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lady-literature · 4 years ago

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no point wishing on stars

aka the jasonette aladdin au literally no one asked for

This is a great big amalgamation of semi-canon miraculous, batman and a heavy dose of bastardized Aladdin but here we go-

The story goes like this:

Jason is our beloved street rat turned prince Boy Wonder and billionaire’s son (not that he’s gotten that far yet).

Marinette is Ladybug, is the Guardian, is our modern-day Jasmine. She’s next in line after Fu to lead the Order, which, I suppose, is like High Royalty for superheroes/magic users.

But before she can take her rightful place, she needs a partner by her side. It’s so stupid rule that says she, as a Ladybug, needs a Black Cat by her side in order to be properly balanced.

The only problem is, she doesn’t want one. Or, well. More accurately, it’s that she doesn’t like the ones offered to her, and she doesn’t quite like the idea of being tied to someone she barely knows, especially not at fourteen.

There have been many Black Cat candidates to cross her path but there has been only one she did not immediately veto. Adrien Agreste may be a Black Cat, but he cannot be hers. He will never be anything more than her dearest brother, and that is not what Creation needs.

Creation and Destruction—life and death—have a certain type of relationship. They are lovers, mated and married in every meaning of the word.

And, for as much as she loves and adores Adrien as her brother in her soul, they will never be like that. She will never want him the way she must should he take up Destruction.

So yeah. Marinette has a problem. And yeah, she has some time to figure it out, but the Order is looking to have her figure it out sooner rather than later. Adrien is a good place holder for now, but if Marinette doesn’t choose a Black Cat by the time she’s twenty-one, Adrien will either have to do, or she forfeits her crown and the Ladybug miraculous (which she would never do, she loves her people and Tikki too much to ever do that).

(wait? Does this mean I made Adrien the human equivalent of Raja?… yes. Yes it does.)

And, to spice this up just a bit more, let’s say Hawkmoth is Jafar, yeah? This little shit is really trying to push his son to be the next Black Cat because he wants power what’s best for his son. So he be out here sabotaging potential Black Cats because he’s an asshole his son is the best candidate at the moment. He could give less than two shits about if Mari and Adrien actually like each other that way, he will shove his son at her until she has no choice but to choose him.

Anyway, so Mari leaves the temple one day. Which is fine, she’s not trapped there or anything, she can come and go as she pleases! (she may have to normally take someone with her and is currently ignoring that rule perhaps, but that’s besides the point!)

So she’s at a market in Gotham, strolling down the street, having a good time enjoying being around normal people, when she notices a boy getting into some trouble.

(I’ll give you three guesses as to who it is and the first two don’t count.)

Jason was stealing from market vendors because the hubbub of the street is distracting and nicking a few scraps here and there is practically child’s play. Only, he miscalculates.

One vendor was paying more attention than he thought.

Mari’s across the street and sees the whole thing. Sees the vendor grab Jason’s hand in a bruising grip and snarl in his face.

She’s in between the pair before she even realizes it, mouth already opening around some made-up story about ill-advised dares and how ‘it won’t happen again, sir’ and ‘here, I’ll pay for that right now, no harm done!’

Jason stares at her utterly baffled and, thankfully, silent until after she’d already grabbed his hand and pulled him away.

Only, she pulls him away down the wrong alley. (Look. Mari’s a real sweet-talker and knows how to smooth ruffled feathers, but she is hardly street smart.)

Jason swears, and it’s the first words she’s heard him speak, and then it’s him tugging her along. Up a fire escape and over the rooftops because Jason likes to think he’s tough, but there’s no way he’s picking a fight with five guys bigger than him and wearing masks.

He likes to keep his heart beating more than he wants to keep his pride unharmed thank you very much.

They end up on a rooftop, panting and like, seven blocks away. Marinette is now very lost and with a strange boy who she doesn’t know. He seems… nice, and she’s a good judge of character, but that doesn’t mean much when they’re still very much strangers.

But then the two just look at each other and suddenly they’re both laughing.

And that, my friends, is the start of a beautiful friendship.

***

During those first few months, she and Jason just seem to click.

Mari starts leaving the temple more and more to meet up with Jason, and on more than one occasion dragging behind her a picnic basket bigger than her. (it’s stupid to let one of her friends starve just because he’s too prideful to take her food. So she plans lots of picnics for them both, and pointedly ignores the way he eats and hoards most of the food she brings.)

He is her friend—though she would be lying if she said she didn’t like him a bit more than what one would consider friendly.

And Jason, who is funny and kind and made sharp by the life he’s been forced into, likes her right back. She is one of the few great parts of his life, a bright spot in the darkness he has called his world for so long, and there are few things he wouldn’t do for her.

It’s… scary—just a bit—how important she is to him.

He tries not to think about it too much.

And it doesn't really matter anyway, because she is good and bright and amazing and he is… there’s nothing he can give her in return. Nothing good, anyway.

She deserves someone better. Someone who could buy her things as pretty as her and take her nice places.

Someone who isn’t a street rat.

And then he learns she’s Ladybug, right up there with Wonder Woman and Robin and all the other amazing people set on saving the world, and he feels he got that much farther from her. How can he ever compare?

Jason doesn’t wish, because wishing is childish and he learned too young that shooting stars don’t exist and he’s come to terms with the fact that this is his life years ago, all right? He doesn't need the burden of hope to weigh him down now.

(but perhaps, deep down, tucked away in the corner of his heart, there might be a thought. Small and scared and aching, he might think, ‘if only I could be there with her, if only i could fly with her, maybe then I’d be enough’)

Six months after he meets Marinette, Jason comes across the Batmobile.

His first thought is, this can’t be real.

His second is, I could buy Mari a real birthday gift with this.

His third thought is less of a thought because he’s already got two tires off by that point and then suddenly Batman is there and Jason is swinging his tire iron.

This then leads—somehow—to him winding up at Wayne Manor with Bruce Wayne and then he learns about Batman and Robin and he gets to be Robin and-

(and what else is a Robin meant to do but fly?)

It’s too good to be true. Wishes don’t come true and good things don’t happen to him unless their name be Marinette but… but Jason’s here and it’s not a dream. He’s no prince but, well… he thinks this might just be as close as you can get.

And, okay. He really does try with the whole secrecy thing, because he can understand why that’s important but, I mean… it’s Marinette, who is Ladybug. There really was never any chance of Jason keeping that particular secret, Batman or no Batman.

And about,,, two years pass like this ig. Mari is almost seventeen now, and Jason turned seventeen recently and the pair are getting closer and closer every day. They’re toeing the line of ‘more than friends’ but neither have really taken that next step.

The pressure is on Mari from the Order because she’s getting older and as much as she likes Jason, knows him but he isn’t a good candidate for Destruction and Mari must think of her people first.

Jason doesn’t get to be hers to keep and that aches but what else is she meant to do? She cannot—does not—want to change him in any way. So they stay, in their strange little limbo, with neither making a move.

And then, the unthinkable happens.

Hawkmoth hears of the boy finally, and is, obviously, furious.

He doesn't care if this boy can be a Cat or not, he’s going to ruin all his plans. So, there’s only one solution. He needs to get rid of him.

(i’ll give you three guesses as to how and the first two don’t count!)

Robin—Jason—dies, and Marinette feels when he does. She doesn’t know why or what happened, but the moment he leaves the world her blood turns cold and she feels sick.

Jason hasn’t even looked at the ring and already Marinette could feel the thread that had begun to tie them together. When she hears of his death—when she learns that he’s gone—Marinette shatters.

She shatters and cries and the world tips just a little, with the force of her sorrow, with the agony of her screams.

(justice is blind, yes, but is she deaf? Can she deny the sobbing of such a being as Creation herself? Can she stand, unfeeling, before the agony she has wrought?)

Marinette does not bring Jason back to life… but she has done something close. Has opened the possibility. Is, perhaps, the reason that six months later he screams and claws and drags himself from his own grave.

He is wrong wrong wrong, but he is also alive.

The league finds him, as they must. And Talia throws him into the pits, as she must. And Jason is reborn, screaming and angry and violent, as he must.

Marinette had known, Before, that Jason would not be a good match for the ring. He was tough and wild and willing to get his hands dirty if that’s what it took, but that was not what his core was. He was familiar with the rust and decay of back alley streets, but that wasn’t where he belonged. He would throw a punch but he didn’t relish the blood on his knuckles after a fight.

Jason was surrounded by destruction, but that’s not what he was.

Now… now the destruction he spent so long dancing with has slipped through the cracks in his mind left behind by the explosion. It ripped through his skin and slithered through into his veins until it settled in his heart like an overly smug cat.

Death and Destruction are inside him, woven in his ribcage and fusing with his blood, pumping pumping pumping its deadly rhythm and Jason is helpless to deny it’s tune.

Jason is a being of Destruction through circumstance rather than design, but make no mistake, that does not make him less.

(in fact, it may even make him more. To be remade from one’s own destruction is a powerful thing, and to be remade into Destruction? Well. There are few things more… miraculous.)

And we all know the next part of the story right?

Marinette mourns and grows and lives.

Jason rages and learns and plans. He’s come far from that street rat of a boy, and farther still from Marinette's petite oiseau.

But, two years after he comes back, when he ventures back to Gotham for revenge, Marinette takes one look at this angry, violent man calling himself Red Hood and she knows. He’s too familiar, even as he stands before her, more changed than she ever thought possible.

She meets the Red Hood when he comes for the new Robin, sweet little Tim who Marinette had grown to like despite herself. (He is not Jason, and never will be, but the boy was too shy and clever and earnest for her to have remained cold to him just because he wore the same colors once worn by the man she loved.)

She loves Tim in the same way she loves Adrien, simply and wholly and uncomplicated.

And then she is there when Jason comes for him.

Their reunion is not the stuff of fairy tales. It is not the beginning of happily ever after or true love.

Their reunion is a punch in the gut because it doesn't matter that he’s alive—except it does, because Mari has never known she could be so happy and so shattered at the same time—she is farther from him than she’d ever imagined she could be.

She reaches out for him, voice cracking around his name—because who else could this familiar stranger be?—and something in her shatters all over again when he flinches back from her touch.

“No,” he says, and it is a million things at once. He sends one last glare to Tim, who is still behind her, and then he’s gone.

***

Jason tries to avoid her.

Marinette allows this for a whole month before the whispers in the streets and the stories Tim comes back to her with, become too much.

She knows he is angry and out for revenge and building an empire out of the criminals that infest their city, but she doesn’t care. He was gone for two whole years and Marinette is tired of not seeing him-hearing him-touching him.

She has missed him like an ache in her chest and she doesn't care if he hates her or is furious with her, she just wants to see him. She needs to reassure herself that he’s alive, that he’s real.

And, it seems, the universe is on her side in this. In her chest, nestled there in the space next to her heart, there is what she can only describe as a compass, pointing to wherever Jason is like he’s her own personal north star.

The first few times, she’s yelled at or ran off. Or he runs off. Either way, for a while, the only moments she’s close to him are short and aching.

But she doesn’t let him run for long, and she doesn’t let him scare her off as she knows he’s trying to do.

Marinette had always been the more stubborn of the two.

Eventually, like a feral cat learning safety (like a hurt, scared animal relearning love), Jason lets her get close. He lets her in, lets her get close again.

The first time she sees him, without helmet or mask, she flings herself at him. Arms around his neck and legs wrapped around his waist, clutching him like her life depends on it. He takes her weight automatically, hand beneath her thighs while the other wraps around her back just as tightly. (he longs for touch, she has relearned, but he is also so frightened of it. She will have to be brave for them both)

The second time she sees his face bare once more, he is still thrumming with energy from a fight, is still high on the feeling of broken bones and blood on his knuckles. The force in his chest, the clawing and raging thing settled just off-center of the very core of him, pulls him toward her and Marinette meets him halfway, her own bright, ruthless force like a magnet in her chest.

They meet in a clash of hands on skin and lips anywhere they’ll land.

It is the first time they fall into bed together.

It will not be the last.

Now, you may be thinking, ‘Lady! This isn’t very Aladdin at all!’ and to that I tell you: I fucking warned you. What part of bastardized-Aladdin didn’t you get?

Also, shh. This is my favorite part!

So Mari is in her own personal little honeymoon stage, right? She practically could not be happier because Jason is alive and he’s hers and, even if he’s more violent and a crime boss, he’s stopped attacking his family at least. Which is good, because Mari really didn’t like the sad look Tim wore every time he brought up Jason.

And, oh yeah. Through a combination of her own detective work and Tikki, little Mari realizes that Jason is her Black Cat. Is the only person her Black Cat could be, not because of destiny—though that had helped—but because of coincidence and the bond the pair forged themselves.

So Mari is, obviously, on cloud nine at the moment and she tells Adrien and Fu who are ecstatic for her, and announcements are going to be made the second Mari tells Jason and what could possibly go wrong?

Well, a lot of things really but the first thing is that, basically, Mari is asking Jason to marry her. Just a bit. And while they both know, in that nebulous way they always have, that they love each other, neither of them have ever actually said it.

And also, they aren’t really dating right now either. Mari’s been too busy trying to just get near Jason again that she hasn’t much been paying attention to normal relationship things like dates or labels.

So when she brings it up Jason is… well, caught off guard is likely an understatement. Which then makes Mari realize what exactly she’s just done and- shit. She’s ruined everything and Jason is going to run away again and the compass in her chest is just going to be a reminder of what she can’t have and-

Jason, who only moments before was terrified and in danger of bolting—because this is a lot and magic-marrying Mari comes with responsibilities and rules and a thousand strings he doesn't know what to do with—now stops and stares at her, babbling and so obviously panicked and something in him abruptly settles.

She starts pacing and he grabs her hand when she passes by close enough, reeling her into his body. She comes easily even in her frazzled state and the vicious clawing thing in his chest sighs contentedly.

“Why?” he asks, and it is a million things at once. Why him, why now, why, why, why?

There are a million ways she could answer, but the easiest? The most important answer is simply this: “Because I love you.”

His breath shudders in his chest at her words and her hands raise to settle on his cheek and the back of his neck, a protection of one of the most vulnerable parts of him, and he leans into her touch like a man starved.

Gods, Jason has loved her for years.

He loved her Before and he loved her in the pits, when all he had was the hate they kept stuffing in his chest, and he loves her now. She is his sun and he will spin around her for the rest of his life. But when it all comes down to it, one simple fact doesn’t change:

“I don’t deserve your love.”

Her hands press harder into his skin, like she can force him to understand through touch alone. “If everyone only got the love they deserved no one would be truly loved,” she counters.

“You would,” he says, quick and quiet and honest. Her breath hitches and he watches her eyes go wide. The hands he has on her hips tighten at the emotions he finds there.

“Oh,” she whispers, already pulling him down to meet her. “Oh you stupid, beautiful man.”

And then they’re kissing and- and it is not the first time they’ve done this, but there is something very different about this one.

They’re kissing, and this time, it feels very much like coming home.

***

And, perhaps, that is not the end.

Because there is still one wish left.

Because Jafar-Hawkmoth is still there, and he’s still murderous, and there a very real chance he’s going to ruin the wedding somehow.

Because there is never truly an end to a story, it just simply stops being told.

But none of that really matters. Our princess and her dearest street rat are together at last, and together they’ll get through whatever happens after the story stops being told.

They’ve always had a thing for impossible odds after all.

#maribat #jasonette #my typewriter #aladdin au

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allidoiswritewritewrite · 4 years ago

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Mr. and Mrs. Barnes

AN: So... I watched Mr. and Mrs. Smith last night, then immediately got this prompt from writingexercises.co.uk and I figured I would try my hand at it. This is my first fic in YEARS and my first fic ever here, so be kind plz and thank you :) let me know what you think, or if you think I left anything out of the TW.

Pairing: Assassin!Bucky Barnes x Assassin!Reader

Word count: 1.3k

Summary: Mr. and Mrs. Bucky Barnes had a happy marriage for six years, until they realized they were competing assassins.

TW: Some violence, shooting, mention of guns and a knife

To save his own life, he knew he would have to kill her.

That much became apparent to him as soon as he realized the woman who took a shot at him on a job that day was his wife of six years.

He sat on a rooftop, legs dangling over the edge while a cut bled freely from above his left eye brow as the only evidence of the job gone wrong. His hair hung around his face, the sweat beading off his nose as he pondered his options.

Steve’s voice was droning on in the background, telling him how he told him so, and lecturing him about how could he be so stupid.

“You were probably just a job to her this entire time, Buck.”

Bucky didn’t think that could be true. With his eyes shut and his metal fist clenched, he looked down and remembered the night they first met.

Dusk was falling over a sleepy Seattle as Bucky tucked a sheathed knife into the waistband of his jeans, walking into the quiet bar to enjoy a drink.

As he glanced across the room, he saw her sitting there. Eyes shining in the neon lights hung up behind the bar, smiling to the bartender while she swirled a glass of whiskey around in one hand.

Her hair was a windswept mess, but her put-together pencil skirt and blazer suggested it was just a long day at the office.

He felt like he didn’t have any control as he walked over and took the stool next to her. Like a moth to a flame, he was entranced.

That’s how it all started, six years ago.

Staying in that bar until the last call, going back to her place and pulling at each other’s clothes as they walked through the door.

Bucky shook himself out of the memory. That was before he knew everything about her was a lie. Maybe he was just a job to her after all.

He thought back to the mission the day before when he realized what a disaster his life was.

Alexander Pierce, class A scumbag and member of the World Security Council, was set to be driving through that desert any minute.

Bucky’s M82 sat next to him, his music blaring next to him.

Who would hear it anyways?

That turned out to be his first mistake.

How was he supposed to know someone else was trying to take out his mark at the same time and place as him?

Five minutes after he settled in, a bullet hit the sand near him.

Looking up, he saw a figure aiming an M82 of their own his way.

He grabbed his backup gun, an AK-47, and turned it on them, raining bullets on their sheltered area before running to find cover.

As bullets chased him through the desert, he looked to the right and saw the SUV carrying his target flying through the hellscape.

He didn’t realize who his would-be killer was until he got back to Seattle, rain pouring down outside as he reviewed the tapes from the day’s failed mission.

When her hair blowing in the wind, lips puckered while she tried to take him out, he knew who she was.

That’s when he thought: what if I was her target all along?

He blinked away the thought and steeled himself, bidding goodbye to Steve and waved off his offers of help.

“I’m with you to the end of the line, pal. You say the word and I’ll be there.”

No, this was something he would have to take care of on his own.

To save your own life, you knew you would have to kill him.

Your marriage was an impulsive one, but everything always felt so right.

Now, though, as you sat in the quiet hotel bar staring down at the whiskey in your hand, things had never felt more wrong.

Everything about him had been a lie.

He was no engineer. Hell, he’d probably just been trying to kill you this entire time. You scolded yourself as you remembered the day you met him.

You had stopped by the bar on a whim. Someone else had taken out your target before you ever had the chance, and you knew you were in for a reaming when you got back to the office.

That’s how you found yourself sitting at the bar, sipping a whiskey and smiling at a comment the bartender made.

When a man came over to take the bar stool next to you, you thought it would be accompanied by another pickup line that would send your eyes rolling.

But instead, a sideways glance had you turning in your seat when you saw his blue eyes shining under the brim of his baseball cap, standing out against the dark strands of hair falling out of it.

Like a moth to a flame, you were entranced.

And so, that night led to a whirlwind of two months of dating, an elopement and six happy years of marriage.

Until you saw him, gun in hand, waiting to take out your target.

You shook your head and downed the rest of your whiskey, feeling it burn as it slid down your throat.

The sun shone down on the desert sands as you fanned yourself, waiting in the vacant shed for your target.

Alexander Pierce, secretary for the World Security Council and a treasonous bastard.

He had been selling defense secrets to the country’s enemies, both foreign and domestic. At least 40 people were thought to be dead because of his actions.

You wouldn’t sleep any less at night for taking him out.

You had been taking shelter in the shed for a couple of hours, gun already set up and a bottle of water sitting next to you while you waited, when you heard someone’s music blaring to the left of you.

Looking down, you saw him. Broad shoulders stretching out a white t-shirt with sand all over it. Sweat slipping down his arms under the hot sun.

When you saw the metal arm, you knew who it was.

How could your husband, the love of your life, have betrayed you like this?

What if he was just there to kill you?

You couldn’t bring yourself to shoot him.You shot around him, got him to run so you could make a getaway.

Alexander Pierce was long forgotten.

A heavy sigh left your pursed lips as you slid some cash across the bar, stood up and walked out.

It was time to take care of business.

You noted that his truck was already parked in the driveway when you arrived at your perfectly suburban home, but not a single light shown through the windows into the night sky.

Opening the glovebox, you pulled out your handgun, flipped off the safety and took a deep breath.

You held your head high as you walked to the front door, opening it with your gun held out in front of you. You knew he had to have heard you coming.

It came as no surprise when your gun was knocked out of your hand the second you walked through the door.

That was all it took to start a tussle through the lower level of your house that left everything in tatters.

The sounds of skin slapping furniture mixed with grunts could’ve sounded erotic if you weren’t battling to the death with your betrothed.

Your back slammed into the pantry door, his arm pressing into your neck and cutting off your air supply for a moment. Wrapping your arm around his, you were able to get him off you long enough to catch your breath and send a kick to the side of his head.

“Enough with the foreplay, Barnes. Let’s get this show on the road.”

He advanced on you, gun in hand but aimed to try to hit you with it.

When you ducked, you grabbed his arm and used his momentum to get him to drop the gun.

His legs swiped yours out from under you, sending you reeling to the ground.

You latched onto his legs to pull him down and stood back up, but he didn’t follow far behind.

A punch that landed on his nose sent him stumbling back, and you pushed him onto the ground with a kick to his chest.

But that sent him just within reach of the gun you lost walking through the door.

Grabbing his off the ground, you spun around with the gun pointed toward him, his stance a mere five feet away mirroring yours.

His voice shook while he questioned you.

“Was any of it even true? Or have I just been a job this whole time?”

You shuddered, the hand holding a gun shaking as you clicked on the safety and lowered it, managing a whispered answer.

“If you think I could fake how much I love you, go ahead and take the shot Bucky.”

The seconds passed like minutes. It felt like the silence might swallow you whole, chest heaving while you watched his eyes skim across your face.

Tears shone in both of your eyes as he lowered his gun and took a step closer to you.

“I’m with you ‘til the end of the line, doll.”

/ f i n /

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #assassin!bucky barnes #assassin!reader #assassin au #bucky barnes imagine

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bqstqnbruin · 4 years ago

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Come back to me part 7

Hello hello everyone! Here I am, with the last part of come back to me. Thank you so much to everyone who reads, likes, reblogs, or comments on this and everything else I’ve written. You guys are the real ones.

I also have to admit that I took the ceremony stuff from this website I can’t take credit for most of that 😬

Read the other parts: Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6

I hope you guys like this!

__________________________

~Four years later~

“Are you sure you want to go see him?” Mat asks you, pacing around the living room.

“Yeah, we both agreed that this is for the best,” you reassure him, grabbing your bag to head out the door. “The worst thing that will happen is that he says no, and if he tries anything then I’ll just kick him or something.”

Mat throws his head back laughing, taking you in by the waist to say goodbye. “God, I’ll miss you,” he says, planting a kiss on your lips, “Call me if you need anything?”

“Always,” you say, kissing him again before heading out the door. You were nervous to see him, but this was something you knew you had to do. “I love you,” you tell him, both loving and hating how mushy he was getting for you to be leaving him for just an afternoon.

“I love you,” he says back, holding on to your hand until you’re too far away for him to do so.

You make your way towards the apartment you had rented with Kyle nearly five years ago. You hadn’t really been to this part of the city since that weekend you moved out and moved in with Mat. You had barely seen Kyle since that weekend, either; he would pop up every now and then at work for about a year after, but then you hear from Jessica that he had gotten a new job somewhere else. They had this whole party for him and everything in the Finance department and somehow, you didn’t even know about it until three weeks later.

And now, you were seeing him for the first time at the coffee shop down the street from what you assumed was still the apartment he lived him. You and Mat were nervous about this; Kyle didn’t say much to you while you were moving out. He knew what time you were going to be there and you told him everything you were taking. Other than him saying you forgot something there, you hadn’t even talked since that night you went back to Mat.

You get to the coffee shop, him already sitting at a table, two cups of coffee, his leg shaking so much you could see the liquid in the cups moving with him. He looks so different from the last time you saw him: his hair is shorter, not that swishy 2010s boy band hair that he had forever. His shirt looks like it’s been ironed, tucked in like he put effort into what he was wearing and not just taking the first shirt out of his drawers like he always did. Everything about him looked so much more put together; he actually looked like an adult, not a college student trying to relive his high school days.

Something about him looking so put together made a smile appear on your face. He wasn’t a mess like you thought he would be, or at least he didn’t give the appearance that he was freaking out as much as you were internally. He makes eye contact with you, a soft smile on his face as you make your way to him.

You both hesitate before doing anything, that awkward, ‘I haven’t seen you in a minute, do we shake hands or hug?’ giggle that you let out before you just take him in your arms. It still felt different than it felt with Mat, but at least now, it wasn’t a sad version of unfamiliarity.

“You look great, Kye,” you tell him, sitting down with him as he pushes the coffee towards you. “You’re different, in such a good way.”

“Thanks!” he says, in a cheery tone that you had never heard before, at least not in a time frame that you could remember, “You look great, too, but you always do,” he says, prompting an eye roll from you, even if you can’t help but smile. It’s not like he was flirting with you. “So, I heard you’re engaged, huh?”

You can feel the heat rush to your face, the smile growing bigger at the thought of being engaged to Mat. You look down at the ring under the table, biting your lip debating to show Kyle. “Can I see?” You let out a small laugh, extending your hand across the table to show him. “That’s way better than the one I got you,” he says, looking between you and the ring, “I’m happy for you. I really am, congrats.”

“Thank you, Kye. That means a lot.”

“Mat’s treating you right?”

You nod. He treats you like a queen. Everything he did was out of pure love. Loving him was the easiest thing you could think of doing. “Just as well as you did.”

“He’s that bad?” Kyle asks, his eyes wide.

You felt your heart break a little when you heard that, “Kyle, you treated me the best way you could. Never feel bad about what happened between us. None of that was your fault, it was mine.”

“There are two people in a relationship; if it doesn’t work it’s because of both people. I just want you happy. That’s what’s important.” The look he has on his face makes you know he means it.

“I am happy. I can’t wait to be married to him,” you admit, part of you feeling bad for telling this to your ex-fiance of all people.

“Yeah, I know,” he says, you raising an eyebrow at him. You hadn’t talked in months, how could he know, “I was out with some guys one night and they saw some of the guys on the Islanders on the other side of the street. I looked and there you were, Mat with his arm around you, him kissing the side of your head as you all went into whatever bar it was. The look on your face was pure bliss. I knew you and Mat were meant to be, but seeing you that night kinda sealed it. You were always going to find your way back to him.”

You look at him, a smile on your face while you try to find the words to say, “I hope you find happiness, Kye. You really do deserve it.”

“I actually am. I met a girl that night I saw you with Mat and she’s amazing. I think she might be the one,” he says, laughing, running his hands through his hair. “Is that weird to say to you?”

You shrug, laughing with him. “I mean I don’t care. Just promise me you will actually plan a proposal and not just in her apartment like you did for me.”

“Calista would probably say no like you should have. How did Mat ask you?”

You think back to that night, the smile on your face ever bigger, not even sure how that was possible. “We were at this rooftop bar in Manhattan, the weekend after the Isles clinched a postseason berth last season. One of the guys had rented it out to celebrate with everyone. I turned my back on Mat and Tito for like three seconds, and the next thing I know, Mat is on the stage they had set up, Tito is dragging me up to him and Mat asked me in front of his entire team while Tito is bouncing up and down like a child waiting for me to answer.”

“Easiest yes of your life,” he says. “When I ask Calista, I want it to be special. I hope it is. But, when’s the big day?”

“Four months. That way we know Mat won’t have any conflict with the season,” you tell him, digging through your bag. “That’s actually why I wanted to talk to you. Mat and I would love it if you came,” you said, handing him an invitation. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, or aren’t comfortable. But you are important to us. And you even had a ‘plus one,’ so if Calista is ok with joining you, we would love to meet her.”

He holds the invitation in his hands, looking at it as if he were studying it for a test. “I would love to. And I’ll let you know about Calista. I would love for you to meet her.”

----------

~Four months later~

“Are you nervous, babe?” Jessica asks, zipping up your dress as you stand in front of the mirror.

You couldn’t believe you made it to today. You had been waiting for this day since, well, since forever? Since the day you met Mat? You weren’t really sure, but everything was perfect so far. You were so happy with how your makeup and hair turned out, your dress was everything you ever dreamed it could be. “About finally marrying Mat? No, not at all,” you say, a smile on your face. “About tripping and breaking my ankle while walking down the aisle? Yes, very nervous.”

“So you’re not going to pull a runway bride move?” she asks.

“No. I would never do that to Mat. But I think Tito would be more upset, honestly.”

“He’s weirdly invested in your relationship with him,” she points out. You laugh, knowing she’s right. No one wanted you and Mat together more than Tito. You turn around to face her. You swear she’s about to cry looking at you, “You are beautiful. Mat is the luckiest man in the world.”

“Next to whoever marries you,” you tell her, taking her in for a hug. She was easily the best friend you had; making her your Maid of Honor was the easiest decision for the wedding since saying yes to Mat.

“Are you ready?” Jessica asks, leading you out of the bridal suite.

“Of course.”

While you get into your place, the music starting to play, Mat and Tito get into their places, too. “Are you nervous, man? She’s officially going to be your wife in like an hour,” Tito bounces on his toes, annoying his friend.

Mat rolls his eyes, “Nervous to marry Y/N? Not at all. How could I be? Of saying something stupid or messing up my vows? Yeah, really nervous.”

“You wrote them down, right?”

“Yes, but,”

Tito cuts him off, “You can read, right?”

“Yes, but,”

“You’ll be fine. Relax.”

“I can’t relax when you cut me off every two words. If you do that while I’m saying everything, I will not hesitate to punch you,” Mat threatens his Best Man, who can’t help but laugh as the rest of the bridal party makes their way down the aisle.

The music changes, everyone standing and turning their attention to the back to see you walking towards Mat. As soon as he sees, his eyes light up. He swallows hard, trying not to cry at the sight of how beautiful you looked. This was the last time he was going to see you not as his wife, all of it hitting him now that today marked the rest of his life with you. Mat felt Tito nudge him, the tears in Mat’s eyes threatening to spill over as you get close to him.

“You are beautiful,” Mat whispers to you once you get up to him. “I love you.”

The officiant starts, giving you the chance only to mouth back, “I love you.” You wanted to tell him how handsome he looked, too. “Marriage is perhaps one of the greatest and most challenging adventures of human relationships. But Mat and Y/N here, know that it takes a separate adventure to get there. After losing each other, they found their way back, to stand before you today. No ceremony can create a marriage; only those in it can. Mat and Y/N will need love and patience; dedication and perseverance; communication and support. They need to understand each other’s differences, forgive each other, appreciate differences, and make the important things matter. The purpose of this ceremony is to witness and affirm that the choice you make to stand together as lifemates partners is the one you want to make.

“No two people in love live in isolation. They are surrounded by their friends and their family, who care for, respect, love, and support their marriage and the new family they are creating today. Will everyone please ride?” Your guests all do, spotting Kyle and who you assumed was Calista sitting close to the front. You were so happy that he came, part of you didn’t think he would. “Will all who are present here today, surround Mat and Y/N in love, offering them the joys of your friendship, supporting them in their marriage?”

Everyone choruses, “we will.” You were smiling at the crowd, but Mat couldn’t take his eyes off you. If someone had told him when he first moved to Seattle, then to New York, that this is where he would be standing today, he wouldn’t believe them. He would tell them they were delusional. But, man, this was the best delusion he could have imagined.

“If there is anyone who has any reason that these two should not be wed, please speak now, or forever hold your peace.”

“I have a reason!” you hear someone call, a voice you can’t make out. This couldn’t be happening, the crowd gasping as they look amongst themselves, trying to figure out who was ruining your wedding. It wouldn’t be Calista, would it? What reason would she have for you and Mat not getting married?

“What the fuck?” you hear Mat groan.

“Satan,” Tito lets out, eyes wide. You follow his gaze to see who’s weeding their way through the row of seats to the aisle.

“Is that,” you start, trying to remember her name.

“Mona,” Mat lets out, voice low with anger. This was ridiculous. He hadn’t seen or heard from her since she threw water in his face. That was the fifth-best day of his life, behind today, the day he proposed, the day the two of you finally got together, and the day he got drafted. “We didn’t invite her, did we?”

“I forgot she was even part of your life at some point,” you admit, watching her practically stumble down the aisle, a tall, slim man in a blue plaid suit, black-framed glasses, and hair that had way too much gel in it for his own good. “Who’s following her?”

The crowd starts to murmur, watching the two of them walk down the aisle. You couldn’t tell if Mona was drunk or her heels were too high for her to be properly walk in them.

“Is that Satan’s keeper?” Tito asks Mat. Neither of them ever recall seeing Paxton, only hearing his voice and reading his messages instructing Mat how to date his client. You both shrug, confused as to why they were here in the first place.

“Do I need to kill this bitch?” Jessica asks, handing off your bouquets to one of your other bridesmaids, ready to fight.

“That is something you will not do,” you fend her off, putting your arm in front of her. It was a fifty/fifty chance that Jessica would actually do something to hurt Mona, and frankly, your wedding day was not the day to test those odds.

“Mona, what are you doing here?” Mat asks, clearly unamused by whatever shenanigan’s they had planned.

“Stopping your wedding, of course.”

“With?” Mat asks, gesturing to the man behind her.

“You know Paxton.”

“Of course,” he groans, rolling his eyes. He had really hoped he never had to actually meet the man, yet here he was. “So, why, exactly, do you feel the need to do this?” He had no time for this nonsense; he was trying to marry his best friend, the love of his life, his wife.

“I’m still in love with you!” Mona declares, putting her hands on Mat’s chest. You were shocked, everyone around you gasping again while Mat’s expression stays unamused.

“No,” he says, shaking his head, prying her hands off him, “You do not still love me because you never did love me. Our entire relationship was set up by Paxton. You two weren’t even invited.”

“I have always loved you, and I know you love me!” she whines again, Paxton standing behind her, smirking.

“What are you, a knock off Kardashian?” Jessica asks, stepping in front of you. “Get out of here. Tito, come on, you get her legs, I’ll get her arms.”

“What is the point of this?” Mat asks you, getting more and more furious at Mona each second she stands in front of him.

You shrug, not entirely bothered by the sight of Tito and Jessica carrying Mona out of the venue while Paxton just sauntered behind him. “I don’t know,” you say, starting to laugh, “What’s life without a little chaos, though?”

Mat looks at you, confused, “You’re not mad about this?”

“After everything we’ve done to get here, this is probably the least destructive thing that could have happened. At least it wasn’t Kyle,” you tell Mat, loud enough that only he could hear you. You hear Mona shriek, the guests all craning their necks trying to see any of the action that was going on. “Jessica did threaten to kill her, though.”

“Should I go get them?” Mat asks, hoping that he wouldn’t also have to deal with murder on his wedding day.

Before you can answer, Tito and Jessica reappear, closing the doors behind them. “All taken care of,” Jessica says, the two of them joining you.

“Let’s make her your wife!” Tito says, the crowd awkwardly laughing.

“You are two seconds from not being my Best Man anymore,” Mat whispers, Tito throwing up his hands in defense.

“I hope that’s the only interruption we have today,” the officiant says, pausing to make sure that no one else said anything else that would ruin your wedding. “Oh thank god,” they say, everyone laughing. “We’ve come to the point of the ceremony where you will say your vows to each other. Before you do, I ask you to remember that love, which is rooted in faith, trust, and acceptance, will be the foundation of an abiding and deepening relationship. No other ties are more tender, no vows are more sacred. If you are able to keep these vows from today out of a desire to love and to be loved by another person, fully and without limitation, then your life will be full of joy. No matter how far apart the two of you may be physically, you will always find your way back to each other.

“Please now read the vows you have written for each other. Mat, I believe you’re going first?”

Mat can feel himself shaking, his breathing uneven as he reaches into his jacket to get the paper with his vows. “September 2012 was simultaneously one of the best and work months of my life. It was the month I was drafted into the WHL, the month you and I went on our first date, the month I thought that were was no hope for us to last forever. Even at fourteen, I thought you were perfect. You were the force of nature that never stopped, you loved everyone and everyone loved you. I loved you the moment I saw you.

“May 2015 was another awful month. I was supposed to be happy about turning 18, excited for the draft, but instead, we broke up. We decided that it would be easier to be apart since we didn’t know where I was going to be. And even then I still loved you. I came to New York and still loved you. I never did stop loving you. I always thought that somehow, we would find out way back to each other. That night we happened to be at the same bar was like seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. I know life with and without you, and life with you is better than anything I could ever imagine.

“I have loved you forever, and I will love you always. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life by your side.”

You used every ounce of strength not to cry at Mat’s words. You knew he had help from his sister and Tito with writing them, but you didn’t care. You knew he meant every word. “Y/N?” the officiant prompts you.

You take a deep breath, hoping that Mat loves your vows as much as you loved his. “I never believed in cliches. ‘If you love something, set it free. If it’s meant to be, it’ll find it’s way back.’ That always seemed so absurd: why would you let go of something if you really loved it? Letting go of you the first time, Mat, was one of the most devastating things I ever did. That last fight we had before you got drafted tore me to pieces, and I think I stayed broken until I came to New York. I didn’t even realize that I never stopped loving you until I saw you that night.

“I can be unapologetically me around you, as annoying and obnoxious as that may be. You’re the person I would make cookies and dance around the kitchen while singing boy band songs horribly off-key at one in the morning. You’re the person who would come home with my favorite flowers just because you wanted to see me with a smile on my face. You’re the person I would go to the ends of the Earth for, no matter what toll it would take on me. You’re the most perfect person for me.

“I have loved you forever, and I will love you always. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life by your side.”

The only thing you had told each other about your vow was that line. You wanted to have that line be the same because you both felt it.

“Mat and Y/N will now exchange rings as a symbol of their love and commitment to each other. These rings, like your relationship and love for each other, are special; they enhance who you are. They mark the beginning of your long journey together. Your rings are a circle - a symbol of never-ending love. It is the seal of the vows you have just taken to love each other without end.

“Mat, please place the ring on Y/N’s left hand a repeat after me: As a sign of my love.”

“As a sign of my love,” Mat says, slowly putting the ring on your finger, a smile on his face that made his eyes light up.

“That I have chosen you.”

“Above all else.”

“With this ring, I thee wed.”

You say the same, your hands shaking as you slide the ring on Mat’s finger. This was everything you had been waiting for.

“And now by the power vested in me by the state of New York, it is my honor and delight to declare you married! You may now kiss the bride!”

Mat doesn’t need to be told twice. He takes your face in his hands as your hands find their way to his shoulders. He can hear Tito yelling about you finally being his wife, probably making a fool of himself as always why Jessica shoots daggers at him with her look. Mat finally pulls away, your foreheads resting against each other while your guests go wild around you. “Finally,” Mat whispers to you, kissing you once more before taking your hand to lead you to the rest of your lives together.

#mat barzal #mat barzal imagines #mathew barzal #mathew barzal imagines #new york islanders #new york islanders imagines #islanders imagines #islanders #isles #isles imagines #nhl #nhl imagines #hockey #hockey imagines

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notagamersdey · 3 years ago

Text

Freebird

By Tyler D. Ortiz

Rating: M

Word Count: 2k~

Warnings: Violence, insinuations of sexual assault, drug use/mention, murder, character death, bad language

Summary: Local superhero, Lady Griffin, attempts to save a group of hostages during a bank robbery.

~~~

“This is Veronica reporting live at the intersection of Flour and Junction where the domestic terrorist group ‘The Red Hests’ has taken Grand Central High Bank.” The news reporter presses her left index finger into her ear, “They are currently holding over 50 hostages of both visiting customers and employees. No one knows their demands yet, but people speculat - Wait. I’m getting reports that Lady Griffin is passing Grand Central High this moment-”

PHEWWWW!

The news reporter ducks, her hair flying to the left as Lady Griffin speeds by from above, “and there she is! WOW! Look at her go!” The news reporter turns back towards the camera, her hair sticking out in odd angles, “Well, she will no doubt take care of those criminals. Back to you, Jorge.”

Lady Griffin, with light brown wings between her shoulder blades, swoops above the bank building, landing onto the ledge. She jogs up to the rooftop door, pulling at her new uniform which was a bit tight.

“Grif’, stop messing with it, it’ll loosen up,” a voice, Ezra, told her through an earpiece.

“Did you have to get it super tight? I thought we weren’t doing the whole sexy thing,” her bright auburn hair falls against her shoulders as she skids to a stop, yanking the door off its hinges. She cringes slightly, placing it lightly against the wall, “remind me to come fix this later.”

There’s typing on the other end of the call, “Will do. And it’s not about your sex appeal, it's about being pragmatic. It’s light material, and the closer it is to your body, the less wind resistance you have. Don’t you have a college education?” Ezra teases.

Lady Griffin scoffs, “Yeah, in biology, not in astrophysics, or whatever you’re proficient in.” She goes through the door, peering over the staircase. It's a square spiral staircase going on round and round 8 times. The building was 8 stories, the first few filled with cubicles and offices, the rest were holding centers for money, computers, or basically anything else a bank would need to secure its finances. “Alright, Ez’, what are we looking at here?”

More typing, “You’ve got about 6 to 8 armed men on floors 1 to 7, the floor below you is currently under construction. The men rounding up every employee and customer to the middle of the floors. Elevators are down, and you’ve got one man at each stairway entrance.”

Lady Griffin grabs the railings to the staircase, “Any suggestions?”

“Eh. I say start with the bottom floor, you can prevent a shootout with the police, and they wouldn’t be able to get away.”

“Smart move.” She takes a slow deep breath and nose dives to the bottom floor. She moves quickly, expanding her wings to slow her fall. She lightly drops down in front of the door, looking through the tiny glass window. She notices one guy off to the left of the door. Another at the wall farthest from her. They both wore suits, pointing rifles to the ground.

“Hey, Ez’, what kind of rifles?”

“They are...” He pauses. She hears a chair roll away along with the rustling of papers, “PP-19 Vityaz’s. 9mm chamber, stamped steel, carries 30 round magazines. Both semi and automatic, typically used by Russian Special Forces, designed for covert-op. Usually equipped with a suppressor. I guess it makes sense. Cheap ammo, lighter than 5.45 plus a suppressor on this one is much more effective than-”

“Ezra, focus, you’re my eyes. Let me know if they call for reinforcements, I don’t want any surprises.” Lady Griffin, rolling her shoulders back, jumping a few times. Her wings ruffle and shake. She bends down, pulling her ankles up, stretching.

When she stands back up, she takes in air, focusing on her surroundings. She hears the men rounding up hostages the floors above her, she can hear the man breathing from the other side of the door. Heartbeats. Everywhere. She lets her breath out and breaks down the door. The door flies a few feet away, crashing onto the marble floor. The man next to the doorway is the first to react, bringing his rifle up to shoot at Lady Griffin, but she was too quick. She throws a front thrust at the man, sending him flying. The guy that was across the door shoots. Lady Griffin sprints towards him, ducking under the stream of bullets. She blitzes him, thrusting her wings out and back, creating a gust of wind to propel her at the assailant. She punches through his chest, sending him flying to the wall.

“Back up!” She turns to her left to see two more guys running at her. Both trained their guns at her, one holding a radio. Everything slows down again; she sees the sweat drip down both their brows, sees the horrendous, angry teeth from the one talking into the radio. She sees the slightest quiver of the gun. He’s weak. He’s not holding the gun right. “We need back up-” She swiftly rushes her wings forward, sending a powerful force of wind at the two. The guy holding the radio falls; however, his partner holds himself up against the impact.

“If you don’t stop now, I will put a bullet between those pretty green eyes, girl. Just accept it. Just take it,” he adjusts himself.

Ezra’s voice crackles against her ear, “Be careful, darling, you don’t want to hurt yourself.” Lady Griffin suddenly feels dazed. She shakes her head, trying to focus. She slightly relaxes her stance, wings back in their resting position. She places her hand behind her back, smirking at the man in front of her.

“You think you’re special? Just cause the Doc treats you well? You’re nothing, girl, only a mere spec within an indifferent universe.” He gives her a vile grin.

She bursts out laughing, hunching forward, her hand away from her back with a long piece of piano wire, “You think you’re so cool quoting Doctor Strange? You know the bad guys, like, disintegrate in the end, right?” She stands up straight, beginning to wrap the piano wire between her fists, leaving enough room for a head to fit between them, “No matter, I’m not going to go that easy on you.” She gives a wide grin and launches herself.

Meanwhile, up on the seventh floor of the bank, the leader of the Red Hests sits on an office chair, watching his associates continue to round up everyone on the floor. He smirks to himself with a lollipop sticking out of his mouth as he hears one of the women scream in fear.

“Shut up!” One of the men points the barrel at the woman’s face, “Shut up or I’ll hurt you. I’ll really fucking hurt you.”

The leader gets up off the chair, pulling out the lollipop as he walks towards the group. The men have surrounded the employees, all women, in the middle of the room. They sit on their knees, hands zip-tied to their back as the men stick thick duct tape onto their mouths, “Now, now, take it easy. You hurt them; they lose value. But then again...” He kneels in front of the woman who screamed, bringing the lollipop back between his lips, swirling his tongue thoughtfully, “This one doesn’t seem to be that valuable.” He extends his hand out, gesturing blindly behind him. The man closest to him takes out a large bowie knife from behind his back, handing it back to the leader. The women all yelp behind their tape at the sight of the knife, scurrying tightly together. The leader brings the knife up to the woman in front of him, placing the tip onto the tape, pushing forward slightly. The woman just weeps silently, trying her best to keep still.

As he begins to push the knife with vigor, the radio crackles, “Sir, Floor One, we need back up-” Static.

The leader stands up, swiftly grabbing the radio as he takes the lollipop out of his mouth, “Floor One? Come in Floor One.”

Another henchman picks up, “Floor Two Sir! She’s here at Floor-” Static.

The leader looks up at the rest of the men incredulously, “Strap them. We don’t have time.” The men move at tremendous speed, pulling out briefcases and attaching them to each woman’s chest. They all open each brief case at a time, revealing a timer connected to two blocks of C4.

The leader moves off to the side, attempting to warn the other floors, “get away from the doors! Be prepared for that wretched wench! She will come through the staircase, forget the hostages! Focus on the girl!”

“Sir! She’s got-” The sound of a window crashing bleeds through the radio, followed by gunshots and screaming.

“That was Floor Five!” The leader announces, “be ready before we hear from Floor Six!”

Lady Griffin finishes off Floor Six by throwing the last guy out the window. The women behind her gasp lightly. She smiles, turning around as she wipes her forehead sweat with the back of her hand, “Don’t worry, you guys are safe now.” She starts to cut the zip ties, “Do you all know if the leader is on the next floor?”

The women remain quiet until a little girl, with long black hair, and bangs raises her hand, “Yes, he’s there.” Lady Griffin looks up at her, then to the rest of the women. The rest of the women had either blonde or light brown hair, and none of the women resembled the girl in any way. She looked around. Floor Six was one of those floors with offices and cubicles; it was not the type for clients or customers to be wandering around in, let alone with a child.

“Hey, sweetie, is your mom around?” She kneels in front of the girl, holding onto her hands softly.

The little girl looks around, leaning in to whisper, “The bad man told me I wouldn’t see her again.”

Lady Griffin scrunches her eyebrows worriedly, “Did the bad man take her?” She lightly brushes the little girl's hair behind her ear.

She shakes her head, “He took me.”

Lady Griffin lets go of the little girl's hand, “Well, don’t worry. I will take you back. I just have to finish this.” She stands up and leaves for the next floor.

On the seventh floor, Lady Griffin bursts through the door. She is met with the same sight as the last few floors. Men surround the women at the center of the room. The leader, however, is off to the side, sucking on another lollipop. He begins to chuckle, clapping his hands at a slow pace.

“Magnificent. You are glorious creature. Exquisite. A terror to my business, no doubt, but exquisite!” He leisurely walks to only a few feet away from her, circling her like a tiger hunting its next victim. Her wings raise menacingly as the leader gets closer, “Hmmm. No doubt at all. You, Griffin, are a threat. You have a choice. You can either join the rest in the middle there,” she looks behind him, focusing on the bound women, “Or, you can die...”

The men surrounding the women raise their muzzles towards her. She looks between them all. Trying to find weaknesses. Guy on the left has a tremble in his right hand. Guy down the middle is shifting too much between his feet. Her eyes dart back to the leader. The leader...

“Grif’... You have to calm down, or he’s going to do something bad,” Ezra says.

“Shut up!” She pulls the earpiece out, throwing it at the first guy she can. She leaps forward, punching the left and right, taking each man she touched to the ground. The leader continues to circle the room, watching the scene before him with calculating eyes.

Lady Griffin grunts as she grabs the last henchman by the neck, pushing him up against the wall. She slams his head once, twice and then a third time. She doesn’t stop until he crumples to the floor with blood seeping out of his skull. She wipes her hands onto her uniform then scratches at her face. She quickly turns around, looking for the last assailant. He is smirking at her, “Wow, truly a beast. You really are an animal, Grif-”

“Don't call me that.”

“But I’m afraid, this is the end. As much of an asset as you are, you must go...” His hand disappears behind his back, but Lady Griffin pays no mind. She charges. For her, it’s slow. Her wings are spread out, casting a shadow over the leader's entire body. Her face is scrunched as she baring her teeth at him. Her arms are gunning for his neck. A smile creeps onto his face, contorting it to looks monstrous. He begins to pull out his hand from behind his back, revealing a small syringe. Her eyes return to his. His eyes are black. Her surroundings begin to fade. She blinks a few times. And suddenly pain.

…

A girl is naked, laying on her side on top of a raggedy air mattress in a small makeshift tent made from old windbreakers and newspapers. Her back, from the shoulder blades to the elbow, is covered in large tattoos of wings. Her wrists and ankles bruised and burned from pulling at the now loose plaited rope. A man is next to her, looking down at her with sad eyes. With gloved hands, he puts a few fingers onto her neck, looking for her pulse. Her heartbeat is erratic. Her breathing is slow with a high wheezing. He turns her onto her back, pulling a penlight from his back pocket, looking into her eyes. Extreme dilation. He sighs, bringing her to her side, patting her lightly.

“So?” A man asks at the entrance of the tent, his arms crossed, foot tapping, lollipop between his lips.

The man on the floor huffs, “I warned you. You gave her too much... We need to get her to a hospital, or she won’t make it.” He moves to pick her up when the man scoffs.

“Pff! Hospital?” The man takes the lollipop out, “What the hell do I pay you for if you need to go to a fucking hospital?”

“I don’t have anything that could treat this.”

“Don't give me excuses, Ezra, you’re costing me my best fucking asset here. People come from all over for ‘Lady Griffin’. I’ve got people booked all the way to tomorrow for her! Not to mention everyone in this God damn country is looking for her.”

Ezra looks at him incredulously, “So what’s it going to be? You let her die, and you lose even more money, or you take her to the hospital, and only lose a few thousand...”

The man laughs, “Yeah right... Cops will be all over that place the moment they take her blood.” He plops the lollipop back into his mouth, swirling it around with his tongue as he looks at the girl, “You know what, Doc, just let her croak. Pussy’s pussy, right? All the girls are fucked up anyway, so it's not like it'll make a difference. We will take her to the river after the last client leaves.” With that, the man walks away, leaving Ezra with the girl who was known as Lady Griffin.

Ezra sighs, annoyed, as he takes off his gloves, throwing them at the windbreaker wall across from him. She moans slightly, opening her eyes in a daze. He crosses his legs, staying by her side as he strokes lightly at her cheek, “I’m sorry, Darling, I tried. I really did.” She attempts to say something, but it comes out in a garbled mess, “Shh... Don’t worry... you don’t have to talk anymore, Grif’. You’re free.” Her eyes drift, her breathing fades. She dreamed that she was flying, until it faded into a starry oblivion. At last, she is free.

~~~

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-Dey

#my writing #short story #creative writing #short fiction #writing #super hero #super powers #tw sex assault #tw violence #tw murder #tw death #tw drug mention

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 5 years ago

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Safe: Five

‘Barton,” you bark over the din, “Let’s fucking go!” You grab the back of his collar and pull him after you, straddling the nearest motorcycle and trusting him to watch your back while you get the two of you out of this mess.

Below you, you can hear the rest of the team trying to control the chaos and manage the fall out. “Go,” Clint said, firing and you don’t need telling twice, giving it gas and racing across the rooftop.

Over comms, Hulk can hear you being fired at and Barton swearing. That makes him anxious but, what’s gonna give him a heart attack is hearing you say, “Fuck I hope this works,” Moments before you attempt the jump the ledge of the building.

Hulk roars and the rest of the team look up, watching as you not only jump the ledge but also ride down an outcropping of steel beam until you’re back on ground level. “Hulk,” you shout, killing the engine, “That building’s clear of civilians, go have fun buddy.” Hulk glares at you. He hates it when you do unnecessarily dangerous shit. And that so many people seem to encourage you doing it. Like Clint who’s now laughing and high fiving you and Sam who’s giving a very animated replay. His steps shake the ground and he takes great pleasure in destroying the building. It’s a way for him to deal with his frustrations without punching a teammate, something he’s been told is frowned upon. His destruction is calculated and quick. His specialty. The building is dangerous but then, so is Hulk. All he can see in his mind is you being fired at. The grim determination on your face. You fight like you have nothing to lose. Like no one would miss you if you were gone. And Hulk can’t stand it. He wants to bellow at you that he’d miss you. That you’re important. But he can’t. He doesn’t know how to tell you that. He can’t do that. All he knows is that seeing you bleeding makes him feel like tearing the city apart. He’d tear a man limb from limb for you. No one is allowed to hurt you. Even if you’d let them. You deserve the moon. You deserve to be Queen. To him, you are queen and he’s your willing servant. But he doesn’t know how to tell you that. He doesn’t know how to protect you from yourself. Or say that that’s what he wants to do.

What he does know is that when he picks you up, you don’t protest. A combination of blood loss and dwindling adrenaline leaving you less irritable than you might otherwise be. He cradles you against his chest carefully and holds you still. He knows that you’re cold. Chilled from the bloodloss. Hulk knows. He can feel the shift in your temperature. He doesn’t speak but, after you fall asleep, he refuses to let you go. He growls at Steve when he tries to take you from him.

“Hulk,” he says, “She needs to go to medical.”

Hulk growls and holds you closer, “Hulk fix. Hulk protect.”

“You can protect her by taking her to medical,” he tries, “Tell Bruce they gotta dig a bullet out of her shoulder.”

Hulk frowns but nods, he has no intention of letting Banner near you. You’re safe and Banner can’t keep you safe. Not like Hulk can. Banner made you go away. You weren’t safe away from Hulk, he decided. He had to make you stay. You made it okay. He only felt okay with you.

Hulk let you go in medical only when he absolutely needs to. He’s reluctant to even then, but he knows it could be dangerous to not let you go. Once you’ve disappeared out of sight, he lets Banner come back around. He reasons that while you’re with medical, Banner can’t make you go away because he can’t talk to you.

As Bruce lay on the floor, panting and a little disoriented, bits and pieces filter to the surface. “Hulk, what the fuck,” he breathes out loud, albeit softly.

In his head, the Hulk’s rumbling laugh gives Bruce a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. The Hulk, he’s learned now, is a manifestation of his anger. A way to protect himself. But also, a manifestation of his inner child in a way. Demanding. Selfish. Easily hurt. But also possessing the capacity to be loving and endlessly kind with the right nurturing. Things he didn’t get when he was very small. He’d spent a King’s Ransom on therapy. Intense therapy after you left. He wanted to come to grips with things. To cope with you being gone. But instead, he’d gotten a better understanding of the Other Guy. “Hulk,” he warns, “Don’t interfere.”

“Banner stupid,” Hulk growls, “Hulk make her stay.”

“Hulk,” he says, stepping into an empty room, “I know you love her. But we can’t force her to stay.”

“Not force,” Hulk pouts, “Convince.”

“No,” Bruce pleads, “No convincing either. I know you love her. I love her too. But if we love her we’ve got to do this on HER terms. Her way.”

“Y/N not love us?”

Bruce sighs, “I don’t know.” He honestly doesn’t. In his mind, he sees you asleep on his chest. Sinking into sleep for the first time for an untold number of hours. Finally getting rest because he managed to relax you. He used the things he’d learned. Things he learned in two years of being hand in hand with you. It had felt so right, having you close. But. The next morning you were awkward and anxious. Keeping a careful distance between the two of you. You’d been apologetic. Sorry that you inconvenienced him. Thankful that he’d helped you but sorry that he had to. You’d hugged him quickly and then practically thrown him out, saying that you were sure he was busy and you hadn’t meant to keep him from work. It had stung but he understood. Bruce had called you needy as an insult. Used your insecurities to drive you away. Used a lifetime of trying to be low maintenance as a way to get love as a way to hurt you.

“You love her?” Hulk asked in a huff.

“You know I do,” he said, “That’s why you love her.”

“Love hard,” Hulk said sounding defeated.

“Only because I made it that way,” Bruce answers, “But we have to give her time. And we have to be happy for her. Even if it means she’s happy without us.”

“But-”

“But what?” Bruce presses.

“People hurt her,” Hulk growled, “People not take care of her.”

Bruce smiles a little. Hulk was fiercely protective of his people. And he wasn’t sure if Hulk saw you as a lover or just as a feminine source of nurturing. But he was 110% sure that he considered you his people.

“She can take care of herself,” Bruce said gently, “Better than we can.”

“Wimpy boy stab her,” Hulk growled.

“And she beat the hell out of him,” Bruce reminded, “And Nat told me that he was in rough fucking shape when they got there.”

“She cry,” Hulk insisted.

“Well yeah, Being stabbed hurts,” he tried to joke.

“No,” Hulk growled, “Heart hurts.”

“I know,” Bruce sighed, “But it’s better. At least she’s with friends.”

“Friends,” Hulk growled.

“Yes, Friends,” Bruce insisted, “They’ll help keep her safe okay?”

Hulk didn’t answer him, but Bruce could feel him. Waiting. Scowling. Angry at him for not saying that you needed to be kept safe and Hulk was best at doing it.

_______________

Bruce let himself into the lab and sat at his desk. He didn’t know where else to go. It felt like a lifetime ago that he’d be in medical with you. Anxiously checking and rechecking machines and trying to fuss over you until you gently, but firmly found an errand for him to run. Now, he was anxious in his lab. Afraid that if he went up there he’d make you put more distance in place trying to protect yourself.

He sat staring blankly at monitors, unable to focus. Unable to not worry about you. He was so deep into the anxiety that he didn’t even hear Steve. Not until he was standing in front of the desk and clearing his throat.

Steve smiled a little when Bruce jumped, “In a meeting?” he asked.

“No,” Bruce said shaking his head, “We already did that. The other guy is uh- not too happy with me.”

“Is he ever?”

“He was once.”

Steve nodded, impressed, “When was that?”

“When I told him Y/N was going to have a baby,” Bruce said a little sadly.

The Blonde froze for a second, “When-”

The panic on his face was evident. Worried that he might have just stepped on an open wound.

“About a year and a half ago,” he said quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. “She lost it not long after we found out. Just- nothing we could really do. It was just stress. And the strain. We weren’t ready but that didn’t make it feel better.”

“I’m sorry-” Steve started, “I never knew.”

“No one did,” Bruce reassured him, “Y/N might have told Nat but... we decided not to tell people for a while. She’d been through this before when she was 17. It hadn’t- I mean.” Bruce sighed, “Yeah.”

Steve nodded, “So what did you do now?”

“It’s a long story,” Bruce said looking away.

“Well,” Steve said backing off of it, “Medical said she’s fine. They’ve got her patched up and they’re giving her a unit of blood then they’ll probably let her loose... Nat wants to do Movie night if you’re up for it.”

“Is Y/N coming?” Bruce asked, feeling shy.

“Maybe,” Steve answered, “Sam might help her downstairs.”

“Sam?” Bruce asked quirking an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Steve said carefully, “There’s... I think he’s nursing a bit of a crush after today.”

“She could do worse,” Bruce said, looking back towards his computer. He knew it was true but that didn’t stop the churning in his stomach and the rush of heat in his face.

#hulk x reader #Bruce banner x reader #hulk #Bruce banner #hurt/comfort #steve rogers #sam wilson #clint barton #past relationship

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tyrannoninja · 4 years ago

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Excerpt from “Priestess of the Lost Colony”

The following is an excerpted chapter from my upcoming novel Priestess of the Lost Colony. More information about the book can be found on my official website.

No torches burned inside the tunnel beneath the temple of Mut. Only the brazier Bek carried behind her drove back the blackness, and it was dimming with every passing second. Itawaret occasionally paused to search the floor for branches that she could toss into the brazier, but found nothing but cold and damp stone.

Finally, they reached a rectangular outline of light at the tunnel’s end. By the mercy of fate, the pair had not stumbled into any booby-traps, nor run into any dead ends branching off from the main passage. While dark, the journey was not as perilous as Itaweret had feared…

Hopefully, it would stay that way.

“How do you know this doesn’t lead to a trap?” Bek asked.

“Think about it. Why would Mut lead us into a trap? Don’t you trust her enough, brother?”

“Assuming that was Mut speaking to us. What if it was that Achaean demon she talked about, that Athena?”

Itaweret fought hard within herself to ignore him, and the possibility he raised. It was a valid point, if she were honest with herself, but it seemed unlikely that an Achaean deity like Athena could penetrate the sanctum of Mut. At least she hoped so. And hope was all they had left.

Itawaret walked up to the rectangle of light and pressed her shoulder against the surface, feeling the same cool stone texture as the tunnel’s walls. She pushed all her strength onto the door, groaning from exertion and the exhausting day, until it fell forward with a hard thud and crumbled outside.

A flood of daylight blinded her. Once her eyes readjusted from the subterranean darkness, she found herself on the summit of a grassy hill that sloped into a gravelly beach beside the sea. The setting sun gilded the crests of the waves, but the colors of the sky graded ominously, from dark red to black. Itaweret wrinkled her nose from the smell of smoke and burnt flesh.

Behind the hill, the city in which she had lived her entire life bloomed into a colossal inferno of flame. The fires that roared on rooftops, together with thick black rivers of smoke, obscured any sight of the carnage that, she realized, must have clogged and already begun to rot over the streets. Still, she could make out a stream of people being herded out through the city gate, prodded along by Mycenaeans in their bronze suits.

They were her fellow citizens of Per-Pehu. Her people, friends and neighbors, reduced to human livestock in one evening.

“How dare they!” Bek shook his fist while watching what she watched, quaking with rage. “We’ve got to do something!”

“We will, brother. We wouldn’t be out here if we weren’t going to do something about it. But we cannot fight now. Come on!”

She took his hand. They descended the hill to a dirt path that meandered northeastward. The cover of the olive and cypress trees alongside it, together with shadows that grew darker with each passing minute, would conceal them from any prowling Mycenaeans.

She hoped.

Less than two hours later, the scarlet heavens faded into blackness almost as pure as that within the tunnel. Now their only light was the half-moon and dusting of tiny stars around it, giving off a faint white glow reflected upon the vegetation and stones. Itaweret huddled close to Bek as they hiked up the path through the foothills, pausing only to pick up sticks to feed the fire in the brazier. If there was one thing to praise the wilderness for, it was an abundance of cheap firewood.

They ascended higher into the hills, climbing until the open, scrubby landscape of the low plains gave way to oak and pine forests that girdled the mountains. They climbed over fallen logs and boulders strewn about with increasing density. If walking uphill had not already worn away at the strength in their legs, maneuvering around these obstacles in the terrain taxed their muscles to aching even more.

Underneath the soft fragrance of the pines, Itaweret’s nostrils flared, capturing another odor, more rancid and unpleasant. She traced the scent to the gleaming, red-spattered bones of a lamb, flies buzzing around the few scraps of meat that clung to it. She had seen cattle and goats sacrificed to the gods in the temple complex at Per-Pehu, but never witnessed their gory remains in a state like this. The sight almost shoved her last meal from her stomach into her throat.

“How could this have died?” she asked.

Bek crouched over the bones and ran his finger over one of five parallel scars raked across the ribcage. He pointed to a weathered impression in the nearby earth, broader than a human hand, with claw marks sticking out before each of its five toes.

“I would have guessed a lion, but cats in general don’t leave prints like this,” Bek said. “Normally they retract their claws, so they wouldn’t show like they do here.”

“Could it be a dog?” Itaweret asked. “Or a jackal? Or one of those gray monsters the Achaeans call wolves?”

Bek shook his head. “Much, much too big for any of those. Truth be told, I have no idea. It must be a kind of monster we’ve never seen in our lives.”

Back home, everyone inside Per-Pehu’s walls had heard travelers’ stories of the beasts that roamed the wilds beyond the colony. Some spoke of cannibalistic men with singular eyes or the heads of bulls, giant swamp-dwelling serpents, or fire-breathing creatures that were part goat, part lion, and part snake. Itaweret had always considered the descriptions too ridiculous to be real. More frightening were the accounts of hulking beasts with dog-like faces and claws like knives, giant cats with dagger-long fangs, and ill-tempered elephants covered in shaggy hair. Those stories sounded almost truthful.

Itaweret wrung her hands around Mut’s scepter, shivering with a dread colder than the nocturnal air itself. “Do you know whether it could be nearby?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Bek said. “The tracks are a little worn. It could have left here hours or even a day ago.”

Two glowing specks of yellow blinked behind a nearby patch of bushes. Leaves rustled and branches snapped as the specks drifted towards them. The furry outline of a thick, stocky body gleamed from the brazier’s firelight. The creature’s snout was long like a dog’s, but its ears were smaller and more rounded. As it panted and grunted, it exuded the same stink of decayed flesh as the sheep carcass.

Itaweret took a step back from the lumbering animal. “What do they call things like that?”

“A bear, I believe,” Bek whispered. “Stand your ground. That could scare him off.”

Itaweret forced herself to stay put and waved the scepter of Mut like a warrior’s staff as Bek shook the brazier back and forth at the beast. Rearing ten feet into the air on its hind feet, the bear curled its lips back, exposing pointed canines. It uncorked a menacing roar while brandishing clawed forepaws.

With a single swat, the bear knocked Itaweret’s scepter out of her hands. She jumped to grab it, but the bear seized the scepter in its mouth and tossed it into the darkness. It swiped at her bosom, raking through her linen cloth and skin with its claws. Sharp pain swept through her chest as she collapsed to the ground.

Bek thrust his brazier again, the heated ash landing on the bear’s backside. Now aggravated, the the bear turned away from Itaweret, roared, and charged him. The bear’s attack on Bek gave her enough time to crawl over and retrieve her scepter. Just as the bear was about to punch the brazier out of Bek’s grasp, she chucked the scepter into its shoulder.

Her blow distracted the beast for another second. Then it swung around and barreled towards her again. She had no another weapon to beat it aside.

Another roar followed.

All the children of Kemet could recognize that deep feline roar. Along with it appeared a pair of yellow eyes, set in a bright tawny form. The feline sprang from the blackness and landed on the bear. The two creatures rolled in the dirt in a chaotic melee of biting and slashing.

The battle ended with the crackle of bone. The bear fell limp, a river of blood gushing from its neck, and more blood spilling from slashing cuts all over its body. The bear’s slayer stood over it, roaring with a savage exultation.

Itawaret and Bek looked upon the largest lion they had ever seen, one with a thick dark mane and faint leopard-like spots on its flanks. She had heard stories of giant spotted lions roaming the countries north of the Great Green Sea, but according to those same stories, they’d died out. Was this the very last, or did it have a whole pride behind it? If the latter, would they be seeking dinner?

Itaweret could only hope the bear’s big and meaty carcass would take their mind off she and Bek.

Then, a voice, a proud voice: “That’s a good boy, Xiphos!”

A young Achaean man in a simple wool tunic walked toward them, carrying a wooden shepherd’s crook. He stroked the lion’s mane as if it were a tame dog, while the big cat gorged itself on the dead bear. Much to Itaweret’s surprise, the lion tolerated the boy’s touch, rather than fending him off like any truly wild animal.

Itawaret brushed droplets of blood off her clothing and jewelry. “Xiphos? Is he your pet or something?”

“My father brought him in when he was a cub,” the Achaean youth said. “No need to fear him, my lady. He’s as gentle as a puppy unless you piss him off. Are you folks all right? It’s not every day we have black people come to these parts.”

“Why do you call us ‘black’ people?” Bek asked. “Our people are various shades of brown, some of us darker than others. If we are ‘black’, would that make you, what, ‘white’?”

The Achaean chuckled. “No use arguing over what we call each other. Trust me, I’ve heard far nastier names for your kind of people. Name’s Philos. And you two?”

Itaweret did not want to know those “nastier” names. “I am Itaweret, High Priestess of Mut from Per-Pehu. And this is my brother Bek, son of the Great Chief Mahu.”

“Aye, so you’re from the colony over the hills.” Philos looked up and down Itaweret’s body, his eyes following her contours in much the same gazing way as Scylax of Mycenae. “And, by Aphrodite, are you fine to look at, scratches and all! Nice curves, especially.”

Itaweret shook her head and grumbled. Achaean or Kemetian, white or black, men were all the same. Though she had to admit, the muscular young Achaean, with his flowing long black hair, wasn’t a wholly unattractive specimen.

“Anyway, either of you wouldn’t have seen a little ewe around these parts, would you?” Philos asked.

“We saw a sheep’s skeleton,” Bek replied. “We think the bear ate it sometime back.”

“Hades be damned, then! Xiphos and I have been looking for her the past couple of days. At least she was only one ewe. So, what are you two Kemetians doing out here?”

“In case you haven’t heard, Per-Pehu has been brutally sacked by King Scylax of Mycenae,” Itaweret said. “Our goddess Mut has sent us a quest northeast, one that will lead to Scylax’s defeat. We hope it does, anyway. She told us that we would find our answer in the first village over the mountains.”

Philos scratched his hair. “By Zeus, that’s my village! I don’t know why we’d know how to beat the king of Mycenae, out of all people in the world. But, if your goddess says so, I ought to help you the best I can.”

“How far is your village, anyway?”

“A few more hills to the east. But we ought to rest here for the night. Xiphos doesn’t like being dragged away from his meals, and I think we’re all damned tired anyway.”

Bek yawned. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

Itaweret nodded. Almost every muscle burned from straining, even beyond her wounds from the bear’s attack. Her stomach groaned with hunger. Once the lion filled himself, she wouldn’t mind cooking leftovers of the bear over a fire lit by Bek’s brazier. Never before had she eaten bear meat, but food was food in uncivilized places.

She looked up at the treeline, and caught the flicker of little eyes. They weren’t the yellow eyes of a bear, lion or other predator, but silver-gray eyes… familiar eyes.

She blinked. The eyes were gone.

#excerpt from my book #book excerpt #novel excerpt #excerpt #alternate history #magical realism #ancient egypt #egyptian #kemet #ancient greece #african #black people #poc #poc characters #writing #literature #Priestess of the Lost Colony

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hazandholland · 5 years ago

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Broken: Chapter Three

A/N: Hey guys! I hope you guys are enjoying this! As always, let me know what you think!

Series masterlist

Harrison clenched his jaw.

“You want me to what?” He growled.

His superior blinked. “You’re assigned to the PPD for the American senator visiting in a couple of days.”

“Why me?”

“You’re young compared to the other men here,” His superior answered. Fletcher Cunningham was the highest ranking man in the Prime Minister’s PPO detail. He was in charge of distributing tasks among the other officers, leading operations and responded to a lot of the media’s coverage requests after the public got word of an attack on the Prime Minister. Harrison was in his office, on one of the top floors in the massive building. The room had one wall that was all windows, overlooking London. Cunningham stood and crossed his arms. His large, muscular frame obscured most of the view from Harrison, casting a slight shadow over the desk in front of him. The man gave Harrison an even gaze. “They didn’t want to be on the PPD for a girl ten years or so younger than them.”

“Why can’t Tom or Jacob do it?” Harrison asked. “You said she’s what, 20? Tom’s 23 and Jacob’s 22.”

“They’re both on the local detail,” Cunningham answered. “And, given your recent interaction with Mrs. Gardner at the gala last night, I thought it wise to assign you somewhere else.”

Harrison groaned quietly at the mention of the Prime Minister’s wife.

“You’re reassigning me because she hit on me?”

“Are you trying to get fired, Osterfield?” There was a slight edge to his voice. Harrison gulped a little.

“No, sir.”

“Then shut up and take the file.” The older man held out the manila folder. Harrison took it, opening it to scan its contents. The first thing that caught his eye was the photo of you. It was one that was probably for some sort of identification card since you were facing the camera straight on. Your smile was bright and your eyes held barely-contained excitement. Harrison could tell that just by looking at you that you were incredibly intelligent. He licked his lips and inhaled. He never really liked women that were smarter than him. He pushed the thoughts out of his head.

“What type of assignment is it?” Harrison asked, finding himself staring at your photo.

“Undercover.”

Harrison glanced up. “Under… Cover?”

“Yes.” Cunningham sat back down in his chair, focusing his attention on his computer screen.

“What… What type of cover?” Harrison asked. He closed the file. “What… Cover? Undercover?”

“Yes, undercover,” Cunningham confirmed again, slight irritation in his voice. “And we didn’t set anything. Whatever you deem best.”

Harrison let out a little sigh of relief. “Good. Because I thought you were going to tell me I had to be her boyfriend or something.”

“If that’s the cover that works best.” Cunningham shrugged. He began to sort through some papers on his desk.

“Wait…” Harrison held up the file. “Are you telling me I have to do that?”

Cunningham sighed. “Are you not listening to me, Osterfield? I said whatever cover works best. If it works out best for you to be her boyfriend, then be her boyfriend. Or be her long-lost cousin, escort, whatever you deem fit.”

“I’ll be her escort who’s also her cousin.”

“Osterfield.”

Harrison sighed. “Understood, sir.”

“Good.”

“You said she arrives in a few days?”

Cunningham nodded. “Yes. She, Senator Evans and some other members of his team arrive at Heathrow at midnight on Tuesday. You and the other people assigned to their detail will meet them at the terminal. You’ll stay on the detail until they get back on their jet and head back to the US.”

“How long are they here, sir?”

“Eight days,” Cunningham answered. “They’re here to meet with Parliament to discuss gun control laws and gain international support, so the stay could be shorter. Although, we are talking about a group of politicians, so it most likely will be longer than that.”

“I will get overtime pay if it lasts more than eight days, right?”

Cunningham glared at Harrison.

“Understood, sir,” Harrison answered, a bit irritated. “Is there anything else, sir?”

“No. Go bother someone else.”

“Thank you, sir.” Harrison turned and left the office, closing the door behind him. He fought the urge to punch the wall and walked past Cunningham’s assistant.

“Have a good day, Mr. Osterfield,” She said brightly. He ignored her, not wanting to deal with her impossibly cheery mood. He stomped down the large office space to his cubicle. He slammed the file on his desk and fell into his chair, sighing loudly. He clenched his fist when he saw a couple shadows fall over his desk.

“What’s up, man?” Jacob asked. Harrison glanced up. He saw Tom and Jacob peeking over the cubicle walls. All three of their desks were right next to each other, with Harrison squished in the middle. It wasn’t uncommon for the two boys to pop their heads over the cubicle walls and throw pens at Harrison, or ask what he wanted for lunch.

“I got a new assignment,” Harrison growled.

“Fun!” Tom said cheerfully. “What is it?”

“Nothing fun,” Harrison snapped. He pointed to the file and glared at it. “Private detail for some dumb intern.”

“You’re on the PPD for an intern?” Jacob asked. “No wonder you’re pissed.”

“An intern?” Tom asked doubtfully. “You’re too good for that.”

“That’s why I’m pissed.” Harrison saw Tom reach for the file. Harrison swatted his hand away. Tom gasped.

“Rude!” He said, rubbing his hand. Harrison sneered at Tom. Harrison saw movement out of the corner of his eye and saw Jacob reaching for the file. Harrison pushed his hands away, but Tom slipped in and grabbed it, quickly pulling the file over the cubicle wall before Harrison could grab it. Harrison fought back more irritation and sighed when Tom and Jacob cheered. The two young men gave each other a high five. Tom opened the file and cleared his throat.

“All right,” Tom said, mimicking a spokesperson. “Ladies and gentleman, Mr. Osterfield as won the PPD assignment for… Miss Y/L/N!” “Miss?” Jacob repeated. He waggled his eyebrows.

“Shut up,” Harrison grumbled. He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms.

“20 years old,” Tom continued, “With gorgeous Y/E/C eyes and Y/H/C locks. She’s a genius with an IQ of 170-”

“That’s not in the file,” Harrison interrupted.

“Oh, you’ve already memorized the whole thing?” Tom smirked. Jacob oohed. Harrison rolled his eyes.

“She has not one, but two degrees from university. She’s got an associates in law and policy and a bachelors in political science.” Jacob oohed louder. “She’s currently pursuing her master’s degree in public administration, and has been interning for Senator Christopher R. Evans for the past nine months.”

“She sounds awesome!” Jacob said, a bright smile on his face.

“You say that about everyone,” Harrison responded.

“That’s because everyone is awesome,” Jacob replied.

Harrison rubbed his hands over his face.

“She looks pretty, too,” Tom chimed in. “Look.” Harrison peeked through his fingers to see Tom holding the photo of you up to Jacob.

“Oooh, she is pretty!” Harrison snatched the photo from Tom’s fingers and yanked the file towards him.

“Knock it off!”

“Someone’s a bit touchy,” Tom said.

“Already feeling protective, I see,” Jacob teased.

“Shut. Up,” Harrison snarled. Tom and Jacob chuckled. Tom shot him a wink before he and Jacob disappeared into their cubicle. Harrison ran his hands through his hair and sighed. Why him? It should’ve been Tom. Tom was the man everyone wanted. Jacob was a ball of sunshine, even in the face of danger. No one wanted Harrison. How was he supposed to pull off an undercover operation with an American girl? He rested his chin in his hands and stared at the photo. Your face smiled back. Harrison clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to grin in return.

***

It was 11:59 pm on Sunday night. You were set to land in Heathrow in one minute. The plane was, remarkably, on time. Harrison was standing on the tarmac with the other agents tasked with protecting the senator and his team. He heard the sound of an engine and turned, seeing an agent dressed as an airport employee pushing a set of stairs that would allow the private jets’ passengers to descend onto the tarmac.

“Subjects inbound,” A voice over Harrison’s earpiece said. “ETA one minute.”

“Copy,” The agent standing next to Harrison said. “You ready, Osterfield?”

Harrison sighed. “As I’ll ever be.”

The agent chuckled. “That’s the spirit. Who’re you assigned to?”

“The intern,” Harrison answered, not wanting to make conversation. But, Tuwaine kept pushing.

“The girl?” Tuwaine smiled. “Nice. I heard she’s pretty.”

Harrison gave a half-shrug. “She’s all right.”

“I got tasked with the senator’s PR man,” Tuwaine said. “Quite excited, if you ask me.”

“Of course,” Harrison said.

“I also hear he’s a partier,” Tuwaine added.

“He’ll be on duty,” Harrison responded. “I doubt you’ll have any fun with him.”

Tuwaine cocked an eyebrow. “Have you ever met an American that doesn’t party?”

Harrison sighed in agreement. “You’re right.”

A loud jet engine rumbled overhead. Harrison glanced up and spotted the plane, the silhouette visible only because of the runway lights.

“Here we go,” The agent shouted over the noise.

“Subjects have arrived,” The voice over the intercom said. The jet’s wheels squeaked and the engines roared as they touched down and decelerated. After a few moments, the jet stopped a hundred yards from Harrison and the other agents. The agent with the stairs pushed forward, meandering across the tarmac.

“Clear?” The voice on the intercom asked.

“Clear,” A new voice answered. “Nothing on the rooftops.”

“Clear,” Another voice said. “Nothing in the boarding area.”

“Clear,” A third voice added. “Nothing at the front entrance.”

“Clear,” The agent with the stairs said. “Nothing on the tarmac.”

“Then proceed,” The first voice ordered. A series of “copy” echoed through the earpiece. Harrison felt his nerves beginning to get the better of him, but he didn’t know why. He fidgeted, readjusting his stance.

“Excited, Osterfield?” Tuwaine asked, still having to yell over the engine’s rumble.

“Shut up, Tuwaine,” Harrison snapped. Tuwaine just chucked. After a few more long, dreadful moments, the stairs were connected to the jet and the door opened. The first American stepped out. It was a man with dark, styled hair and a trim beard. He wore a very expensive-looking suit and was talking to his cell phone. Even though the jet’s engines were just starting to die down, they were still very loud. And Harrison could still hear the man as he descended the stairs.

“No,” The man yelled into his phone. He shook a finger as if he were scolding someone in person. “I told you, Evans is not going to go on the Graham Norton show. We don’t have time for two talk shows. We booked a spot with Corden months ago, and that itself takes up half a day.”

Another man stepped out. This one had brown hair and a square jaw. He was wearing a nice-looking suit, but it didn’t look as expensive as the other man’s. He was carrying two suitcases and struggling to get them down the stairs.

“Man, hurry up!” Another voice yelled.

“I’m trying!” The man with the suitcases shouted back.

“Try harder!”

By that point, the jet’s engines had completely shut off and Harrison could hear the childish exchange that followed.

“You know what,” The man with the bags said. He was halfway down the stairs but turned back to yell at the other man, who had now appeared. He was also carrying two large suitcases but didn’t appear to be struggling as much as the other man. “It’s not my fault that I had to skip arm day a few times because I had to work!”

“Man, you never skip arm day!”

“Why do you even care? You’re obsessed with legs anyway.”

“This is true. But, with stick arms like yours, you need as much definition as you can get.” The man chuckled loudly as the other man groaned. Both of them reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Who’s my man?” The first man who stepped off the plane asked. Harrison jumped, surprised to find the man in front of him. “I need to get to the hotel, asap. The Norton show people are giving me a headache and I need a private place to yell at them.”

“Mr. Downey?” Tuwaine asked. “I believe I’m your detail, sir.”

The American stopped and looked Tuwaine up and down. “I should have guessed that they would give me the best of the best.” He smiled. He held out his hand. “But don’t call me sir. Just because I have grey hair doesn’t mean I’m old. Call me Robert.”

“Of course, Robert,” Tuwaine said politely and shook the man’s hand. “My apologies. Do you need help with any bags?” Robert turned and looked at the two men with the suitcases.

“No, I think our bell boys got a hand on it.” He smirked.

“I heard that!” One of the men yelled. Robert chuckled and slapped Tuwaine on the shoulder in a friendly manner.

“Let’s go,” He said. With that, he went back to the call on his phone, Tuwaine escorting him to the car awaiting him off to the side. The men with the cases reached Harrison.

“I’m Sebastian,” The first one said. “I’m not sure who my detail is.”

“He didn’t read the briefing packet,” The other man complained, rolling his eyes.

“There was a briefing packet?” Sebastian asked, eyes wide with concern. The other man laughed.

“There wasn’t one, sir,” A new voice said. A young man with a bright smile and a mane of brown curls stepped forward. “I’m Sam. I’m assigned to you.”

“Ooph,” The other man sighed, feigning concern. “You got a kid. Good luck, man.”

“Mr. Mackie?” Another agent, Sam's twin brother, stepped forward. “I’m Harry. I’m your detail.”

The man blinked. Sebastian laughed so hard he dropped a suitcase. Sam quickly grabbed the bag before it would fall over onto anyone. Harry stood awkwardly in front of the American.

“And I have a kid,” Harrison heard the man grumble. “Great.” He held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, pipsqueak.” After a quick handshake, they walked to the cars waiting for them. Harrison glanced up in time to see the senator walk down the stairs, thanking the pilots profusely. He also saw you.

You were even more stunning in person. You looked a little tired, but you also looked excited. You were holding a stack of folders and papers with a bag slung over your shoulder. Your hair was a tad messy, few strands hanging loose, but you were stunning nonetheless. The way you moved was hypnotizing. Why couldn’t he look away? He blinked and realized you were standing in front of him, the senator on your other side. You were looking at the only other agent left, a woman. She had shoulder-length brown hair styled in soft waves and was standing tall. Your face lit up. Harrison felt a twinge of sadness at the fact that he was your detail and not Hayley.

“I’m Agent Atwell,” The female agent said. She gave the senator a crisp nod. “I'm your detail, Senator Evans. I think it’s best that we leave now while everything is secure.”

The senator was fixing his suit jacket, staring at Hayley with wide eyes and slightly open mouth.

“Right!” He said suddenly, blinking. He cleared his throat. “Um, lead the way, Miss Atwell.”

“It’s agent,” Hayley responded flatly. With that, she grabbed the senator’s arm and escorted him to the car. Harrison groaned inwardly and turned to you. Ugh, why were your eyes so gorgeous.

“Harrison,” He said shortly. “We need to move. Now.” He ever so lightly pushed you towards your car.

“Oh. Oh, um okay. Nice to meet you,” You said quietly. Harrison felt his heart so something between a jump and a flop. He swallowed.

“No time for talking,” He said. The two of you reached the car and he opened the back door. He grabbed your arm and quickly put you inside.

“Subject is secure,” He said into the earpiece when the door was shut. “En route to the final destination.” He walked around the back of the car, fixing his hair quickly with his fingers and unbuttoning his jacket. He climbed into the front passenger seat and gave the driver the okay. The car lurched forward.

“It’s weird seeing the driver on the right side,” Harrison heard you say quietly.

“You mean the correct side?” Harrison responded.

“Um, yeah,” You agreed. He glanced in the mirror at you. Your gazes met and he instantly wished he hadn’t looked. There something about the streets lights hitting your face every so often and the flickering shadows made you even more mesmerizing. The car lurched suddenly. Harrison threw his hand forward to stop himself from flying into the dashboard.

“What the-” He started.

“Idiot,” The driver mumbled. Harrison glanced out the window, spotting a man stumbling across the street. “Drunk. Who gets drunk on a Sunday night?”

Harrison let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He glanced back at you. You appeared a little startled, but more amused than anything. Harrison sighed a little, feeling a bit of relief wash through him when he realized you were all right. He clenched his jaw. This was going to be the worst assignment ever.

Tag List (also tagging the people from our regular tag list)

@thirsty-hoes-central

@fanficparker

@resident-book-nerd

@unicornspiderman

@bedemoned

@hobbitsofmyheart

@superfrankie111

@princeofsassgard

@143amberrose

@silverelvenart

@notevenagoodgirl

@camila1818

@captainpeggy40

@maraudersgallifreyanavenger

@inspiredbynewt

@smexylemony

@loxbbg

@fanficscuziranout

@avengersassembleforvines

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bards-witcher · 6 years ago

Text

I hope you enjoy part 4, although the ending may tug at the heartstrings a little. Let me know what you think XD

Also, you do want me to keep uploading stories every day/every other day or pace them out a bit more? I feel like I’m just spamming you guys all the time so I’m sorry about that :/

Part 1, 2, 3

Hours later he’s still on the roof, the fire having been put out long ago, laying on his back as he stares up at the stars, barely able to make them out due to the hazy glow the city adds to the night sky. He yearns to go to the countryside, to the small clearing through a forest which he and Luke used to camp at, taking themselves away from the stresses of daily life to just take a deep breath and enjoy what little time they had with the other.

He likes to think that Luke’s up there now, up in amidst the stars he loved so much, watching over him. The thought soured in his mind, Luke would hate who he’d become, what he’d become. Giving one final look he stood up, grabbing his bag and making his way down the fire escape and landing lightly on his feet in the now dark alleyway.

As he started to head towards the dimly lit street he couldn’t help but feel eyes on him, he tried to reason that it was just paranoia, he had two gangs after him after all, but having been in this line of work for so long he knew when to trust his gut. He put his hands into his hoodie pocket, hand clasped around the knife he’d claimed earlier when he heard a loud crash near the road and like lightning, he turned his head to see a flash of blue dart around the corner.

He ran out the alley, knife brandished as he turned the corner and went into a defensive pose, expecting a fight, but seeing nothing. The street was completely empty, not even a car on the road. The quiet of the street was eerie and did little to put him at ease, he stayed there for a moment longer before putting the knife back in his pocket, keeping wary as he started to head down the street for a place to sleep for the night.

He thought it would take a lot longer to readjust to homelessness, having been almost two decades since he was last on the streets, but strangely it was like riding a bicycle. He knew skipping town wasn’t an option, it’d almost be too easy for either gang to chase him down and kill him, and besides, he had unfinished business here.

Due to his ribs, he’s been forced to lay low for the first few weeks, never staying in one part of the city too long, rarely frequenting the same place twice and mainly traveling at night. Gangs were like monsters under the bed, they preferred the cover of darkness to hunt their prey, so therefore the prey had to be alert.

During the day he was still constantly on the move, stopping only to sleep for a couple of hours before moving on to a new spot for another few hours. It was tedious and tiring but given that he’d had no sign of G’s gang or BBS in the last five weeks meant that it was working, until it didn’t.

He was heading to the ‘local’ jaunt under a freeway where most homeless came at night, he only came here once a week tops, mainly to hear any new info. Being the bottom of the food chain, these people normally saw and heard things which the normal person wouldn’t pay much mind to but was worth its weight in gold to him.

He was slowly making his way to one of the fire pits where Carl, an older man ranging in his 60’s who was the unspoken leader of the people here and had somehow taken Ryan under his wing, was standing. He was talking to two guys which Ryan quickly recognized to be two of G’s men.

They weren’t much more than henchmen, simply sent around to do the nitty gritty no one else wanted, despite their slender bodies Ryan knew how aggressive and dangerous the pair were, having been out on jobs with them many times.

He stuck to the shadows as he tried to move closer in an effort to make out what they were saying, he saw them hold up a picture of him, asking Carl if he’d seen him, but Carl denied all knowledge, as did the others around the fire. He breathed a sigh of relief, once this was all over he’d have to come back to express his gratitude to the man.

At the news that no one had seen him the two men started to make their way out of the underpass until another guy approached them, and that’s when he felt all colour leave his face.

When he’d first come here Ryan had unintentionally gotten himself a reputation, the first night he’d stayed a group of middle-aged guys had seen him pull food out of his bag and soon came over demanding he handed it over. He refused, which made one of the guys pull his fist back and aim a punch to his face, Ryan easily deflected it before throwing his own punch to the man who quickly fell to the floor.

A minute later and all five guys were on the floor, hands holding their bloodied noses before sulking back into their corner. From then on people knew not to fuck with him, but he’d always seen the hatred and anger in their eyes, now it appeared that karma had come to bite him in the ass.

He couldn’t hear what was said between the men, only saw the two guys pull their guns towards Carl and demanding answers, but still, he refused to give them, and Ryan knew he’d just signed his own death warrant.

Before either could shoot he quickly pulled out his knife and threw it at them, catching one of them in the throat, where he soon fell to the floor, the other guy quickly aiming his gun towards the direction where the knife had come.

He moved on the balls of his feet through the darkness as the other henchman started to approach but hadn’t yet seen him. Ryan could only creep around the pile of rubble he was hiding behind as the man got closer, getting ready to launch himself when the man came into view. The guy had just come into his eyesight when he suddenly stopped, Ryan could only hearing gargling noises before the henchmen fell to the floor dead.

He turned the corner to see Carl standing there, his knife in hand before he spat on the guy's body.

“I believe this is yours” The older man handed the knife back to Ryan, he quickly wiped it on the dead guy's trouser leg before pocketing it again. “Seems you got yourself into quite the bit of trouble here”

Ryan could only let out at terse laugh at the understatement of the century “You could say that; don’t suppose you could get rid of a couple of bodies for me?”

“We’ll take care of ‘em, you just go and be safe now okay?” Carl put his hand on his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze, he could only nod his head as he felt his throat thick with emotion.

Ryan then took off his bag to rummage through it for a minute before he found what he was looking for. He placed the last of his cash, about $60 in Carls' hand, it was several weeks’ worth of food, but he just wished he had more to give.

“Thank you, Carl, for everything” Now it was Carls turn to nod his head, the two looking at each other for a moment longer before Ryan turned to leave.

He walked around the town for a bit, knowing that neither gang wouldn’t try anything in broad daylight with loads of people around. However, when he was about to cross the road he noticed a reflection in a shop window, it was a guy in a pigs’ mask staring right at him. They stared at each other in silent acknowledgment before a car blocked his view of the window when it had passed Tyler was no longer there.

He grew ever tenser, adrenaline coursing through his system, quickly crossing the road and ducking into an alleyway, scanning the passers-by to see if he saw a familiar face. It was then a light shone in one of his eyes, partially blinding him as he scanned the rooftops, noticing Lui in his monkey mask with a sniper rifle aimed towards him.

He moved deeper into the alley, climbing over the gate which blocked access to the next street across, not sparing a glance behind him as he started weaving his way through the streets and alleys. Eventually, he found himself back at the building where he’d watched his flat burn, he hadn’t meant to come here but he felt some sort of comfort settle over him being here.

He quickly made his way up back onto the roof, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of the city before moving away from the edge to settle himself in for the night. He didn’t know what to expect, whether he’d need to flee or to fight, or if he was lucky it would be event free. He took his pistol from his bag and tucked it into his waistband before patting his midsection until he felt the knife, allowing him to relax a little bit more.

He used his bag for a pillow as he tried to get some sleep before the sun set and the monsters came out.

The sun was just beginning to set behind the high-line of buildings when he woke up, quickly scanning around him to make sure that he was safe. As the sky grew darker he simply sat there, paying attention to any and every noise he heard. After a while, when the chill really started to set in, he pulls the photo from his pocket, now worn at having been folded and unfolded numerous times and teardrops staining it. He doesn’t know how long he stared at it, thinking about what ifs and maybes before he saw movement in his peripheral.

He quickly moved to his feet, gun drawn, when he saw Luke start walking towards him, hands up in surrender.

“Bit trigger happy aren’t we?” There it was, that smooth southern drawl which he’d thought he’d never hear again. He could feel his heart in his throat but still stood his ground, gun pointed towards him. “Not gonna talk huh? Fair enough, I don’t mind sittin’ here”.

Before Luke could make a move, Ryan gestured to the gun in his hand, not letting it leave the man in front of him who shouldn’t be here. “How?” He’s not surprised that his voice cracked, he was too overcome with emotion he could barely even say the word.

“How am I here? Well, see there’s another set of fire escapes on the other side of…..”

“No! How’re you here, how’re you alive?” He noticed his hands shaking as he kept the gun pointed, he refused to believe that this could be his Luke, maybe some sick trick by his mind or his enemies.

A look of pity crossed Lukes’ face, he dropped his arms and cautiously walked towards Ryan, stopping when the still trembling gun was pressed against his chest.

“Why’d you think I’m dead? Because that sick fucker told you so?”

Ryan could only stare into the eyes he loved so much, unable to answer.

“Tell me Ry, what did you see?”

Ryan dropped his gun, holding it loosely in his left hand whilst his right hand went to cup Lukes’ face, the taller man leaning into the touch, but his cheek was ice cold, and that’s when he knew. He tried to smile as tears fell freely down his cheeks.

“I shot you” he moved the hand cupping Lukes’ face to his forehead, pointing his finger at the exact spot his bullet struck, “Right here”. When he removed his hand from Luke he saw that there was blood on it, and when he looked back at the face he’d missed so much he saw blood trickling down his face from his bullet wound.

Luke, seemingly unaffected by the change, then grabbed his shoulders and started shaking him slightly, as if trying to get him out of a trance, almost pleading at him. “No Ryan, what did you really see?” and just as suddenly as he’d come he was gone.

He collapsed back onto the roof, only able to feel that empty cold feeling consume him once more.

#ohmtoonz #ohmwrecker #cartoonz #gang au #it gets better I swear #this ones a little more haphazard but I wanted to hurry the story along a little bit #thanks for all the support so far #might post another part tomorrow and then leave it for a bit #I know im spamming you guys with stories at the moment

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forthemultiverse · 7 years ago

Text

Young Justice Headcanons

Teenage Night Out

- Dick had been in the mood for Ice cream

- Everyone completely agreed the next few events all came back to his need for ice cream.

- “Ice Cream?”

- It had been 2am, and they had been on a stakeout mission where nothing had happened.

- “Ice Cream?” he asked again after another half hour of boredom.

- The only reason he thought about getting ice cream was because of the gas station across the road.

- “ICe cREaM?” he wasn’t really annoying the whole team, he was just pestering Wally.

- “Dude! Nothing good happens after 2am, especially in a nearly abandoned gas station.” Wally pointed out before eventually giving in and agreeing to go across the road with him.

- After the pair didn’t come back quickly the rest of the team found themselves drifting across the road to join them.

- “I need sugar balls!” Artemis complained. “I have cravings.”

- “Is that you subtly trying to say you’re on your period?” Wally stupidly asked whilst pulling a face.

- “Would you rather I just yelled that Satan has possessed my bikini area to perform his monthly hate towards nice underwear?” she asked, keeping the same monotone voice the entire time.

- “What are sugar balls?” Miss Martian asked carefully.

- “Dough, covered in sugar and cinnamon, with a pot of dipping chocolate, and they come from this pizza place back in Gotham.”

- Artemis felt her mouth start to water as Dick explained.

- “Like churros?” Rocket asked

- “And now I want churros and sugar balls.” Artemis groaned

- “Churros?” Superboy and Kaldur asked.

- “Oh my god, we need to get you guys experiencing non-superhero stuff.” Zatanna shook her head.

- The team were constantly having to do things for Batman, that it was hard to remember that they were in fact teenagers, and at least three of them probably didn’t even know what a normal teenager would do in there spare time.

- “Not to be rude…but are you guys going to buy anything?” the gas station worker asked awkwardly, “Even if your not, could I, maybe, grab a picture?”

- After the picture was taken, all of the earth based teens grabbed different things from the store and paid for it quickly. Their stakeout had been boring and probably wouldn’t result in anything too important anyway.

- They wanted to have fun.

- Next stop after the nearly abandoned gas station was a drive-thru.

- They had deliberately used the boom tubes to get quickly to Gotham before using Artemis’s car to go to the Pizza place that served sugar balls.

- “Large pizza, pineapple, Cumberland sausage, and extra cheese!” Wally yelled as Artemis started her order. “And any drink, don’t mind.”

- “Cumberland sausage and pineapple! Fix your best friend, Robin.” Zatanna yelled “Who puts pineapple on pizza? or Cumberland sausage!”

- “People with taste!” Wally countered.

- “People with no taste!” Rocket argued. “Margarita for me!” she then yelled to Artemis.

- “Just be grateful he didn’t order fish on it, he’s done that before.” Artemis laughed at her boyfriend. “But I like pineapple on pizza.”

- “No!”

- “What should we have?” Miss Martian asked through the chaos.

- Everyone started to yell their opinions on pizza but Dick just climbed over Artemis and to the intercom.

- “one Large pizza, pineapple, Cumberland sausage, and extra cheese, one large pizza, half pepperoni half Hawaiian, with cheese stuffed crust, three medium margarita pizzas, one small pepperoni, and one small pineapple and ham. Five cola’s, one spite and two water’s, and four tubs of sugar balls,” he said smoothly.

- Dick paid attention to his friends, he knew what pizza’s they liked and then what would be a relatively large range for the three who hadn’t had pizza before.

- A range Wally or he could eat if the others didn’t like.

- When they got to the pickup point, there were two people working to complete their order.

- They stopped when they saw the car stuffed with young superheroes.

- “Can we have some photo’s with you guys?”

- “As long as you remember to use the hashtag OnlyinGotham when posting them,” Artemis smirked

- Dick high fived them and yelled “Gotham Pride!”

- The third stop on their rebellious evening was a 24/7 store that had absolutely everything.

- They ate as they drove to the store, all coming to the agreement that the sugar balls were the best thing to ever happen to planet earth.

- “We need to be quick,” Zatanna instructed. They wanted to be in and out since they had a few places to go to before going back to the cave.

- Of course, that meant that they all ended up separated across the shop and each had piles of useless junk in their shopping carts.

- Miss Martian wanted everything new she saw, and Conner didn’t know how to say no to Megan.

- “Marco!” Dick yelled when he realised just how long it had been.

- “Polo!” Artemis and Wally both screamed back, from opposite sides of the store

- “Marco!” Kaldur’ahm yelled so he could try and find Rocket and their cart.

- “Polo!” Five different people screamed back, including people who weren’t there with the team

- “Kid Flash, you on the other side of the aisle?” Dick asked, pretty sure he was about to chuck a rubber chicken at his best friend.

- He may have climbed up the aisle and placed himself int he perfect position to fling things at Wally.

- “Yep!”

- “Yeet!” Dick screeched whilst pulling the rubbed back and flinging it as powerfully as he could.

- It hit Wally square in the face.

- “What the hell!” Wally looked up but Dick was gone.

- That then started a war of trolley chucking.

- Everyone was climbing the aisles to throw strange items into other people’s trolleys.

- It stopped when none of them could figure out who put condoms into Zatanna’s and Artemis’s trolley.

- “I just had the best idea ever.” Artemis stopped and Wally ended up walking into her.

- “What?” he asked while she pulled out one of Robin’s fifty million phones that he lent the team and started to record.

- They were all back together at this point.

- “The Floor is Lava!”

- Kaldur had actually heard that phrase and knew what to do

- Wally had shown him a compilation on Youtube.

- Conner didn’t

- He started screaming and prepared to punch to ground.

- Well done Conner.

- Dick was somehow upside down on the store ceiling

- Artemis had flung herself onto a pile of teddies so she could record the chaos

- Zatanna had stuck herself to the aisle and Rocket had disappeared completely.

- Miss Martian had just shot up into the sky, and Wally had thought grabbing her ankle would go well.

- He fell off and crashed into a pile of stuff

- “W- Kid Flash!” Artemis stopped the recording and rushed over to him whilst Dick just laughed.

- “No teenage adventure would be complete without a trip to the hospital.” Rocket pointed out.

- They ended up walking around the children’s corridors of Gotham’s main hospital to surprise some of the sicker children.

- The staff and people all took selfies with them, and before they knew it, #YoungJusticeTakesGotham was trending on most social media platforms

- It also turned out that some of the people from the store had recorded all of their little jokes and posted them to Snapchat and Twitter.

- Zatanna didn’t understand how the hospital was so busy at three in the morning, then she remembered that this was Gotham and shut up.

- Once Wally was cleared by a doctor, they headed up to the top of one of the Wayne Towers.

-It was one of the tallest buildings in Gotham

- They had spent so long in the Hospital, visiting kids was worth it though, that it was nearly sunrise.

- Gotham was usually so cloudy and grey, but somehow the sky was nearly clear.

- The colours started to flood into the city for the first time in a while and they all started eating the snacks they had brought throughout the night.

- Dick and Zatanna sat at the edge of the roof, making out whenever they were sure none of the others could see them

- Artemis and Wally were throwing food at each other as the other tried to catch it in their mouths.

- Despite the fact that Artemis had such good aim, they were both pretty useless and stuck laughing at each other.

- “I’m pretty sure Batman did a speech from the Lion King in one of my first nights as Robin.”

- “What do you mean?”

- “Everything in the shadows touch is our kingdom, not that sunny patch though, that’s Metropolis, no one likes Metropolis.”

- “The Lion King?” Kaldur asked.

- At least M’gann and Conner went to school, he literally didn’t communicate with teenagers other than the team and people he saved.

- “Disney movie marathon tomorrow!” Rocket yelled

- “High school musical marathon after that!” Zatanna improved on Rockets idea.

- “Yes!” Dick agreed.

- “Together, Together everyone!” Wally started.

- “Here and now, it’s time for celebration!” Dick continued.

- “Fake fan!” Artemis interrupted “You skipped like two lines.”

- All of them held eye contact for a second before just launching into the chorus anyway.

- Batman materialised on the rooftop, prepared to tell them off, then he heard.

- “Wildcats everywhere, wave your hands in the air!”

- He wasn’t about to cut off them actually having fun in the usually dark Gotham.

- He would tell them off some other time.

Part Two: Teenaged Night In

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lesetoilesfous · 7 years ago

Note

how bout "you could have died" for tododeku

(Ok so I’m flapping my hands in excitement, THANK YOU KIND STRANGER, I really wanted to do this. If anyone else wants me to do a prompt, the post is here! )

Warnings: Strong language, violence - basically the boys are adult heroes

A part of Shouto that feels far too close to his father comes crashing over his conscious mind as he grabs a fistful of Deku’s costume and drags him onto his toes. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His voice is hoarse, and his eyes are stinging, and he decides to blame that on the smoke and not the recently deceased villain on the other side of the room.

Deku, for his part, with a mask half destroyed and wide eyes already streaming with tears - the smoke, again, it’s the smoke - doesn’t try to pull away from him. As quickly as Shouto’s anger had risen, it disappears, and his grip loosens on Deku’s shirt, fingers uncurling from where they’d been clenched painfully tight. He takes a deep breath, and chokes, and thinks that they should probably get out of the burning building before it’s too late. “Sorry.”

Deku shakes his head, and rubble and ash fall out of his hair as he does so. “No, it’s alright.” He hesitates, and Shouto can’t look at him. “You’re shaking.”

Shouto huffs a bitter laugh. “Does that surprise you?” There’s a splintering crash and Shouto startles, letting the familiar high of adrenaline rise in his veins. “We need to get out of here. I’ll get him.” He starts marching across the devastated building to the villain’s corpse. Mass-murderer or not, he could have a family somewhere. They’d want to bury him. And it wasn’t like either he or Deku had entered this situation planning on casualties.

Deku follows him, and Shouto does his best to ignore him. The flames in the room are pushing the temperature higher, and he tries to throw cold air into a circle around them. It’s difficult with so little moisture in the air, but not impossible. It’s not like he hasn’t practiced in heated environments, after all.

“Shouto…” Deku trails off. Shouto keeps ignoring him, bending and hoisting the villain - his name had been Snapdragon, over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift. Then he turns and walks past Deku, and pretends the stricken look on his face doesn’t hit him like a punch in the gut.

By the time they get outside, the emergency services are already there. One of the paramedics takes Snapdragon’s body from Shouto’s arms with a grim expression whilst Deku gives a statement to the police. Once Shouto has done the same, they’re free to go.

Shouto wants to sleep for a week. Instead, he lets Deku pull him into an alley.

“Shouto, look at me. Are you…”

Shouto lets out a deep breath. “Please do not ask me if I’m alright.”

Hurt and confusion fight for possession of the wrinkles running over Deku’s brow. “What…” He blinks, seeming to calm himself. There’s a vivid red cut on his cheek that he really should have let the medics take a look at. Shouto swallows, and gets his first aid supplies out on autopilot. “If you don’t…If you’re not able to talk about it, it’s ok.” Shouto ignores him, gently tilting his face to the side so he can start to apply the antiseptic. Deku had pulled his hood off almost as soon as he’d left the building. It wasn’t like his identity was much of a secret.

Shouto carefully cleans the cut on his cheek and waits. After about a hundred heartbeats, Deku purses his lips. “You’re still shaking.”

Shouto shuts his eyes, briefly, hand going still on Deku’s cheek. “Yes. Adrenaline does that.”

He doesn’t need to look at Deku to know that he’s frowning. “We both know that’s not what this is about.”

For some reason, this is what trips his temper. Shouto scowls, pulling back from Deku’s face, and raises his eyebrows. “Do we? Has it ever occurred to you that I might not like you to make assumptions about what I am or am not thinking?”

Deku’s frown deepens. “Of course, but Shouto, that’s…”

“Don’t say that’s not what this is about. You don’t know what this is about.”

A muscle in Deku’s jaw twitches. “Because you won’t tell me.” Almost as quickly as Deku’s temper rises, it’s gone again, and Shouto hates himself for it but he can’t help but resent him a little, for that. “Shouto, come on. Please, I need you to talk to me.”

Shouto looks down the alley. The street beyond is bright and white in the late afternoon soon, slowly filling with commuters as the police move their barriers, redirecting traffic. It would be easy to move back into the crowds and let this wait until later, when he felt less like the world was trying to pull itself out from beneath his feet. Certainly easier than leaving by the rooftops, where Deku could and would follow him, easily.

But that would be running away. And there were a lot of things you could call Todoroki Shouto, but a coward is not one of them. His fingers twitch, and he smooths his uniform on impulse, getting ash on his fingers. He looks at the concrete instead of Deku when he speaks. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?”

“Wait, what?”

Now Shouto does look at him, but Deku doesn’t flinch at his glare. Instead he meets it, patiently, waiting for an explanation. Shouto breathes out through his nose. “In that building. With Snapdragon.” He finds himself gritting the words out between his teeth, and the part of them that rose with his temper: the part that felt hot and too much like his father - was already screaming. How could you not have noticed this? How is this not a problem for you?

Do you really think so little of your own safety?

Deku blinks, and his expression clears. “Oh, you mean my leg? Well, yeah, I know, I knew that before I did it.”

Shouto feels his temper slipping from between his fingers like a dog on a leash. “You…knew…that you….risked losing…a leg. You risked losing a leg.”

Deku frowns, and something flickers across his features, too fast even after all these years for Shouto to catch it. But then he settles into a smile. “Well, yeah, calculated risk. It’s kind of part of the job description. If it helps, it was pretty unlikely that he was gonna be able to hit me.”

“Pretty unlikely.” Shouto thinks that living with Deku has shaved more than a decade off his predicted lifespan, and most of the time he doesn’t care, but sometimes he wants to pick him up and shake him by the shoulders until he understands what he does to the people who care about him. Like now. Now was one of those times.

Deku snorts, covering up whatever was flickering beneath his poker face with false bravado. “Well, yeah, Shouto, I mean… he was good, but he wasn’t, I wouldn’t say he was All For One good, you know.” Shouto mostly wants to be sick.

“Traumatic amputation and death by blood loss does not fall within the margin of acceptable risk, Deku.”

Now Deku does look annoyed, his frown deepening as he juts out his chin and sets his shoulders. Which is brilliant. Because Shouto loves him: loves him more than he expects to ever love anything or anyone for the rest of his natural life. But his partner is also as stubborn as an ox and thickheaded to boot and Shouto still really wants to just go to sleep and forget this whole nightmare of a day.

“Well, what did you want me to do? It wasn’t like I had a lot of time to think about. And again, blood loss and missing limbs are kind of part of the job. You know that.”

“I expect you to trust me!” Shouto’s raising his voice, and he can’t quite find it in himself to care. Deku doesn’t flinch, but his frown deepens. “I expect you to fall back until you can think of an option that doesn’t leave you as an amputee in the best case scenario. I expect you not to fling yourself headlong into danger in a job which already puts your life in danger every. Single. Day.” Shouto is breathing too fast, and as he speaks he jabs his finger into Deku’s chest. “I expect you, Deku, to take five seconds to think about all the people that love you, and remember the fact that even if you continue to have no apparent regard for your safety, we do. I DO! Do you ever stop to think that hurting yourself also hurts the people you care about? You ASS.”

“YOU COULD HAVE DIED!”

Shouto cuts himself off mid-rant, feeling his temper leave him like wind from a full sail. Tears have sprung into Deku’s eyes, and he ignores them as he grabs Shouto’s shoulders, pushing him back against the wall of the alley and squeezing his arms too tight to be comfortable. Decades of mutual trust means that fear doesn’t even occur to Shouto, or at least, not for himself. Deku looks like he’s one punch away from falling apart. Deku takes a deep breath, and it’s wet with tears, and he stares at Shouto with something not unlike desperation.

“You could have…I saw him…He was going to…He was going to cut off your head and you hadn’t seen him and there was no time and all I could see, all I could see was him doing that and I didn’t think, I couldn’t think, I just moved.” Deku chokes, and Shouto can hardly tell if he’s sobbing or retching, and his grip on Shouto’s arms lessens a little but he’s still holding him an inch off the ground without any apparent effort. Deku ducks his head, chest heaving as he weeps, hands and shoulders shaking. “He was going to…You were going to…you could have died, Shouto.” Deku is not a small man: broad shouldered and strong, adulthood had suited him well. But his voice in that moment is as small as it ever was, and all at once they’re fifteen again and realising just how frightening death can be.

“You could have died.”

With that, Shouto’s temper disappears, and he folds over Deku like wheat in the wind, curling around his broad shoulders and gently rubbing circles over his upper back. Shouto swallows the lump in his own throat: even now, Deku so rarely allows himself to fall apart, even with him, even when they’re alone. Softly, he starts to murmur reassurances, pressing kisses to the top of Deku’s head, still dusty with rubble and smelling of smoke. “It’s ok. It’s alright. I’m here. We’re ok.”

Eventually, Deku starts to stop crying, and when he does he looks up ruefully at Shouto and carefully sets him back down on the ground. Shouto wriggles his toes as pins and needles fall into his feet, and Deku wipes his nose. Deku brushes his hands lightly, gently, over Shouto’s arms, which are already sore from his grip. He looks like he’s just kicked a puppy. “I’m sorry, did I…?”

Shouto sighs, and leans forward, pulling Deku’s head to rest on his shoulder and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Come here, you big idiot.”

Deku sniffs. “’M as smart as you are.”

Shouto grins, and presses another kiss to his cheek. “And yet you so rarely show it.” Deku makes a soft sound of annoyance, and Shouto’s smile widens even further. He runs his fingers through Deku’s hair, pulling bits of plaster from his curls, and his nose wrinkles as he does so. “This is going to be a pain.”

“I’m not shaving it.” Deku sounds sullen, but more like a petulant lover than a man on the edge of falling apart, so Shouto counts that as a victory. He runs his hand self consciously over his own buzzcut of red hair.

“It would be a lot more convenient.” Shouto teases, mostly for the sake of a conversation that feels more like normalcy. Like the kind of argument two lovers who didn’t have to put their lives on the line every day would have. As if they were safe.

Deku pulls back from where he’s been leaving a damp patch on Shouto’s neck and frowns at him. “Shouto. We’re not having this conversation again.”

Shouto smirks to hide his relief, and tilts his head to press a slow, gentle kiss to Deku’s lips. He tastes of blood and sweat and smoke. Shouto winds his fingers carefully into his hair: he’d seen Deku take a hit earlier and half expects to feel the bruise. Then he pulls him close, and keeps kissing him, lazy and gentle and soft. He shuts his eyes, and bumps his nose, and feels Deku, Izuku, warm and whole and alive under his hands.

When he pulls back, Deku speaks first. This does not come as a surprise. “I love you, Shouto. I’m sorry I scared you.”

Shouto sighs, and tries to wish away the way his knees turn to jelly, still, at the memory of Deku’s shin heading for the bear-traps Snapdragon had for hands. “Ditto. On both counts. Occupational hazard, right?” He looks up at Deku, and sees his smile moving somewhere south of reassured, and swallows.

Because he can be strong, too, if Deku needs him to be. So Shouto presses another kiss to Deku’s lips, and pulls back, and grins at him. “Why don’t you take me home, hero? Remind me why life is worth living after all.”

Deku raises his eyebrows, and Shouto bites his lip and rests a hand on Deku’s side, doing his best to try and keep a straight face. “I think I’m going to need a very…thorough…reminder.”

Deku snorts, but it doesn’t do much to hide the way his pupils are blowing out, and Shouto can feel the tension in the air shifting from what had been dangerous and hopeless into something more promising. Then Deku gives him a quick kiss, and squeezes his arse, and jumps onto the roof of the nearest building.

Shouto swears, following him, and Deku laughs over his shoulder as he bounces from rooftop to rooftop, silhouetted against the blushing sky. “Race you there!”

And Shouto did.

#tododeku #bnha #todoroki shouto #midoriya izuku #bnha fic #thank you so much anon!

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cjwritesfanfiction · 7 years ago

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Bodies (Maybe?)

@katzun here’s kinda what I was thinking? Take a look and let me know what you think. Also, sorry it’s rushed. I wanted to finish it tonight and I’m tired so it’s kinda crappy and unedited!

T.W.: violence and guns

Alex sat on top of the rooftop on an abandoned warehouse across from New York’s famed Antonio's Bistro. Antonio’s Bistro was a restaurant at the very edge of the city, expensive, high profile, one of those places you had to call months ahead of time in order to get a seat. That was unless you belonged to Antonio himself. Antonio was one of the most feared and widely respected members of the mafia. For generations, Antonio’s family and Alex’s client’s family (who he couldn’t name due to the nature of the deal) have been fighting for control of New York’s underground. After Antonio’s gang of ruffians invaded Alex’s client's territory and murdered his men in cold blood, he had hired Alex to end the fued between the two gangs once and for all. All he had to do was wait for Antonio to come out. . .

A couple hours later, Antonio finally started to make his way towards the door. Alex smirked and lined up his shot pulling his black stocking hat over his ears. It was winter in New York. Alex had been waiting in negative 2 weather for a while now and his limbs were starting to go numb. Everything except his fingers, which itched to pull the trigger, finish the job, and collect the hefty reward that came with the fat man taking his last breath. Alex loaded one bullet and aimed for the man’s head. It wouldn’t take more than one bullet. . . Alex was known to never miss. . .

Antonio smiled at the waitress in the restaurant and tipped his hat before stepping out of the restaurant. Alex smirked and placed his steady finger on the trigger preparing to pull it and take the final shot. All he needed was ten more yards, five more yard, three more yards. . .

Something whizzed by Alex’s head hitting the bottle behind his head. Alex groaned and pulled down a ski mask to cover his face. He didn’t have time for this bullshit right now. He had a reward to collect for fuck’s sake!

“So, the little lion came back to play. Thought I told you not to come back here or I would blow your head off.” A voice laughed from across the building. Alex recognized it immediately, Antonio’s dog. Antonio’s dog was a hired hitman turned bodyguard that Antonio hired to protect him after he almost got offed by some amature. Alex didn’t know his name, nor had he seen his face, but he was smart enough to know Antonio’s dog was someone he didn’t want to tangle with. The man had an impeccable shot, almost as good as Alex’s. However, Alex had more creative ideas on how to get the job done.

“Fuck off, I have a job to do and you’re getting in my way.” He growled pulling a pistol out of his holster and firing a warning shot at the man on the room. It nearly hit him, but instead zoomed past him hitting a beer bottle some homeless guy left there. The man only laughed.

“And let you have all the fun? No way. I won’t get paid if the source of my income suddenly keels over.” The man took another shot at Alex, and Alex hid behind a metal air conditioning unit to avoid being hit. A black car turned the corner into the next street. Alex swore and ran out to grab his backpack, which contained all of his guns. He couldn’t let his target get away this time. The man continued to fire at him and Alex weaved to avoid the bullets. He shot at the man and nailed him in the arm. The man screamed and stopped firing long enough to Alex hop down the fire escape and run after the car. It was Saturday night. He wouldn’t get far!

The car turned into a vacant parking lot, and Alex followed it. He had waited far too long for this moment and he wouldn’t let Antonio’s dog stop him. He stopped behind a concrete pillar for a moment to reload his pistol. He wouldn’t need the rifle anymore. It was far too loud for the enclosed space, plus he didn’t want his target to be blown into pieces. He smiled and aimed his gun slowly walking towards the car.

Something was off. The people in the car could clearly see Alex. Alex could see them just fine. But, they didn’t scream, they didn’t yell for help, they didn’t try to run him over or beg for their life. No, these people just sat there in silence smirking at Alex. Why were they smirking? They were about to be killed for God’s sake! A gun was pressed to the back of Alex’s head and a familiar voice greeted him.

“Drop the gun.” The dog said.

Alex gently lowered the gun to the floor and put his hands up. His heart was beating out of his chest. This whole thing had been a set up?! That was impossible! Alex had been so careful with his planning! So, cautious unless. . . Shit. Burr had it in for him.

“Now, take it easy.” Alex chuckled trying his best to sound confident. “You don’t want to do something you’ll regret.”

“You’re in no position to talk. We have you right where we want you.” The southern accented voice nearly purred into Alex’s ear. The gun lowered to his back, right in between his ribs. “You’re mine, little lion.”

Alex smirked and quickly grabbed his arm twisting it back and disarming him. On instinct alone, Alex ran. His mission was always to survive another day, even it meant losing his target. The fat man in the car got out and pointed at Alex.

“Don’t just stand there idiot! After him! Don’t let him get away!” He slurred. The man on the ground groaned and chased after Alex. Alex did his best to lose him. He climbed up fire escapes, jumped to close buildings, and pushed through crowds to try to lose the man. But, the man was persistent. He was actually keeping up with Alex and gaining. Alex was starting to panic. What were they going to do to him when they caught him? Interrogate him? Torture him? Kill him?! Thoughts in Alex’s head raced as he jumped from rooftop to rooftop. At one point, he landed wrong causing his ankle to roll out of place. He screamed and fell to the ground. In an instant, the man was on top of him.

“Well, well, well what do we have here? Looks like God isn’t on your side today, darlin.” He purred pulling off Alex’s mask. Alex’s breath hitched as he saw the man’s eyes widen in disbelief. “You’re-”

Alex didn’t let him finish. He punched the man, who passed out. Alex groaned and hoisted himself up before limping away on his bad leg. Live another day, that was the way of the hit man.

#hamilton #alexander hamilton #thomas jefferson #bodies au?#tw: violence

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ridiculousn3sswrites · 7 years ago

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Freedom - Wave Pt. 5

*Peter Parker x Reader

*Summary: The reader faces some obstacles during the escape.

*Warnings: Minimal violence, swearing

*A/N: I’m not dead, just saying

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five || Part Six || Part Seven || Part Eight || Part Nine

“This is your last warning, (l/n),” the same man told you, stepping forward slightly. It was then that the recognition fully hit you: this was Agent Carter’s grandkid. You knew him from your trip to New York, he had been training with the Shield agents when Steve was showing you around. It looked like he had worked his way up the ranks pretty quickly, unless dealing with you and other heroes was just grunt work.

“Then I’m afraid you’ll have to use force, Agent Sousa,” you challenged him. He flinched slightly, taken aback by your recognition, but his hold on his gun never faltered, not even the slightest bit. You didn’t want to make it personal, but despite your better judgement, your mouth just ran. “How would your grandmother feel, knowing her organization turned into a government lackey?” Shit, shouldn’t’ve done that, you thought, immediately regretting your words. The way Sousa’s mouth turned up in a snarl told you he’d have no problem killing you now, whereas before there might’ve been at least some hesitation. Your face probably gave away your panic, and Sousa let out a small, dangerous chuckle.

“You’re a lot of talk, kid. Just makes this that much easier,” he said, pulling the trigger. You tried triggering the flames from your feet, but found that they only sputtered for a second. Not good, not good, NOT GOOD, you panicked, rolling out of the way of his shot. You shot back with a fireball, trying not to cause too much damage to the neighborhood. It hit one of the black SUVs behind Sousa, immediately making it explode. So much for not damaging the neighborhood, you thought as Sousa took another shot at you.

You rolled out of the way again, trying to make your fire jets cooperate. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, work with me here,” you muttered, a mixture of anger and panic, as they sputtered yet again.

“Not so big when you aren’t flying, are you?” Sousa taunted, getting closer yet again. You were amazed that the other agents hadn’t yet exited their vehicles, especially since you just blew one up. Just as that thought flashed through your mind, all of the SUV doors opened, agents spilling out one after the other. I really need to stop with that. “Twenty against one, how are you liking those odds?”

“Seems a bit unfair, but I’ll tie one hand behind my back to make it even,” you automatically quoted Peter Pan, not even stopping to think about it. Damn your friend for making you go see your school’s play. You know what? False confidence is good, let’s go with that. You let out a shriek, knocking over a few agents and shattering the glass from a few windows. You winced slightly, hoping that they offered hero insurance over here and not just in big cities. You knew the fallen agents wouldn’t cause you much trouble after that, so you left them, focusing your attention back on Sousa.

Sousa fired three more shots as you weaved out of the way, still trying to get your fire jets to cooperate. You heard the bullets hit a few cars that were parked on the street, giving you a bit of cover while you tried to figure out what was wrong. Maybe it’s a mental thing. Has it ever been a mental thing? Why would it be a mental thing? As a few more shots rang out in the street, you were drawn back to your current situation. Right, I’m getting shot at.

You fired back with small fireballs and shrieks, managing to disarm multiple agents as your struggle with your only escape route continued. Maybe it is a mental thing, you questioned yet again. You took a deep breath, focusing on pushing all your energy into your legs to get the flames to work again. It was the same way you’d trained yourself to use the powers in the first place, and you hoped that it’d work to help you regain them. When the sputter transformed into something stronger, a wide smile grew on your face. Now we’re back in business. “Hey, Sousa, check me out now,” you taunted, hovering near him. You bit back a wince at how villainy that sounded, but you were just glad you had your powers back at this point.

“Am I supposed to be impressed?” He asked, firing another shot at you before his gun clicked, showing he’d finally emptied his clip. Sousa looked behind him, seeing his men in varying stages of injury, and dropped his gun. Just as you were about to make your escape, you were take off guard by his charge at you, grabbing onto your legs. “You’re not getting out of here, (L/n)!”

“What the hell are you doing?” You asked as you struggled, trying to kick him off. He held fast, refusing to let you make your escape. You looked around, trying to devise a plan to get him off of you, and saw the mom from earlier leaning out the window, holding a backpack which you assumed had some supplies for you. While you were distracted by this kindness, you heard a click. You looked down, seeing Sousa handcuffing you to himself as he tried to get you back to the ground. “Jesus, I really don’t want to hurt you! I’ve got so much respect for your family but you’re really fucking annoying!”

“Comes with the job, kid,” Sousa growled out, fighting to bring you back to the ground. An inkling of an idea came to you, but you didn’t want to risk hurting Sousa too much if you went too high into the sky. It wasn’t until Sousa had landed a punch to your abdomen, momentarily knocking the wind out of you and making you fall to the ground that you decided to run with your idea. The fall stunned Sousa too, giving you a few seconds to work. You quickly summoned a small, concentrated stream of fire from one of your fingertips, melting through the chain connecting your wrist to Sousa’s. You saw Sousa’s eyes widen as he realized what you were doing, but you quickly landed a kick to his gut before taking off into the air, the chain snapping with finality.

You hovered by the ledge where the mom had left the backpack, quickly grabbing it before taking off in the direction you’d last seen the freeway. As you climbed higher into the sky, you dug through the bag, trying to see what she’d been kind enough to give you. You saw a change of clothes, food, water, and then something that made your heart soar: a runner GPS. Once you were high enough in the sky, you started messing with the GPS, trying to figure out where you were. You finally figured out how it worked, and turned so you were headed south. Your family lived near the border, so you wouldn’t need to travel too far. From what you saw, the city you were held in was only a couple hours from the border, giving you a better advantage than what you’d previously thought.

Flying was always calming, especially when you were out of eyeshot. You were able to fly without a care in the world, forgetting even momentarily that you were a fugitive on the run from the U.S. government. You looked down at the GPS, seeing that you were nearing the border. You’d been flying for hours, your earlier estimate of a couple hours had been wrong. You were beginning to tire, but you knew you couldn’t stop for a rest, not when you were so close.

As you were flying over the border, your exhaustion was finally starting to catch up with you. You’d never used your powers nonstop for this long, and it was starting to show. You just needed a few more hours and then you’d be fine. Your family wasn’t expecting you, but you knew that they’d welcome you with open arms as they always had. You’d lay low with them for a few weeks and then make your way back to LA, and find your way to New York from there. You didn’t know what would happen in between then, but you’d already survived the worst of it, you were sure of that. Now it was just a matter of saving the others like you.

Your mind went back to Steve in the hospital. Had he managed to get out? What was he doing right now, if he had? Or had he gotten caught trying to escape? You tried convincing yourself that he had to be fine, he was a smart man, after all, but you couldn’t help but worry. He was meant to be your mentor, but he had been taken down by an intrusive government. Your mind went from thoughts of Steve to Sam. Was he being punished for helping you escape? Sure, he was a troublemaker like yourself, but without his helmet he had no powers. Surely that would protect him from being viewed as too much of a danger. Right?

They’d taken Sam from New York, and he’d somehow ended up across the country. What was this agency planning on? They were imprisoning heroes, displacing them if they somehow managed to get out. Then why had you been kept in California? Was it because of your injuries from the initial fight? You’d healed well, so if that were the case, why hadn’t they moved you once you were well again?

You wondered what happened to Peter. Had he decided to lay low, or did he get taken in as well? If he got taken in, then there went your plans for New York. It was crazy, you’d never asked about anything that was going on since you got arrested. For all you knew, you were one of the only heroes left. No, that couldn’t be true, the mom would’ve said something if that were true. Plus, they were still making money off of hero merchandise. That wasn’t really a good example, people would make money off of anything these days.

While your mind was racing, you didn’t notice your flames slowly losing power. You could feel your body tiring, but your mind was overpowering that at the moment. It wasn’t until the rooftops made their way into your vision that you realized what was going on. “No, no, no, no, no, no! Come on, don’t kill me!” You panicked, trying to get the flames to work again. You saw that you were approaching the city square, eyes locking on a fountain. You knew you were going in on a crash landing, so you tried aiming yourself, hoping it would break your fall at least a little.

“So much for laying low,” you muttered when you saw people pointing at you. You were losing altitude and fast, your flame jets sputtering as you once again tried to get them to cooperate with you. Your heart was pounding, unsure if you’d be able to make it to the fountain in time. The rugged cobblestone was going to tear you up if you crashed there, especially considering the clothes you were wearing. There was no way you were coming out of this unscathed, you knew that much already. You gave a silent thanks as you finally saw you were close enough to the fountain, releasing a final shriek as you tried to ease your fall one final time. You closed your eyes, bracing for impact. Splash!

Tag List: @potterjamesharry

#peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #marvel imagine #wave series #Mexican Reader

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silver-ninja-of-the-tides · 7 years ago

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Silver and Gold

Chapter 1--Here Come Some New Challengers!

(AO3 version)

Sensei’s POV

“I see the newcomers have reached the situation before you did.” My students were entering the living room of our recently acquired apartment with fierce irritation.

“Every time we think we’re finally going to get there before they do, they’re one step ahead,” Kai snapped.

“And these guys appeared from out of nowhere!” Cole added.

“It’s the Samurai all over again!” Jay complained. “I thought we were the ninjas around here.”

“What I do find intriguing is how they appeared a few weeks after Lloyd’s battle with the Overlord,” Zane contributed. “That cannot be a coincidence, can it?”

“I don’t think those guys have anything to do with the Overlord,” my nephew Lloyd said. “They are helping the people.”

“Yeah, before we can,” Kai grumbled.

“Perhaps tomorrow will have better opportunities,” I simply replied.

“I hope so.”

The boys went to retire for the night still discussing the new duo, and naturally I went to do the same. But as I was heading to my room, there was a stream of light coming from the study. Curious, I went to find out who was inside. When I opened the door, Misako was studying a single scroll intently.

She turned around with a look of surprise, but she relaxed upon seeing me. “Oh, it’s only you. Good.”

I came up next to her. “What seems to be the trouble?”

Misako faced the desk again. “I had found this among my things shortly after the Final Battle.” The scroll she had portrayed a ninja of gold wielding the four elements, and there was only a single paragraph on the subject. “Early on in my research of trying to prevent Lloyd from fighting his father, I had found this. According to the scroll, it says that he has a connection with Lloyd, but it doesn’t say what kind of connection or how. As my research lengthened, I seemed to have forgotten all about it.”

“And now it has come to you yet again.”

“It would appear that way.” Misako stood up and went to a small trunk tucked away under the desk. After pulling it out, she opened it to reveal a gold suit. “The suit came with the scroll.”

I held up the suit and inspected it curiously. It was reminiscent to Lloyd’s golden suit in some aspects, but it did have some distinctions from it.

“I haven’t shown it to anyone yet. I wanted to make sure I understood the scroll completely before I did so.”

“Only Lloyd can wield the four elements, and yet it says the Gold Ninja, too, can control them. How is that so?”

“It doesn’t say why he does. Looking back upon everything now, most of the information is very vague.”

I looked to the scroll again, skimming for anything else. “It says here that he’s almost as powerful as Lloyd. Most intriguing …” Perhaps the newcomers were brought here by destiny, and maybe I was right in assuming they had something special.

“You’re thinking one of those two is him?”

“My thoughts exactly. Destiny has brought them here for a reason.” I folded the gold suit and placed it back in the trunk. “I will alert my students of this in the morning. For now, both of us should get some rest.”

Kai’s POV

Agh, I’m still steaming from yesterday! Who do those guys think they are? And how are they so fast, anyways? They must’ve had some sort of training from somewhere. Well, today’s a new day, and maybe we’ll finally catch up to those guys.

“Morning, Kai,” Jay said with his mouth full.

“Morning,” I said, grabbing an apple from the kitchen before taking a seat. I turned the fruit a few times, letting my mind wander. “You sure we shouldn’t consider those two to have anything to do with the Overlord?”

“Positive,” Lloyd said. “But I have to admit they are getting pretty annoying.”

Cole tapped his fingers on the counter in thought. “Say we actually start to look for them. What’s the point?”

“Look for them just for the sake of looking for them?” I suggested.

“But they only come out at night, so there’s no point in looking for them in the day.”

“So we start searching at night.”

“Looking for them only because they are faster than us isn’t exactly reasonable,” Zane added.

Jay swallowed another bite of food. “And we can just live with them outsmarting us.”

“Morning, guys,” Nya greeted, walking in. “Still talking about the newcomers?”

“How can we not? They’re on the news every day!” I said. “I bet they’re on right now.” I briskly walked to the living room and snapped on the TV.

“Once again the mysterious ninjas have stopped yet another crime!” Gayle Gossip reported. “A minor robbery at the Ninjago Doomsday Comix store last night turned into a quick comic book ending thanks to them.”

The news displayed security footage of the duo swiftly taking care of the group of four robbers as she spoke, and the next shot switched to Gayle.

“Sources and eye witnesses say that shortly after the crooks were taken into custody, they vanished! I guess it stands to say that the Ninjas of Ninjago may have some serious competition—”

I quickly shut the TV off. “See?! They’re everywhere!”

“I didn’t think there was a competition,” Zane said simply.

“Good. All of you are here.”

We turned to see Sensei accompanied by Misako.

“Our newcomers have proved to be more important than we realize.”

“How come?” Nya asked.

“A scroll I found years ago talks about a ninja of gold,” Misako said.

“You mean Lloyd?” Jay asked.

“No, not Lloyd.” She placed the scroll on the counter, and we all crowded around. “This one is entirely different. It says that he controls the four elements—”

“Sounds like Lloyd to me.”

Sensei smacked Jay’s head with his staff. “No interruptions.”

Misako stifled a smirk at the notion. “He may control the four elements, but the scroll doesn’t say how or why.”

“He also has a connection with you, Lloyd.”

“M-me?” the said boy asked. “How?”

“It doesn’t say.”

“This scroll seems pretty vague,” Cole said as he crossed his arms.

“I agree with you, but maybe the reasons lie within him.”

“Perhaps one of the newcomers is the Gold Ninja,” Zane concluded.

“Which is why I am sending the five of you out tonight,” Sensei said. “Find the Gold Ninja, and bring him here.”

“What about the other guy?” Lloyd asked.

“If he is in relation with the Gold Ninja, then you will need to find him, too.”

Cole sighed briefly. “Well, looks like we’re going after them anyways.”

“But, if we’re supposed to look for them, doesn’t that mean there could be an evil lurking around?” I asked.

“I had suspected as much when Misako showed me the scroll,” Sensei said. “We will have to wait and see, and we must be prepared for anything, even if the Overlord is defeated.”

Unknown POV

I nodded at my partner G, who did the same in return. Dressed completely in black, we both pulled on our masks and began our usual routine. The full moon was high in the sky, providing additional light alongside the lampposts. I’ve always felt strongest at night, especially during a full moon. It’s just been a weird mentality of mine, I guess.

We jumped from rooftop to rooftop in search of anyone in need. The city was pretty big, but some parts almost always had someone messing around with people, like the main square, for instance. So there really wasn’t much of a need to scout the entire city in one night.

Stopping on the roof of a “mojo” dojo, G scanned the area for any passing people. Some lampposts were barely working, and some were even knocked down. How run down the square looked did get my gears turning. It still does. There was probably a massive storm that tore through here. Or an attack.

Coming towards us was a group of five boys. Upon reflex the two of us flattened ourselves against the roof, and the area was quiet enough for me to catch their conversation.

“Ooh, I wonder what they’ll look like!” the guy in blue said.

“I’m pretty sure they’re both guys,” the red one said plainly.

“Don’t get your hopes up, Kai. They might both be girls,” the black clad one said.

“Yeah. Nya was a Samurai and she’s a girl,” Blue said.

“Well samurais don’t count,” Red said.

G and I looked to each other. They can’t be looking for us, right?

We watched the group until they were well out of earshot, and yet I could still hear Blue. G and I looked to each other before slipping down between the dojo and another building. Low and behold, I was inches away from a puddle.

Pressing myself against a wall and avoiding the puddle, I could still hear the group from far away.

“They should be out by now!” Red complained, almost being as loud as Blue.

“What if we act like we’re the ones in trouble?” a boy younger than the others suggested.

As the conversation deepened, G and I slipped between two buildings across from us. I boosted my partner up toward a roof, and I was hoisted up afterwards. A loose shingle slipped off when G stood up, and it clattered onto the ground. Immediately we hit the deck, and I held my breath as I listened for the boys.

“You heard that?” Black asked.

“That must be them,” a boy said, his voice calm. So they are looking for us …

“Help! Someone help me! Thief!” a woman yelled. That was our cue.

“Someone needs our help!” Young Guy exclaimed. So citizens are gonna help. Nice one.

Their footsteps faded away, and my partner and I quickly made our way to the source of the scream. I gave the notion to split, and G went to a detour as I continued on my way. The night fueled me with energy, and I felt like I was running like the wind.

I flipped in the air, and my feet made rough contact with the ground seconds later. I looked the scruffy man in the eye, who skid to a halt. My eyes flickered to the handbag in his clutches, and I merely pointed to it.

The guy looked to the item. “What? This? This is mine, so mitts off!”

I shifted my body into a firm stance, and I taunted the man with a hand motion.

The man came in for a swinging punch, but I merely ducked under it and rammed my fist into his gut. The purse easily slipped from his hands, and I caught it before it hit the ground. “Why you—!” He was swiftly knocked out from behind, and I handed G the purse as I caught the rather heavy guy.

I struggled to sit him up against a crate as G went to return the purse. “Stay put, all right?”

Hearing footsteps from behind, I jumped on top of a dumpster and hoisted myself up onto a roof. As I ran, I could hear Calm Guy concluding what had happened and Red complaining about it. That red guy has some serious anger issues.

Tuning them out, I focused on the route ahead. Within a few minutes I saw G and a woman several feet away. Wow that guy didn’t get very far.

“Thank you, ninja,“ the lady said as I landed next to my partner.

G nodded, and the woman went on her way. G extended an arm out toward the buildings, and I nodded in response. We were about to run off when footsteps sounded from behind us. Whirling around, both of us saw the same group of boys halt abruptly.

“Ah HAH! We finally got you two!” Red shouted.

G and I glanced to each other before darting off as fast we could.

“Don’t let them get away!” Black said. “They’re splitting up!” Blue exclaimed. “Split!”

(Next chapter) (Previous chapter)

#Ninjago #Nya #Lloyd #Kai #Zane #Cole #Jay #Sensei Wu #Misako #Gayle Gossip #Ninjago City #night #Ninjago--Silver and Gold

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redscrud-blog · 7 years ago

Text

The rabbit gets a little bill

It was a bright and clear night. The moon shone across the sea, paving a path to the port. On top of one of the many, now abandoned, warehouses stood a female figure. Her getup, consisting of a red tank-top, blue shorts, yellow running shoes and a tightly strapped green backpack, would suggest to any onlooker that she might just be a regular late night jogger with a strange preference for places to take a break. The only elements that broke that façade were the wraps covering her arms, small blades reflecting the moonlight in between the fabric, and a rabbit mask covering her head. Crouching down on the edge of a roof, she waited for a rendezvous of local small time criminals. She had been tracking them down for the past week until she could pin something on them. Tonight they would receive some sort of a weapon shipment from a far off eastern country and she was ready to stop them in their tracks.

Around two forty-five a black van drove to warehouse 35. Four men exited the vehicle and entered the building. The girl stood up, took a running start towards the neighboring warehouse, jumping from the edge of the roof. She landed safely on the other side, rolling at the first point of impact, and peeked down from one side. Among the many broken windows, there was one without any glass. She suspended herself from the roof just above it and let herself fall, latching onto the sill below. She pulled herself up and peeked inside.

There was a walkway. Rusty old chains hung from the ceiling, from the days when the warehouse saw greater use. At the bottom stood the four men from earlier with three new ones, most likely the dealers. The girl cautiously dropped onto the walkway and dashed towards a nearby ladder. Being careful not to make any sounds, she climbed down. Unfortunately, as she was about half way down, she felt the creaking. It had been many years since the ladder had seen use and under the weight of the crime-fighter, it broke off. She launched herself off the reeling contraption at the last second. Landing with a roll, she immediately sprung back on

her feet and assumed a battle stance. Behind her the ladder crashed and with it - half the walkway. The criminals stared on, baffled, not yet sure how to react.

“This is a vigilante arrest. I suggest you surrender now and turn yourself in peacefully, or else I will use force.”

One of the seven men took out a knife and lunged at her. She clenched her fists and jabbed him in the jaw, knocking him out as soon as he’d come. There was a moment of silence. She jolted towards the group.

The first one came at her with a haymaker from her left. She easily blocked him and returned an uppercut. The second one was running close behind and met a similar fate. One tried to grab a pipe from the ground and was kicked in the face. Two others reached into their jackets, but didn’t go unnoticed. The heroine shook her hands, razor blades falling from within the wrap, dangling off her fingers on thin, barely visible strings. She swung her hand towards the closer assailant, cutting him across the face. The second one was quicker. She flung her other hand, a blade intercepting the line between her and the gun. The gun fired. The bullet split in half. She jumped forward, passing effortlessly between the two pieces, and punched the gunman in the jaw. He fell on the ground. The three remaining criminals seemed like they’d frozen in shock. She just stared at them. In a brief second, they turned around and ran. She waved her hand and as they ran, their belts flew open, sliced in half, causing their owners to stumble over

their own dropping pants. The crime-fighter put her hands on her hips, reassuring herself of a job well done.

“Bravo!”

There was a slow clap. She turned towards one of the windows, ready to fight. A figure slowly glided though it, descending towards her. As the heroine saw the blue, one-piece suit, adorned with silver stripes and stars, she lowered her guard, assuming a more passive-aggressive stance.

“Solaris.”, she spoke up. “What are you doing here?”

A smile appeared beneath Solaris’s golden helmet.

“I was in the neighborhood and saw you sulking on a rooftop. I was about to call for you, when you jumped to this warehouse, flew through the window and stopped an arms deal.”

Solaris scanned the bodies on the floor.

“You did a really nice job, Hopper. Your entrance could have used a little bit of work, but you managed to salvage it. You said your lines, they responded with hostility and you took them out using non-lethal methods. To be sincere, I am impressed. However…”

Solaris scratched his chin.

“…I am pretty sure this isn’t your jurisdiction.”

Hopper crossed her arms.

“If I am correct, your territory ends at warehouse 34. This is 35. I am afraid you’ll have to be fined.”

Underneath her mask, Hopper scoffed.

“That’s bullshit.”

Solaris didn’t pay her any mind. He took out a pen and paper and started filling it out.

“I’ve been staking these guys out for the past 2 weeks. The meeting was supposed to take place in 34. What was I supposed to do?”

Solaris finished writing and handed her the paper.

“You could have called the police, another organization or someone who has jurisdiction here.”

Hopper stared him down. Solaris, with a smirk on his face, waved the paper. She violently grabbed it from his hand.

“Bureaucrat.” She murmured in a low tone.

“Now, now, bunny, professional obligations aside, I am a fan of yours. You have a grungier vibe than most others. Really works in your favour. However, if you want to get into an organization, you really should start working with the system better. This is, after all, your third fine for the month. That’s a very bad track record. Lowers your chances of joining an organization, you know.”

Hopper didn’t answer him. Solaris shrugged and slowly began ascending.

“In any case, I do hope to see you again soon. Maybe we could work on the same side next time. Ta-ta!”

He flew away through the window. Hopper looked at the fine. One hundred dollars. Must be paid in the town bureau for vigilante justice. She crumpled the piece of paper and put it in her pocket. She looked around. All the criminals seemed in

place. She took her cellphone out of the bag, selected her vigilante app and clicked the button. The police should be there in ten minutes to clean the place up. Hopper stretched a bit, looked around for a window and threw her blades towards a walkway, the strings tightening around the ramp. She pulled hard, trying to get herself up there, but a piece of it broke off and fell down. Hopper sighed. She untied her strings and exited through the main door.

Hopper sat on a bench in the Bureau for Vigilante Justice. A small, one story building, a quarter of a block wide, that used to be a post office before it shut down. On the inside, there were hallways after hallways stretching towards infinity, more than one thousand reported floors. Information signs hung on every wall and column, so as not to get lost. There had been reports of people making a wrong turn and disappearing for months on end. When the bureau was first being established, an architect by the name of Mark Dutch, a homo superioris with the uncanny ability to manipulate dimensions, was called in to shape the insides of the building. Mr. Dutch claimed the bureau as his masterpiece. No more than two months after its completion, Mark Dutch disappeared without a trace. Some say he got lost in his briefcase one afternoon and never found the right way home.

The interior of the building was old. There were renovations, but they didn’t hide the fact that it was built

around the beginning of the twentieth century. The main colour scheme was beige and brown. Granite floor tiles, with some unsightly cracks here and there. A few pillars, originally straight, now bent in such ways, they couldn’t be considered pillars anymore. On one of the walls there was bas-relief, once depicting a carrier dove, now – a figure of Lady Justice. Some of her fingers were missing and she sported a few cracks here and there, but still inspiring. The place was close to what you could see in modern day ex-soviet art-deco inspired interior design.

One of the many other things that had been weighed down by the passage of time were the seats. Hopper was unlucky enough to end up on a decrepit bench. The wood was soggy and very prone to cracks. She couldn’t sit comfortably under constant threat of splinters. She would’ve just stood up, but there was a high chance of the staff asking her to sit back down, since she would clog the work flow.

For the past 30 minutes she had been stuck between a giant human rat and a man well above his forties dressed as a clown. Probably because of the circumstances, it felt a lot longer. She considered that unnatural. One of her powers was time perception. She could perceive time as fast or as slow as she wanted. That was how she accomplished most of her acrobatic feats. Of course, this power came with a drawback. The more she slowed down time, the more painful everything became. Jumping, moving, even breathing. And if she sustained any

damage before using her ability, it would get amplified, so she mainly slowed it to a point where one second could be felt as three. It was bearable and it gave her a slight advantage during fights. The opposite worked for speeding time up. Pain was barely felt, but there was always a chance that she could speed up her perception too much and die of starvation and dehydration. But in small doses, it was therapeutic and avoided boredom. That is why this place felt so unnatural. She couldn’t manipulate her sense of time. She figured it was probably a byproduct of the warped dimensions of the building, but she liked to believe it was specifically designed to annoy her.

“Number 2631.” A voice called out from one of the hallways.

Hopper got up and walked in a straight line until she reached the registers. An elderly woman from behind a glass wall turned towards her with an apathetic look on her face.

“Please step forward.”

Hopper took a few steps and got her documents ready.

“Vigilante ID.”

Hopper handed her a small, white card. The woman adjusted her horned glasses.

“Your ID hasn’t expired yet, but you should check up on it soon.”

Hopper didn’t answer. The woman returned her card, and took a pen and a blue sheet of paper.

“Name?”

“Alison Holler.”

“Alias?”

“Hopper.”

“Vigilante occupation?”

“Solo vigilante.”

“Civilian occupation?”

“None.”

“Area of occupation?”

“Zone D, subdivision 20-24.”

“Small timer?”

Hopper didn’t answer. She adjusted her documents.

“Please sign the bottom line.”

The woman pushed the paper through the hole with a pen. Hopper signed.

“Please provide all reports of fought crime from the begging of the month.”

Hopper slid her reports. They contained information such as date, time, area, criminal information, reasons for suspicion, additional assistance and other details.

“Please wait a moment to scan and fax these.”

The woman made a few clicks on her computer, stood up with the documents in hand, and shuffled over to her scanner. She stacked the papers in a pile and took out the first one, sliding it into the outdated machine. A slow moving light emerged from under the press. The woman was actually a widely

known homo superioris amongst the vigilantes. Her power was to generate magnetic fields around her that could impede digital devices. She could supposedly manipulate the intensity and area of the field, but even at minimum output, it was always active. Some believed that was a reason why most of the work was done as slow, besides the outdated technology in use. Most questioned the reasoning of hiring a person who’s very being impeded their job. Humanitarians would answer that everyone deserves job and her inherent inadequacy shouldn’t be an issue. Hopper would answer that she was there to spite her.

Thirty minutes of scanning and faxing later, the woman took her seat and turned towards a spiritually exhausted Hopper.

“Do you have floppy disk copies of your reports?”

“Yes.”

Hopper pushed a bag of floppies through the whole. The woman took the bag and placed it beside her. She opened a safe, counted through four hundred dollars, placed them in an envelope and handed them. Hopper took the envelope and stuck it in the inner pocket of her jacket. Before she turned to walk away, she spoke up again.

“Where should I go to pay fines?”

The woman slowly lifted her gaze. She took her pen and a sticky note. She scribbled something down and passed it through the hole. Hopper took the note. It was a well detailed and intricate map from here to where she needed to go,

complete with instructions. The bureaucrat’s second power was to fit extremely detailed information into a minimum amount of space.

The payment took about two minutes as a whole, which was surprising in itself considering the giant centipede which stood behind the desk. It couldn’t really talk and made a gurgling sound whenever it spoke, but it could understand Hopper and it gave her a cue card whenever it said something.

Hopper walked out of the building, wasting the better part of her day. Outside it started pouring. She sighed, opened up her backpack and took out a raincoat. She strode through the puddles. It was an awful day. Giving a quarter of your earnings because of a mistake was quite the sting to the ego. Especially painful was the fact that this was her first real hit. A serious crime. The only thing she had encountered before were petty thefts and an illegal vigilante, or rogue. There wasn’t really a fight. He complied and followed her to the police station. He was sentenced to a few months of community service, because of his clean record. It was sad really. The closest thing to a rogue she has come to was a man trying to do something good, but not having the papers for it. In reality rogues weren’t really uncommon, but they were still uncommon enough. Most knew how to hide their tracks or joined organizations. You wouldn’t

really find a rogue soloing like you would a vigilante. Although even solo vigilantes were becoming a rare breed.

Hopper was actually trying to get into a vigilante organization, The Justice Brigade. A low tier group, that didn’t offer all that much, but it did offer a fixed salary and someone to do all the paperwork, which was good enough for her. She did try applying for it, but was turned down three times. They deemed her too inexperienced. And now with the fines, chances were looking even slimmer.

It was strange really. When she first started, she had high hopes. She envisioned herself busting down crime rings, being adored by the public and becoming a member of the high tier groups. Now, the only thing on her mind was how to get through the month and how to dry her shoes before her night patrol.

“Excuse me, ma’am. Could I ask you a quick question?”

The voice came from behind her. Could someone be asking a woman for directions in the middle of a downpour? Hopper turned, fists raised. After seeing who it was, she lowered them, maintaining a frown.

“What do you want Solaris?”

Solaris pretended to blush.

“Oh, I’m flattered that you know me ma’am. I wanted to ask you, if you are interested in a business proposition on top of that building?”

Solaris pointed towards a nearby building, four stories high. Hopper crossed her hands.

“Can’t you ask me now?”

“No, ma’am”. Solaris shook his head. “Utmost secrecy must be kept.”

Hopper looked around. They were the only ones on the street. She pinched the bridge of her nose, gently massaging it.

“Is this really necessary?”

Solaris smirked.

“Of course, ma’am.”

Hopper groaned and Solaris, pleased with himself, flew towards the rooftop. The girl went towards the alleyway of the building and took her rabbit mask out of her bag. It was a difficult job, but she put the mask on without lowering the hood of her raincoat. After cracking her knuckles and doing a bit of stretches she jumped and grabbed on to the wall by the bricks. Unfortunately, it was too slippery and she fell on her back side. She got up and jumped onto the fire-escape.

At the top Solaris was waiting for her, smug as ever.

“Was there any reason not to do this on the street?”

“You know the rules. What if someone had seen us and deduced our identities?”

“I walked out of the bureau without a mask on, I think we would have been fine.”

“Hmm…we can discuss your bad work ethics later,” Solaris answered, with a joking tone. “I have a job to do.”

“There was no one down there…” Hopper scoffed under her nose, but the young man didn’t pay her any attention.

“Now, Hopper, what do you know of the Gun Kata Death Cult?”

“Umm…they were small time criminals, right? Mixing kung fu and gunplay?”

“Correct. A small, criminal organization, mostly composited by homo superioris who have the potential of learning such a martial art. Very good.”

If she were anyone else, she would have thought that the last remark was meant to mock her. But she knew better and assumed the entire conversation had that goal.

“Now, last night, after our little meeting in the warehouse, I went on my nightly patrol. All was fine, until I heard gunfire coming from an abandoned building. When I got there, I found ten cult members dead. They were all sliced up and there was no sign of the killer.”

Hopper didn’t visibly react to the news, but the idea of ten gunwielding black belts being slaughtered without a trace spooked her a bit.

“As you’d guess, I went out searching for clues. I couldn’t find anything, except for witness. A young girl, around six years old. Do you know what she told me?”

Hopper remained silent. She didn’t like where this was going.

“She told me that she saw a bunny running on the rooftops with knives on ropes.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Come again?”

“A bunny with knives on ropes.”

Hopper didn’t know how to react. She was stunned.

“A-are you saying that I killed them?”

Solaris let out a chuckle, followed by a hearty laugh

“Oh, dear, no. You wouldn’t hurt a fly. Sure you have a few smudges on your record, but nothing that would make me think you were the culprit.”

“Then what?”

Solaris smiled.

“Don’t you see? You have a nemesis!”

“A nemesis?”

“That’s right!”

The man was visibly more excited than his companion. Even more so than would be considered normal.

“To be completely frank here, I am a bit jealous. You’ve barely been a year on the job and here you are. Copy cat rogues running around, inspired by your image. I know it’s not professional of me, but I must congratulate you. No matter how macabre the occasion is.”

Hopper didn’t really feel like being congratulated. Although the information was shocking and the story

surrounding it was morbid, she didn’t really feel anything special about it. Mostly because it was coming from him.

“So? What am I to do?”

Solaris’ cheerful expression was replaced with one of confusion.

“Why, you are supposed to catch your nemesis, of course.”

“It doesn’t really seem like an option. The rogue is in your territory.”

The man grabbed his chin.

“True…but I could sign you up as an assistant on the case. On paper, I’ll be leading the pursuit, but the word on the street would be that you caught the rogue on your own. After the job is done, I’ll even give you my part of the commission.”

“I don’t buy it. Why should I do this? Considering last night…”

“Now, now” Solaris raised a finger. “Last night you were in breach of the law. It was my duty to do what I did. Now, I’m offering you a chance. If a vigilante doesn’t catch their own nemesis, it’s looked down upon by the community. It could give you points next time you apply for the justice brigade”

Hopper looked at her feet. She did need the money. And more experience to put on her resume. Not to mention the rep. She looked at Solaris.

“You promise you won’t pull any stunts like you did last night?”

Solaris shook his head.

“No. As I said, I was only doing my job. You can’t fault me for your mistakes, can you?”

Hopper sighed. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say he was acting stupid. She knew better and she would say that he was trying to spite her.

It was around midnight. Hopper was crouching on the side of a building, surveilling the neighboring one – a decrepit, uninhabitable, five story building, paint torn off, revealing the brickwork. According to Solaris, the guns from the deal Hopper had stopped the other day were going to go to the cult. They would gather here to discuss where to buy their next shipment, so there was a chance the killer might strike again. When she asked him how he knew, he replied that he asked for the police report on the thugs. One of them squealed and shared everything he knew, including the most recent gathering site of the cult. That made Hopper feel very unprofessional. The only reason she knew of the deal was because the overheard two of the criminals talking about it in broad daylight. She wasn’t really a detective. She just wanted to do the right thing. At least, that’s what she used to want. Nowadays all she wanted was to pay her rent without much fuss. She admitted to herself that she might be way over her head. Gangs, murders. When she shared her concerns with Solaris before splitting up, he just said that she’d do fine.

Hopper had to wait about half an hour before a van stopped in front of the building. Three men exited the van and went inside. Her grip tightened. She would wait it out. If she heard something she would jump through one of the windows and subdue the killer. Solaris told her that he would fly by every ten minutes or so during his patrol to see if she needed any help. Everything was going to be alright. If she became part of The Justice Brigade, this would be standard procedure.

By now the men should have been on the top floor. So far nothing unusual. Then she heard gunshots. About four. And then there was silence. So quick? These were supposed to be marksmen. Hopper stood up, ran back and jumped through a window, glass flying in her wake.

She was greeted by a horrid scene. Two of the gang members lied on the ground in pools of blood, covered in lacerations. Hopper froze up. She looked around. At the other side of the room stood a figure, looking back at her. The figure was female. She held the last gang member by the collar of his shirt, other hand raised, holding a straight razor, which in turn was connected to a chain. She wore scruffy, oversized clothes, a rabbit’s head hastily drawn on her shirt with acrylic, her face was hidden behind a brown, cardboard mask, crudely cut to resemble a rabbit. Half of the left ear was snipped off. In place of a right eye, there was a big, blue X and for the left – a red swirl. A cartoonish snout grinned beneath them in red. The features were drawn on with crayons.

Her hair, a dark shade of yellow, was unkempt and glistened in the pale light from outside. Her knuckles were visibly deformed and her arms were covered in cuts and scars up to her elbows. Although the killer was a fair distance away from Hopper, she could swear that she smelled vinegar from her direction.

Hopper tried to regain her senses. It didn’t help that the rogue didn’t move the entire time. She just stared at the heroine.

“This is a vigilante arrest. I suggest you surrender now and…” Hopper was cut short when the killer sliced the throat of the last cultist. She threw the body on the ground and started walking towards Hopper.

It happened so suddenly. The crime-fighter didn’t know how to react. It was her first time seeing something so gruesome.

By the time Hopper came to her senses, the rogue was right in front of her. She assumed a fighting stance, but the killer just walked by her, towards the window. The heroine turned. Her nemesis was about to run away. Without even considering the thought of a fight. She didn’t want to admit it, but it made her angry. She threw her hand towards her new nemesis, the blades wrapping themselves around one of her arms. Hopper pulled on the strings, trying to take down her target, but she barely flinched. Instead, her nemesis wrapped the strings even tighter and flung her across the room.

When Hopper hit the floor, she felt a sharp pain. Her shoulder was dislocated. Before she could lift her head, her foe was already in front of her. She kicked her in the face, breaking her nose. The heroine slammed into the wall. Her opponent picked her up by the collar, staring into her for a second, after which she threw her through a nearby window.

With risk of going into shock, Hopper slowed down time, not seeing another alternative. The still falling shards of glass above her almost froze completely. With that, the pain in her shoulder and nose intensified. Hopper scanned the area above her, noticing a curtain rail on the inside of the window. She sped up time, throwing the blades towards it. The strings wrapped themselves around the rail and her body hit the side of the building. Hopper looked up. On the window stood her opponent. She flicked her razor and cut through one of the strings. Hopper’s eyes widened. If she used her power again, there was a high chance of her blacking out. The second and third strings were cut at once. She was about to cut the final string, when she stopped at the last second, flicked the razor closed and disappeared inside.

The heroine took a deep breath. She was about to start planning how to get down, when she noticed that she was slowly descending. Her nemesis had barely sliced the final string, leaving it to break on its own. There wasn’t much time to act. Hopper summoned all her strength and lunged herself up the string, desperately attempting to climb with her one

functioning arm. With every try, the string thinned out more and more. On the fourth lunge, the string broke, but she caught the window frame. She pulled herself up. The room was empty, save for the two bodies.

Hopper got up, her left arm hanging lifelessly. She grabbed it and walked towards a wall. Only partially aware of how to proceed, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath and slammed her shoulder in the wall. It popped into place, signaled by her scream. She fell on the ground, breathing heavily. The heroine took off and opened her backpack, taking out a bottle of water, a few rolls of string and a small box of razor blades. She lifted up the edge of her mask to drink, then tied a new batch of blades to her fingers.

She was getting ready to leave when six men, all dressed in black, broke through the door. Too exhausted to speak, she raised a hand towards them, in a plea for them to wait. They wouldn’t have it.

“We are the Gun Kata Death Cult elite strike squad! For sins against our clan we sentence you to death!”

In a heartbeat, they were all armed with two pistols each. Hopper forgot to breathe. She spread the blades in front of her and slowed down time. They fired. The hail of bullets was intercepted by the flurry of razors. After every shot, the cultist changed the angle of fire. What Hopper couldn’t slice, she dodged, albeit by a hair. After the first round ended, she

fell to her knees. In a split second they had already reloaded and took aim.

“Admirable resilience, but this is the end.”

The girl closed her eyes and hoped for a miracle. Just then, through a window from behind the heroine, a blinding light appeared. The next thing she knew, all six of the cultists were on the floor, shielding their eyes. Hopper turned around. By the window hovered Solaris, arms crossed.

“Tisk, tisk, tisk.”

He was looking at Hopper, typical smirk on his face. She had the feeling he was trying to spite her.

Somehow, it didn’t surprise Hopper that Solaris had an office. It was modern, yet typical. The midday sun barely shone through the half-closed blinds. The grey walls, which were most likely originally painted white, did not have any decorations, except for a clock above Solaris and a motivational poster with a kitten hanging from a rope and the words “hang in there” written beneath. Hopper sat on a rather uncomfortable chair in front of a desk. Sheets of paper were neatly stacked in columns, resting in one corner, with three pens arranged just under them. Right next to the outdated monitor was a bowl of candy, most likely to make Solaris seem more approachable. By the look of it, the candy was some knock-off cough drop brand, half melted in the packets. Solaris sat in a presidential chair, elbows on the desk, the

tips of his fingers touching, waiting for his computer to boot. The faint ambience of the computer fan filled the room, the clock giving it rhythm. Both vigilantes stared at each other. Hopper gripped her seat with discomfort, the chair squeaking a bit.

From time to time Solaris would tap his fingers. He was unphased by the silence or the tension it brought. He would shift his eyes towards the monitor every now and then, checking if the computer hadn’t frozen up. Hopper couldn’t take it. She closed her eyes and sped up time, enough so when she resumed as normal, the computer had just loaded. Solaris was aware of what his colleague had done, finding it completely distasteful and a tad bit insulting. Still, he was not one to judge. He turned towards the monitor, opening the rogue database files. He put his hands on the keyboard.

“Rogue’s alias?”

“Excuse me?”

Hopper wiped a string of drool hanging from the edge of her mouth. A side effect of speeding up time was entering docile, almost vegetable-like state.

Solaris calmly repeated:

“The rogue’s alias.”

“Oh...um, she didn’t have one.”

Solaris stared at the screen. He started typing.

“Doppelganger. Works just as well. Real name…blank. Appearance?”

“She was a bit taller than me, but hunched over. Deformed knuckles. Cuts on the arms. Red shirt, black pants. Rabbit mask. Oily, blonde hair…”

Solaris stopped typing. He shifted his eyes towards the heroine.

“You said she wore a mask.”

“Oh, it was a cardboard cutout”

“Ah! Alright”

Solaris continued typing.

“Any powers?”

“Strength and probably super speed. Those were all I saw.”

“Alright. Weapons?”

“She had a straight razor on a chain.”

Solaris giggled underneath his nose. Hopper didn’t find it funny. He turned to his colleague. He continued typing for about a minute more and turned.

“I’ll finish up the work later. Now, how do we stop this…“

He looked at the screen.

“…Doppelganger?”

Hopper shrank in her seat, away from his enthusiasm. How would they stop her? How would she stop her? Hopper spoke up.

“How did she…how did she decide to take up my image?”

Solaris scratched the back of his neck.

“Who’s to say? You aren’t a popular vigilante. She probably saw you one night at the edge of my territory.”

“What about the Gun Kata grudge?”

“Either something personal or a warped sense of justice. It’s not my job to know. My job is to fill in paperwork and

capture criminals. So? How are we going to capture this criminal?”

Both vigilantes trailed deep in thought. If she had super speed, she would need to stay on the ground to use it. Hopper figured it was a good start for a plan.

“By…keeping her off the ground?”

Solaris scratched his chin. Hopper continued.

“If we…I keep her somehow off the ground, she wouldn’t be able to use her powers all that much.”

“Yes…I see your point. How do you plan on doing that?”

“Maybe…find out where she would strike next, booby trap the area, use sneak attacks and…”

Solaris raised his hand.

“I like your enthusiasm, I really do, but how would you find that out?”

“She has a thing for the Gun Kata Death Cult. So maybe we can do it like night?”

“I’m afraid we can’t. The boys you helped me catch last night. They all talked. Gave away everything – leaders, hideouts, subordinates. The Cult is dead. Congratulations on the bust by the way. More points for your resume for the Justice Brigade.”

Hopper sighed. The good news didn’t do much to lift her spirits.

“So…there aren’t any active members or gathering sights?”

“I’m afraid not…sorry.”

“Does she know?”

A smirk started sneak it’s way on Solaris’ face. He turned towards his computer and started typing away.

“The Cult was going to hold a meeting in a week. The entire gang was going to be there. Do you think our girl would have gone?”

“For sure.”

“Right. So the meeting was going to be held in the industrial area, near the harbor. The abandoned factory.”

Solaris stretched out on his chair.

“Well. That just about does it. Go home, fill in your reports, make a plan and catch yourself a nemesis!”

He was about to get up, when Hopper interrupted him.

“Wait!”

He turned, startled.

“Do you think…do you think I am ready for this?”

He didn’t give it a moment’s thought.

“Sure you are.”

“I’m serious. Last night….last night was a disaster. I’m not sure if I’m up for the task.”

He sat back down.

“No one is really forcing you. You can just quit the job and I’ll have to catch the killer. Of course that would be a red mark for you, but I’m sure you could manage”

The heroine slumped on her chair.

“I haven’t faced such a serious threat before. I know the right thing to do is face her. That’s what heroes are supposed to do, but…”

Solaris cut her off.

“Listen. Hopper. I know you are scared, but you have to understand. We don’t do this because it’s the right thing. We do it because it’s our job.”

Solaris stood up and went for the door.

“You are still young, you’ll grow out of your idealism soon.”

Hopper took a deep breath. She didn’t know why she thought Solaris was going to reassure her. He was probably trying to spite her again. She took a piece of candy from the bowl, unwrapping it and unsticking it as much as she could from the melted syrup. Finally she gave up and put the candy in her mouth, intending to spit out the wrapper parts later.

The meeting of the cult was supposed to take place at midnight. Hopper was crouching on the roof of building nearest to the factory, surveilling all possible entry points – the employee entry, the main gate for shipments, and most of the windows. The shipment gate, wasn’t a good entry point by any means and she stood on the only side where entering through the windows was a viable option. For the past week she had tried to think of a plan to contain her nemesis. All the windows were lined with her strings, creating a net for

Doppelganger if she tried going through them, and the door was booby trapped – when it was opened, a lead pipe, around shin-high, would spring out from the side, contusing her foe, after which a net would shoot out, capturing her. In retrospect, the plans seemed kind of silly and Doppelganger had proven herself capable of cutting through Hopper’s strings, but Hopper was sure that by the time her nemesis could react, she would jump in and incapacitate her. She had come five hours earlier to install her traps, and make sure that the Doppelganger wasn’t around, and sat on the building for the other three. She just hoped everything would go quickly and without any hindrances.

Hopper waited silently, reviewing all possibilities in her head, the hairs of her neck quickly turned around, instinctively activating her powers in the process, slowing down time. In front of her stood Doppelganger, unmoving and staring at Hopper. She held two straight razors, four more on the ground beside her, their chains leading from the handles to her back. Two ropes adorned each shoulder, a new addition to her look, apparently emerging from the same bag. Hopper assumed a fighting stance, but Doppelganger didn’t react. She probably wouldn’t attack unprovoked, so the heroine decided to reason with her, not lowering her stance.

“Listen! The Gun Kata Death Cult has been dissolved! There is no reason to fight! Please, turn yourself in peacefully and we can avoid any violence.”

Hopper hoped that would work, more for herself than for her foe. But Doppelganger didn’t react in any way. That unnerved her. It wasn’t normal. Then again, lately nothing was. Hopper decided to close the distance between them.

“Do you understand me? Should I take your lack of reaction as understanding?”

There was no response. Doppelganger adjusted her grip on the razors. Hopper prepared for an attack. None came. She came even closer.

“Lay down your weapons and I can turn you in. None resistance will be a benefit to you in the long run.”

Again, no response. She was either trying to bait Hopper in, or she was still processing this. Hopper believed the latter. The heroine, not letting her guard down, slowly reached towards the side of her backpack. She undid a pocket and produced a pair of handcuffs from it.

“I am going to put these on you. Do you understand?”

There was no response. Hopper moved in even closer. She was face to face with the killer. Hopper slowly moved the cuff towards Doppelganger’s arm. She didn’t break eye contact. The second the metal touched Doppelganger’s skin, she reacted. Before Hopper could do anything about it, her foe had slashed her across the face. Hopper jumped back. There was no real damage, apart from a tear in the mask. As soon as she had landed, her nemesis was already in front of her. A flurry of punches assaulted the heroine, not giving her any time to

react. Even with her power, Doppelganger moved too quickly for her to defend herself.

After a power punch to her face, Doppelganger had broken through Hopper’s guard, delivering a kick to her chest. It was powerful enough to throw Hopper off the roof. Before she even realized what had happened, she felt a cold, tightening sensation around her wrist and her trajectory had changed. The nemesis had caught her with her chains and reeled her back in, with the intent of continuing her barrage. Hopper boosted her power. Her movement gradually slowed down, with the pain in her chest and face increasing. Just before it became too much to bear, Hopper assessed the situation as much as she could, and adjusted herself accordingly. She sped up time and landed a double kick to her foe’s chest, pushing herself back and weakening the grip on the chains enough for her to escape.

The moment she landed, she turned around and dashed towards the factory. She felt a razor slightly scraping her calf. She unleashed her blades and upon impact with the window and sliced through the wire trap. Unfortunately, she overshot the walkway. She slowed down time and spun around, throwing her blades at the chain and hook dangling from the ceiling. The strings wrapped themselves tightly around the hook and she swung herself onto one of the many machines that were either too outdated or unmovable to be sold when the factory closed down. She jumped off the machine and landed safely on the ground.

The factory had been used to produce train cars back in the day. This room in particular was the assembly line. Rusted sheets were stacked around the room, with a few half completed cars positioned in front of the main gate. Hopper heard a sound behind her and didn’t have much time to react. She boosted her power. Her perception of time became even slower, so much so that even turning her had seemed like a ten minute task.

The pain from her chest was rapidly spreading across her body. She knew that she couldn’t last long like this, but she didn’t have much of a choice. When she turned around she saw Doppelganger running towards her, at almost a normal walking speed. There was not much else to do and she decided to enact her final plan. She ducked and extended one of her legs out, slowly turning. Apparently, Doppelganger didn’t have any different form of perception than an average person would, so she didn’t see Hopper’s plan in motion. Just before both of their legs collided Hopper sped up time beyond her normal perception for just a second. There was no pain from the impact. She immediately slowed down time and turned towards her opponent’s flying body, wrapping her legs with her strings and trying to spin her around. Doppelganger sliced the strings off and before she could change her flight path, hit the wall headfirst. She dropped to the ground with a thud. There was no movement.

Hopper clasped her mouth. The thought of her killing someone had never occurred to her. And now here it was. She started breathing heavily. This wasn’t her fault. It was an accident. It was her nemesis’ fault. She wasn’t to blame. She kept repeating these words to herself over and over.

A whistle of surprise filled the room. Solaris flew in through one of the broken windows, holding a small grocery bag.

“Wow, bunny. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Solaris! It’s not what you think! She did it to herself! She cut my strings and she flew off and it wasn’t my fault and and…”

Her voice started to break as she rambled on. Solaris didn’t pay her any attention. She walked towards the body of Doppelganger and put his finger on her neck.

“She’s alive.”

A wave of relief engulfed Hopper’s body. She fell on her knees.

“Congratulations! You caught your nemesis!”

Hopper chuckled under her breath.

“Yeah…I guess I did.”

“This calls for a celebration!”

Solaris took out a box of chocolates from the bag.

Hopper looked at him, smiling beneath her mask.

“Wait. You knew I was going to capture her, didn’t you?”

Solaris shrugged. He took out his phone, clicking the vigilante app.

“As I said, I am a fan. And I was quite certain of your abilities. Tripping her was a bit unsporting, but I suppose all is fair.”

Hopper collapsed on the ground, arms stretched apart.

“I really did it, didn’t I? I’m gonna be in the justice brigade…”

Solaris popped a chocolate in his mouth.

“Now, now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You earned points to get into the brigade. There’s still more to do.”

“Yeah…”

It didn’t bother her. There was nothing stopping her now. She was at the top of the world.

“Oh, before I forget.”

Solaris took out a stack of papers from the grocery bag and handed them to Hopper.

“What’s this?”

“Documentation. Papers allowing you to work in my territory, papers dismissing you from my territory, my reports of the crimes, an agreement, signed by a notary, allowing you to give in these documents on my behalf and receive my payment for it. You just need to fill some information of your person on the places I left blank and you should fill out your paperwork.”

He popped another chocolate in his mouth.

“You know, if I didn’t know you any better, I’d say you were trying to spite me.”

He scoffed. She laughed and extended her hands towards the box of chocolates.

“Please step forward.”

Hopper did as she was told.

“Are you Alison Holler, alias Hopper, solo vigilante with an area of occupation Zone D, subdivision 20-24?”

“I am.”

“Are you aware that you have been operating with an expired vigilante license, effectively deeming you a rogue and therefore a criminal?”

“I was informed this afternoon by the clerks at the bureau.”

The judge looked at her. At least she thought he was looking at her, considering where his glasses pointed towards. Besides his wig, his entire face was covered in darkness, more liquid like than visual.

“You were handing over the files on a case you worked on, is that correct?”

“It is.”

“The clerks informed you of the situation and when you left the building you were confronted by the police?”

“I was.”

“Miss Holler, operating as a rogue is a serious offense, which demands severe punishment.”

The judge adjusted his glasses. Hopper swallowed.

“However, a certain vigilante did vouch for you and managed to convince me that extreme measures needn’t be taken.”

The judge lifted up a sheet of paper.

“On the other hand, you have received four fines this month alone. From what I can see, you have difficulties understanding the system, and you have been having them ever since you began your job. Some action must be taken, Miss Holler. I sentence you to two months of prison and twenty thousand hours of community service. ”

“But I…”

The judge slammed his gavel. An officer grabbed her by the wrist and escorted her out.

She sat in her prison cell – a small space with one bed and a toilet. On the walls were etched the days former prisoners had spent here. Solaris promised to visit her tomorrow. She took a deep breath, and barely stopped herself from coughing. There was mold growing in the corners. She closed her eyes and sped up time.

#capepunk #cape punk #heroes #villains #absurd #short story

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