nudged his sneaker with my own, “Of course I’m not mad, you know I support you no matter what. You made the right decision for you and you have nothing to apologize for. Bucky and even Steve don’t need to understand why you chose to give it up. Would it have been cool to say that my brother is Captain America?” I coaxed a laugh out of him, “Of course, but it doesn’t change how I see you. I’m just proud to say my brother is Sam Wilson.” He poked me with his elbow and smiled, “Now I remember why I keep you around.” “Y/n Y/l/n, Falcon’s Ego Booster.” We were sharing a laugh when Bucky came back around the corner. “That was quick,” I observed. He’d been in there five minutes tops.

“We’ve got our next stop.”

————

“What are you talking about? You wanna break Zemo outta jail?” Sam questioned in the dark, “Where are we, Buck? Have you lost your mind?”

“We have no leads, no moves, nothing,” Bucky replied, shining his flashlight around to try and find the power switch. I couldn’t clearly make out where he had brought us to, he’d brought us through the back door of the building. “So because we’ve hit one dead end, you want to spring one of the most dangerous men in the world out of prison?” I asked, shining my flashlight at Bucky causing him to throw a hand up to shield his eyes, “Bucky, I don’t-“ “Like this,” he finished, “I got that, but we’ve got eight Super Soldiers on the loose.” “Zemo’s gonna miss with our minds, especially yours,” Sam interjected, “No offense.” I made out Bucky’s silhouette reaching up a beam, a loud click of a switch and the lights began to turn on. “Offense,” he scowled.

With the lights on, we could finally see that we were in an auto shop. I was glad to be out of the prison but I wasn’t seeing the correlation between it and freeing Zemo.

“Super Soldiers go against everything he believes in,” Bucky continued, “He is crazy, but he still has a code.” “I’ve been on the wrong side of that code and so have you,” Sam countered, I’d heard in detail about the havoc Zemo had caused and the ramifications of his actions had caused Sam and Steve to become fugitives. Never mind what he’d done to Bucky…”He blew up the UN, he killed King T’Chaka and framed you for it. Did you forget that? You think the Wakandans forgot about it? It’s a rhetorical question, they didn’t. I know why this matters to you, but it’s pushing you off the deep end.”

Bucky stood in front of us now, “We don’t know how they’re gettin’ the serum. We don’t even know how many of them there are,” Sam turned his back in frustration, “Look, let me just walk you two through a hypothetical. Can I walk you through a hypothetical?”

“What did you do?” Sam asked suspiciously, turning halfway to meet Bucky’s eyes.

“I didn’t…” Bucky’s looked away briefly, “Do anything.”

“Then by all means,” I leaned up against a beam and crossed my arms, not believing him at all, “Let’s ride the hypothetical train.” Bucky frowned at my sarcasm before launching into it, “The weakest point in any system isn’t the software, the hardware, it’s the meatware. The human element. Now, in this lockup, it’s nine to one, prisoners to guards. And if two prisoners start fighting, then the protocol says four guards have to respond.” “So why would two prisoners randomly start fighting at that moment?” Sam asked.

“Who knows? There could be many reasons…But the point is, these things escalate. Lockdown procedures would have to be initiated and with all those bodies flying around left and right, wouldn’t be hard to slip down a hallway or two. And if the fire alarm got tripped while the prisoners were being separated, someone could use the chaos to their advantage.”

“My gut is sounding off every alarm it has right now,” I commented from my place across from Bucky.

“Yeah, I don’t like how casual you’re bein’ about this, this is unnatural,” Sam replied finally, “Are you- and where are we, man?” A nearby door closing caused us to turn our attention towards it, a silhouette appearing soon after through a curtain. The shadow became a man and walked through the cloth divider wearing the face I’d had etched in my brain since the day it hit the news.

“You son of a bitch,” I mumbled, creating a ball of energy quickly with my hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Sam’s voice rose, walking with me towards the man, “What are you doin’ here?” Bucky was quick to throw himself in front of us, “No, listen. I didn’t want to tell you ‘cause I knew neither of you would let this happen.” “What the hell did you do?” I exclaimed.

“We need him,” Bucky said. Sam pointed to Zemo, “You’re going back to prison!”

“If I may,” the Sokovian man began, removing the hat of his stolen prison guard uniform.

“NO!” the three of us yelled at the same time. He hung his head, “Apologies…” Bucky turned back to Sam, “When Steve refused to sign the Sokovia Accords, you backed him. You broke the law, and you stuck your neck out for me,” when Sam averted his gaze, Bucky chased it, “I’m asking you to do it again.” 

“And what about her?” Sam gestured to me and the ball of energy I still had formed in my palms, “What happens when she breaks the law?” Bucky’s pleading eyes drifted to me, “He’s our only shot at getting any answers.” My mind was wrestling with itself, his rightness was inevitably going to come at a cost we would all have to pay. On a technicality, yes, I could plead innocent to freeing Zemo. A coconspirator charge, I wouldn’t be so lucky with. But stopping the Flag Smashers meant saving lives and that wasn’t something I could walk away from. I deformed the energy in my hands in cautious surrender, “I’m already breakin’ the law by going against the accords, I need to make it worth it at least.” Sam shot me an exasperated glance, but he didn’t fight me.

“I really think I’m invaluable…” Zemo began from his corner.

“Shut up…” Sam warned, effectively shutting him up. Sam thought it all over for a second before pressing his flashlight to Bucky’s chest, “Okay. If we do this, you don’t make a move without our permission.” Zemo shrugged, “Fair.”

The three of us shared an uneasy look, there was no going back now. “Okay, Zemo, where do we start?”

“Follow me,” he smiled, leading the way out of the auto shop and expecting us to follow. Sam went first, eager to keep his eye on Zemo at all times while Bucky and I brought up the rear.

“I didn’t want to have to go this route,” he said from beside me as if he owed me some explanation for his actions. I sighed, trying to shut off the part of my brain that was screaming at me, “Just be right.”

We maneuvered through a few corridors until we hit a room filled with beautiful antique cars. “So our first move is grand theft auto?” Sam asked. “These are mine,” Zemo corrected, “Collected by family over the generations. I spent years hunting people HYDRA recruited to recreate the serum. Because once it’s out there, someone can create an army of people…like the Avengers,” he dug through one of the cars to pull out a bag and coat, “I ended the Winter Soldier program once before. I have no intention to leave my work unfinished.” My eyes unavoidably flickered to Bucky, observing his reaction to hearing his old code name. He simply watched the man continue speaking. “To do this, we’ll have to scale a ladder of lowlifes.”

“Well, join the party. We’ve already started…” Sam commented.

“First stop is a woman named Selby,” Zemo stated as he headed for the exit, “Mid-level fence I still have a line on. From there, we climb.” 

Sam, Bucky and I left a gaping distance between us and him, we were still highly suspicious and I had a feeling we would be until our temporary partnership came to an end.

————

Zemo had gotten word to somebody that we’d be meeting them at a private airport in Berlin and flying to someplace called Madripoor. Somehow we’d made the journey without being recognized, even those of us who were wanted across the globe. “So all this time you’ve been rich?” Sam asked as we made our way towards the private plane.

“I’m a Baron, Sam,” Zemo answered, “My family was royalty until your friends destroyed my country.” 

Zemo greeted the man standing outside the plane, who was dressed like a butler, in Sokovian. “Well,” I crossed my arms and watched one of the world’s most dangerous men exchange cheek kisses, “If we’re going to work with a criminal, at least we picked one that comes with transportation.” “Please,” Zemo said, gesturing for us to follow him up the plane’s steps. Sam awkwardly bowed to the butler and headed up. Bucky extended a hand towards the jet for me to go ahead of him before following closely behind.

When we filed into the plane, Sam and Zemo were already seated. I moved to take the chair across from the baron, wanting to keep as close an eye on him as I could. Bucky’s flesh arm reached out quickly and grabbed my shoulder, I turned to question him and met his wary expression. “Sit with Sam,” he muttered quietly, our faces close enough that I could feel his breath as he’d spoken. It dawned on me that he wanted me to have the safer position. I answered with a nod, maneuvering around him to sit across from Sam. Even though his hand had left my arm, I could still feel its print through my jacket.

We had been flying for maybe twenty minutes when Zemo’s butler, Oeznik, came in carrying a glass of champagne for Zemo and offering to whip up some food. It astounded me how to the world, he was evil yet to his servants, he was a joy. “You don’t know what it’s like to be locked in a cell,” the baron said before looking over at my brother, “Oh, that’s right. You do.”

Sam bypassed the jab remarkably, “Why don’t you tell us about where we’re going?”

“I’m sorry, I was just fascinated by this,” Zemo held up a book, “I don’t know what to call it, but this part seems to be important. Who is Nakajima?”

Not two seconds after the name had left his lips, Bucky out of his seat with his metal hand wrapped around Zemo’s neck. My heart stopped as I watched him lean over the man threateningly. “If you touch that book again,” he growled, “I’ll kill you.” This was a side of Bucky I had yet to see, the one that straddled the line between his dark past and his true self. As he sat back down, tucking the book in his pocket and refusing to meet my eyes, I could tell he wasn’t pleased with how he’d acted. I wasn’t in a place to criticize but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been slightly worried when his fingers hit Zemo’s skin.

“I’m sorry,” Zemo said, “I understand that list of names. People you’ve wronged as the Winter Soldier.” “Don’t push it,” Bucky rasped, collecting himself after the scene.

“I’ve seen that book,” Sam spoke up, “It was Steve’s when he came out of the ice. I told him about Trouble Man, he wrote it in that book. Did you hear it? What’d you think?” “I like ’40’s music,” Bucky shrugged and looked out the window, “So…” “You didn’t like it?” Sam exclaimed.

“I liked it,” Bucky replied unconvincingly.

“It is a masterpiece, James,” Zemo chimed in, his hands forming a triangle, “Complete, comprehensive…It captures the African-American experience.” While my brows raised at the European’s surprising education, Sam’s furrowed. “He’s out of line, but he’s right. It’s great, everybody loves Marvin Gaye.”

Bucky shook his head, “I like Marvin Gaye.” “Steve adored Marvin Gaye.” “He did,” I chuckled, reminiscing back to only last year, “Played him almost anytime I got in a car with him.” “You must have really looked up to Steve,” Zemo said, “But I realized something when I met him. The danger with people like him, America’s Super Soldiers, is that we put them on pedestals.” “Watch your step, Zemo…” Sam warned. “They become symbols. Icons. And then we start to forget about their flaws. From there,” he shrugged, “Cities fly, innocent people die. Movements are formed, wars are fought,” Zemo turned his attention to Bucky, “You remember that, right?” As a young soldier sent to Germany to stop a mad icon. Do we want to live in a world full of people like the Red Skull? That is why we’re going to Madripoor.” “What’s up with Madripoor?” Sam looked between the two men, “You guys talk about it like it’s Skull Island.”

“It’s an island nation in the Indonesian archipelago,” Bucky grumbled, “It was a pirate sanctuary back in the 1800s.” “It’s kept its lawless ways, but we cannot exactly walk in as ourselves,” Zemo’s unsettling eyes moved back to Bucky, “James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone.” 

With the way Bucky’s expression had changed in mere seconds from complacent to tortured, it didn’t take long to decode what Zemo was insinuating. “No,” I blurted out, “That’s not fair to ask of him.” “I admire your devotion, Y/n,” Zemo complimented with his lips to his champagne flute, taking a quick sip, “But you know nothing of how Madripoor works. If you want to get to Selby, we must have protection. More than that, we must have leverage. James can provide us both by simply playing a part.” “Devo-?” I shook my head, sidestepping Zemo’s comment, “That’s not playing a part, that’s like reliving every nightmare you’ve ever had. I-it’s like-“ “Y/n,” I turned to see Bucky’s chair rotated towards me, looking helpless and determined all at once, “We need in.” “Yeah, but…” I started to protested before seeing his eyes, those ocean blue eyes I was growing to feel comforted by begging me to let the subject go. I clenched my own y/e/c ones shut in frustration, “Okay.” “Now that that’s settled,” Zemo stood from his seat, “I will find us something to change into, we will need to blend in where we’re going.” ——

The silver dress Zemo had chosen for me was…it made me wonder just what kind of scene we were planning to enter. It was more revealing than anything I typically wore, but gorgeous nonetheless and fit perfectly.

As I was finishing my makeup in the bathroom of the plane, I had to take a second to steel myself for what was to come. This wasn’t just dallying with Super Soldiers any more, this was dancing with the criminal underworld. Zemo hadn’t told us yet the roles we were playing, only that we needed to stay in character at all cost. I had never felt more out of my depth, but had no choice but to rise to the occasion. Giving myself one last check in the mirror, I unlocked and exited the bathroom. 

“Okay, I hope whoever I’m playing is bad with heels,” I held up the elaborate shoes Zemo had matched to my dress, “Because there’s no way I’m going to be graceful in these.” Sam looked up from tying his dress shoes, dressed in a maroon suit patterned with yellow circles. His eyes scanned my outfit unapprovingly. “Uh uh,” he protested, going full protective big brother, “Nope. It shows too much.” “It doesn’t matter what it shows,” I said, bending over to strap on the shoes, “It’s what I’ve got.” “She’s right,” Zemo chimed in, putting his jacket on, “You two are supposed to be rich, glamorous travelers of the world. You need to look the part,” he nodded towards me, “You wear it well.” I politely smiled at the baron and looked up to Bucky, perched in the far corner of the jet. His gaze was fixed on me, eyes quickly traveling down my body before quickly locking with mine. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, his plush lips parted ever so slightly. I found myself just as drawn into him as he seemed to be with me, for a few seconds it was just the two of us shutting our surroundings out. It was…something. “You look nice,” Bucky finally said, his voice slightly strained.

My lips quirked upwards, “Thanks.” “It is time for us to leave,” Zemo announced, bursting the bubble Bucky and I had built, “You’d better get used to those shoes quickly, we’ll be making most of the journey by foot.” He hadn’t been lying. We departed the runway and walked our way towards the city. Madripoor looked beautiful on the outside, the high-rise buildings lit up in all different colors emitting a glow across the waters. 

“We have to do something about this,” Sam finally exclaimed, holding the lapels of his patterned maroon suit, “I’m the only one who looks like a pimp.” “If you’re a pimp, what does that make me?” I gestured to the amount of skin I had on display, “Suck it up, Wilson.” “Only an American would assume a fashion-forward black man looks like a pimp,” Zemo added as we crossed the large bridge leading to the city, “You look exactly like the man you’re supposed to be playing. The sophisticated, charming African rake named Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger.” Sam took Zemo’s phone from his outstretched hand, “He even has a bad nickname.”

I leaned over to look at the picture of Sam’s doppelgänger, “Hey, be nice. That’s your twin you’re talking about.” “And you,” Zemo addressed me, “Conrad is known for entertaining beautiful women, one after the other,” he ignored the faces of disgust Sam and I made at the thought of acting as a couple, “You will be playing tonight’s date, no need to come up with a name or a story as his dates are typically just arm candy.”

“So I’m supposed to just sit and look pretty?” I side eyed Zemo in annoyance, “Great.” “You smell this?” he asked the group.

“Yeah, what is that? Acid?” Sam asked.

“Madripoor,” Zemo answered, “No matter what happens, we have to stay in character. Our lives depend on it. There’s no margin for error. High Town’s that way,” Zemo pointed towards the part of the city I’d been admiring, “Not a bad place if you want to visit, but Low Town’s the other way.” We approached a car waiting for us at the end of the bridge, ready to take us into the darkest part of the city. Bucky, who had remained silent since the plane, climbed into the backseat first while Zemo took the passenger’s side. “Let me guess,” Sam remarked as we moved to get in the car, “We don’t have any friends in High Town.”

“I’m guessing not,” I muttered, ducking into the back seat and sliding till I was pressed against Bucky. He didn’t make a sound, he barely even registered my presence. I was about to ask him if he was alright when I realized what he was doing. We all had our roles to play and Bucky was doing just that. 

Sam climbed in next to me and we took off, me sandwiched between the two men trying to convince myself that I could do this. I could pretend to be someone I wasn’t to get answers, but my nerves was convincing me I was going to mess it up for us. No margin for error, Zemo’s words bounced around in my brain. He’d said our lives depended on it. They depended on whether or not I could keep it together. Sam must have sensed my anxiety because I felt his palm slide against my clammy one and squeeze. I sent a shaky one back, taking what comfort I could that I didn’t have to do this alone.

We were escorted in by a motorcade till we got to the seedier part of the city, the bridge we parked under painted with graffiti. Sam helped me out of the car and Zemo took our group through the back way into the city. As we crossed the overhead bridge, looking down into the city, I began to feel like my life had suddenly become some fever dream. Even more so once we entered the city and I was surrounded by people from all walks of life. Smugglers were making deals, guards were stationed outside buildings with machine guns, forgers were trying to sell to people. It was like nothing I’d ever seen. Sam kept me on his arm the entire time, selling our characters while still retaining his protective nature. We followed Zemo into a crowded bar, weaving our way through. “Here we are,” he announced quietly, our fellow patrons took notice as soon as they caught sight of Bucky, “Gotov podchinit'sya, zimniy soldat?” (Ready to comply, Winter Soldier?)

I tried my best to keep my face neutral, though an unwelcome chill went down my spine as Zemo began his act. It was wrong. It wasn’t fair to Bucky or his recovery to make him do this.

We approached the bar and the bartender came over immediately, “Hello, gentlemen. Ma’am. Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.” “His plans changed,” Zemo explained, “We have business to do with Selby.”

The bartender looked over suspiciously at Sam, “The usual?” Sam nodded casually in response and the man walked away to begin prepping the drink. What took us by surprise was when he reached for a jar containing a dead snake rather than the bottle of alcohol. He proceeded to lay the reptile on a cutting board and slice its stomach open, I looked up to Sam who was doing his best to keep his composure. “Ah, Smiling Tiger,” Zemo jeered, “Your favorite.”

The bartender removed a piece of the snake’s guts and sunk it into a shot glass filled with vodka. I covered my mouth with my clutch to conceal my delight at the sight I was about to behold. Sam caught the action and addressed the bartender, “You know what? She’ll have one too.” “Oh, no, I don’t think so,” I quickly protested, waving it off as if it were a shot of tequila and not an animal intestine.

“No, girl, I insist,” Sam grinned phonily at me.

“They actually upset my stomach,” I giggled, glancing to the bartender, “Can’t hold my liquor to save my life, I’ll be up all night sick if it touches my lips. But you enjoy, sweetheart.” The bartender didn’t pay much attention to the exchange as he set the shot glass in front of Sam, who looked unconvincingly between the glass and Zemo. “I love these,” he stated, holding it up for us all to see.

“Cheers, Conrad,” Zemo clinked his glass against Sam’s.

Sam made several, hopefully convincing, noises of excitement about his drink. After giving it one last look, he shot it straight down, holding a thumbs up to the bartender afterwards.

“How badly are you trying not to throw up right now?” I whispered after the man had left.

“I can’t even hear you right now,” Sam replied in a strained voice, focusing on keeping the drink where it needed to be. An intimidating bearded man made us all turn around, he looked to Zemo. “I got word from on high. You ain’t welcome here.”

Zemo, ever the cool and collected presence, turned to the man. “I have no business with the Power Broker. But if he insists, he can either come and talk to me…” Zemo gestured to Bucky, standing at his side. 

“New haircut?” the man asked Bucky, who stayed silent.

“Or bring Selby for a chat,” Zemo finished.

The man left, leaving us with questions. “A power broker?” Bucky grumbled, “Really?” “Every kingdom needs its king,” Zemo replied, “Let’s just pray we stay under his radar.” 

“Do you know him?” Sam inconspicuously asked. “Only be reputation the baron answered, “In Madripoor he is judge, jury, and executioner.”

I spotted another man approaching us, this one walking with a purpose. Zemo looked to Bucky, the show was about to start. “Zimniy Soldat,” Bucky nodded once, “Attask.” (Winter Soldier, attack.) As soon as the stranger thumped Zemo’s shoulder, Bucky sprang to action, his metal hand grabbing and twisting the man’s arm. He pushed him to the center of the room where he proceeded to twist it further before dropping him to the ground. The groans coming from him were sickening as he lay helpless, clutching his most likely broken arm. As another patron came up to attack, Bucky moved fast to disarm him before power kicking him into a table several times. I clung to Sam’s arm even tighter as Zemo shoved someone forward for Bucky to punch, sending him sliding across the floor. 

“Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form,” Zemo slyly observed, from my side. It took everything in me not to send him flying across the room right then. He was enjoying this.

When Bucky lifted a man by his throat and slammed him down on the bar was when guns all over the bar were cocked. Sam grabbed onto Bucky’s metal arm, ready to pull him back to us and to reality. “Stay in character,” Zemo whispered, dead serious, “Or the whole bar turns on us.” Sam dropped his arm as Zemo leaned into Bucky, “Molodets, soldat.” (Well done, soldier.)

“Selby will see you now,” the bartender said, watching the scene in awe. Bucky slowly let the man go, gasping and groaning for air once he was freed. Sam looked over warily, “You good?” When Bucky faced us, his eyes met mine before they met Sam’s. I wished I could have concealed my reaction better for his sake, but the second he had attacked was the first time since we’d met that I’d been properly scared of him. It made the incident on the plane look like nothing. My mind knew he was just acting, pretending to be someone he once was for the sake of furthering our mission. But my blood ran just as cold with fear as it would have if the Winter Soldier was standing in front of me. Bucky’s eyes now were watery, filled with pain that he’d worked hard with his therapist to get through, now being brought back to life. Had the bar not been watching and had I not needed to stick with Sam, I’d have been at his side trying to make sure he was alright. Instead, I could only watch as he sniffled, nodded to Sam and followed Zemo to wherever we were going next.

We were escorted upstairs through a series of hallways with a heavily armed guard following us. A white haired woman sat in the middle of the room we were led to, tapping her fingers against the couch she lounged on. “You should know, Baron, people don’t just come into my bar and make demands.” Zemo smiled, “Not a demand. An offer.”

Sam and I took our places standing next to Selby, Bucky stood watch across from us, back in his act. 

“A lot has changed since you were here last,” Selby spared a look at Bucky, “By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison. How did you escape?” 

“People like us always find a way, don’t we?” Zemo shrugged, “I’m sure you’ve already figured out what I’m here for.” 

Selby pointed a blind finger towards Sam, “You’re taller than I’d heard, Smiling Tiger,” she eyed Sam suggestively and gave him a purr before turning her attention to me, “And what a lovely little dish you’ve got with you.” Internally I was struggling to stay calm and had never felt more exposed with the thin materiel of the dress over my body. “What’s the offer?” Selby grinned at Zemo.

“Tell us what you know about the super-soldier serum,” Zemo replied, rising from his seat to circle Bucky, “And I give you him, along with the code words to control him, of course. He will do anything you want,” Zemo rubbed Bucky’s chin, playing with it to provoke him but knowing he could get away with it. I felt sick to my stomach.

“Now that’s the Zemo I remember,” Selby approved, “I’m glad I decided not to kill you immediately. Yeah, you were right to come to me. Arrogant, but right. The super-soldier serum is here in Madripoor. Dr. Wilfred Nagel is the man you wanna thank. Or condemn, depending on what side of this you’re on. The Power Broker had him working on the serum, but…things didn’t go as planned.”

I squeezed Sam’s arm, we were getting answers. The crazy, chaotic plan was actually working. “Is Nagal still in Madripoor?” Zemo asked.

“Oh, the bread crumbs you can have for free,” Selby’s flirtatious demeanor shifted as she stood to business-like, “But the bakery is gonna cost you, Baron. And before you get all cute, don’t think you can find Nagel without me.” 

A sudden vibration tickled my arm from Sam’s suit pocket, it was his cell phone. He pulled it out hesitantly and looked down at it, I glanced over to see that it was Sarah calling.

“Answer it,” Selby ordered, Bucky had moved behind her to give us protection if need be, “On speaker.” The armed bodyguards moved in closer, it was clear we had no say in the matter. Sam unlocked his phone and pressed the speaker button, “Hello?” “Hey, um, we need to talk about this situation,” Sarah’s voice filled the air, sending an all too brief wave of peace through me, “It’s been drivin’ me nuts.” 

“What situation exactly are you talkin’ about?” Sam replied stiffly. “Are you high? You know what situation, it’s the only situation me and you have.”

“What situation, Sarah?” Sam’s voice grew louder, “Say it.”

“The damn boat,” Sarah replied just as hard, “And watch your tone, okay? I let you slide at the bank.”

Sarah. The boat. Home. And here I was standing in a designer dress meeting with Indonesian crime bosses. Two unbelievable worlds were colliding on the call.

Sam scoffed and nervously chuckling, “Yeah, the bank. Laundered so much, yeah, they’ll come around.” “If that was the case, then why’d they dog you out, Big Time?”

“Yeah, you damn right I’m Big Time. You’ll see,” Sam paused menacingly, “When I have that banker killed.”

We almost had Selby convinced as I watched her pace around the room, we were so close to- “Cass! What’d I tell you about the Cheerios? I don’t have time for this!” Sarah yelled, “Sam, I’m sorry. Let me call you back, and make sure Y/n is with you too.” “Sam? Y/n?” Selby echoed the names, “Who are you? Kill them!”

A second after she had given the order, a bullet shot through the nearby window and struck her chest fatally. The four of us sprung to action, Sam landing punches on the guard stationed behind us while I used my energy to pull the machine gun from his grasp. Across from us, Bucky took care of the other guard. I handed the weapon to Sam and we took our positions in the back of the room, ready to retaliate against the hidden assassin. “They’re gonna pin this on us,” Sam panted, our backs against the wall.

“We have a real problem now,” Zemo said, unbelievably calm for someone in our situation, “So leave your weapons and follow my lead.” Bucky ripped the lock on the back door and the four of us filed down the staircase quick as we could. It dropped us back off in the middle of the city, we hurriedly made our way down the street where all heads were turning to us. “This is not good,” Zemo hurried. The words hung in the air for a grand total of five seconds before bullets started to rain down around us. Bucky, Sam and I tore down the street where in the chaos, Zemo took off in another direction.

“I can’t run in these heels!” Sam yelled over the gunfire. “Oh, I don’t wanna hear it,” I exclaimed, struggling to keep up with them in my stilettos, “Screw it!”

I threw my hands out to my side and lifted off the ground, keeping low enough to dodge any shots but stay close to Sam and Bucky. Two motorcycles sped after us promising more bounty hunters, Zemo caught up with us and killed two lone gunmen hiding behind a dumpster. Two perfectly aimed bullets came out of nowhere and lodged themselves in the heads of the cyclists chasing us.

“You seem to have a guardian angel,” Zemo observed as the three of us looked around for our savior.

“Well, this is too perfect,” a woman’s voice said, she appeared seconds later drawing back her hood and pointing a gun toward us, “Drop it, Zemo.”

Bucky stepped forward disbelievingly, “Sharon?” Sharon Carter. I recognized her only from the pictures I’d seen of her on the news when the shitstorm that branded her an enemy of the state went down. As she strode forward, ready to strike down the man responsible, I couldn’t say with certainty if she was an ally or not. “You cost me everything,” she seethed.

“Sharon, wait,” Sam, ever the steady presence, held a hand out and carefully came towards her, “Someone recreated the super-soldier serum and Zemo had a lead.” “Well, that explains why you guys are here and Selby’s dead.”

“So what are you doing here?” Bucky asked.

“I stole Steve’s shield, remember?” she answered, her face contorting, “I also took the wings for your ass,” she aimed her gun at Sam, “So that you could save his ass,” then at Bucky, “From his ass,” the gun landed on me after Zemo, “Your ass is new.” “I’ve had one hell of an initiation, trust me,” I replied, standing my ground between Bucky and Zemo.

Sharon turned back towards Sam, “Unlike you, I didn’t have the Avengers to back me up so I’m off the grid in Madripoor.”

“Don’t blow that smoke at me, I was on the run, too,” Sam recalled. “Was. Is. Big difference. I don’t speak to my family anymore,” Sharon shook her head sadly, “I can’t. My own father doesn’t know where I am.”

“Listen, Sharon,” Bucky stepped forward, “We need your help. Please.” Sharon mirthlessly chuckled to herself, sighing afterwards as she made her decision. “This isn’t over. I have a place in High Town, you should be safe there for a while.”

While Sam roughly shoved Zemo forward to keep him in his line of sight, Bucky pressed a gentle hand to the small of my back to act as a guide through the dark alleyways. “You okay?” he asked quietly, quickly looking over at me. With everything he’d gone through in the last twenty minutes, the fight in the bar, the unshed tears in his eyes, Zemo talking about him like he was property to be traded, I couldn’t understand why he was asking if I was alright. He was what I was concerned with right now. “I will be once I get out of these shoes,” I joked, trying to get him to smile if at all possible. A corner of his lips turned upwards in a blink-and-you’d-miss-it flash, mine doing the same right after in some sort of relief.

Sharon led us to her car parked down a different alley, Sam shoved Zemo in the front seat while him, Bucky and I squeezed in the backseat once again. The difference between Low Town and High Town was visceral, Madripoor may have been dangerous no matter where you went but High Town provided a little more safety. When we arrived at Sharon’s house, greeted by two burly guards, the feeling of protection increased. The first room we entered was filled with artwork, statues and other priceless works that told us exactly what Sharon had done to afford her lifestyle in High Town.

“Looks like breaking all those laws is treating you well,” Sam commented as we walked through the room.

“Well, I thought if I had to hustle, might as well enjoy the life of a real hustler,” Sharon shrugged, far too goodheartedly for a true criminal, “You know how much I can get for a real Monet?” Sam grinned at his friend, “Deactivate your hustle mood, you sell fake Monets.”

“No, she means real,” Zemo corrected, “This gallery is specialized in stolen artwork. Monet. Van Gogh. Classics.” “I kinda thought that was implied,” I said, following Sharon and Zemo and beginning to relax in the shockingly calm environment, “No offense.” Sharon scoffed, “None taken, a girl’s gotta do what she can to survive. By the way, who are you?”

“Y/n Y/l/n,” I answered, “Sam’s sister.” “Hmm,” Sharon hummed, looking me over once before turning around to hurry Sam and Bucky along, “Come on, you guys need to change. I’m hosting clients in an hour. You,” she pointed to me, “Second door on your left, I’ll bring something up for you.” At the promise of shedding the over exposing dress and blistering heels, I had never moved faster in my life.

————

I took the opportunity to catch my breath while I could, the night had been a little too exciting than any of us had wanted. Sitting on the edge of Sharon’s bed with my elbows balanced on my knees, I felt the adrenaline rush I’d been running on start to subside.

The door opened, bringing in Sharon and her garment of choice. “This looked like it would fit you,” she said, tossing me a black jumpsuit that looked ten times more comfortable than what I was in. She walked over to her wardrobe and pulled out an outfit for herself, “I gotta change too, back to back?” “Works for me,” I replied, turning around and beginning to unzip the dress.

“So you said you’re Sam’s sister but your last name isn’t Wilson?” Sharon asked, I could hear the sound of her clothes hitting the floor.

“We grew up together,” I freed myself of the dress and kicked it to the corner of the room.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re here though,” she said, “This is probably the shittiest family road trip you could go on so clearly there’s a reason.” I looked over to the wardrobe, a pair of black boots sitting on the floor next to it. I used my energy to levitate them and landed them at Sharon’s side. Her dry chuckle served as her reaction. “I kinda begged him to bring me,” I explained as I pulled the jumpsuit up my body, “He was going to send me back home before John Walker decided to not so subtly threaten me with the Sokovian Accords, figured I’d be safer here with them.” “Safer?” Sharon scoffed, “Did he say this before or after you were being shot at by bounty hunters?”

“Well, between getting shipped off to jail and going undercover with a superhero and a Super Soldier as protection, I’ll take my chances here.” I heard Sharon walk away, presumably finished dressing. I zipped up the suit and tightened the belt, turning around after to find her leaned up against her dresser with her hands in her pockets. “Look, I know we just met but let me do you a favor and shed some light on the subject of heroics. It’s all bullshit. The whole costume, nickname, swoop-in-and-save-the-day act is all hypocrisy. I get that you’re young, you’ve got,” she waved a hand at mine, “Whatever that is. Maybe you want to do some good, maybe you just want to feel like you’re a part of something. Maybe you didn’t think it through at all and just thought it would be cool to run with a superhero. But if you’re smart, you’ll get your ass on a plane to anywhere but here and stay clear of all this.”

There was so much going through my head that I wanted to throw back at her, proving her speech completely wrong. Then I remembered that this woman had sacrificed more than most had and the government had turned their backs on her. She’d stuck her neck out for Steve and Sam and had been punished for it. Plus, she was kind enough to give us refuge when she had every right now to. I wasn’t in a place to criticize her. If anything, she should have been a cautionary tale. “I’ve had these powers all my life and have never known what to do with them,” I responded, “I want to help people and this is the best way for me to do that. As easy as it would be for some people to walk away, this is personal and I can’t leave now.” Sharon stared back at me silently before pushing herself off the dresser and brushing past me. There were layers of her expression, if I could peel each one back I thought I might get to the sadness I suspected she felt regarding her current life status. She opened her wardrobe, pulled out a pair of combat boots and handed them to me. “Then take a step back and ask yourself how far you’re willing to go. And if the three of you live long enough to get there, is it going to be worth the hell that’ll come afterwards?” She gave me a half smile before leaving the room, her heavy words hanging in the air. Steve had been my friend, Sam was my brother and Bucky was quickly climbing the ranks of people I cared about. I was going to see this through to the end with them, but what was the end? Was it retrieving the rest of the serum and stopping the Flag Smashers? Was it only two of us returning? One? None? Questions I didn’t have the answers to swirled in my mind as I stared at the door, wondering what awaited us for the rest of the night.

----

A/N: Next chapter is going to be...let’s just say there’s gonna be a lot of developments. A lot. Hope you guys are enjoying it, let me know what you thought or if you’d like to be tagged.

Safe Haven taglist: @tanyaherondale​ @wanniiieeee​ @asoftie4bucky​ @edencherries​ @i-reblog-fics-i-like​ @ttalisa​ @gcfty @withyoutilltheendofthismess​ @rinaispunk​ @weirdowithnobeardo​ @felicityofbakerstreet​ @godlypotterwhodiaries @eternalharry​ @voguesir​ @mizz-kraziii​ @okayline​ @smellmymisunderstoodfluff @wanderin-stories​ @nicklet94 @intricate-melody​ @aesthethickks​ @stumbleonmywords​ @simplybarnes​ @21bruhs​ @lostinwonderland314​ @superbookishhufflepuff​ @kaelyn-lobrutto24​ @zozebo​ @fandomxreaders​ @kittengirl998​ @sarai-ibn-la-ahad​

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Would I get on with them? - CSI

Starting this series with CSI characters since I'm most into the show right now.

Hopping into it under the cut! (Not proof read at all)

Gil Grissom

Ok, I don't think this man would hate me in the slightest but he'd take a sec to warm up to me. We know the man has loads of random knowledge in his brain and so do I but I sometimes just spurt it out at the most random times and most of the knowledge doesn't make sense. We wouldn't hang out at all but I feel like we could eat lunch in the breakroom together and it wouldn't be awkward at all? We could also do a car journey together and it'd be silent most of the way until one of us eventually broke the silence. The silence wouldn't have been awkward though it would just be natural, both in our brains thinking things over? I get the vibe he'd welcome me into the team pretty well and would defend me to others but also would be disappointed when I fuck up. I think our vibes are slightly the same so we'd get on and have a weird friendship but not going on. TBH he'd probably treat me very similar to how he treats Greg but slightly nicer. In summary I would get on with him but not in a best friend kind of way.

Catherine Willows

I get the vibe she'd like me and would find me funny in a way with the awful jokes I tell but instead of finding the jokes funny she'd just find me and my awkwardness funny? However, she would not let me fuck up and would go in on me bad if I did if I was in the first couple of years being a CSI but after our friendship grew a little she'd be a lot more forgiving. We'd probably get to a friendship point of being able to have a meal together or a drink together but we would never plan it? It'd only happen say after a shift on a whim together. We'd be close but not best friends knowing absolutely every aspect of each other's lives. All in all Catherine has good vibes and I think we'd get on. I'd want to be her friend and learn from her. We'd be able to throw banter around and we'd be able to work well together. She'd probably see me as more of a 'family member' than a friend if you get my drift?

Sara Sidle

I love Sara but I do not think we'd get on at first. I think she'd dislike how shy I was and how long it takes me to warm up to everyone. My main way of bonding or working with people initially is kinda through humour to test the waters and I know she wouldn't like that at first. However, I think after her initial dislike for me for the first couple of cases or weeks or whatever I think she'd realise we actually work well together on cases and compliment each other with our working style? Then she'd slowly be more friendly and jokey with me and open up herself. We'd take a long time to be close friends with each other and I think the only way our friendship would grow is because of our friendship with others in the team. So would I get on with Sara? Not initially but let's say after like 6 months we might have lunch together. I do admire her and her work but... yeah I think we might be a bit too similar in some ways. I think eventually after we build up trust and a mutual understanding we'd then be friends and do things together outside of work (but it doesn't happen often because she'd invested in her work)

Warrick Brown

Now this is hard to say. I think initially he'd try to be open and welcoming but would have a little too much going on to care but would banter with me if we came across each other. He's serious on the job but a lil hot headed, I mean I'm the same but I tend to internalise it and not speak out about problems and might just cry about them? He'd probably try and argue a point and even if I agreed I would probably not say something if I was still new to the team and he'd probably get mad at me for it. However, I think I might break through with him with my humour or something really random or like a random fact which is so bizzare he's like 'who the fuck is she?' and laughs it off and enjoys it. I feel like we'd eventually be friends but not in a way to talk about our lives irl more like if we've had a long shift and need to pull a double and haven't stopped for food he'd throw a sandwich or coffee at me. So friends in a caring or sibling like way y'know? Banter but not completely open with each other but we know little facts here and there. We'd hold mutual friends and that'd what probably aids the friendship. So would I get on with him? Initially no fucking way but after a hot sec yeah.

Nick Stokes

Here he is, here's our boi. Now yes I may be bias here because I do like Nick but I genuinely think we'd get on because we're both kinda emotionally softies on the inside. However, initially he might get frustrated at how closed off I am and awkward when he tried to speak to me, giving short answers etc. But once I crack some awkward and nervous jokes he'd realise how nervous I am and try and get through to me in that way with jokes and banter. I think he'd actually help if I fucked something up or missed something and would point it out in a nice way compared to how someone like Sara would. I think he'd open up to me randomly? Also I feel we could chat shit randomly to each other y'know? I think we'd be in a weird friends stage for a long time and then it would get to best friend territory? Y'know? Going to see movies or hanging out outside of work. Also hard cases we'd support each other. I think my friendship with Nick would be the thing that helps my friendship with Warrick for sure and aids with Sara. So would we get on? Yeah we would and he'd question why Sara and I don't.

Greg Sanders

He's chaos. I can be chaos. He'd appreciate my jokes and would banter back. Would be on the same wave length a lot of the time I think. I think I'd be the more chill version of him in some ways? Idk. I think we'd be friends and he'd be the person I build a friendship with the fastest. Like I think it would be he and I friends first, then Nick and I, Catherine and I then the others after. He'd obviously try to flirt with me because it's Greg but he'd respect me? We'd probably go for coffee a lot and he'd want to give me a tour of Vegas or some shit if I hadn't been there long. He'd probably get frustrated though at how chill I can be sometimes but would enjoy the fact that I was also friends with Nick and if all three of us were put on a case? Well that would be funny and would make a great episode. Don't get me wrong though we'd work well together. So would we get on? Hell yeah!

David Hodges

I don't think he'd dislike me but he wouldn't entirely like me either but he'd have a respect for me? I'd tolerate him and would joke with him though but I wouldn't say we'd be close friends or anything. Once he finds out I also like Galaxy Quest (idk I like Star trek irl so I'd probably like galaxy quest) we'd talk about it occasionally and might go to a convention together if we had no one else. So would we get on? Slightly, we'd tolerate each other and make friendly conversation.

Henry Andrews

I think we could have a laugh and a joke and that's it. I'd probably want to be his friend more than I do Hodges but we're both very awkward but we'd have a respect and understanding for each other. I would go to his birthday celebration if I was asked too. So would we get on? Yeah...

SuperDave

Eh I think we'd just have a basic friendship and very much colleague relationship. I don't think he'd appreciate my humour at all and would just want to do his job. But if I was with someone else on the team or if Doc Robbins was also there he'd be a bit more friendly? He has super super nice vibes I just think we're both a little too awkward and closed off and we probably wouldn't be able to go past small talk or work related talk. So would we get on? Yeah in a colleague sort of way.

Doc Robbins

(Lmao i can't insert anymore gifs)

I think he'd enjoy my jokes and would explain things in a nice way if I didn't understand but we'd never be friends or anything. I think he'd respect me and enjoy my presence in the morgue but we wouldn't engage in like intentional real life talk. So not purposefully asking about family etc. Maybe something random would come out in an autopsy or whatever. So would we get on? Yeah more that Superdave and I would

Jim Brass He wouldn't hate me but I wouldn't be his favourite person. I tend to stay out of trouble so he'd like that the most. He'd probably appreciate that I stay quiet and listen before having an input. He'd probably worry about me though if I was held hostage or shot or something y'know? He wouldn't not care. So would we get on? Yeah in the same way Grissom and I would get on but slightly less that that.

LMAO this series is gonna be weird af but it is what it is. I don't expect anyone to read it. Hence not proof reading.

[philip-seville-archive]

You’re My Number One || Tap

Summary: Tad comforts Pip post Phinnip beach fight and it inspires a teeny tiny talk about the future. 

@i-am-obnoxious​

Pip Seville

It did not take long to find Tad-- though they had not been dating long, naturally his boyfriend would not be far from the beach. And indeed, there he was, wading in the water, doing...something. Pip didn't care actually, he just needed to vent hardcore and that was exactly what a boyfriend was for.

"Oh my god, Tad, you will not believe the weird fucking conversation I just had with Phineas!" he launched right into it, kicking off his sandals so he could let the edges of the water roll over his toes. "UGH he's like so fucking infuriating I could scream right now!"

Samwise Theodore Tad Fiske

Tad had mostly been splashing around in the water, yeah. He didn't go far in, mostly cause people were still weird about some Jaws situation or whatever. He wasn't that worried though. Shark attacks were like super rare and stuff.

His head jerked up as Pip came rushing over, eyes wide as he moved closer to his boyfriend, arms up. "Woah woah babe. Your vibes are like off the chart." He reached out to tug Pip in for a hug. "You wanna like breathe for a sec my d- babe? It's like a big puff in and out. It's seriously...super good when like the vibes of the universe are off balance."

Pip Seville

Pip appreciated the hug. Tad was warm and his clothes always had this lingering scent of chlorine from his swim practices, which Pip always found relaxing, like...Tad's aura was a spa or something.

He did not, however, appreciate being told to breathe.

"I know how to breathe," huffed Pip a bit impatiently. "I don't need to breathe, I need to rant. Out of nowhere, he just started attacking my life choices. Actually--it wasn't out of nowhere, I remember now. It was exactly right after I complimented him. How messed up is that? And he was like, oh going to NYC is so selfish and you're abandoning all your friends. Like what the fuck?"

Samwise Theodore Tad Fiske

Woah. The vibes were way harsh for his babe, which was seriously not chill. It made Tad's vibes like the sea on a stormy day. He didn't want his babe to be upset and stuff. Though he also...didn't quite get why Phineas would harsh Pip's vibes like this.

"So like...." Tad looked like he was struggling to process a difficult math problem. A lot of computing was going on and it took him a moment to try to connect. So Phineas didn't like NYC. Or he didn't vibe with Pip going because Pip was awesome and who would want Pip to leave? That'd be sad vibes sure...

But why would Phineas get all ragey vibes? Unless he was like Tad, and totally vibed with how super mega foxy and awesome Pip was. "Woahhhhhh.....Phineas totally likes you babe."

Pip Seville

Pip did not need much to comfort him, so he liked to think. A soothing hand on the back. A shoulder to cry on, if crying was necessary. A promise to commit murder against the one who wronged him. Tad could even have said 'Dude, that sucks," and Pip would have nodded vigorously, feeling seen.

 He was not expecting whatever the HELL just came out of Tad's mouth.

"What?!" Pip blurted, loud. "Wh-- no. No, aw, you're-- that's actually kind of sweet, I think, I don't know, because I marvel at how your brain works but-- no, trust me he definitely does not. This is not Mindy-Danny energy, this is more like..." what pop culture reference would Tad understand best? "Golem and Frodo. We both are very passionate about similar things, and would bite off each other's fingers to get said thing. Phineas is just trying to get under my skin."

Samwise Theodore Tad Fiske

"Aww but babe it's like...I get it kinda cause I'd be super sad to see you go but like...you're gonna be a rockstar and like sing and make everyone go woahhhh...." He squeezed Pip lightly. "But like that's your dream and stuff. Me I'd vibe in NYC and stuff. Y'know? Like...there are probably waves there somewhere..." He was pretty sure there was an ocean on that side of the states.

"But maybe Phineas gets like ragey instead of sad longingness vibes or something." He shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't say it made sense to be ragey vibes you know? But like...you're hot stuff babe."

Pip Seville

This was the most confusing, surreal pep talk that he'd ever had. And it was... turning him on?

Please see it from Pip's perspective: the moon behind Tad, as Tad held his hand and said all the right things and then some. That he was talented and destined for greatness, that Tad understood his dream, that Tad-- wait, he'd vibe in NYC? Wait, like...with Pip? As well? Together? At the same time? In the beautiful-ugly brownstone of Pip's wildest fantasies, where they'd host dinner parties and share a closet and he'd give Tad shoulder massages?!

You're hot stuff babe, said Tad, but it might as well have been a marriage proposal.

Wait. He was angry. Angry, not-- confused-overwhelmed-horny. Wow, having a boyfriend was a form of mind control, huh.

"I--" Pip was blushing deeply and stuttering now. "I...I really don't think he likes me but... so you're totally okay with me going to NYU?" was what he finally managed to get out of his mouth. Wow, he had forbid himself from talking about this until at least October, when early applications happened. Wtf Tad Fiske.

Samwise Theodore Tad Fiske

Maybe Pip didn't see how Tad saw things, at least about Phineas' weird crush energy. But Tad wasn't a super cool star in the making and stuff. Pip like sparkled dudes. He had sparkle lights around him. Every time he saw him, Tad felt even more of the gooey good vibes. It was impossible not to.

"I mean you were like totally planning it before we even started dating right babe? Would be kinda chaos energy vibes to be all mad about it." Which really didn't fit in with Tad's vibes at all. And anyway, New York seemed dope. Even if New Yorkers had this weird anti-LA vibe that LA people just...did not have. Whatever man. Tad vibed wherever he went.

 Tad shrugged his shoulders. "If it makes you happy babe like yeah. Long distance people have vibed before. But like...I don't really feel the college vibe for me anyway so like...if we were still together and stuff I could go wherever. Open a hot dog stand...heard the hot dogs are seriously sick there, or like go pro surfer...woah imagine..."

Pip Seville

Okay, some of the NYC fantasies were dashed, drifting further and further with every word that Tad said and so Pip really had to stop him speaking. This was precisely why he had not wanted to talk about the big U word (uni) before October. For one, maybe he and Tad would break up! And another, why worry about it!

Why worry about the fact that Tad didn't want to go to college!

Why worry about the fact that Tad's dreams apparently amounted to open a hot dog stand.

One freak-out at a time please and-- wasn't it way sweeter to focus on the whole, Tad wanting to come to NYC for him and also his very open and generous statement about how getting mad at Pip was clearly crazy people behavior?

And so Pip just-- kissed Tad to stop him from imagining hot dog stands. And also to calm himself down-- kissing was infinitely better than breathing, so he leaned into Tad, let his arms wrap around his neck for just a few more moments before pulling away. "Thank you for being you," he said sincerely.

...Though he'd leave the parts of Tad that stressed him out for another time.

Samwise Theodore Tad Fiske

Pip kissed him and fireworks went off in Tad's head. It was awesome as always, and his arms drew Pip a little closer to him as they kissed. Man but no vibe was better than kissing Pip he was sure about it.

A smile spread across his face. "You're welcome babe. Thanks for being the best babe," he added, leaning in to kiss his nose. "My brain is all swirly every time you kiss me." He laughed. "What were we talking about?"

Pip Seville

Pip's brain also went swirly when he kissed Tad-- swirly like paint colours running down a canvas, all his usual worries drenched in rainbow so he didn't, well, worry at all. He emerged with fluttering eyes and the world a little kinder. So that weird fight with Phineas... it didn't seem like THAT big a deal. They'd probably just forget about it. Cuz like, fighting was what they did, right? Pip would pretend it never happened and he was sure Phineas would be happy to do the same thing; he hated actually talking about anything real.

Pip shrugged. "Oh nothing. Just Phineas being a dick to me. I don't care though, because his opinion doesn't matter to me. Yours does though. And you support me, because that's what you do when you care about someone." Pip grinned and kissed Tad's cheek.

Samwise Theodore Tad Fiske

"Oh yeah." Tad had kind of stopped caring about Phineas as soon as Pip kissed him. Sure, did he still think the dude had weird crush vibes? Yeah, but whatever. Pip was kissing Tad and stuff not him so it was all good.

"Yeah babe. I've got your back." He grinned, reaching up with one hand to stroke Pip's cheek. "You're like...my number one."

Pip Seville

You're like...my number one.

And Second Gen Legend BoA's song "Number One" burst through Pip's head, giving him the energy and confidence to do a drop-split in this second if he wanted. He wasn't going to because he'd mess up his trousers, but that's where he was emotionally.

And he decided then and there. He was going to help Tad. Yes. It was his job, because Tad was also his number one, and so he would clear a path to uni for Tad-- preferably to a school in an NYC area code! But hey, community colleges were great too!

He squeezed Tad's hand, his eyes wide and bright. "You're mine too. I--" LOVE YOU SO MUCH I THINK WE SHOULD RUN AWAY TOGETHER WOULD YOU LIKE TO ADOPT A LITTLE GAY DOG WITH ME

"--am so glad you're my boyfriend." Whew, crisis averted. "C'mon, let's like, go play flip cup or something."

[themurphyzone]

104 Words for 104 Days: Advice

This was supposed to be a ficlet, but Stacy’s dialogue just ran away with me. This fic takes place after Tales of the Resistance, so Doofenshmirtz is no longer in jail. 

Candace Flynn dedicated her life to order and justice. She protected her brothers from the nefarious schemes of the Doofenshmirtz family. She led a group of rebels, knew seventy-five ways to disarm Normbots, and served as a beacon of hope in the chaos of dystopian Danville.

And now here she was, willingly breaking several laws of physics in order to satisfy her own selfish whims.

Since it took an enormous amount of power to travel counterclockwise between dimensions, Isabella and the Firestorm Girls could only perform three reconnaissance missions into the Prime Dimension, but the information they brought back was invaluable.

“We’ve scoped out prime counterpart Candace Gertrude Flynn. She’s in the sophomore class at Danville High School,” Isabella reported. “Associates include prime counterparts Stacy Hirano, Jenny Brown, and Jeremy Johnson.

“Don’t use my middle name under any capacity, Isabella,” Candace commanded as she tugged on a denim jacket.

It felt restricting, but it was necessary. Her normal outfit would be considered a violation of the dress code, and she needed to blend in while talking to the other Candace.

“Of course, Commander,” Isabella replied coolly. “Recon suggests catching Prime Candace between 1:30 and 2:00 pm. She typically excuses herself from class in Room 217 and goes to the large window at the end of the second floor corridor to watch the nearby elementary school for her brothers’ activity. Her associates don’t accompany her on these outings.”

“Good,” Candace said. She glanced in a nearby mirror, making sure the black dye completely covered any sign of her natural hair color. Dyeing hair was something she couldn’t do under Doofenshmirtz’s reign. She’d been meaning to experiment with different colors in her minimal spare time.

“Be careful,” Isabella cautioned.

“I won’t compromise anything except the power grid,” Candace replied.

Five minutes later, Baljeet finished the usual safety checks and opened the portal, which opened in the middle of an empty girl’s bathroom.

Buford and Baljeet let out high-pitched shrieks and dove under the desk.

Candace rolled her eyes. Those two were the perfect brains and brawn team, and Candace had witnessed them tear apart a Normbots factory with nothing but a paperclip and a yardstick, but they couldn’t handle the sight of a girl’s bathroom.

“Isabella and Gretchen. Since those two are…temporarily indisposed…can I trust you to man the controls in the meantime?” Candace asked as she stepped through the portal.

Isabella and Gretchen nodded, the portal fizzling out just as the door opened. Candace immediately dropped into a crouch, regretting that she’d left her bo staff behind.

The newcomer wore a bright blue blouse with a matching skirt, so unlike the dull gray and black outfits of Candace’s home dimension. Candace’s finely-tuned senses screamed at the unnaturalness of this world.

Thanks to the recon team, Candace already knew the girl was another version of Stacy Hirano. Horror slowly dawned Stacy’s face, and she let out a shriek. “Do you have any idea how dirty those floors are? Have you never been inside a high school restroom before?”

Candace never felt the need to step foot inside the rebuilt high school, but she didn’t entertain that with a reply. She stood up, quickly rinsing her hands in a nearby sink.

“Trust me, you don’t want germs all over your denim jacket. It’s cute in a 90s-early 2000s teen way,” Stacy explained as she stopped in front of a restroom stall. Instead of going in, she took out a sharpened pencil and examined the stall door. “Ugh, Mandy’s dating Carlos again. This is the third time they’ve gotten back together this month! When’s that girl gonna learn?”

She scrawled a message under a large pink heart with C + J in the middle of it.

Candace felt her cheeks heat up. Her counterpart had no subtlety whatsoever.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve seen you around before,” Stacy commented, finishing her message. “What’s your name?”

“Don’t you have class or somewhere to be?” Candace deflected.

Stacy shrugged. “Free period.”

“Fine. It’s…Gertrude,” Candace cursed inwardly, wondering why that was the first thing that popped in her head. A whole sea of false names she could’ve given, and it had to be her embarrassing middle name!

“Gertrude?” Stacy gave her an appraising look. “Funny. The only person I’ve known with that name is Candace.”

Candace grimaced when Stacy circled her, inspecting her disguise more closely. Maybe she’d banked on Stacy’s ditziness a little too much.

“Wait a sec, I know that neck!” Stacy gasped. “Candace, seriously! You really think I wouldn’t recognize my BFF? Though I don’t know if that hair dye is working out for you. I always thought you’d be better off with brown highlights.”

“It’s a disguise,” Candace said, in the most no-nonsense tone she could muster. “I’m from a different dimension. I didn’t get to do whatever normal teenagers do because I was too busy with the Resistance.”

Stacy blinked. “Resistance? Like against a dictator?”

Candace kept her mouth shut, deciding she’d better not give more information that wasn’t pertinent to her mission.

“So you’re like the YA version of Candace?”

Candace gave her a blank look.

Stacy shrugged. “You know, YA? Young adult genre where a clumsy teenage girl leads a ragtag group of misfits against a dystopian government and angsts about a love triangle with her childhood bestie and a mysterious bad boy she doesn’t know very well?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Candace said. “All books except badly written autobiographies about the dictator were banned.”

Stacy grimaced. “Sheesh. That stinks. Not even a fashion magazine?”

Candace shrugged. “No, but that’s life. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go ask my counterpart about her Jeremy Johnson.”

“Probably not the best idea,” Stacy said. “If my Candace figured out you were another version of her, she’d blame her brothers and drag you off to her mom. Then you’ll disappear or get transported elsewhere. You don’t want that.”

“Her mom makes people disappear?” Candace asked, wondering how her recon team could’ve possibly missed that detail.

Stacy shrugged. “Not her mom, really. More like random green laser beams from the sky. They always happen when Candace tries to bust her brothers. But hey, I’d be more than happy to share what I know. Candace and I were best friends since elementary school. I promise I won’t tell her about you.”

The Stacy Hirano of Candace’s dimension usually coordinated supplies between Resistance bases. She didn’t lead from the front like Candace. They cooperated when necessary, but they weren’t nearly as close as these versions of Candace and Stacy.

“You will answer all questions to the best of your ability,” Candace said.

“You don’t need to treat this like an interrogation. Relax a little,” Stacy sighed. “Oh, who am I kidding? You wouldn’t be Candace Flynn if you were relaxed.”

“Alright, Hirano. First question. Why is your Jeremy attracted to Candace?”

Stacy scuffed the tile with her shoe, as if she hadn’t been expecting the question. Well, she should’ve known what she was getting into. “Starting with the loaded topic, huh? Sorry, I was expecting you to ask me about how they met or what they like or something simple like that.”

“I’m not moving to the next question until you answer.”

“Fine. I guess Jeremy likes her determination. Candace hasn’t succeeded in busting her brothers yet, but she’s always willing to try another method. She doesn’t let anything stop her either.”

Determination. Like how she’d been determined to overthrow Doofenshmirtz to create a world where her brothers could grow up peacefully and not have to give up their childhood whims.

“And he doesn’t mind her busting her brothers?”

The Doofenshmirtz family was still out there somewhere. What if they attacked while she was with Jeremy and neglecting her duties? Would Jeremy mind if she rushed off to thwart them?

“She’s always leaving in the middle of dates for busting purposes,” Stacy shrugged. “Jeremy’s pretty chill about it, as far as I know. He knows how much Phineas and Ferb mean to her. They even helped him cheat at a dance competition so he could impress her. Personally I found it a little freaky, but I guess love is a little blind to that sort of thing.”

Candace wasn’t sure about introducing Jeremy to Phineas and Ferb though. It was a big risk if Jeremy ever got captured. But at the same time, she could potentially entrust her brothers to someone else in an emergency. Isabella was a good lieutenant, but Jeremy had years of experience on her.

“Candace crushed on Jeremy since seventh grade. It took a lot of time and courage for her to take the next step,” Stacy said. “With a lot of pushing from me.”

“So you think I just need to have some courage and talk to him?” Candace asked. “Then what was the point of diverting the city’s power to open a portal and spy on you people to catch my counterpart at a good time?”

Suddenly her plan seemed ridiculous in hindsight. And she thought she was pretty good at planning missions.

To her credit, Stacy didn’t seem fazed about Candace spying on her. “I’ve read enough YA novels to know overthrowing dictators is easy for teenage girls. Boys are a different story. And it figures you wouldn’t do the simple thing and make a ridiculously complicated plan instead.”

“You got me there,” Candace admitted.

“So how’s the fashion in your dimension?” Stacy asked, switching topics so abruptly that Candace was caught off guard.

But only for a moment. It probably wouldn’t hurt to have a little fun. Candace began describing Dooferalls, much to Stacy’s growing horror.

Stacy was so revolted she ducked into a bathroom stall and begged Candace not to say anymore. Candace couldn’t help but laugh, even as the portal to her dimension reopened.

Realizing Isabella and the Firestorm Girls were staring, Candace quickly schooled her expression into her usual look of indifference. “Thank you for your help,” Candace said over her shoulder. “I have to go now. Remember to keep this a secret.”

“YOU BURDENED ME WITH THE KNOWLEDGE OF DOOFERALLS!” Stacy screeched back.

The portal closed.

“Baljeet, dismantle the portal tech,” Candace ordered. “Our recon missions into that dimension are finished.”

“Did you find the other Candace?” Isabella asked.

“Not exactly. I talked to Stacy Hirano though. She gave some good advice,” Candace admitted. “Isabella, can I leave you to run a patrol around downtown tomorrow? I want to meet with Jeremy at the park.”

“You can count on me!” Isabella exclaimed.

“Excellent,” Candace said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a phone call to make.”

She dialed Jeremy’s number, feeling more confidence in leading a normal life than ever before.