#Hosea is a size shifter AU

[manicmarsupial]

Hasi

I don't know what my brain was doing when I ended up having this weird dream. This was my attempt at making sense of it.

Though honestly, giant outlaws is my jam

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I can’t believe it. It’s been years since I’ve seen Leo. To the best of my understanding, he has been with a gang on the run. It made it hard to keep in contact with him, and by sheer coincidence, he’s here.

Should I play a trick on him? I’m going to do it. Who knows when I’d get another chance?

Leo is currently talking to another man in low tones, who after a while of talking, leaves Leo alone. I smile as I sneak up behind him. I wrap my arm around his neck and poke him in the back with my fingers.

“Your money, or your life, Leo?” I mock an outlaw accent.

Leo was initially terrified, but relaxes when he recognizes my use of his nickname.

“Zhe factory opens at five,” he replies using the usual joke.

I suddenly feel dizzy and cold. I slide my hands off Leo to steady myself.

“Hasi?” I hear Leo’s concerned shout.

“Focus, keep breathing.”

I put my hands on my knees and look at the ground, closing my eyes and control my breathing.

Once calm enough, I open my eyes. I’m confronted by a startling sight. Fight or flight kicks in and I run, ducking and weaving, ignoring the loud sounds behind me. I dive into a small gap and stop to catch my breath.

This is impossible. The ground shakes beneath me as cart sized boots approach my hiding space. A loud rumbling causes some debris to fall. It can’t be. Though deeper and louder, it’s definitely Leo’s voice. It sounds like he’s arguing with the other man he was with.

I back away as I see him begin to kneel down but there’s nowhere for me to go as his colossal face appears in the entryway. It’s certainly Leo, albeit older. The same blue eyes behind his small rounded spectacles, slightly protruding ears, and familiar smile.

“It’s just me, Hasi. You haven’t forgotten your old friend Leopold, have you?” he gives a small smile.

I slowly creep forward as he leans back to give me a bit of space. I stay at the edge, ready to run back if I have to. It takes a lot of restraint to not instantly run away now that Leopold is a giant, compared to me anyway. His head is higher than a church steeple, even when he’s kneeling down.

“What happened?” I stammer.

“Vell...Herr Matthews zhere had something to do vit it,” Leopold gestures to the other man who, while standing up is the tallest thing I’ve ever seen.

I start backing up.

“Come on Hasi,” Leopold says placing his hand down in front of me.

My gaze flits between Leopold, his hand, and the other man. I’ve known Leopold for many years and he’d never deliberately hurt me. I climb onto his hand, which still has ink stains and slightly calloused fingers from a lifetime of writing. I settle into his palm as he curls his fingers and uses his other hand as a protective wall. I hold his thumb as he stands up, the force of the wind almost pushing me down.

“Aside from startled, you alright?” Leopold asks.

I feel one of his fingers gently stroke my spine. I can’t get the words out, but I nod. The other man, Matthews, appears from behind Leopold’s shoulder. He’s not as scary now I’m higher up.

“Sorry ‘bout shrinking you. Thought you were actually a thief,” he apologizes.

“Hasi is too good of a soul for zhat,” I’m rocked as Leopold holds me against his chest protectively.

“I’d hate to interrupt your reunion, but the law will be here soon,” Matthews says.

“Ve can’t leave Hasi alone like zhis.”

“Then take her with us.”

Leopold thinks for a few seconds then opens his jacket, placing me in the inside pocket as gently as he can.

“Ich habe dich vermisst,” he mutters

“Ich habe dich auch vermisst,” I reply.

Despite the unusual situation, I’m glad to see my old friend.

[manicmarsupial]

So Close

Another piece of the size-shifter Hosea AU I'm working on with a friend.

Agent Andrew Milton closes in on the Van Der Linde gang.

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Agent Milton was having a good day. He was getting closer to eliminating the Van Der Linde gang. Although he felt it was too lenient of him to offer Morgan his freedom if he turned in Van Der Linde. To be honest with himself, he would have ordered Ross to shoot Morgan had there not been a child going fishing with the notorious gunman. He would have concocted a story about a fight and Morgan was shot in self defense. Both he and Ross would be rewarded. He could honestly say he kept his promise that the outlaw ‘won’t swing’. That plan went cock-eyed as Morgan was unwavering in his loyalty, a fact Milton both admired and cursed. If Morgan hadn’t been so protective of the little child, Milton would have rescued the poor boy from a life on the run.

Milton’s informant within the gang wrote to tell him the next camp spot was in Dewberry Creek, or so they were trying to convince the leader. Not particularly fond of staying outdoors himself, but an easily flooded creekbed in the open seemed rather stupid. If Van Der Linde were to actually consider it, Milton would seriously doubt the man’s intelligence.

Fortunately, Milton decided to take a look at the place himself. Luckily he did, as it was empty. Another letter received from his informant told him Morgan and some other deluded soul by the name of Charles Smith had found another place nearby called Clemens Point.

In hindsight, it wasn’t the best idea to have a bloodthirsty idiot like Micah Bell as an informant. While he had managed to convince Der Linde to rob the ferry, he’d also massacred most of Strawberry just for his guns. Milton wondered if he should have tried to utilize one of the ladies of the night instead. They were just whores after all. Playthings to please the degenerates. He could get them out of that life. The more he thought about it, the more he mentally kicked himself for not coming up with that idea sooner. But what’s done is done.

Admittedly, there was a time Milton would have gotten as many agents as he could and stormed the campsite, but he was no longer young and stupid. He had a family. If he did a reckless assault, he’d lose his job and his family would have no income. Walking straight into the lion’s den was only risking his and Ross’ own lives. If the savages opened fire, he’d die with honor. He would get a posthumous award and the agency would provide for his family. That was the worst case scenario. Either outcome he was surely to go down in history for breaking up a notorious gang without bloodshed.

Once again, loyalty screwed him over. He tried to persuade Van Der Linde to come quietly, even giving the rest of the gang three whole days to split up and vanish. Van Der Linde was willing, but Milton and Ross found themselves staring down the barrels of a dozen guns. Admittedly, Milton blew his top. He’d been more than generous with his offer of freedom in exchange for Van Der Linde, but these degenerates refused him. Next time, he wasn’t going to be so forgiving.

The disappearance of Bronte was the least of Milton’s concern, though there were more Pinkertons in Saint Denis now. More importantly, the Van Der Linde gang was going to rob the bank. The actual city bank. Bell had told him it was going ahead. The old man was going to create a diversion, and while the local law was distracted, Dutch’s boys were going to rob the bank. As Milton wrote back to Bell, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t contemplate not sending the letter telling Bell to wear something that stood out so his men didn’t shoot him. Bell replied simply: “white suit.”

Luck was on the agent’s side. He’s seen the old man pass by. Although it went against every fibre of his being to let the dynamite explode, it was imperative he leave it alone otherwise all his effort would be for naught. At least the old man was considerate enough to set it off in an unpopulated area.

As Milton sees the old man undoubtedly making an escape, the agent emerges from the darkness of an alley, resisting a chuckle at the theatrical side of it.

“Well, as I live and breathe, Hosea Matthews, conman and the co-founder of the Van Der Linde gang,” he drawls, mocking a hick accent.

“Andrew Milton...I’d say it’s a pleasure, but I’d be lying,” Matthews replies with fake sincerity.

If Milton has to resort to shooting this man, he would almost feel bad about it. Shame such a talent was wasted with degenerates.

Whatever way this plan went, either Matthews would be dead or Van Der Linde soon would be. Without the leader, the gang would fall. If Matthews dies, Van Der Linde would be so overcome with grief that he’ll destroy the gang himself. It was too perfect.

Milton’s brought back to reality by a chuckle that’s not his own. Matthews shouldn’t be laughing, especially when a gun is trained on his back.

“What’s so funny?” the agent demands.

“You really have cotton wool between your ears, Moron,” the conman laughs, the sound slowly getting deeper.

At first Milton dismissed it as a trick of the light, but it wasn’t. With every step, Matthews was growing taller. Milton hurries to fire his pistol, only for Matthews to whirl around, clamping a serving tray-sized hand around the agent’s own. The now rapidly growing hand clenches tighter. Milton restrains a scream of pain as he feels his fingers contort and crack around the gun. He’s yanked up into the air, pain coursing through his arm.

“Who told you about us?” Matthews thunders.

The impressive buildings of Saint Denis barely reach the giant’s waist.

“If I tell you, will you let me go?” Milton pleads.

“I won’t kill you. Deal?” Matthews smirks.

Knowing that’s all he’ll get, Milton agrees.

“Micah Bell. Since Blackwater. Set up the ferry job to catch Van Der Linde. Promised I’d keep the bounty hunters off his back ‘til Van Der Linde was caught. Give him a blank slate in return,” out of sheer panic, Milton can’t form complete sentences.

Matthews scoffs; the gust is almost gale force for Milton.

“I knew that bastard couldn’t be trusted.”

“Are you going to let me go now?” Milton stammers.

“We had a deal.”

Matthews rolls his eyes.

“I said I wouldn’t kill you. I’m holding up my end of the deal.”

Dark fabric walls ascend above the agent as Matthews releases Milton’s crushed hand, dropping him into a pocket. He counts what’s left of his blessings that he landed softly as the darkness suffocates him.

“Now you stay right there, Andrew,” Matthews laughs, patting his pocket with his enormous hand, slamming Milton against the giant’s body.

He feels sick, both from the pain of his smashed hand and the sudden rocking motion. Matthews’ footsteps thunder along the streets of Saint Denis, no doubt causing property damage.

“Ah, Miss Roberts. Would you like a lift?” Matthews booms, presumably asking one of the trugs.

Milton feels the downward motion as Matthews crouches down, causing the agent to roll forward in the pocket. He tumbles back as Matthews stands.

Milton can hear the muffled faint screams, recognizing Henry McDavy’s scottish brogue yell “I resign my commission!” The screams get slightly louder, followed by a shattering crash. Milton jumps as there’s a loud bang like a boulder falling. He hears more screams as the pocket tilts.

“I’ve caught our rat,” the calm tone of the thundering voice chills Milton to the core.

“How’d you know?” Dutch’s voice sounds far away.

Milton is almost blinded as light streams in, only for the shadow of Matthews’ colossal hand to intrude. He shuffles back to avoid the reaching tree trunk sized fingers, to no avail as he’s grabbed around the waist. His struggles are futile against the immensely strong fingers. He glances around, catching sight of Bell in Matthews’ other hand, wrapped in a fist.

“You didn’t mention Matthews was a giant, Mr Bell!” Milton shouts.

“He’s lying,” Bell snarls.

Unheeding of the argument, Matthews drops both back into his jacket pocket.

“Time to go,” Matthews’ voice rumbles above like thunder.

Milton glares across at Bell, the throbbing pain of his damaged hand nothing compared to the anger he felt toward the hot-tempered outlaw.

“You didn’t think vital information like this would have been crucial to my investigation?” Milton snaps,

“I didn’t know,” Bell snippily replies.

“He’s not exactly invisible like that,” Milton retorts.

There’s a jarring motion as Matthews starts walking. Milton uses the momentum to punch Bell with his good hand. Bell predictably fights back dirty, but Milton has experience. The two continue fighting while being rocked about.

Bell had bitten Milton on the arm several times and nearly chomped his ear off. Milton retaliated by breaking Bell’s nose and knocking out some of the outlaw’s teeth. The agent staggers as a cool sensation and a feel of vertigo make him dizzy and sick. When light stings his eyes, his honed reflexes help him avoid the giant grasping fingers. Bell, with his frantic flailing, manages to sink his teeth onto one of the digits. The enormous hand quickly withdraws.

“One of them just bit me,” Matthews laughs, the resonating sound rattling Milton. 

He doesn’t have time to avoid the hand again and ends up enclosed in a fist. He tries not to vomit as he’s rapidly brought up to the immense, craggy face of Matthews. The giant gives a frighteningly large smirk before looking at some point behind Milton.

“Hey Dutch, got a present for you,” Matthews bellows, dropping Milton into Dutch’s waiting hands.

This was decidedly not a good day for Milton.