#I already pull an austin powers face with those teeth | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chickensarentcheap · 4 years ago

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Best Part of Me -Chapter 22

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @alievans007

She stands at the kitchen sink, watching through the window as they sit side by side at the patio table. Millie already in her pajamas, hair still damp from a bath, Tyler in a pair of weathered old sweatpants and tattered t-shirt. Their resemblance striking; same color and texture of hair, same ears and profile, even the same shaped lips and those brilliant blue eyes framed by impossibly long and dark lashes. She’s her father’s child; even more so than the boys; sharing not only physical appearance, but facial expressions and body language. Even now their faces mirror each other: eyes narrowed, and brows pinched together, mouth set in a thin, stern line. A staring contest and a battle of wills that’s lasted for more than a minute with no sign of either weakening or wavering. Millie strict and demanding over how she wants things done when it comes to her birthday invitations, her father wondering just how the hell he’d managed to get himself into such a mess in the first place. They're both ferociously stubborn; Millie even more so. And she always wins; no one is immune to that mop of hair and those eyes and that little voice.

Her father is especially weak when it comes to her. An almost six-year-old able to bring a man that size, and who possesses so much strength and power, to his knees. She’s his number one weakness; always balking at scolding her even when she deserves it, succumbing to all the begging and pleading for ‘one more’ bedtime story even though it always turns into five, finding it incredibly hard to say no and very rarely doing so. While his bond with all the kids is strong, the one with Millie is even more so. Perhaps because she’s the first after Austin’s death; a rainbow baby of sorts. Or maybe because she represents the start of his new life; his second chance. A man that had so little to live for suddenly being given everything to live for. She had been conceived in the most unconventional of place during the most unconventional of times. A little blue-eyed miracle that reminds him every day of just how lucky he is to be on this side of the ground.

“Daddy....I am telling you...” Millie finally speaks, her facial expression never changing and her eyes never wavering from his. “...you HAVE to use the glitter.”

“But I don’t want to use it. That shit gets everywhere. You do it the way you want. Then your mom can bitch at you for getting it all over the place.”

“She’ll bitch at you for letting me use glitter without supervision.”

“I am sitting right here. I am supervising.”

“But you gotta use it too,” she insists. “Or the cards won’t match.”

“They don’t have to, Martha Stewart. Relax.”

“Yes. They do have to match. Why are you being so difficult?”

“Amelia...”

She giggles. “Daddy...”

“You’re not the boss.”

“Neither are you. You just think you are. Mommy’s the boss. Your boss.”

Tyler frowns. “Is that what she said?”

“She doesn’t need to say it. It’s just the way it is. And mommy would tell you to use the glitter too.”

“You and I both know that’s bullshit. She’d never say that. She hates glitter.”

“She hates play-doh and slime,” Millie argues.

“And glitter.”

“She never said that!”

“Excuse me? Yes, she did. After your brother got mad at you and dumped a whole container of it in your backpack. Remember? When we still lived at the old house?”

“Oh yeah,” Millie scowls, then pulls her top lip between her teeth and then releases it with an audible ‘pop’. “...well I guess that means you should be really, really careful with it then.”

“I guess that means you should get someone else to help. A glitter bitch.”

“Daddy! That’s a bad word! Why do you have to give me such a hard time? Don’t be like all the other boys in the house. Please don’t.”

“How would like another brother?” Tyler counters.

She gives a dramatic gasp. “Why would you do me like that? Isn’t three enough? Why so many boys? Boys are dumb. And annoying. Except you of course.”

Grinning, he lays a hand on the top of her head and presses a noisy kiss to her temple. “You are so lucky you added that last part.”

“Why? What would you do? Nothing. Because you love me too much.”

“You know what?” His voice and face are stern at first, but then a slow grins spreads from ear to ear and he scoops her up and places her in his lap; pressing kisses against her cheeks and rubbing his beard against her skin until she’s giggling and squirming in a half assed attempt to escape; little hands on his cheeks trying to push him away, the squeals becoming even louder when his fingers dig into her stomach and start tickling.

“What?” Millie asks, when the playful assault ends, and she kneels in his lap facing him; hands delicately cradling his face, a look of pure adoration on her face as she regards him. “What daddy?”

“Get back in your seat and hand me the goddamn glitter.”

Esme laughs and then turns away from the window, busying herself with making a tea and a coffee and tidying the kitchen. The house is eerily quiet for only nine at night; both Declan and Addie fast asleep upstairs, Mac curled up under her crib, snoring lightly. Normally the twins are still tearing around. Either tormenting one another or their older sister or burning off the last of their energy in the pool or down on the beach. She misses them; the dirty handprints that she is constantly wiping off every surface, the sand that they track through every inch of the house, those little voices –and even their squabbling- and the way they eventually fall asleep either spread out on the couch with the tops of their heads touching, or on the bottom bunk pressed back to back.

They’re a handful and have been since day one; a pregnancy filled with complications and scares. But they’re a joy. Rambunctious and mischievous. Fearless to a fault. Always willing to try new adventures, as long as they’re together for them.

The sun is beginning to set as she steps out onto the patio, and the strings of solar powered white lights wrapped around the patio railings springing to life, bathing the area in a soft, almost soothing glow. And she places the steaming mug of coffee on the table in front of her husband, then lays a hand on the back of his neck and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Despite the outwardly display of confidence and the rare genuine smile that crosses his face, he’s struggling. The last couple of days have been especially rough; medications not enough to take away that edge and that sense of impending doom she knows he’s feeling. It’s so many things: TJ’s troubles, Millie’s rapidly approaching sixth birthday, the situation with Ovi and the very real possibility of having to get back in the game. But he gives her an appreciative smile and lays a hand on her hip; gently squeezing before allowing his hand to lightly slide over her ass.

“Just what are you guys doing?” she inquires and slips into the chair at the head of the table; a foot on the seat, bottom of her hoodie pulled over her knee.

“I don’t even know anymore,” Tyler admits. “I just do what I’m told.”

“We’re making birthday invitations,” Millie says. “Glittery ones.”

“Yeah...I see that...” Esme frowns, then moves her seat back from the table to avoid any wayward sparkles. “You know that crap is going to be everywhere for weeks, right?”

“Daddy already has it in his hair,” Millie giggles. “And in his beard.”

“Because you thought it would be hilarious to dump glitter in your hands and rub them all over my head,” he complains.

“It was funny!” she exclaims. “You’re going to be sparkly forever now. A sparkly daddy.”

“Like one of those vampires in Twilight,” Esme muses, and he gives her a dirty look. “Just much more handsome.”

“I have vampires,” Millie announces. “Daddy could kick their asses.”

“Damn right,” he agrees.

“Daddy would kick all the monsters’ asses, right daddy? Like you kicked all the bad guys asses. Do you miss kicking bad guys’ asses?”

“You know what I miss? I miss when you didn’t say ass every five seconds.”

“Better than the s word or the f word,” she reasons, and kneels in her chair to reach for plastic container full of pencil crayons sitting in the middle of the table. “Do you? Miss kicking the bad guys’ asses?”

“Nope,” he quickly replies. “I don’t.”

Esme knows it isn’t the entire truth; someone just doesn’t give up a job...a life...like the one he’d been leading and not experience some fall out. It’s fast paced and generous; living life constantly on edge and waiting for the other shoe to drop. Days and sometimes weeks of putting your ass on the line to help a stranger; shedding a lot of blood, sweat, and tears for that pay out in the end. The job is exhilarating; every mercenary will admit to that. That there’s a certain rush that comes with the intensity. And most won’t say it out loud, but there’s a feeling of satisfaction you get when you witness revenge and karma up close; even if it means you’re delivering them yourself with your bare hands.

His entire adult has been that existence. First the military, then the job. And there’s no way he doesn’t miss. It’s quite the change; going from that life to one of routine and domesticity.

“I bet the bad guys don’t miss you,” Millie muses. “They were tired of getting their asses kicked. But who does it now that you don’t? Who goes after the bad people?”

“Other guys,” Tyler responds.

“What other guys?”

“Guys like me. Who do that sort of thing. There’s lots of guys like that out there.”

“And girls too?”

“I guess. I suppose there’s girls out there that do that kind of thing. Mommy did.”

Esme directs a kick to his shin under the table, then shakes her head when he gives her a quizzical look.

“Mommy sort of did that job,” he quickly adds. “She helped guys like me out. She helped track down the bad people and then told guys like me where we could find them.”

“Mmmm...” Millie considers this, head cocked to the side, eyes focused on the drawing she’s creating. “....is that how you met?”

“Yup. When I used to live here before I had you or your sister or your brothers.”

“In this house?”

“Not in THIS house. In my old house. Well it wasn’t really a house. It was more like a shack. But there’s where I met mommy. A long time ago. Auntie Nik brought her there and introduced us.”

“We should go there sometime,” Millie suggests. “To your old place. To see it. Who lives there now?”

“A friend of mine. You met him a few times when you were a baby.”

“I want to go there,” she decides. “To your old place. I want to see where you met mommy. Is that where you helped put me in her tummy?”

“No. That happened somewhere else,” Esme speaks up. “In an entirely different country. In Bangladesh. A place called Dhaka. Daddy and I were working there. That’s where you were made.”

“We should go there too,” Millie concludes.

“Yeah, that’s a no from me,” Tyler says. “That’s not a place I want to go back to.”

“Is that where you almost died?”

Esme watches her husband’s face; mug pressed against her lips as she waits for his reaction. Noticing the small intake of breath and the slow, steady way he releases it. The way his shoulders tense and his leg begins to shake back and forth underneath the table.

“Yeah...” he finally speaks, then turns his attention towards the craft in front of him. His eyes are dark and that vein in his neck...the one that had to be surgically repaired after being blown out by Farhad- begins to pulsate. “...that’s where I almost died.”

“How?” Millie asks.

“You know what,” Esme comes to his aid. “This isn’t a good time to talk about these kinds of things. Not so close to bedtime, okay Millie? It will give you nightmares and as much as we love you, we don’t want you sleeping with us until you’re eighteen.”

“It won’t give me nightmares,” she argues. “I’m fine.”

“Amelia...” Her tone and her face are stern; the warning in her voice noticeable enough that her daughter looks up at her. “Not right now. Thank you.”

Silence falls on the table, no further conversation for several minutes. Nothing but the sound of the waves rolling onto the shore, the slight rustle of the trees, and the soft scrape of pencil crayons against paper. And Tyler reaches under the table to lay a hand on Esme’s thigh, squeezing lightly and giving her a small, grateful smile. There are days when he can talk openly and honestly about what happened in Dhaka. He was able to tell the therapist the whole story without even breaking a nervous sweat. But there’s other times where it’s unbearable; the memories too strong and too painful. The mental wounds still too fresh and feeling still too raw.

“Look at you,” Esme laughs, and the lays a hand on the side of his face and turns his head towards her. “You have glitter everywhere. It’s all in your beard. It looks like you went down on a stripper. I hope you don’t think you’re coming near my bits looking like that.”

He grins. “Oh, I so am.”

“Like hell you are. Last thing I need is being sparkly down there. I don’t know how you’re going to get all that out of there,” she vigorously rubs her palms against her beard, then frowns as she studies the purple and silver flecks left behind on her skin. “It couldn’t at least be a good color that brings out your eyes?”

“Might have to just shave the whole thing off,” he says.

“Like hell you will. We’ve talked about this. Do you want a divorce? Because that’s how you get a divorce.”

“You don’t even know what I look like clean shaven.”

“You’re not Tyler without a beard. Your kids won’t even recognize you. That's how they know you. That’s how I know you.”

“Don’t do it, daddy,” Millie implores. “You’ll look totally different. Like a stranger. I want you to look like daddy.”

“Two against one,” Esme says. “The beard stays.”

“You only look like the beard because when we do...well when I do...you know... you like the way it feels.”

“I’ll give you that. But it’s also because it’s rugged and manly and you look so freaking sexy with it. Even with silver and purple glitter in it. Speaking of glitter....” she stands up and picks up on of the finished creations. “...I take it she mentioned her party and you went along with it.”

“Come on, you knew I wouldn’t say no.”

“I did,” she admits. “But that doesn’t mean I want you to be completely uncomfortable and miserable, either. That’s a lot of people. Here. In your space. I know how much you value your space. So, if you think it’s too much to deal with...”

“I’ll be okay,” he says. “I’ll deal.”

She stares at him pointedly, brows arches.

“I’ll be fine, babe,” he assures her, and reaches out to lay a hand on the small of her back. “It’ll be okay. I’ll be okay.”

“Daddy’s tough,” Millie declares. “Super tough.”

“Yes,” her mother agrees. “The toughest guy I’ve ever known, that’s for sure.”

“Is that why you fell in love with him?” Millie inquires. “Because he’s tough?”

“There’s a lot of reasons why I fell with him,” Esme replies, as she sits back down in her seat and places her feet in her husband’s lap. “I guess being tough was once of them. Because I knew that I’d always be safe, and I’d have nothing to be scared of when he’s around. That he'd always be willing to protect me and be able to physically do it.”

Tyler smiles and gives her a wink, his hand giving her foot a squeeze.

“He also had really cool hair and crazy beautiful eyes,” she continues. “And big arms. Not to mention that face. Pretty damn handsome, I think. He was kind of mean though. When we first met.”

Millie’s eyes widen as she looks towards her father. “You were mean? To mommy?! Did you make her cry?”

“I did not make her cry and I was not mean.”

“Not right away,” Esme says. “But he got really mean and really bossy when we got to Dhaka.”

“Listen, your mom’s not telling you the truth,” Tyler address his little girl. “I got a little mean, yeah. You want to know why? Because even then your mommy didn’t like to listen to a word I say. And I was in charge and she did something I told her not to and she got in trouble and I got mad.”

“I just put him in his place though,” Esme says with a shrug as she sips her tea. “That just made him even more mad and even meaner. Deep down though, I think he liked it. A woman being all assertive and aggressive with him.”

“I’m not afraid to admit that I liked it. I liked it a lot.”

“That was obvious,” Esme grins, and presses her toes into his crotch.

“You think I’m tough, Millie? Your mom’s even tougher than I am. Hands down the toughest woman...person...I’ve ever met. She’s little, but she’s bad ass.”

“Like me!” Millie cheerfully exclaims.

“You’re exactly like her in a lot of ways. You know how tough someone has to be to trick the bad guys into telling her secrets and letting her know where they are? Crazy tough. When you get older, I’ll tell you a story about how she handled things in Ireland against some pretty scary people. She went in there and talked them all by herself. She wasn’t even scared. Not for a second. I was proud of her. Insanely proud.”

“Don’t make me cry,” Esme pleads, and gives him a brilliant smile. “Because my hormones are all over the place since having your daughter and I’m liable to bawl at anything.”

“Mommy’s the most amazing person I’ve ever known,” he continues. “Not a lot of people would do what she did. When she stuck around to help me in Dhaka. No one else was going to do it. I would have died if she hadn’t had been there.”

“But you didn’t,” Esme says. “And that’s all that matters.”

She hates being praised for it; truly believing that she’d done what anyone with a conscience and an ounce of compassion would have done in that situation. Ovi had been too young; there’s no way he should have had to spring into action and shoulder that kind of responsibility. But there’d been no excuse for Nik. There were other team members there; they could have easily kept the situation under control while she held; at least lending a hand to control the bleeding long enough to get him into the chopper and get both Ovi AND him out of there.

And she’ll hold that grudge for the rest of her life; every time the subject of Dhaka comes up or she looks at the scar on her husband’s neck.

****

Ovi arrives just as darkness fully sets in, standing on the bottom step of the patio; cautiously watching them for several minutes, hands shoved in his pockets, nervously rocking back and forth on his heels.

“You don’t have to just stand there, mate,” Tyler speaks up. “You can join us, you know.”

The younger man breathes a sigh of relief as he climbs the steps, giving Esme a small, apologetic smile which she returns with a curt one of her own before looking away. Their talk the night before had left a bitter taste in both of their mouths; she’d been harsh and brutally honest and refuses to make any apologies for it. She doesn’t understand how, despite all of the things he’s seen and heard in Dhaka and the years following it, that he can be so steadfast about diving headfirst into such a dangerous life. She’d laid out the hardest of truths she possibly could; the long-lasting effects on Tyler’s mental and physical health, the demons and the monsters that prey on every day, the trickle-down effects and impacts the entire family. Yet he remains determined. Either too stubborn to face the truth, or too just immature and ignorant.

“Millie, why don’t we go inside and get a bedtime snack,” Esme suggests, when Ovi steps up onto the patio, finishing the last of her tea and pushing her chair away from the table. “You can finish these tomorrow, okay? I think daddy’s had just about as much glitter and coloring he can take.”

“Okay,” she willingly –and surprisingly- agrees. “You’ll still tuck me in right, daddy?”

“You know it. Just come and get me when you’re ready, yeah?”

Nodding, she curls an arm around his neck and sweetly pecks his lips. Then scurries over to Ovi and wraps her arms around his, tightly squeezing.

“I can’t deal with this tonight,” Esme says, when Tyler catches her by the wrist before she can leave, a concerned and almost puzzled look on his face. “I don’t want to deal with it all. You do what you have to do. I don’t want to hear any more about it.”

He nods in understanding, and she leans down to press a soft, quick kiss to his lips before ushering Millie into the house.

“I think she’s still mad,” Ovi comments, as he drops into a chair at the end of the table.

“Really?” Tyler scoffs. “What gave you that impression?”

Standing, he begins tidying up the table, stuffing pencil crayons, glue sticks, and tubes of sparkles into small plastic storage containers. A far cry from when his hands used to inflict pain and even death on others; glitter caked under his nails and stuck to his fingers as opposed to blood and dirt. And it horrifies him how disappointed he feels over the thought; how blood seemed so much better and easy to accept than a child’s craft supplies. It’s not the first time in six months he’s missed what things were like before, and he knows it won’t be the last. That it will always be there; that side of him that had actually enjoyed the job and the payday that came with.

And it fucking disgusts him.

“I understand why she’s upset,” Ovi says.

Tyler regards him, eyebrow arched. “Do you? ‘Cause I don’t think you do.”

“She doesn’t want you getting back into this. Into that job. Into the job. Because if what happened in New Zealand.”

“Do you even understand what went on there? Why I left? Why I called it quits and came home? Because something tells me you don’t.”

“Mental health issues.”

“That’s part of it. I came home because I couldn’t fucking do it anymore. I’d had enough. Of that life and all the bullshit that came with it. Fucking death and blood and gore and everything that came with it. Helping people that don’t give a shit if I’m alive or dead at the end.”

“I gave a shit,” Ovi reminds him.

“You know how long I’d be doing the job? Almost sixteen years. That’s a fucking lifetime for guys like me.”

“Guys like us,” the younger man stresses.

“You’re not there yet. You might not even get there. You might not even get past what I have in store for you. You want to think it’s all a big game and that it’s something you ‘just want to try out’? Well you’re going to see just how fucking fun it is when I get a hold of you. So if you’re having any second thoughts, I’d back out now before it’s too late and I have you curled up in a ball of your own puke and piss.”

Ovi blinks at the harshness in his voice.

“You wonder why she’s upset? Why she’s pissed off with you? With the whole fucking world right now? Do you know how many promises I’ve made to her that I’ve broken? So many that she doesn’t even believe me when I make promises anymore. That’s fucking sad. It’s pathetic. And here I am, breaking another one.”

“You’re not exactly...”

“You know what? You don’t get to talk. You're just going to sit there and listen to what I have to say. You want to be a man and make these kinds of decisions? Then you sit there and let another man tell you the way things are. I’m not just random off the street that doesn’t know what he’s talking about. The job was my life. It’s who I was. And when I walked away, I thought I left it behind. And then you come along with this bullshit...”

“Tyler...I...”

“Just shut the fuck up and listen,” he growls. “I’m not fucking around here, Ovi. I’m not pulling any punches. It wasn’t just the job that screwed with my head. There was a lot of things that fucked me up. Things you don’t even know about. All the way back to when I was a kid. But the job? The job fucked me in more ways than you can even begin to imagine. You think it’s fun killing people? That I actually enjoyed it? I took pride in it?”

Ovi shakes his head.

“I did it for the money. That’s it. I didn’t do it to help people. I didn’t give a shit about myself, why would I give a shit about them? And then you came along, and Dhaka happened, and that was my one chance to make things right. For redemption. To prove I wasn’t a shit human being. And part of me was ready to die that day. More than ready. And another part of me wanted to stay alive because I thought maybe...just maybe...I’d met someone that could teach me how to give a shit again. That would actually give a shit about me.”

“She obviously did. And still does. Or she wouldn’t be here.”

“She stayed behind on that bridge. Knowing there was a chance that Asif would get a hold of her. Do you know what would have happened to her if he had? What he would have done to her? Way worse than he would have done to you. He would have killed you quickly. He would have waited days with her. Weeks. Until he was bored with her; tired of doing all kinds of sick and twisted shit to her.”

Ovi swallows heavily, tears welling in his eyes.

“And she still stayed. Knowing what would happen if she got caught there. Fucking Nik took off. She wasn’t even going to come back for us. Everything should have told Esme to leave me there and she didn’t. So don’t come here...to my house...and even think about disrespecting my wife.”

“I wasn’t going to. I...”

“You didn’t even give a shit about what she had to say last night. She’s trying to save your life and you didn’t even care. She doesn’t want you ending up like me, don’t you fucking get that? You think I want to be like this? Fucked in the head? Having to take medication every morning to just goddamn function like somewhat of a human being? You think I want my wife and my kids to see me like this? What the hell is wrong with you that you can’t see what the job does? It hasn’t just fucked me up, it’s fucked all of them up. My wife, my kids. Why can’t you see that?”

“I don’t expect you to get back into the job. Just to help me. And you said you would. With the training. You said...”

“You think it’s really going to stop there? That that’s going to be enough? I’m going to get dragged back into this shit. You know it, I know it. Esme knows it. And it’s fucking killing her inside. Because I told her that this time I was done for good. And now look. Look at the goddamn mess you’ve gotten me into.”

“I never meant to...”

“Never meant to what? Bring me back into it? Bullshit. It’s what you wanted right from the get-go. You never wanted to do this alone. You wanted me with you right from the start. Well now you got what you want. You’ve got me right back into this crap. Whether I want to be in it or not. You know I wouldn’t let you do it alone. You damn well knew from the start I’d never let that happen, didn’t you.”

Ovi reluctantly nods.

“Well I hope you’re prepared then. Because I’m not going to make this easy on you. You want me to drag me off to some shit hole and get me killed, I get to do things my way. And I swear to Christ, if my marriage falls apart because of this and I lose my kids....”

“You won’t. That won’t happen. She’d never leave. You know she wouldn’t.”

“I know she WOULD. Don’t tempt it. I break one more promise to her and it’s done. She’ll take off and I’ll never see my kids again. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making yours miserable because of it. Understand me?”

“I don’t understand why you’re both so worried. Why you’re both so upset. I don’t...”

“What if I don’t come back?” Tyler angrily interjects. “What if this is the one time no one is around to save me? What if it’s the one time a sniper puts a bullet in my head instead of my chest? Do you know what I leave behind? Five kids. Five little kids that deserve so much better than this. Does that even matter to you? Do they even matter to you?”

“Of course they do!” Ovi exclaims. “I love those kids! They’re my brothers and sisters! How could you even ask me that? How could you...?”

“You love them but you’re willing to take their dad away from them? It’s okay that I go in there to rescue your ass, but I get killed for it? I leave them behind; I leave Esme behind. Do you know what that would do to her? Me not coming back? Like what the fuck?” He angrily tosses the craft supplies into a storage container on the edge of the patio and slams the lid closed. “Do you not realize everything I stand to lose?”

“I do. I do realize that. You have a life. A wife and kids and...:”

“And you’re still going to do it. You’re still going to go ahead with this bullshit.”

Ovi sighs.

“We start the day after Millie’s birthday. I don’t want to hear anything more about it until then. You know you’re more than welcome to keep coming over here, just don’t talk about this again. Not in front of my wife. And especially not in front of my kids. Understand me?”

“I understand.”

“We’re finished here. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. It’s been a long fucking day and I’m done with it. With everything. I’m going into Port Douglas tomorrow to take Millie to see my dad. You can come along if you don’t mention a word of this around her.”

“Okay. I’d like that. To see him again. And I’m sorry. I really am. For all the problems. For all the bullshit. I never meant to cause issues. Especially for you and Esme. I never meant...”

“You come between us and fuck things up, I will make your life hell,” Tyler vows, as he gathers up the dirty coffee mug and steps towards the entrance to the house. “I lose my family because of all this, it won’t end well for you.”

“Tyler, I...”

“We’re done with this,” he says, and then slams the door closed behind him.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #extraction #best part of me #chris hemsworth character

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stripper-patrick · 5 years ago

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Dusk🤍 Shawn Mendes

Warnings: smut, language, oral (f), taunting, teasing, unprotected

Song: none of my concern- Jhené Aiko

Relationship: Shawn Mendes x black plus sized reader

“So how are you enjoying your food” my boyfriend Andrew of 3 years asks cutting into his juicy medium rare steak. I nod swallowing the rest of my pasta with a smile.

“It’s great how’s yours”

“Really good” he dips it in A1 and nods. My nose hints at a familiar smell of men’s Dior Sauvage disregarding the aroma of food. I trace the smell to the door and watch my ex walk through with the brunette none other than Clarence- I mean Camilla Cabello. Immediately they’re seated right across from us. Me and Austin are in a booth and Shawn and little miss Chlamydia are next to us in regular chairs. She sits with her back turned to us but of course Shawn can see me in plain view. I swallow thickly and take a sip of my water.

I can feel eyes burning into my side profile. I just know it’s him there’s no denying it. I glance over quickly to see his arm resting on the extra chair. His satin wine shirt unbuttoned more than necessary. Beautiful hair swooped to the side. Tattoos beautifully inked swiftly showing vastly in the dim light. Hazel colored eyes staring right past his date and right into my eyes. His eyes were prone to changing around this time of the year. His lip curls into a half smile sending chills down my spine. I remember nights where he’d force me to look at him giving me that same smile after obliterating my pussy. Flashbacks of those fateful nights replay in my head. His hand squishing my cheeks together as he thrusts endlessly. Calling me honey on repeat. Telling me to cum for a 3rd time within the hour without breaks. Shawn most definitely pushed my absolute boundaries without making me feel uncomfortable in the slightest.

“Are you ok?” Austin asks. I snap from my thoughts and go back to my pasta.

“Yea I’m fine” I nod. Truth be told Austin could never push me the way Shawn could. It was the best time ever with Shawn. We broke up because we just felt like we were forcing a relationship that was never there in the first place. I don’t know.

“Isn’t that Shawn?” He looks over making direct eye contact. Shawn keeps that same smug towards Austin. Almost like he’s reading my mind. In a more ‘I fucked her way better than you ever will’ type of way. “God I hate the way he’s staring at you such a pervert” he retorts

“Yea shocking to see him after all these years” I shrug “I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick” I stand up and pull down my dress feeling those same eyes revert on me as I stride away to the ladies room. I look in the mirror feeling a surge of relief hit me. I shake out my hands and take a deep breath. I smooth out the body fitting dress with a high thigh slit to outline my curves. My phone chimes and it’s a text from an unknown number. I think it’s spam until I read it.

?: you know how your exposed legs make me feel honey 🤤

There’s no way. If it were Austin his ID would’ve came up. Plus he’d never call me honey

Me: who is this?

Of course i know who it is but there’s nothing wrong with being too sure.

?: something tells me you know who it is

I stop answering clearly gaining my unfortunately correct answer. “Fuck me” I mutter to myself. I swing the door open and stop in my tracks when I see Crack Cocaine standing there looking surprised.

“Oh hey I remember you from the pictures Y/N right?” I chuckle dryly nodding “yup that’s me” I walk past her not allowing anything else to be said. I get back to the table to see Austin gone and his finished plate. He must’ve went to the bathroom too.

I sit down and a figure stands next to me. I look up seeing Shawn looking down at me with a smirk on his face.

“Hi honey”

“You don’t get to call me that anymore Shawn what do you want”

“For you to sit on my face but we’re in public”

“Publicity never stopped you” I roll my eyes “my boyfriend is in the bathroom he’ll be out any second so I suggest you leave”

“1. I’m not scared of some shrimp dicked loser who can’t even make you squirt on the first round” he states as a matter of factly. I remember that night vividly “and 2. That’s impossible because the bathrooms that way and he went that way” he points to the door.

“Don’t play with me”

“Last time I did that you were moaning my name anyways I’m serious Y/N he left you just let me foot the bill and I’ll take you home”

“No I want dessert and I’ll take my own self home” I didn’t drive but I don’t need to see them touching and hugging. To be honest I’m not ready to see that no matter how old our relationship is. We broke up 4 years ago but we’ve been together since we were 17.

He sighs nodding “fine. Still stubborn I see”

“Never changed Mendes” I get a glance at his butterfly tattoo. I have the same one on my butt because we decided to get drunk and get one. Mine is just more colorful. The waiter comes back and smiles “any dessert for you two?”

“I’ll have the cookie skillet please” she nods and leaves again. I take a sip of my water before finishing my pasta.

Once I’m done the dessert comes and the waiter takes my plate. I thank him and grab my spoon digging into the delicious treat. I can feel Shawn staring at me as his date Crack pipe goes on and on about whatever it is she’s talking about. I look at him and roll my eyes. I unconsciously press my thighs together. His eyes trail down to my legs. Shit he noticed I think.

He trails back up to me and wets his lips before taking his bottom lip and pulling it between his perfect white teeth. I shake my head and continue eating.

Once I finish Austin still hasn’t come back. I ring his phone but it goes straight to voicemail. What the hell is going on. I text him and usually he’d text back within the same minute but to no avail this wasn’t the case.

The waiter brings me my check and I get a text. My eyes gleam thinking it’s Austin but it’s Shawn.

Shawn: let me take care of the bill honey😕

I look over to see him already staring back at me. I shake my head and pull my credit card out of my bra. I hate purses. I give the waiter the money adding a tip and sign the bill once it’s back to me. I sigh and get up. Shawn is watching my every move. I give him a small smile and leave out the door. Well I don’t wanna spend any more money tonight so I guess I’ll walk. The restaurant wasn’t that far from my house anyways. I begin my journey down the lit parking lot. The breeze brings goose bumps to my skin and I cross my arms shivering a little. I see an older Cadillac drive up next to me following me. The tinted windows roll down and it’s Shawn.

“You didn’t drive?”

“No it’s a short walk from my house I’m fine” I shrug

“Y/N please get in the car” he begs “I know the last time we spoke we weren’t on the best of terms but that doesn’t mean I still don’t care for you as a person”

I stop and look at him. “Please” he pleads

I sigh and nod. He gets out opening the door for me. At least he hasn’t broken that habit. Crypt Keeper is in the front seat with a stale face because her boyfriend is overly nice but that’s not my business. I put my seatbelt on and he gets back in the drivers seat. “This car was always my favorite”

“Yea we had a lot of fun in here” of course he’s referring to the many nights where I rode him in the backseat or my head down on him while he drove or his large tattooed hand down my pants. He looks at me through the rear view and I nod glancing only for a second. Too scared that I’ll be caught by his eyes again. That’s how we met in the first place. That damn smile and gaze.

“We did” The car ride is silent to Captain Crunches house but sometimes silence is key. Shawn mainly kept his eyes on the road occasionally looking at me. She leans over the console in a slow motion like manner and kisses his cheek then his neck slowly. She’s making sure I get every second of this.

“I’ll see you later baby. Maybe you could come over and we can chill” she winks. Corn dog gets out of the car and shuts it striding up to her door step. I get out and move to the front. Shawn drives off swiftly.

“So how’ve you been”

“Save the small talk for someone who wants it”

“Fine I’ll get right to the point” he clenches his jaw “I miss you”

“Clearly Computer has you preoccupied”

“Camilla isn’t you” he pulls into my driveway and stops.

“Thanks” I say. He gets out as well following me up to the door “I feel like you have more to get off your chest so do you wanna come in?”

“Yea” he nods. I push the key in my door opening it and immediately taking off my shoes. “do you want anything to drink”

“No thanks” he says. We sit down on the couch awkwardly. “Why are you dating a douche like Austin?”

“What?”

“I mean do you even love him?”

“Shawn don’t-“ I stand up irritated and he stands up as well towering over me

“Answer my damn question” He demands raising his voice a little.

“I’m not your girl anymore you need to watch your tone Shawn. You have a girl”

“But she’s not you”

“That’s not my business. You broke up with me remember or did you forget that too”

“Y/N I know what I did but you don’t know how much I regret it”

“Shawn you’re an egotistical bastard”

“Once again you never answered my question” he walks towards me until my back hits the wall.

“Shawn” I beg more pleadingly now. Pleading he won’t make me tell the truth. For so long I’ve put my true feelings on the back burner and focused on what’s in front of me that I haven’t had time to seriously recover from our breakup. “Lemme ask you this then” he moves down hunching his back to get close to my ear “does he fuck you so hard until you have tears drenching your face and you can’t walk for the next 2 weeks? Does he turn you inside out with just his tongue? Hmm honey” Shawn begins pressing his lips to my neck as he utters the filthiest and truest words.

“Shawn please”

“I haven’t heard you utter those beautiful words in so long” hungrily he plants his lips on me holding me in a powerful kiss. So powerful I almost lost balance. Shawn holds me up and takes me upstairs. I open the door to my bedroom and Shawn is already pulling up my dress. I pull it over my head and he sits on the bed admiring my body like he did the first time. I lean down and kiss his plump lips. “Either you tell me the truth now or I’ll fuck it out of you” he smirks

“I’ll choose option two” I smile. He pulls off his shirt and flips us over laying on top of me. I pull my fingers through his soft curls and he proceeds to kiss my laced up breasts. Shawn unclasps it throwing it somewhere and just buries his head between them. “I miss you so much” he kisses between the dip of my breasts and down to my navel. Shawn looks at me with those daunting eyes and throws my leg over his shoulder. Half of Shawns face disappears between my legs.

I moan closing my eyes feeling his lips attach to my clothed clit. “Shawn please don’t tease me you’ve been doing that all night”

He pulls down my underwear throwing them into oblivion with the rest of my clothes. He dives back in swirling and eating his way through me. I grab the sheets arching my back grinding myself along his face. My breathing picks up as does his speed. Shawn presses his hand over my hips to keep me still while he uses his fingers to press against my g-spot. My body shutters and I try to pull back from him as the pleasure becomes too much “don’t move while I’m eating”

“Shawn I’m gonna cum” I warn. Just as I give my fair warning I leak all over his tongue. He collects every drop I have to offer even sucking more out of me.

Once I’m juiced out he comes up licking his lips. He sticks his fingers in his mouth sucking them clean with a smile. Shawn comes back up kissing me and I feel his erection poking my thigh. I slide my hand between us unzipping his pants and he pulls down his pants and boxers in one motion. Shawn kisses me again taking my hands above my head. He slides in in a swift motion filling me up familiarly.

I moan locking my legs around his waist as he begins rocking his hips into me. I bury my head in the crook of his neck still smelling his cologne. “You feel that baby? Austin could never fill you up like this could” he’s balls deep inside of me and trust me Franklin wasn’t short or thin in anyway. He was quite the opposite. “You wanna tell me the truth now?”

“No” I smirk moaning

“No?” He coos kissing my neck “we’ll see about that” his hips jut harder and I grip the sheets feeling my clit rub against his pelvis. “Shawn please” he hoists himself up on his arm and wraps his hand around my throat fucking me harder into oblivion. My eyes roll to the back of my head.

Inaudible moans escape my lips and my mouth is wide open. That black hole is close to swallowing me up. “I can feel your pussy pulsing on me honey are you about to cum? Gotta tell me the truth first”

He lets go just as I cum feeling my orgasm penetrate my entire body. “I love you” strings out of my mouth like a broken record. Shawn cums on instant and he presses his forehead to mine. His body is tense as he bites his lip breathing raggedly.

“Yes baby I love when you cum for me. Look at you so sexy. My pussy made you do this didn’t it.” I moan egging him on. His knuckles are white from the gripping the sheets. Once he’s bottomed himself out inside of me he lays next to me and I pull the sheets up to cover my exposed breasts. “Did you mean it?” I know what he’s referring to. Before I can answer my phone rings. I pick it up swiping left. I sit up hunching over. “Hello”

“Y/N I’m so sorry I left you there”

“Where did you go Austin are you fucking kidding me”

“I’m so sorry see the thing is I was gonna propose but I left the ring at home by mistake”

My soul leaves my body and I look to Shawn. He sits up in concern placing his hand on my shoulder. “I want you to marry me Y/N” I know Shawn was listening this time. He lets me go and states at me.

“Austin I’ll have to call you back I’m sorry give me a minute” I hang up and Shawn stares at me blankly. I stand up and grab my bra putting it on. I grab my dress and look at him.

“Did you mean it?” He asks again.

“Yes Shawn I did” tears brim my eyes. I’m so confused. I’m in love with two different men.

Part 2??

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purplesurveys · 5 years ago

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707

Do you think you're clever? I can be but I wouldn’t say it’s a dominant personality trait. Did you wear socks today? No, I haven’t worn socks since the last day I went to school :/ Can you remember how you celebrated your 10th birthday? I don’t remember how the whole day went but I do have a photo of me on that day. We were in our old house then and I was at the dining area smiling with my cake, surrounded by my mom and sister.

Know any magic tricks? Nah I can’t perform any of them. Do you sleep well most nights? These days I certainly do. They’ve suspended online classes, and acads is really the main thing taking up my time (and head) most days until recently. Without that I’m just sleeping, eating, and having random bursts of productivity everyday.

Are your nails painted? No. Is there somebody you know that you really don't trust? Yeah I have a couple of orgmates that are a little sketchy. I also dunno if I can trust my mom in the bigger scheme of things - we’re just not close like that. Is there music in your head right now? No need to have it playing in my head, I already have a lo-fi livestream playing on YouTube at the moment. When's the last time you baked a cake? Grade 6 when we baked a rainbow cake in home economics. What time was it half an hour ago? 7:26 PM. Did you ever play cowboys and indians when you were growing up? I have no idea what that game is. Probs an American thing? Can anyone confirm? When did it last rain? My dad said it drizzled earlier this afternoon, but I wouldn’t know because I was taking a nap. The last time it rained and I caught it was two nights ago. Would you like to become a dancer? I would love to be able to dance gracefully and call myself a dancer, but I wouldn’t want it to be my Number One Agenda, as in joining contests or have it be my whole career and stuff. It’ll be nice to simply have it as a hobby. What colour is the bathroom of your house painted? The top half of the wall is white, the bottom half consists of light brown tiles. Which country is to the north of your home country? Taiwan. Name one person of the same sex as you you wouldn't mind doing: My girlfriend. Haaaaah you thought. What is the most gory film you've seen? Evil Dead, but I’ve only seen the 2013 reboot. Is there anybody that you know that you just feel really sorry for? Yeah I guess, like my uncle for stubbornly never getting his life back on track. I’ve been done waiting for him to get better. Do you like the Austin Powers films? I’ve never seen any one of them, even the one Beyoncé is in.

Where is the worst place you have ever travelled to? All the places I’ve been to have been wonderful and it wouldn’t feel right to tag one of them as the ‘worst’ because all the trips have been paid for by my parents lmao. But the one trip that didn’t exactly turn out the way we would’ve wanted it to was Caramoan in Camarines Sur. It was raining almost the entire time, so the scenario was either 1) the rain messed with the cable signal and we only had one channel every time we were in the cabin or 2) we had to make do with being rained on whenever we wanted to go out to the beach. It was also in the middle of nowhere, so we didn’t have internet. Ever fallen down a hole? Nope. That’s one of the scenarios I’m particularly afraid of. Do you like to read poetry? No I hate having to. I’ve never understood poems. What's your preferred frozen snack? Other than ice cream? Idk, frozen fries maybe? Those hit differently. Is rap music overrated? I’d say some are, but rap generally has a rich underground culture as well so I wouldn’t say all of it is overrated. Do you work better in a clean or messy environment? That doesn’t matter to me. I care more about how warm/cold it is, because I can’t start working anywhere I find too hot or else I’ll feel too sluggish. Do you know any vegans? Only from the internet. Filipinos are big meat eaters so it’s hard to find resources for if you want to become vegan. There are vegan food stalls but they’re VERY few and far between, and they’re typically situated in hipper, more cosmopolitan parts of the city since veganism isn’t a known concept here. Earphones or headphones? Earphones. Do you like bananas? Eugh no. What's a film you've seen that confused you? Interstellar confuses me to this day. But I loved it a lot and I enjoyed the premise, and that’s what matters to me. Do you ever wear black lipstick? I don’t think I’ve ever worn it before. You can take any illegal drug without any bad consequences, which one? That’s a really dark question but uh... I’d go with meth because idk, Breaking Bad? I certainly wouldn’t want to try heroin though. What is next to your bed? I have a drawer with my clothes and other knickknacks on one side, and a chest with a bunch of memorabilia and old books I’ve had since I was a kid on the other side. Are your fingernails dirty? Nope. What would you change about yourself appearence-wise? I’d straighten my front teeth and make my teeth in general smaller. I’d also have some hair grow on my left eyebrow because I permanently damaged the hair growth there by plucking too much as an anxiety habit. How long do you normally spend in the shower? Depends on how relaxed I need to feel. If I’m showering for school it takes me 4-5 minutes. If it’s been hot all day like in the summer I’d take up to 15. When's the last time somebody called you "baby"? Sometime today, I don’t exactly remember when. Have you ever had to keep something important from your family? Like... my 4-year same-sex relationship? Yup. Don't you think things feel much better after a good cry? The things that made me cry don’t get better or automatically get fixed, but it’s always nice to give myself a break and to let everything out. Do you think the UK should keep its monarchy? I honestly don’t know enough about their system to confidently form an opinion about it. My only contribution to this conversation is that the royal family does interest me and I know more trivia about them than the average person should hahahahaha. True or false: you'd do Mila Kunis. I’d do her character in Friends with Benefits but like I don’t really feel that way for IRL Mila, mostly cos I’d rather do wholesome stuff with her hahaha. Which colour would you rather have your hair: pink, grey or green? Green > grey > pink. Don't you just hate the sound of people eating? NOOOOOOO are you kidding. Mukbang ASMRs are my faveeeeeee. What's your favourite music video? Meh I don’t really watch music videos. Is it your aim to be perfect? About the things I do, yeah. I’m not obsessed about having *everything* be perfect, even stuff I have no control over.. Ever climbed to the top of a mountain? No. That’s on my bucket list though. Have you ever fell for someone believing you could "fix" them? No. That’s never been a reason I’ve had feelings for someone. Someone's paying for a fancy dinner, where do you eat and who do you take? BLACKBIRD. I’ve wanted to try it for a while now but Makati is a bitch to get to + their food would literally take away two weeks’ worth of my allowance. I’d take Gab with me for sure. Can you honestly say you are truly happy with your life? Not right now, but I’m not hopeless about it either. Can you paint well? I can’t paint at all. Describe a picture of yourself that you hate: The candid ones are the ones I end up hating the most. If you could keep any animal as a pet, which would you choose? Just all the dogs would be fine, thanks. Something you did in the past that you're embarrassed about: I was bidding Gab’s dad goodbye because he was leaving to meet up with his friends or something. Anyway my shoes chose to be slippery that day and I completely tripped the whole way walking over to him and I even unconsciously grabbed onto his arm to keep myself from falling flat on my face. I AM WINCING JUST TYPING THIS OUT PLS SEND HELP Would you rather play a good or an evil character in a play? Evil. It’d be easier acting that way. Do you like porridge? It’s alright. I mostly avoid it because it was all I ate for breakfast from when I was 4 up to when I was 10, and I’m so so sick of the taste and texture by now.

Has anybody ever lied to you just to impress you? Idk, probably. Strangest gift you ever received: Don’t think I’ve ever received anything I was genuinely baffled by. But I try not to be like that - all gifts are gifts so I’m always grateful whenever someone gives me one. Do most people annoy you? Nah. But 14 year old Robyn taking surveys would probably say yes just to sound edgy :/ Don't you think you should really be doing something more productive? Idk man we’re in the middle of a global health crisis. I think being productive shouldn’t be a priority for once. Have you ever felt really out of place? Yesssssss this was me when I was trying to apply for AIESEC. The crowd was just too different and I didn’t last long in the application process. What's your favourite shade of blue? Royal and sky blue. Do you have any odd phobias? I used to be afraid of watching advertisements at night, but I think it’s mostly gone now. What's the longest you've gone without sleep? 18-20 hours maybe. I don’t let myself pull all-nighters. When was the last time you just wanted to be left alone? Earlier this noon when I felt disrespected by my dad. Do you believe in karma? Sure. Can you remember a world before iPods? Nope. Google says the first iPod came out in 2001, and I don’t remember being 3 years old or younger. When was the last time it was sunny? This morning. Would you like to be photographed by Terry Richardson? I’ve never heard of him but I checked Google just now and apparently he’s been an asshat to his subjects? So no. Smoke? Yes please I so have been needing one throughout this quarantine. I ran out of puffs for my vape pen which is even worse. Would you rather have a lazy day or a day of being really busy? I’ve had 31+ lazy days now. I wouldn’t mind a busy day. Do you like the way that spoken French sounds? I don’t get to hear it all that much but it was spoken so beautifully in Portrait of a Lady on Fire, so I guess I’m alright with it for the most part. I just don’t like the times it comes from the throat and it sounds a bit like hawking. D: But maybe it’s just a cultural thing - Filipino isn’t throaty at all so when we hear sounds like that we’re just not used to it. What's the best film soundtrack? As stupid as the storylines were, they really made sure the Twilight Saga soundtracks SLAPPED. Bon Iver, St. Vincent, Muse, Death Cab for Cutie, The Black Keys, Florence + The Machine, PARAMORE?????? They weren’t fucking around. Interstellar and Gone with the Wind also had amazing scores. Where did you go on your last date? My informal first date with Gabie was at a museum + this quaint Italian place in Greenbelt that has since closed. My legit first date with her was at a Bonchon LMFAOOOOOOOOOO Do people find you "cute"? Not really... only my girlfriend calls me that. Who does the best remixes? Eh not a fan. What is most of your money spent on? Gas, food, dates.

#survey #surveys

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jo-the-schmo · 6 years ago

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Red, Dead, Reflections Ch.5

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

A/N: DEAR JESUS FINALLY HOLY SHIT this too way too long. I’ve been super busy and getting sick a lot these past few weeks. This chapter is a little lackluster but something is really better than nothing. I hope this is good enough in any case! Have a good read! Love you!

Summary: At the age of 23, you and your pseudo-family perform a heist gone wrong, leading you into a dangerous position. Discover your own history, the story of those around you, and gain new relationships along the way in this (sorta) choose your own adventure.

Warnings: Explicit language, violence, alcohol, possible genitalia mentions, alcohol, not much else I think?

Word count: 6000+

Tags!: @lennysvmmers @zoilalove213 @eccentricc-catt

Choose Your Words Wisely

“When do you think we’ll head into town?” You readjusted the strap of your mask attached to your belt loops.

“Why you askin’ me? I ain’t your keeper.”

“I mean, you sorta are. I don’t have a horse and Dutch said he ‘doesn’t want me getting lost’. I don’t wanna annoy you, but we’ve been here for like, a week, and done absolutely nothing.” He sighed at your comment, somewhat in agreement.

“Uncle was sayin’ somethin’ about headin’ out, but I haven’t seen that bastard in hours.” Arthur complained through slightly gritted teeth as he hefted a bag of feed over his shoulder. “If ya find him and see if he’s ready, I wouldn’t mind goin’, We’re running out of coffee anyway…” You stopped following him.

“Got it, I’ll see where he’s hiding.” You pivoted to the side and walked towards the main camp area. Bill was prodding the fire in boredom. “Hey Bill, do you know where Uncle is at?”

“Prob’ly asleep or drunk, the old loon.” He croaked.

“Well, I figured that much.” That was usually what Uncle seemed to be doing. You weren’t one to judge, but he was a recluse one for sure. Now that I think about it, I haven’t seen the Reverend in a few days…where’s he at?

“I know Charles and Javier got tired of waiting for him, so they just went out a few hours ago.”

“Okay, thanks, Bill.” You don’t talk to Bill that much, he just didn’t seem to enjoy your company for some reason, or anyone’s company for that matter. You kept looking around, trying to figure out where he could be. If I was sleeping off a hangover, where would I be?

“James! My boy! Come here for a moment, would ya?” A deep, modulated voice called out from somewhere behind you. You turned and saw Dutch standing in front of his tent. You didn’t respond vocally, you’ve found you don’t need to. As long as you’re visually enacting the request, he took that as answer enough. Dutch was a watchful man. You took a few steps toward him and you noticed Molly wasn’t around. She was usually hanging out in here. Actually, I’ve never seen Molly NOT in here.

“What’s up, Dutch?”

“Come inside, young man. Have a seat.” He placed his palm on the space between your shoulder blades and guided you inside the fabricated enclosure. Dutch had the biggest space of the group, which always bothered you in a weird way. Everyone except him, Arthur, and you slept on the ground. He moved you towards a chair, which you took a seat in out of politeness. You were starting to get nervous. Dutch had never really wanted to speak one on one with you before, much less take this approach to starting a conversation.

“What’s this about?” You tried to keep your voice as neutral as possible. He stayed standing, even pacing slowly across the floor about two feet away from you. The cuffs of his white shirt had a few rust colored stains.

“Nothin’ but a few questions, my friend.” It was subtle, but you could tell he was trying to take on a slightly intimidating presence. It wasn’t malicious or anything like that, which only made you more curious. “I’d like to know what you’re still doin’ here.” That statement took you aback.

“I’m confused, what do you me-“

“Why are you still here?” He cut you off. You took a moment to consider his question, there was a reason he wasn’t letting you get an explanation. The severity and weight of your potential answer only reflected in the sunken depths of his pupils. He looked exhausted.

“Because you’ve allowed me to.”

“Ah, I see…” He stopped all his movements and bent down slightly to get a closer look at you. His hand rested against the back of the chair you were sitting. “I wanna trust you, my boy. You saved my life up on that mountain, I won’t soon forget that. Do you know what my family is about, West?”

“Living.”

“That’s right. Now, what are you about, James?” For a moment, Dutch’s face wasn’t his anymore. His hair was longer, light brown, his face was slim with a messy stubble. It was Austin.

“Why are you here, Y/N?”

“What?”

“You’re safe, you’re all patched up, why haven’t you left me yet?” His eyes looked much kinder back then. So did his smile.

“Because…I don’t want to? You saved me.”

“People save people all the time and don’t follow them across a state.” He took a step closer. “What’s your deal? What do you want?”

“I…” You couldn’t be entirely sure, but you felt it. “I want the world to be better… I want the world to let me survive. I want to live!”

“Good answer.” You could almost audibly pick up the voice shift from Austin to Dutch. It took you a moment to process the fact that you had answered his question. “Sorry I took on that rather rude tone. Had to test ya, ma boy!” He laughed heartily, his earlier façade melting away.

“What was that about?”

“I wanted to see if you were up for a bit of a request.”

“A request?” His smile warmed at your question.

“Well, Hosea and I have been talkin’. You’ve been a mighty fine help around here and, well, we ourselves are headin’ out west in search of land of our own. So, we wanted to ask if you’d stick around with us until you made it back home.” You weren’t sure why the gesture surprised you, in a way you had already been integrated into their lives, they treated you as one of their own. But it still left you stunned. “Hosea says you aren’t sure if you’ll ever see your friends again, but I promise we will do everything in our power to keep you safe until then. What d’ya say, son?”

“It’d be an honor…” Your response was what astonished you the most. You felt it in your gut, a sense of comradery. Dutch patted your left shoulder, signaling for you to stand.

“That’s a good man right there!” He walked you outside the tent. “Just remember one thing, my friend.” He turned you around to give you one last bit of aid. “Do good to us, and we’ll do good to you. You seem like a nice one, but it never hurts to remind.” You instinctively walked away but his words rang in your mind. Do good to us, and we’ll do to you, huh? Charles warning would come into question every once in a while. The only person to know your secrete was Hosea.

If anyone else found out, they might tell Dutch. And if Dutch finds out, then so will Micah. At this point the only reason you still kept your secret was to save your hide. If Micah was really as much of a bastard as you’d been led to believe, if he got his hands on some information of that magnitude, you’d be dead in the next hour. You sighed with your head rolled back toward the sky. How could things keep getting more complicated?

Shockingly, time skipping wasn’t as strange of a concept anymore. You may not have done much research on it, but Gina sure had. She was a big-time nerd. If you really had jumped backwards 120 years, there was nothing you could directly do to change it. But, one thing you did know was that the universe, if having the capability to do this, would eventually find a way to put you back. A trigger was what pulled to get you here, and at some point, the space of time would have to set you back with another trigger. That trigger was certainly your previous death, but there was no telling if this new trigger would be the same. And let’s just say, dying wasn’t exactly an easy risk to take here. All you can do is bide your time and hope it comes soon.

“Found him!” You heard Arthur holler from the side, followed by the grumble of the old man getting to his feet. You guided yourself to the two by the cart, Arthur standing around with his hands on his hips looking like a scolding mother.

“That’s a rather odd place to nap, Uncle.” You pointed out.

“Welp, you know what I say? A man who can sleep on any surface, has the peace of mind to be doin’ so.” He dusted off the back of his pants.

“Interesting…” You supposed he was right, in both senses that could be interpreted. “Are you ready to head to town?” You asked the both of them but only Uncle responded.

“Yep, I gotta head down to the general store to get some supplies. Was you wanting to tag along?” Before you could respond, a familiar feminine voice bubbled behind you.

“Can we come too?” It was Karen with Tilly and Mary-Beth in tow.

“We been cooped up here for far too long! We need some fun!” Mary-Beth said in her almost song-like tone.

“Well, can Miss Grimshaw spare you?” Upon Arthur asking that, they all groaned in disdain.

“Can Miss Grimshaw spare you? Come on, Arthur! Three young, healthy women want you to take ‘em out robbin’ and you’re worried about house chores!” Karen argued while Tilly crossed her arms and shot Arthur her signature annoyed eyebrow raise.

“When you’re right, you’re right, I guess. Everyone hop on.” Arthur and Uncle took the lead and got in the front seat, Arthur at the reins.

“Wait, did you see if Sadie wanted to go? She said she’s been itchin’ to get out for a bit.” You asked while Karen climbed into the back.

“I asked her, but Ol’Pearson was there saying she had too much work to do. We’ll get her next time.” Tilly assured you. A twinge of disappointment flared in your chest, but you reluctantly followed the ladies into the cart and sat next to Karen. Arthur didn’t waste time to get a move on. You saw John being passed by the cart, on guard duty. You hadn’t gotten many chances to talk to him, but it was good to see him on his feet. Apparently, he had gotten attacked by wolves while you were unconscious, which was crazy. The whole camp was out of sight no more than a minute later. They really picked a good spot, huh? The cart makes small clunk and crunch noises when rolling over the dry soil path.

“So…James?” Karen smirked dubiously.

“Yes?” You rested your elbows on your knees, leaning forward. Which you soon realized was a mistake, because now Tilly and Mary-Beth are leaning in close and Karen is hovering just above.

“What’s it like in California?” They all actually seemed interested in what you had to say, making you feel both nervous and comforted.

“Well…It’s hot, most of the time. Uh…we get a lot of fires, and they can’t be dealt with fast enough. Earthquakes, those happen. But there’s beaches! Those can be fun on the right kind of day.”

“What kind of day is that?” Mary-Beth followed.

“Let’s see…” You thought for a moment on how to describe it. “It really just depends, I guess. Some days the beach is good for having some good fun. Messin’ around and all that. But if you go in the evening, it’s a lot less hectic and more serene. People like it for different reasons.” You lost your train of thought for a moment. Miguel liked the beach, particularly in the wake of twilight. The sounds always brought comfort for him, the lull of the sea. You were pretty sure he had mentioned at some point that his dad used to work down by the beach before he died. The sound of something snapping and the curse of a man brought you out of your haze.

Arthur slowed the cart and you noticed another person’s carriage or whatever was sitting still, and a white horse was running off to the other side of the road. You were quick to slide down the long seat and hop out the back. Your boots hit the dirt with a quick thud. Arthur had the cart in a near stop, his eyes following you as you moved yourself around to where the man was. For the brief second that you caught it, there was a conflict behind his eyes.

“Are you gonna help him, Arthur?” Karen verbally jostled. He seemed to chose a side, opting to follow you.

“Do you need any help, sir?” You questioned the older man who was tightening the straps on the horse still attached. He looked frustrated but thankfully relieved that you offered.

“Would you please go get my horse? He ran off over there.” He pointed out toward the base of a hill with some trees where the white horse you noticed before was shifting around frantically. Arthur surveyed the situation.

“Alright, I’ll go to the front, try to get ‘em to calm down. You ease your way over from the side and get his reins, lead ‘em over.” He scratched at his beard, which saw was shorter since you started paying attention. “Got it?”

“Got it.” He moved first, you going diagonally behind him. His steps were slow, methodical. It was always strange to see him act so gentle. Maybe you were just being nosey or over-analyzing him, but Arthur always seemed like he put on a tough guy persona. His demeanor went through shifts that you recognized easily, they were the same for you. The way his posture softened, his voice soothed, his eyes rounding down at the bottom. You’d only caught it a few times, and you wondered if anyone else ever paid enough attention to notice that. You could just be projecting, or acting way too creepy. Either way, it was just something you caught on to.

“Easy…” His voice mulled, accent rolling gently. “Easy there…” The horse was still fidgeting but at least it wasn’t running around anymore. “That’s it…” You inched closer to the animal staring down at Arthur with big, black eyes. The grass squished under your soles but was near silent to everyone else. Until you heard a small snap. You’d stepped on a twig. The attention of both sets of eyes was on you now. The horse shifted to its back hooves, letting out a fearful wail. You threw your hands up and froze.

“Woah there!” You exclaimed, knowing if you did this wrong you could easily get trampled. “Hiya…” You kept your voice delicate, which you weren’t exactly worried about in the moment. The horse breathed heavily and twitched through its snout. You lowered your posture, seeming less offensive. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be scared…” You inched a little closer to test the waters. Though the creature seemed to still be on edge, it appeared to be unphased by your new closeness. You kept going, until you felt the sharp breaths against your cheek. “You’re alright, buddy.” Your fingertips met the smooth fur of the horse’s neck, petting it reassuringly. It accepted your touch, and let Arthur take hold of its reins.

“You uh…” Arthur turns away from you, beginning to walk as you continue to sooth the horse. You were unable to gauge his expression. “You did really good with- with all that.” He let out a fake cough in the middle of that sentence. “You have experience with horses? I’ve seen you ride, not very well but still.”

“Eh, a little. Not very much.”

“Well, you got mighty lucky then, boy.” He remarked.

“Woooooo! Nice job you two!” You heard Tilly call, followed by the assured chants of the other two women. Arthur surrendered the leather straps to the older man.

“Thank ya, good sirs. You’ve done a good deed today.” The old man smiled approvingly.

“I just did it to impress the women, no thanks needed.” Sure, you did, Arthur.

“It was no trouble. Have safe travels, mister.” You waved him off as you changed your direction back to the cart, joining the ladies once more. Everyone waited until you all were out of earshot of the man and back on track to Valentine.

“That was real kind of you boys.” Mary-Beth grinned with a dreamy tone.

“See, Arthur? You got a heart! Unlike this old lizard.” Karen pointed up at Uncle.

“Lizards have hearts!” He remarked with offense.

“Honestly, if you three prob’ly hadn’t been there, I’da prob’ly robbed him.” Arthur corrected. All three of the women rolled their eyes.

“And I didn’t know you were so gentle, James. Not with the stories I’ve heard.” Mary-Beth was clearly trying to lead you in, and in that she had succeeded.

“What stories?”

“Micah talkin’ out of his ass. Normal stuff.” Karen reassured you.

“He’s got a brother out in California, says he’s heard of your little posse.” Tilly explains. “Says you were traded off to the O’Driscolls. Probably with us to try and get your friends back.”

“Pardon my French, but that’s horseshit.” You cut to the chase. It didn’t seem that any of them believed Micah’s lies, but they clearly wanted to hear your input. “Micah doesn’t know a damn thing about me, or my family. It’s literally not possible.” You felt yourself instinctually grip the mask bound to your hip. You took a deep breath through the nose. “I don’t know what his problem is with me. I haven’t done anything to him.” Tilly noticed the tenseness in your hand and appeared to make a mental note of it.

“Micah’s a bit like an infection. Likes to get under your skin and make ya sick.” Mary-Beth spoke knowingly.

“He’s hard to look at too.” Karen chortled. Arthur did his usual half laugh, half grunt.

“I’m surprised none y’all invited Molly with this kind of talk. Only person that hates that bastard more than me is prob’ly her.”

“Oh no, Miss O’Shea is far too high and mighty for the likes of us. She’s a society lady now.” You recognized the tone Karen held as contempt with a hint of mockery. The stench of a barn suddenly hit your nostrils.

“That’s sheep alright!” You cough from the sudden shock.

“You a city boy, James?” Uncle questions.

“Can’t really be much of city boy if I don’t live anywhere, huh?”

“Fair enough.”

The cart rounded the corner, exposing semi-busy streets. Everything was a little dirty, but not in a rundown sort of way. Women were wearing long dresses and skirts, most with their hair covered. And near the same could be said for the men except with pants, not skirts. The cart pulled down the main street and turned into a small clearing between what looked like a big stables and a small building still under construction. You sighed, rubbing your temples. Why does this shit gotta happen to me? The Great Depression has arrived early, I fucking guess. You pushed the knowledge you’d had for a while into the back of your mind and got out of the cart to help the girls down.

“Alright, I’m gonna go to the general store and get some things. Arthur, James, you come with me.” Uncle instructed.

“We’re gonna see what trouble we can stir up. There’s bound to be some dumbasses around here. Just imagine we’re in Paris, girls.” Karen lead the women back down the street and you followed behind Arthur. You heard fragments of his conversation with Uncle. Something about Uncle being called the ‘one-shot kid’ back when he was younger and him being Arthur’s third favorite parasite. You were still reeling a bit, so you mostly zoned out. Focusing was always harder when you were having your tenth existential crisis this month. The trip was fairly quick. You only saw Arthur pick up some coffee grounds and a chocolate bar. I didn’t peg him for a sweet-tooth. Uncle got a bottle of something, that’s all you ended up noticing. You opted to just buy some food and had enough money to buy an extra pair of pants. You were tired of wearing the same pants every single day. Even if you were used to it, you happily took the chance to have a spare pair and finally be able to wash the other ones.

After that whole point of your trip was over, you sat beside Arthur on the bench outside, deciding not to drink anymore after tasting how strong the booze really were. At least one of you should be fully sober for this trip. Designated Driver for a real one. One Drink Y/N, they call me. You rested the side of your foot against your knee and leaned back against the wall, getting comfortable.

“Y’know what you outta get? A hat.” Arthur suggested.

“A hat? Why?”

“You look young when yer not wearin’ one. That’s why most people think yer a kid.”

“Really? That’s why? That’s really stupid.” Arthur shrugged his shoulders.

“Maybe so, but it’s true. We should pick you up one sometime soon.” I’m gonna look like an idiot. Arthur and Uncle shared another swig while you rhythmically tapped at the beak on your mask. The two men continued on with a conversation, mostly consisting of Arthur being annoyed, while you sat in silence. An eerie sensation crawled up the left side of your face. Glancing around, it didn’t take long to notice the cause. A black hat quickly retreating behind a wall. You turned your head to the right, pretending to search for something near the Hotel.

You felt it again.

You were being watched. They were either spying or trying to examine you. You tapped the side of Arthur’s knee with the back of your hand to get his attention.

“Hey Rabid Man, I’m gonna go take a look around. I’ll be right back.”

“Ya sound like you’re tryna ask for permission.” He raised a brow, eyes scrutinizing your face.

“Nah, just lettin’ you know. There’s a black hat I need to check out.” You over enunciated the phrase black hat. “Because it seems to be taking a heavy interest in me.” He seemed to at least partially catch your drift. You stood up with a walking step, longer strides than you’re used to. You saw a staircase on the side of the hotel when you first parked.

Passing by the butcher and cutting around his stand, you took a confident gallop up the stairs. You’re meant to be here, this is like second nature. The wood creaked softly beneath you before rounding the white and blue painted corner. Your sight grazed over the area you saw the hat duck away to. Prepare for trouble and make it double, I guess. You ducked down behind a crate and peeked out the side.

There were two men, one walking over to the other. What are you doing out here? Besides being creepy, I mean. The one who had been watching you was pointing back towards Arthur and Uncle, he seemed to be interested in the little group. He was blond under the hat, the other guy looked grey with a bald spot. You assumed they were discussing the men sitting at the bench by how hush-hush they acted. Not that you’d be able to hear them from this distance, you could just tell by their demeanor. You could smell the suspicion from a mile away.

For a moment you debated what you should do. If they were willing to spy, who’s to say they won’t try and follow your tracks? You and Arthur would get blamed for sure. If they’re O’Driscolls, then that’s only add acid to the rain. You didn’t need any more issues than you already had. They were definitely packing, they might try to start something if you provoke them. How do I go about this? You certainly weren’t gonna take the chance of them following, which meant you’d have to be careful. Intimidate, but be smart about it, make them paranoid, make them nervous to not let it escalate.

With that choice in your mind, you quietly trotted down the steps once more. Once on the ground again you locked eyes with Arthur. You gestured over to the direction of the men and held up the number 2 on your fingers. He nodded in recognition. You pointed to your eyes, then to where the men are, and finally pressing your pointer finger to your lips. Watch. Them. Quietly. You turned and walked away, going around the backside of the hotel.

The blond one was now leaning up against a tree with the almost bald one pacing around. You interlaced the hook of your thumb into the front beltloop of your pants, walking with a bold impression in your step. The nervous one noticed your approach first and kicked the shin of the nonchalant blond to get him to do the same. You decided to take a friendly disposition initially, letting a smile spread across your face. You stopped a few feet in front of them.

“Hiya there, fellas. I don’t suppose I could ask y’all a few questions?” You slipped into the accent you and Javier used in conversation.

“We ain’t got no answers for no Van der Linde meater!” The blond hacked and spit at the ground in your direction. What the hell is a meater? “Now scram like the pigeon-livered fool ya are.” You kept eye-contact with him the entire time, not budging.

“Now, I’m just tryna be civil here, boys. And let me tell ya, my civility is a privilege, not a right.” You took a step forward, now only a little more than a foot away from the agitated blond. “I ain’t gonna ask anymore, I’m tellin’.”

“Go to hell before I send ya there myself.” He drew a small revolver from his holster, the barrel pressed gingerly into your belly. You were unimpressed.

“Wow, you must really be an idiot-“

“What did you just say?” The other butted in.

“I said he’s an idiot. Not only is he dumb enough to try and watch me, but it also seems he’s so stupid that he’s try ‘nd point a weapon at me with the Sheriff’s office just around the corner.” You lowered your voice. “Your escape rides are a lil far to be actin’ like you own the place, aren’t they?” They gave each other a worried glance after hearing you say that. “I just wanna know what gives you the nerve to be spyin’ on someone like me.”

“This here is O’Driscoll territory, boy.” The Friar Tuck looking one verbally spit.

“Well, excuse me, I don’t see your permits of established territory. Now I’m not sure you noticed this or not, but I got eyes everywhere. You see, friend, I’ve got a certain way with words, and got enough skill to get people to do as I ask. Try anything funny and I won’t hesitate.” You push the offending arm that held the gun away, he gave no resistance. “I’ll give you a word of advice, keep you eyes to yourself.” You reached up, plucking the hat off his head by the brim. “And don’t wear hats. You ain’t big enough for ‘em.” You took a few steps back, masking the cautionary nature of them with cockiness. “I’ll see you two around.” You put the black hat on the crown of your head and waved them off.

You could already hear both men huff from frustration as you left. You decided to cut into the alley between the hotel and another building.

“That was quite possibly the best outcome you coulda got.” The sound of his accent surprised you. Arthur was leaning his shoulder against a blue beam but was about a foot taller due to him standing on the hotel’s platform. “I’m actually a little impressed. Never seen an O’Driscoll give up so easily.” He tipped his hat. “Especially not when you’ve so thoroughly disrespected ‘em.”

“Well, you did say I oughta get a hat, yeah?” Your throat was glad to be rid of the way too below your octave voice you’d taken on.

“I did indeed. It ain’t quite right, but it’ll do for now. Except for the fact yer wearin’ it all wrong.” Arthur dropped down to one knee, which was even more surprising than when he spoke up out of nowhere. It was unclear to you if it was just all the contemplating you’d done of him previously or what, but his eyes looked more unguarded than you were used to. Clear and questioning, they were honest. You could feel the ghost of his hand take the top of the hat and move it forward so that the sweatband met the top of your forehead. “Much better.” He made what almost sounded like a sigh of relief.

“Oh, thanks…” Your voice came out softer than you meant for it to.

“Yer welcome. Now, let’s go check on Uncle. That old fool mighta drunk himself to death by now, here’s hopin’.” He stood to his feet and cracked his neck.

“Don’t be so hard on him, Arthur. He used to be the ‘one-shot kid’. Have a little more faith in him.” Your joke made him groan.

“Now you sound like Dutch.” You could practically hear his thoughts go ‘ew’. Together you walked back over to find a passed-out Uncle.

“Huh…Bill told me Javier and Charles are still here, you wanna go find them?”

“Eh, no, let’s just wait for the ladies. They’re usually pretty smart, but you can never be too careful.” You both took a seat on the shop’s wooden steps since Uncle was now sprawled on the bench.

“You’re very protective. You know that?” You asked.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. It’s not a bad thing either. Just something I’ve noticed. You care a lot.”

“It’s not-“

“You’re not gonna fool me, Arthur Morgan. I’ve gotten pretty good at reading people over the years. I personally think it’s a good thing.”

“Really?” You expected his inflection to allude annoyance, but it was rather sincere.

“Yeah. I’ve been around you guys for a while now and let me tell you, the macho gets old. That’s why I appreciate the calmer and more caring outlook you have. It means you’re reliable.” He went silent after your last comment. This made you think you may have overstepped and made him uncomfortable. You forced out a laugh to try and lighten the mood. “Sorry about that, I talk without thinking sometime-“

“I never thought about it like that before.” What? “You know you’re real strange, West.”

“That’s what I’ve been told.” This time the chuckle at the end was legitimate. “I’m used to it though.”

“Y’know, everyone’s real interested to hear more about you. Ya don’t say much about yourself, and when you do its all vague. You scared of somethin’?” You weren’t sure why his question shocked you initially, they said the same thing earlier.

“I don’t think scared is the right word.”

“Then what is?” There was a newfound dulcet way in his speaking. You pondered that question for a moment. You weren’t trying to get killed just because someone was nice to you.

“You all have been so kind to me, and I’m sure it’s frustrating to not know practically anything about me, but for safety’s sake, until proven otherwise, it’s best that I don’t say.”

“You got someone after you or somethin’? ‘Cause if you do, we really need to know what to look out for.”

“It’s complicated. The less you know the better. Besides, I’m too far gone and far too different for that to matter.”

“You really know how to be cryptic, don’t ya?” He scratched at his beard.

“I’ve been told that as well, yes.”

“In any case, you can trust us. I know they don’t seem like it, but most of them boys, and almost all the ladies, they’re real good listeners.”

“See what I mean? You care an awful lot. It’s actually really impres-“

“Arthur! James!” And elated voice called out. You looked to the right and saw Mary-Beth making small and quick steps toward you. Arthur picked a pebble off the ground and snapped it at Uncle, hitting him in the stomach with a light ‘pap’ sound and efficiently waking him from his alcoholic slumber. He let out a sudden yelp, and Arthur pretended he wasn’t the one who threw a small rock at him.

“By god, what are ya shoutin’ for, old man?”

“Something just hit me!” He squealed.

“Damn birds, amiright?” His words slurred through his accent. You didn’t respond to him.

“Hey Mary-Beth. What have you been up to?” You greeted her with a smile.

“That’s actually what I was comin’ over to tell y’all about! I found this big, fancy house and snuck in, pretendin’ to be a servant girl. It usually works.” She gestured with her hands. “Anyway, I heard some talk about the lady’s sister goin’ on a trip to some getaway vacation. A train full of rich bigwigs cruisin’ along the empty countryside at night to get to Saint Denis! To avoid the tides and all.”

“I don’t know about that, Mary-Beth. Seems a little risky.” Arthur was hesitant.

“Oh, come on, Arthur! There’s bound to be enough money on that train to keep us movin’, yeah?”

“I guess…Say, where’s Tilly and Karen at?”

“Oh uh, Karen picked up some drunk fella to try and rob, took ‘em to the hotel.”

“Why?!” You joined in.

“Seemed easy…She has been gone for a while, though. Oh! There’s Tilly right there!” You followed her line of sight and saw Tilly get pulled into the alleyway you came out of earlier. You couldn’t hear much from where you were, but she was clearly getting yelled at by a man you didn’t recognize. “That don’t look good.”

Help Tilly or Help Karen?

Return here after choice is made

“Yeah, he only punched me. He got it worse, trust me.” She smirked.

“Uncle, can you take the girls back to camp. I think that’s been enough adventure for one day.

“I saw Bill ride in earlier, should we get him too?” Tilly asked.

“I’ll check on him here in a bit.” Everyone agreed to going back and things seemed pretty chill. Then some random guy on a horse slows down next to the group.

“I…I saw you in Blackwater!” What?

“No, no you didn’t. Let’s talk about this here-“

“I’m getting out of here!” What the fuck is going on? His horse made a quick turn in the opposite direction.

“Shit! Uncle, get the girls out of here!” Arthur hopped onto the back of a ginger horse and chased after the mystery man. Someone in the distance yelled,

“Hey! That’s my horse!” but didn’t go after them or anything. You stood in complete bewilderment for a moment.

“What are ya doin’, son? We have to go!” Uncle snapped you back into reality.

“No, you all get out of here. I’m gonna make sure Arthur doesn’t get into any trouble.” You waved them off and jogged off to figure out where they might’ve gone.

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 fanfic #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #bill williamson #tilly jackson #karen jones #mary-beth gaskill

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constant-calum · 6 years ago

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Watercolors (Brandon Arreaga) ~ Chapter Eight: Monet

Summary: 17 year old Amina Parker was far from a blank canvas, but he still managed to make a finger painting with her love.

A/N: And just like that it seems like the interest in this story has gone down. Let me know if I should continue this, because it feels like the last 3 or so chapters haven’t been too popular...

Part Seven Part Nine

Amina knew that Nick’s car wasn’t large enough to fit all seven of them, but she didn’t expect to be sat literally on top of Austin. She could tell he didn’t mind, but she found herself worried that she might crush the skinny boy. After all, Amina wasn’t exactly the lightest.

Even with the discomfort of the number of people in the car, the ride to Nick’s house was short and pleasant. The large houses passed by in a blur of well paved sidewalks and watered lawns. The boys all sang along to the NSYNC playing through the car speakers. Austin poked Amina in the side, causing her to squeal.

“Come on, Mimi! You sing this part.” He chirped.

If she could, Amina would have paled. Singing was definitely not her strong suit. However, with the stares of Edwin, Austin, Zion, and Zane from the backseat, she decided to put her pride behind her.

“It’s gonna be me!” She yelled.

Everyone laughed, covering the beat drop of the song. Amina couldn’t stop herself from smiling, loving the energy they were all sharing. As the car slowed to a stop in front of a large house, Amina’s breath got caught in her throat. They all piled out of Nick’s Range, and she looked up at the red brick house.

“Welcome to Casa Mara.” Nick chuckled, throwing an arm around Amina’s shoulders and pulling her in the direction of the front door.

The thick oak door closed with a heavy click, leaving Amina to admire the elegance of Nick’s house. It was somehow more extravagant than she expected. The halls were lined in delicate embellished wallpaper, the floors were either stark white marble or dark mahogany. Amina couldn’t stop herself from gaping at the giant chandelier hanging in the foyer.

“Nicolas? Is that you?” A loud, very Jersey-Italian voice called from somewhere in the house.

Nick just sighed, motioning for everyone to follow him. “Yeah, it’s me, Ma. I have the boys with me.”

The group rounded the corner of a long hallway, finding themselves in the kitchen. Once again, Amina found herself gaping at the stainless steel appliances, and shiny granite countertops. Standing over a large pot was a woman in her early fifties, dyed black hair tied up into a messy bun. She turned to meet the group with a smile.

“Hi boys!” Her eyes turned to Amina and Zane. “And who do we have here?”

Nick rolled his eyes, performing an action Amina knew she would get slapped for in her own house. “These are some friends from school, Amina and Zane, the ones I’ve been telling out about.”

As Nick spoke, his mother went down the line of the four boys that weren’t her son. She hugged each of them, placing a wet kiss on their cheek with a loud smack. By the smiles on the boys’ faces, Amina could tell that hanging out at Nick’s House was their favorite.

“Well, Amina and Zane, it’s nice to meet you both.”

Mrs. Mara hugged Zane first, placing a kiss on her cheek that Zane looked happy to receive. Amina felt a little more awkward, wondering how this lady was already treating her like she had known her for years. However, she still got her hug and kiss all the same.

“So we’re gonna go down to the basement, and probably go out for dinner and some laser tag later.” Nick chimed.

His mother looked slightly disappointed. “Are you sure? I can always cook up something for you guys here.”

Once again, Nick rolled his eyes, leading the group out of the kitchen and back down the hallway. Amina did her best to smile as they walked out.

“Thanks Mom,” Nick called, now considerably far away. “But we’re gonna go out. We’ll be in the basement in the meantime.”

. . .

Maybe Amina was terrible at laser tag. The boys didn’t need to know that! But as she rounded a corner, a loud zap went off, leaving Amina’s vest dead. When she looked to see who the culprit responsible for her second death (in twenty minutes), she was surprised to see Brandon’s face smiling back at her.

In the twenty-five seconds it took for her best to come back to life, and put her back in the game, she crossed the tight space, standing next to Brandon. His white teeth glowed an eerie purple under the blacklight of the laser tag arena.

“How many times have you died?” He questioned, looking down at the curvy girl in front of him.

Amina sighed, crossing her arms like a defiant toddler. “Twice. But like it’s unfair! Y’all keep popping out of nowhere!”

Amina knew that when she got fustrated, a southern accent peeked through her New Jersey exterior. She blamed her mother’s Georgia roots.

“Another thing to note about Amina, she sucks at laser tag.”

Just like that, Amina’s vest came back to life. As Brandon raised his gun to shoot at her again, she swatted it down. Amina couldn’t help herself from smiling as he giggled: Brandon’s laugh was contagious.

Amina was about to head back into the thick of the game when Brandon pulled her close, her back to his chest. She wondered why he caged her in that position.

“B? What are you doing?”

Her question was answered by Zane and Edwin rounding the corner, shooting relentlessly at the two. Brandon was successful with using Amina as a human shield, and within seconds, her vest was dead.

“Love you, Mimi!” Brandon called as he ran away, leaving Amina in the center of the dark, blacklight hallway.

Once again, she sighed, placing her hands on her hips and waiting for her vest to power up again. Both Edwin and Zane stood laughing for a second before patting her on the shoulder and moving further into the arena. As she watched them go, Amina realized that Brandon hadn’t gotten hit once.

. . .

Amina blew on the glittery purple ink, willing it to dry before she closed her notebook. She knew that writing that night would be easy, simply just recalling the facts of the day. She found herself not even embellishing it: it was better that way.

Her silk scarf covered head popped up at the sound of a knock at the door. She called for them to come in. Amina smiled at her little sister, who sported a scarf just like her own.

“What’s up, Chey?”

Cheyenne ventured further into Amina’s room, taking a seat at the foot of her bed. “Nothing much. I just wanted to say hi.”

“Well hi. How was your day?” Amina found herself smiling at her younger sister.

“It was alright, I guess. Some white girls kept trying to touch my hair. I kept telling them to stop, but you know they never listen.”

“So what did you do? You didn’t just sit there and let them touch it, did you?”

Cheyenne looked guilty, turning her focus down to her pink pajamas. “I didn’t really know what else I could do.”

Amina sighed, crossing the room to go sit across from the younger girl. She crossed her legs under herself, and looked her sister straight in the eye.

“What you do is, you hold your shoulders back, look those girls straight in the eyes and say, ‘I am Cheyenne Monet Parker. No one touches me. Now, I said stop. Get your white hands off of my hair.’ And Cheyenne, I’m telling you, they will stop right there and then.”

Her little sister scrunched her nose up, giving a very preteen-ish scoff. “Why’d you have to use my middle name?”

They both burst into laughter. “It adds to the drama, Chey! Don’t ruin it. You gotta say the whole thing so that they really understand the point.”

From somewhere in the room, Amina’s phone began to ring. She sighed, climbing down from her bed to locate the device. After digging through her backpack, she finally found it, but by then it had stopped ringing. A bright message popped up on the glass face of her phone from Zane.

Amina Nicole Parker, you have some explaining to do!

#escritos #watercolors #arreaga #brandon arreaga #prettymuch #prettymuch fanfic #prettymuch imagine

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crimethinc · 6 years ago

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Accounts from the Fall of Silent Sam–Featuring Maya Little

As the effects of the toppling of the Confederate statue at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill continue to ripple out, we’ve obtained two narratives of the night’s events. The first statement is from Maya Little, the Black graduate student who helped catalyze the revolt against the statue by participating in a sit-in against it and then, when that did not succeed, dousing it in paint and her own blood. The second is from another anonymous anarchist, who connects the victory in Chapel Hill with the events of “All Out August,” a month of resistance to fascism, prisons, police, and other manifestations of white supremacy and oppression.

Whose Streets? A Statement from Maya Little

On Monday night, August 20, 2018, students, workers, neighbors, and comrades reclaimed Chapel Hill in an ungovernable enactment of justice. We marched in our streets and the badged and unbadged racists moved out of the way. We looked out for each other and refused to yield when fascists and cops attacked our comrades. We memorialized and reawakened histories of resistance against the white supremacist institution and its followers and honored the martyred Black and Brown people in our area. People masked up in force rather than in isolation, limiting the power of fascists and police. Finally, the statue was pulled from its plinth and Silent Sam’s smirking face was buried in the dirt. For the first time, we stood taller than Silent Sam.

This victory, cathartic and much more collective than previous efforts, challenged sanitized historical production, directed the conflict against the racist university, and aligned intersections of resistance against the institution to demand action alongside the most marginalized in our community.

In focusing on reclaiming and recovering histories of Black and Brown resistance, unlike objectified, depersonalized, and passive academic histories, the protest chose targets that rendered explicit the commitments to white supremacy that UNC and Chapel Hill maintain to this day. The focus on physical spaces brought UNC’s shadowy behavior to light, challenging the university’s abuse of Black students and workers. By directing attention to the protected existence of monuments, buildings, and plaques produced specifically to honor oppressors, organizers connected these physical racist symbols to years of racist policing, gentrification, and abuse of Black and Brown workers, students, and community members. In recontextualizing these racist monuments, Black students expressed solidarity with Charlottesville and memorialized Sandra Bland and the countless people of color murdered in our area. The fact that these were physical targets also enabled activists to reimagine spaces through the recovery of resistance histories—for example, in the Hurston Hall movement, the plaques put up to honor Pauli Murray, and the planting of placards last spring detailing many of the acts of police brutality and protest in Silent Sam’s last 50 years.

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Graduate students Jerry Wilson and Cortland Gilliam explain why they will wear nooses around their necks until the statue is removed.

At every step, the university opposed activists, confiscated materials, and used surveillance and harassment to stop the recovery and rejoicing in reclamation. It remains important for the university to portray resistance as an outlier, the unusual behavior of so-called “outside agitators.” This is why Monday’s 20-foot-tall banners memorializing the many murdered by white supremacy and honoring “Those who have fought against the white supremacy UNC upholds” were a critical element, helping to create an alternate campus that empowered and brought together anti-racist protestors without chancellors, police, or city officials.

The banners not only presented a different vision—they became our own plaques, our own memorials. Students, workers, and community members carried and protected the banners, using them to create a space that police and fascists could not take back. We carried them, fought for them, and worked together to put those banners up surrounding Silent Sam.

The violence that police demonstrated in response to our protecting the banners clarified their opposition to our freedom and united people in reclaiming the area. This demonstration did not involve marginalized people acting alone or demonstrators alienated from a sense of struggle. We were connected by our resistance to the united front of cops and Confederates.

Along with other Black students, I spoke about the pain and danger of being daily abused under Silent Sam’s gaze by our university and racist visitors. This time, instead of behaving like hesitant and elevated allies, white students, workers, and comrades acted as “supportive accomplices.” As people acted together, the banners were put up and the statue taken down. Backed into a corner and afraid of our power, the university has revealed that all it really knows how to do is to repress and seek revenge.

Their racist monument was taken down in an act of community power. Now UNC chancellor Carol Folt, the cops, and city and state officials in Raleigh are scared. Along with Harry Smith, Margaret Spellings, and Haywood Cochrane, Folt issued the boldest statement that I have ever seen from the Chancellor’s Office. They promised retribution for the toppling of the statue through the use of extensive university and state funds supported by the SBI. Direct action and confrontation with the university and its police has been the only way to draw the administrators and cops out of their usual equivocating and shadowy operations to show their real colors. White demonstrators witnessed the force that the university regularly uses to crush Black dissent.

The demonstration last year, the marking of the statue with blood, and the memorialization and toppling on Monday have forced the admins and cops into a corner and now they bare their teeth. That’s good. They fear the commitment to justice that we demonstrate; thereby, they make clear what they actually care about: money and maintaining white supremacy.

Fear was also present in the announcement of the expected results of the historical commission planned for Wednesday, August 22, a microcosm of every institution in this country and the obsessive need to compromise at the expense of Black lives. In this fear and in the aftermath of seeing what ungovernability can look like, in Raleigh we saw a show of force by the state in direct opposition to justice. Valerie Johnson, the sole Black commission member, quoted MLK in the minority vote in favor of monument removal: “American history is replete with compromise. The Missouri compromise that spread of slavery, Plessy v. Ferguson. Let’s not continue compromising.”

And yet they did—the reformists acted as they always do, choosing comforts over equality. They further insult the North Carolinian Black and Brown heroes by deciding to place their statues next to the massive, suffocating monuments dedicated to the racists who murdered them. Yet only two days after Silent Sam’s toppling, the institution again met resistance. One woman stood up to read a statement against the racist statues and was immediately mobbed by police and dragged to a vehicle outside. The mere hint of dissent is beginning to frighten them more and more.

vimeo

The statue falls.

In every instance of action, whether it be the clever renaming of UNC buildings after Hitler and David Duke by students supporting Hurston Hall in 1999, the guerrilla history connecting resistances, or a crowd coming together to run off UNC police and topple a 105-year-old statue celebrating the Confederacy, we have seen clearly which side the university stands on. The university, its leadership, and its institutions do not stand with us. We want liberation, they want to push their brand. We topple white supremacy, they uphold it.

Moving forward, looking to the courageous rebellions taking place against white supremacy on a broader basis such as the national prison strike and the unrelenting demonstrations for Black lives in Chicago and Toledo, we can draw inspiration from the actions in Chapel Hill on Monday night. In recovering the histories of resistance, in taking direct action against racism, surveillance, neoliberalism, greed, and institutional power, we brought about a new togetherness and a demonstration of our own power.

All Out August: A Statement from an Anonymous Anarchist

The actions of August 20 in Chapel Hill took place against the backdrop of a tumultuous month many have taken to calling All Out August. Starting as a joint social media and poster campaign among several informal autonomous anti-fascist networks across the so-called US and Canada, the hashtag rapidly came to stand for more than just countering far-right rallies.

This campaign became a nationwide effort encompassing several different issues—a modest attempt to present a common narrative tying together many different demonstrations, including some supporting the prison strike that began on August 21. This seems to have succeeded in addressing people beyond established anarchist and antifascist networks, strengthening popular mobilizations against various forms of fascism from Portland and Austin to DC and Chapel Hill and blurring the lines between ordinary demonstrators and those sometimes called “militants.”

The following personal reflection on a few moments of joy and determination on the streets of a sleepy Southern university town aims to highlight how this happened.

By only a few minutes after 7 pm, the entire plaza was overflowing with protestors. The energy was already palpable—the tone serious, hundreds of people silently giving the speakers their full attention. Students of color spoke of how the statue functioned as a reminder that they were not welcome on this campus, that they were not safe. Two Black students vowed to wear nooses around their necks from that day until the statue’s removal as their own reminder of what Silent Sam represents to them. Thanks to a combination of luck, determination, and uncompromising direct action, they only had to follow through on their vow for a few hours.

After a rowdy and inspiring round of speeches below the backdrop of the twenty-foot-tall gray banners that would soon shroud Silent Sam forever, the crowd was invited to march across the street to the statue. As speakers finished, they openly expressed their support and solidarity for the people who would be masking up—in defiance of North Carolina’s mask law—to help protect their identities from far-right doxxing and state surveillance. Over the microphone, we were reminded that those who dedicate their lives to fighting racism and fascism must sometimes cover their faces to protect themselves.

We pulled the freshly printed Carolina blue bandanas across our faces: three arrows pointing down alongside the words “SAM MUST FALL.” Solidarity was written across our faces. More banners appeared out of nowhere. The electricity in the crowd grew.

As soon as we crossed the street, the 10 or so cops that had been hanging around the statue attempted a show of force by targeting those who were wearing masks. They walked into the crowd, taking their authority for granted, yelling at each demonstrator clad in Carolina blue, “Remove your mask! Take your mask off!” Some pulled their masks down temporarily; the police unsuccessfully attempted to rip masks off other comrades. The police thought they had an opportunity to separate the troublemakers from well-meaning non-confrontational student protestors and went in to arrest several masked individuals. They thought this show of power could weaken us, giving them the upper hand. Not this time. This time, we wouldn’t be stopped, we wouldn’t be scared. We were more powerful than them and we knew it.

The moment the cops went in to snatch several of our comrades, dozens more came to their aid. Banners appeared between the grabbing hands of the police and the fast-moving protestors; people held tight to those who were targeted. Smoke erupted, and a human tug of war ensued. A crowd surrounded the few visibly confused officers, chanting fiercely. Of the several people the officers tried to apprehend for covering their faces, they only successfully captured one. One very large officer covered the arrestee with his entire body, and the determined crowd was unable to remove his massive weight. (The arrestee didn’t report any injuries, and only was charged with two misdemeanors). Later, we learned that a police officer only a few feet away from the confrontation had reached for his gun.

The police were thoroughly distracted by the melee. The four gray banners were already almost entirely installed around the statue by the time they regained their bearings. Once the rowdy crowd realized it could do no more for this one comrade, people retreated to the statue, surrounded it with a ring of additional banners. During these chaotic initial moments, a lone white supremacist tried to intervene and succeeded in pulling down one of the gray banners encircling Silent Sam, but it was quickly reclaimed and the aggressor was ejected from the crowd. We were everywhere at once—unarresting our friends, removing fascists from our midst, putting up banners, chanting, moving, taking care of each other.

This moment defined the evening. The police had assumed that this crowd could be tamed. Yet as soon as we arrived at the plaza, we were a single defiant force with one goal clear before us, although none of us expected to accomplish it that very night. The students, teachers, alumni, anarchists, and community members of all kinds were together in this moment, tired of waiting for politicians to give us concessions. The crowd was diverse in age, race, and background, but that night there were none of the disagreements that have become so commonplace in demonstrations. There were no apologists demanding that we stop trying to rescue our comrades from the hands of the police. Confused by our unity and determination, the police stood back. They knew that any moves against any of us would be difficult and potentially dangerous.

Elated by our initial victory, we lost track of time surrounding the statue; it could have been moments or hours. No longer visible, Silent Sam was shrouded on all sides by a wall of gray. The words “For a world without white supremacy” waved valiantly over where Sam had stood as a threat to students of color for one hundred and five years. The other banners formed a line, creating a visual display of resistance. A few police and random fascists stood around the edges of the quad.

A distance opened, and those of us holding banners began to feel exposed to police and other attackers. At that moment, the crowd of joyous, uncompromising marchers encircled the monument, singing, dancing, chanting, and keeping our energy alive. This seemed to indicate that at least some of the demonstrators were aware that the police would target the people holding banners first in order to take out a line of defense. It would be harder to justify this if a crowd of “normal-looking” students surrounded this line with locked arms, chanting. It was becoming ever clearer that this time, no one was interested in the usual divisions around tactics that often hinder our activity.

We all stood around, unsure of our next move. We had made it to our goal quickly, surprising ourselves. We thought it was over and it seemed the crowd was about to thin out. As the night fell, the summer heat did not lift, and we were all hot and tired, yet ready for more. Some rowdy folks got on the microphone and led some new chants:

“How do you spell Nazi? “C-O-P”!” “Say no no to the po po!” “Nat Turner, John Brown, anti-racists run this town!”

Someone finally got a sound system working, playing loud political hip-hop. A small dance party ensued. Once we began to lift up our spirits again, the crowd began to move. We spilled out into the street; linking arms in a classic form of resistance and solidarity, we moved together down to the next intersection. Pink smoke rose from the crowd and we formed a ring around the intersection, still arm in arm. We all faced each other, joined together with our new friends. We stood a moment in rest, listening to the voices of students of color on the megaphone, calling out the names of the revolutionaries who came before us. There was a solidarity in the air that words can hardly describe—hundreds of strangers who had come together, done what we needed to, and now held each other up. The line between street action that is categorized as confrontational and action that is described as “non-violent” became blurred. We linked arms to hold space, to breathe and celebrate together.

As we marched, we refused to let the fascists who wanted to bait us into argument distract us; however, we did not compromise in pushing them from our ranks. This occurred over and over that night. While we would never shed tears for a bigot who got himself bloodied, the crowd was wise to use just enough force to expel these people from our ranks and no more. The straggling right-wingers didn’t pose much of an immediate physical threat; outnumbering them, screaming in their faces, and shoving them beyond an established perimeter held by banners did the trick without causing a brawl that could have distracted us from our goals. Even when it came to people deploying smoke bombs, those only seemed to appear at the right moments, to serve as a distraction or conceal activities. These tactical decisions were made in the moment, between friends and strangers alike. For a few rare hours, we knew our power.

Our celebratory moment in the street ended when shouts rang out that some people had stayed behind at the statue and were now facing harassment. There was no hesitation among the crowd to return to the site for our comrades. We came marching back, much to the surprise of the small line of police trying in vain to protect Silent Sam. They were soon surrounded by an angry crowd; some tossed empty water bottles at them. These served as warning shots, letting them know that we meant business. This was our moment, our place. Their laws and their violence meant nothing to us. They stood fast at first with fear and confusion visible on their faces. But as soon as the bottles flew, the police immediately tapped each other on the shoulder to back off in retreat.

A few lone right-wingers remained, insisting that they were “just bystanders.” In the moment, this was obvious code, as they refused to join in the protest or get out of the way. The crowd opened, offering them a path out. When they refused, they were pushed through this opening; they turned around, fists cocked, only to find a crowd of masked people confronting them, and banners quickly shutting behind to block their view of those who had just removed them. Like tattletales in elementary school, they ran to the police: “Mr. Officer! They shoved me!” Once again, we let the police know that they did not rule over us. The march down the block had renewed us and we were ready for anything.

The night was built of moments like this. Fascists repeatedly tried to stand among us to gather intelligence but were immediately identified and neutralized. We always began by telling them to leave; then people around them would begin to chant in hopes of driving them out with voices. If this was not enough, one quick push could get them out of the crowd. A banner would move into place between the fascists and the crowd, and we could shift our attention to other things. Everyone seemed to have a similar understanding that we would set our boundaries very clearly with both the police and the fascists but never let them distract us from our goal.

It must also be said that there were many other bystanders who came to watch; these people were more than welcome and some joined in. Those who had brought banners often passed them on to enthusiastic newcomers who had been observing how to use them as defensive tools against state surveillance and attacks. The media will always describe us as “an angry mob,” attempting to foment fear about the threat we supposedly pose to the community, but that’s just propaganda. The only people who were unsafe in this situation were the thinly-veiled fascists who support monuments to white supremacy and advocate for the genocide of Black people and other people of color. They should be afraid. On the night of August 20, even the police had nothing to fear as long as they didn’t try to arrest any of us. All genuine bystanders, community members, and future troublemakers are welcome to join us.

Once police and fascists were cleared from the statue, word spread that it was going to come down. A rope had materialized around Silent Sam’s neck. We all moved out of the way; despite the chancellor’s fear-mongering statement later that night, there was never any risk that the statue would fall onto any of us. We all stepped back together to see if it would fall. To be honest, for a moment, we didn’t believe it was possible. The chants that had filled the air fell silent as we all waited in anticipation.

After a few seconds of pulling to no avail, a deep metal grating noise rang out and we knew that Silent Sam would stand no more. We erupted in uninhibited joy and shrieks of delight as the statue lurched through the gray banners and fell into the dirt. All at once we were jumping, hugging, crying in disbelief. Immediately, multiple clouds of pink and orange smoke rose up; people began throwing dirt on the statue as it lay face down in the mud. Banners were unfurled once again as people danced together and embraced.

As our cheers died down and we pulled our masks from our smiling faces, the rain that had been forecast all evening finally began to fall. This perfect timing completed a night that already felt magical and surreal. It was as if the natural forces were working with us, aligned with us, and now we could cool off from the heat and begin to wash away all the pain that Silent Sam’s legacy has inflicted upon all our communities. Those struggles are far from over, but that moment was ours. The rain grew heavy; jubilant and still alight with adrenaline, we disappeared into the night.

For those of us who have dedicated ourselves to a life of struggle towards liberation from capitalism, the state, white supremacy, and oppression in all the other forms it assumes, it’s easy to become accustomed to losing. Over the centuries of our struggle and the years of our own lives, we have experienced so many losses that we dare not count them. The powers that be rip through our communities and try to break us, yet we keep going. We lick our wounds and continue forward because that is the only direction we know how to go.

When Silent Sam made his nosedive into the dirt of the university, we remembered what it was like to win. These tiny moments are a breath of fresh air; they are the fuel that keeps the fires within us burning. It is like falling in love again after heartbreak—we know that it may not last forever, but it is worth it. It is worth everything they will try to do to destroy us, because we know what it is like to feel alive.

The joy that we felt when the statue fell is the joy we feel when we take control of our own lives. We are raised to believe that someone else will solve our problems for us, that we must rely on the police or the state to change the conditions of our existence. In North Carolina, the state has don us a favor by literally barring politicians from removing the statue, leaving direct action the only option. Once we learn what it is like to taste freedom, we never forget. Felling the statue with our own hands provided the kind of catharsis that could actually heal some of the wounds that 500 years of colonization, slavery, and oppression have left on our collective psyche.

Imagine the statue being removed by the city at a designated time by people paid to wear yellow safety vests! Would we have felt that sense of victory in that moment? Or would we have just felt a muted satisfaction, perhaps even a touch of resentment at the officials smiling smugly for the photo op, proud to benefit from the one concession they have given to the same communities that their police officers murder with impunity, harass daily, and kidnap to fill their jails and prisons? Our elation in this moment of healing is so powerful because we took it for ourselves, because we worked together as a community to establish our autonomy and self-determination. We were effective because for a few hours, we did not fight with each other. We allowed people to be confrontational, militant, and assertive without policing each other, and we eschewed any unnecessary escalation that would have distracted from our goals.

There is an argument that our success was only possible because of a police force that was not heavily invested in protecting the statue. There may be truth in this, though the police will surely deny it; but in any case, we know that our success was our own. There was a palpable affinity amongst the crowd: though strangers, we came together with a single goal, and we learned quickly how to work together. This also attests to the organizers reading the situation correctly. If a police force is not able to muster the will to act, why not take advantage of their weakness to solve a longstanding problem? We struck a blow that will ring out for a long time.

At the same time, this brings up questions about how some of the authorities might try to use the outrage surrounding monuments to recuperate our struggles into more state-approved methods of so-called social change. How will “progressive” politicians latch on to the “people power” that took down statues in Durham and Chapel Hill to bolster electoral campaigns full of empty promises, that won’t actually shake the foundations of institutionalized white supremacy?

While All Out August still isn’t over, we can begin to see its success in a multitude of ways, as combative solidarity demonstrations have kicked off in multiple cities in support of the prison strike and there are rumors that another monument somewhere else in the South could be next. The so-called “Alt-Right” that attempted to regain its previous momentum has largely failed, with pitiful showings in every city this month besides Portland. Even there, their numbers were dwarfed by the anti-fascist opposition, and they were only able to march on account of extreme violence on the part of the Portland police, who nearly killed a protestor.

One lesson we might glean from all of this is that while it is absolutely necessary to oppose the far right when they attempt to build street power, we’ve been stuck in a reactive loop for the past year. Now we are regaining the initiative. If there is a monument to white supremacy in your town—and they aren’t all Confederate statues—why not take the offensive against it now? In some cities, it has appeared that people are waiting for a far right group to make the first move, but we can see clearly from Chapel Hill that a crowd that takes the initiative can accomplish far more than just impeding a far-right group from organizing.

We must also be thinking about what comes next. All Out August has been a first step towards connecting the legacy of the Confederacy and the enslavement of human beings to contemporary struggles against prisons and police. This is a huge first step, on a national scale, but there is a long way to go. How can we make these connections with even more clarity? Not just through posters and hashtags, but with actions on the ground, with real people? How do we increase our capacity to block ICE operations and to defend those actions against fascist intervention, while connecting the fight against ICE with the fight against colonial exploitation of the land? We’ve seen glimpses of these moments in the streets—through the clouds of smoke following the fall of a statue that came down with the complicity of people who might have called masked demonstrators “troublemakers” just a year ago.

As we desire for these actions to spread, we know that our victory in the streets of Chapel Hill was the product of creativity, flexibility, and uncompromising solidarity. It does not stand alone in the fabric of history, but rests on a foundation of decades of effort. We won because we refused to fight each other, because we set the terms of how we would take the space. We won because we seized the moment and learned to work together. We won because we took the opportunity to turn our desires into action. That moment reminded us that when we build collectively, look out for each other, and take control of our lives, even a small group of people can topple giants.

We saw that even something that seems permanent and inevitable might actually be nothing more than a hunk of cheap bronze shoddily attached to a pile of concrete. It doesn’t take that much to see it come crashing down.

Sic semper tyrannis, but for real.

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potterzachary · 4 years ago

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biancaarivera · 8 years ago

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we’re still here || ranger para

TAGGING→ Bianca, @syriafraye, @pieceofreeses, @griffinsayoc, & @rangeredup

WHEN→ Wednesday, March 8th, 2017

WHERE→ Command Center // Shadow Island

GENERAL NOTES→ With the help of Syria, Bianca and Reese face off with Griffin on Shadow Island and successfully save him and long-time prisoner Dr. Oliver. (title inspiration)

Before becoming a Power Ranger, life had been so black and white for Bianca. She had never once been lost in her ambitions, which was one of the many reasons she was such a determined individual. Understanding who she was as a person and who she could trust grounded her. But the morning she woke up in an abandoned cabin on Shadow Island had changed that. Honestly, it was becoming a ‘one thing after another’ situation where she was constantly running into problems and after Reese had told her about Syria’s suspicious involvement in the entire Rangers versus Devone and his army situation, she had come to the conclusion that she genuinely couldn’t trust anyone. Not even her teammates. Just as she had learned to not believe what anyone says, she had learned that desperate times call for desperate measures. She’d rather not be working with Syria, not until she could further understand why her roommate was in this mess in the first place but they needed to save Griffin and Dr. Oliver. It’d been over a month since he was kidnapped by Devone and now he was serving as an evil Power Ranger. She was afraid that they were already too late, but Bianca liked a challenge and wasn’t going to lose hope. “Are you guys ready? We’ve been sitting on this for way too long,” Bianca complained to Syria and Reese, her nerves getting the best of her. She wracked her fingers through her long dark hair and paced the floor of the Command Center. “How does teleporting even work? Is there a machine we need to get into or do we just… hold hands?” she asked the other brunette in the room, a judgemental tone creeping in her voice. She puffed up her cheeks and blew out a long air. Pull yourself together, B. You’re a Power Ranger and Power Rangers don’t get to be immature or have bad days. You guys are here for the same reason: to save your friend. Clenching her teeth to avoid another negative, impatient comment, she flashed a gentle smile at Reese and Syria and shook her head. “Sorry, I’m a little bit nervous so you’ll have to excuse my attitude. But seriously, it is time to go,” she added in a friendlier tone. They had trained extensively for this moment ever since they got their butts kicked by Griffin the week prior and for the first time since joining the team she felt prepared. She didn’t need to trust anyone to believe that they could pull this off.

Reese felt as if he hadn’t had a single moment to catch his breath starting from the moment they woke up on Shadow Island. Thus began the norm of having more questions than answers. The answers were slowly coming to the surface, but it seemed like at every turn there was a new task at hand. One minute Reese found out he was given super natural abilities, and the next he’s having to use those abilities to take down a horde of lizard humanoids. Reese finds out Griffin is under the control of Devone, and before he knew it he was volunteering to infiltrate his secret lair. When Eury and Rory attempted this task they ended up in the medical bay getting the silent treatment from Kat, so he knew he had no choice but to do it right the first time. He couldn’t fault the girls for their heroic attempt, but he knew going rogue was a recipe for disaster. Luckily, Bianca and Reese had Syria, who could give them the ins and outs of the camp. The idea of trusting her after finding out she was Devone’s daughter caused his stomach to twist in knots, but she was their only shot at getting onto the island undetected. Bianca’s voice pulled him from his own thoughts and fears, “I’m ready to go, B,” he nodded, rubbing his hands together as if to get all the last minute jitters outs. Reese let out a small chuckle as Bianca asked about teleporting. “I dunno maybe we have to jump into a big spinning wheel like in Austin Powers,” he shrugged with a crooked grin before turning to face the scientist. “You heard the lady it’s time to move."

Syria listened to Bianca speak as she fiddled with the device; making last minute adjustments. She had to remain focused on the task at hand. Otherwise she’d probably let her doubt settle in. Syria knew that time was against them. Yet, with time not being on their side. She had to make sure here calculations were on target one mistake and they all could end up in her Father’s throne room. And Syria knows no one wants to pay her father a visit. “I am just going over a few lose ends before we leave.” Syria paused for a moment to look at Bianca and Reese. “Before we teleport any where. You guys do have a plan right? You aren’t just making this up as you go along?” She asked raising her eyebrow at them. Yes, she did realize the they have been training for a while now and never really wanted to become power rangers in the first place. But still Syria didn’t regret creating the serum with Dr. Oliver. Earth needs heroes and they just so happen to have been chosen by Dr. Hillard. She just hoped that they were more than ready for this mission. Sighing a little as she went over one last adjustment. “Teleporting is pretty easy. Do you guys not have the ability to teleport yet? Because most of the rangers before you could teleport. Though most villains were smart enough to make sure that they could teleport into their secret hideout.” She looked over at the other two and wondered if she was confusing them. “Umm… anyway this device will not only get you two to the island but it will do so you won’t be detected.” Syria said turning to face them fully. “As for teleporting, let's just say that I am a portkey. So, holding hands or onto a limb would be a good idea.” Syria said before taking a deep breath.

Bianca narrowed her eyes at Reese and bumped him with her hip playfully, attempting to feign annoyance but deep down knowing that she was genuinely appreciative that Reese was able to keep his sense of humor intact despite the crumbling world around them. They needed that if they wanted to stay sane. “Trust us, Syria, we have a plan. I’ve been working on it for an entire month and with the intel that we’ve received from Eury, Rory, Arlo and you, I guess, we were able to train to our best ability,” she explained carefully, unsure of whether or not she was convincing Syria or herself. “Griffin hasn’t had an encounter with the Pink Ranger and it will throw him off guard. I have the advantage of flight which will serve as an element of surprise for Devone and his army who shouldn’t even know that I exist. But Reese has to lure him to me and he can’t be morphed.” Her anxiety grew at the thought of Reese having to go into Devone’s camp unmorphed but they had discussed his role earlier in the week and being the brave, selfless person he is, he had agreed to go along with it. “Nothing is foolproof, obviously, which is why we will be using our communication links in the case of an emergency at which point backup will come in. Dr. Hillard has it all worked out with Wes and his boat. Regardless, I am not leaving that island unless I have Griffin and Dr. Oliver with me. We can figure out how to fix him in the safety of Command.” She arched a suspicious eyebrow at Syria when she labeled herself as the portkey to teleporting to Shadow Island, but closed the distance between their bodies and linked her arm through the other brunette’s. “I can fly but I can’t teleport. Hopefully Kat will help us upgrade soon because I see it being a useful tool,” she described. She wondered how many powers they could potentially develop; she already had flight and perhaps psychic abilities but she wasn’t ready to share that information with anyone yet. Especially not now. She had a mission to focus on! “Thank you,” she softly spoke to Syria. Although concerned (and somewhat betrayed), about Syria’s connection, Bianca was grateful that she was helping them out. “Come on, Reese! It’s morphin time!” she cheered to keep up morale, extending her hand out towards the blonde for him to grasp.

Reese struggled to keep a smile from cracking as Bianca playfully hip bumped him. He knew there was nothing funny about their situation, but he had learned to embrace good humor in dark times. When his powers emerged, it was goofing off with Rory that showed him they weren’t anything to be afraid of. They were apart of him now, whether he liked it or not. Reese was positive that Dr. Hillard wouldn’t approve of him using his water based abilities like a super soaker, but given the fact he didn’t ask for them in the first place, that called for a little give and take. Reese nodded and pointed his index finger towards Bianca. She was the idea women here. Once he volunteered for the mission they went over the plan time and time again. Reese knew his role. Going into the belly of the beast unmorphed was terrifying, but he had a sizable advantage. Before the battle against the Black Ranger, Reese had defeated Devone’s henchmen outside the Brooklyn Museum with the help of the Yellow Ranger. Plus, this time it was personal. “No worries, Syria. We’re not winging this one. My last two battles were ambushes. I’m just glad this one is on our terms. I’m hoping for round two with those lizard dudes. They’ve probably missed me,” he nodded with a shrug, his easy grin stiffened as Bianca reminded him of the gravity of their operation. She always managed to reel him back into reality’s orbit. “And I’m not leaving without Bianca, so either all of us get off or none of us.” Reese reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. She had come a long way since that night in the medical bay, and Reese was going to make sure this contact with Griff wouldn’t end the same. “Ready, B!” He cheered trying to match her enthusiasm. He gave the scientist a grateful nod, still unsure how much he could trust her involvement with both sides, but thankful nonetheless for her help.

Syria could see Bianca bump Reese playfully out of the corner of her eye. Biting her lower lip to try and fight the smile that made it’s way on her face. It was good that Reese kept his sense of humory. With having witnessed all the horrible things her father has done. She know that they were going to have to find ways to keep their sprites up. She just hoped that her father wouldn’t break anyone. Because that is one of his favorite things to do. Shaking those thoughts from her mind. Syria turned to lock eyes with Bianca’s. She didn’t need to know the details of their plans. Syria just wanted to know that they had one. She believed that Bianca would be working on something for a month. “That sounds like solid plan. Griffin does seem to have moments of clarity. Though he’d never want to admit to something being wrong.” Syria though for a moment. She knew of a way to have Reese sneak around the Island and be undetected. Taking a breath as to ready herself for what is to happen next. “As long as you two are clare on what the plan is. I’ll get you both on and off the island safely. Though I’ll have to linger back. It would sent a red flag my father’s way if I teleported from the Island with you guys.” Syria looked from Bianca to Reese, “I really do hate those overgrown lizards.” She said shaking her head at the thought of them. “Alright hold on tightly and in 3.. 2.. 1” Syria teleported them to the Island.

Bianca pressed her lips together when Reese declared that they were all in this together. She didn't want him or any of the other Rangers to put their lives in danger by facing off with Griffin. But she also didn't want Griffin to be stuck on Shadow Island with Devone. He was convinced that he was bound to be evil- something that upset Bianca deeply. It wasn't his fault that he was injected with the Ranger serum after all. Instead of resisting Reese’s commitment, she nodded her head in his direction then squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened her eyes again, she observed the grey sea, sky, and beachfront. Dropping Syria and Reese’s hands, Bianca morphed into her Pink Ranger suit, the protective exoskeleton molding over her body perfectly. At first morphing made her uncomfortable, but now- just like her powers- it was as natural as it possibly could be. “I think we are far enough away,” Bianca said, noticing the faint voices of soldiers and slave laborers. She squinted her eyes and looked into the distance, seeing where Devone’s camp had set up. It looked quite elaborate, with workers buzzing around and hauling large logs of wood. It appeared as if they were building an elaborate housing system and Bianca wondered just exactly what Devone’s plans with it were. “You two should probably go now. Remember, use the communicator if you need backup,” she warned Reese in a serious tone. “To remain discreet, just say ‘funny girl’ and I’ll be on my way with Sawyer, Eury, and Rory making their way to the island as fast as possible.” Catching her breath, Bianca gave Reese a quick hug and a firm pat on the back. “Good luck.” She squeezed Syria’s shoulder to acknowledge her appreciation before hiding behind a nearby cluster of boulders and rocks.

Reese took a deep breath and closed his eyes, and by the time he opened them they were on the familiar shores of Shadow Island. However, the work camps made this trip undeniably more sinister. Reese didn't have much time to dwell on that as a grin pulled at his lips upon seeing Bianca as the pink ranger. "Pink definitely looks good on you, funny girl, but you're right. The sooner we get started the sooner we can take Griff and Dr. O home." As far as Reese was concerned there weren't any other options. Eury and Rory had infiltrated the island once, and even if their plan was admittedly less thought out, Reese wasn't going to let their pain be for nothing. He wouldn't let Griffin hurt anymore of their friends. Once the pink ranger left them, be turned to face Syria, "How should we do this? I can cloak myself, but the longest I've done it is an hour. Think we'll need more time than that, or do you have something up your sleeve?" He asked, ready for any suggestions.

Syria watched the others reaction to being teleported the Island. It has changed since the last time Reese or Bianca has been here. And the changes that have been made make the Island even creepier then it is. Syria hated being on this Island. But, it is where her father operation is. So, she had little choice in the matter. Hell, she even had to pretend to act like she was looking at this Island as a place to set up her new lab. Syria listened to both Bianca and Reese. Nodding her head in agreement. “Alright, let’s go find Griffin. If we are lucky maybe He’ll be training with Dr. Oliver.” Sighing a little Syria looked at Reese. “I know that there are going to be some things you’ll see that might make want answers. And I’ll try to answer your questions. But, sometimes I don’t even have those answers.” Syria looked around the grounds quickly. “There are some human volunteers. See they are the once wearing the coveralls. I can get you a pair to look like you are a volunteer. Then all you have to do is follow me to where Griffin trains.” Syria said pointing out some of the people in coverall. Taking a deep breath before she moved to grab a pair of coveralls for Reese. “Sneaking around with this should be easy.” She said handing him the coveralls. Let me know when you are ready and will make our way to where Griffin is.

Reese observed the island as Syria spoke. The fact that she wouldn’t have all the answers didn’t surprise him. Even though she was related to the mastermind behind all this, Devone didn’t seem like the kind of guy to give up his plan in entirety. Still, being vulnerable on Devone��s territory was enough for Reese to err on the side of caution. He took the overalls from Syria and slipped the uniform over his clothes. Reese buckled the straps on his shoulders and turned to face the scientist, “How do I look? Do I look like an evil henchman?” He asked completing the look with an exaggerated scowl. Reese visibly stiffened as a man with recognizable dark eyes passed them with a wheel barrow full of supplies. He didn’t notice he was staring until the man glared at him, and Reese focused his attention from the familiar looking man back to his apparel. “Sorry I thought I saw somebody I knew…” he mentioned with a shake of his head. The man’s familiar features that mirrored Eury’s was stuck inside his brain, but he couldn’t dwell on that now. There was a much larger mission at hand. “Alright. Let's go find Griff,” he nodded ready for Syria to lead the way.

Syria tried not to smile at Reese as he asked her how he looked. “You’ll pass. Though I really don’t think the scowl works for you.” Syria raised an eyebrow at Reese. “Hmm… I hope that you don’t know anyone here. But if you think you do see someone you know. Just let me know and I’ll find out if they are here out of their own free will or if they are being forced to be here.” She spoke quietly. Syria leads Reese in to the cave. “Sorry, they use a part of the cave for training.” She spoke and they made their way through the caves tunnels. They made their way through the caves passing by some more human volunteers and Cylatrons guards. Syria did her best to hold herself like a soldier would. But there was something that was bothering her. She couldn’t put her finger on it. Instead she just kept moving forward. “There are just up ahead. I can hear that they are training.” Syria said before heading into the cavern where Dr. Oliver was training with Griffin.

Griffin bounced around on his toes, sweat pouring from his face as he kept his eyes trained on Dr. Oliver. Their sparring sessions had taught Griffin more than he wanted to admit in his current state, but the pride he felt every time he got a shot in on his teacher was proof enough. The longer their training went, the more likely Griffin was to get the drop on his sparring partner thanks to the limited diet and water that Tommy had access to, but Griffin loved it all the same. "You're weak, old timer," he taunted like he often did as he turned and landed a spinning kick that sent Dr. O to his knees. They'd been at it for hours, and even though he knew they should take a break, he was too worked up stand completely still. He was finally getting to show himself to Devone and become more integral in his plans. All the time spent learning to use his powers and fists were paying off. Walking over to his bottle of water, Griffin picked it up and drained over half of the bottle in one long drink. Looking from the bottle to Dr. O, Griffin shook his head and tossed the plastic bottle and what little water was left in it in his teacher's direction. He needed the guy to be able to spar more later after all. Hearing someone behind them, Griffin spun around ready to give Devone a progress update, only he was greeted with someone else entirely. "What are you doing here?”

"I don't think it does either. It kinda hurts my jaw," Reese chuckled, rubbing at his cheeks. In all honesty his plan was just to keep his head down and blend in as much as possible. Syria's reaction wasn't at all what he expected. His first instinct was to believe that, being Devone's daughter and all, Syria would want to keep the identities of her father's volunteers as mysterious as possible. That wasn't in line with the person he had gotten to know since arriving in New York, and though he knew it was best to keep her at an arm's distance, he chose to believe Syria was showing him her true colors right then. Words failing him, he gave her a thankful nod. As they approached the caves, Reese focused on keeping his breathing steady. The caves had consumed too much time in his nightmares. He wasn't going to let it get to him any longer. They approached the training center right as Griffin knocked his opponent onto his knees. The scene that played out was typical as to how Griff was presenting himself, powerful and vengeful, however; Reese remained hopeful when Griffin gave, the man he now recognized as Dr. Oliver, the last of his water. His shoulders squared as their unwanted presence was detected. "We're taking Dr. Oliver home, Griffin. I want you to come back too." That last part almost died on his breath, but Reese chose to speak directly to the last bit of his friend that remained inside Devone's super soldier.

Tommy leaned forward on his hands, struggling to catch his breath as a mix of sweat and blood dripped down his face. He shook his head at Griffin's words, unable to form any of his own in his current state. Griffin's techniques were still primarily driven by rage, but he was getting better — a fact both good and bad in his case. On one hand, it meant he got to live, but on the other... he was honing the skills of a man intended to bring the world to it's knees. Truthfully, he'd rather die than let that happen, but he'd known Griffin for years now. His best friend had coached him all through high school, and the last thing Griffin Sayoc was was a lost cause. He could be saved, and for as long as that was a possibility, Tommy would keep going. “Is--” he panted, pushing himself up. His back ached from the strenuous activity, and his knees were sore from pressing into the hard ground, but he would not give in. Spitting a mouthful of blood to the ground, his eyes followed Griffin to his water bottle. “Is that all,” he winced at the pain shooting up his spine. Inhaling deeply, he pushed through the pain. “You got?” He mustered up a smirk, entirely grateful when Griffin passed the bottle. Tossing his head back, Tommy drained what was left of the water and basked in relief. “Thanks, man,” he spoke, struggling to his feet and setting the now empty bottle aside. Stretching a bit, he had learned to stay silent during Devone's visits. He had enough scars to last him a lifetime. His brows rose, however, when they were met with none other than Syria and Reese Marshall. Licking his lips, he bit back a grin. The cavalry had arrived. “Reese,” he nodded appreciatively, a hint of knowingness in his eye. “I see she's chosen well.”

Syria frowned when Griffin brough Dr. Oliver to his knees. She hated watching them train. Though her father seemed to love it. Especially when Griffin cause Dr. Oliver a lot of pain. Shaking her head from side to side to keep the memories of all the times she had to patch Dr. Oliver up after Griffin did a number on him. Syria stepped forward, “Griffin the serum that was used on you was supposed to not have worked. This is who you really are. You know in your heart that you are nothing like my father.” Syria looked at Dr. Oliver real fast before looking at Griffin. “Your friends won’t give up on you. They are all willing to fight for you.” Syria said knowing that Griffin wouldn’t like these turn of events. Though she could have easy pretended that Reese broke in here. But, Syria wanted to bring Dr. Oliver home just as badly as everyone else does. She turned to Dr. Oliver “How are you holding up? You ready to get out of here?” She spoke smiling a little at the doctor.

Griffin shook his head and laughed a humorless laugh as Reese spelled out what they were after. "Are you kidding me?" he asked like it was a joke that he wasn't in on. The last couple of people that came trying to find Dr. Oliver had left bloody, bruised, and empty handed, and yet here was Reese standing there to try and do the same. "You should have asked your sister and Eury how that worked out when they tried it. He's not going anywhere." It was only after Syria spoke that Griffin realized she wasn't there on her father's behalf like he'd assumed. Not even that, she wasn't even there on his side. He'd trusted that she was part of Devone's cause ever since he'd joined it, and now he saw he'd been double crossed. "It doesn't matter how he's doing, and he's not going anywhere." Griffin repeated with an angry tone as he glared at his fellow Nexonian. "And you aren't either. Just wait until your father hears about this. He'll kill you if I don't first."

Reese stood a little taller as Dr. Oliver recognized him. In the time since becoming a ranger he had learned a lot about the man, and as far as Reese was concerned the doctor had a lot to teach him, along with the rest of the rangers. It was time for him to come home. "Thank you, sir," he nodded trying to fight a proud smirk from breaking through his serious demeanor. Blue eyes panned from Tommy to Griff, and the laugh that came from within his friend caused his spine to tingle. It's what he expected from Devone himself, not his friend who he used to watch football and play videogames with. Reese took a single step in Griffin's direction when he mentioned Rory and Eury's rescue attempt. He saw red as he was face to face with the maniac who sent them to the medical bay. "I know exactly how that went. Why do you think I'm here? This ends now, Griffin." This was good, all he had to do was poke the bear a little more, and lure him out into the open. Then Griffin's dark eyes turned to his companion. Reese was hoping that Griff would be so focused on his own presence that he'd be able to draw him out while Syria tended to Dr. Oliver; however, that didn't seem to be the case as Griff was enraged by Syria's presence too. Reese felt his armor prickling beneath his skin, desperate to protect him, but he kept it at bay. Right now this wasn't the white ranger against an adversary, it was just Reese Marshall standing up for his sister, and his friends hurt in Devone and Griffin's wake. "You're not going to hurt anybody else. Can't you fight your own battles without calling in Daddy Warsucks?" He taunted hoping to draw the heat away from Syria.

Tommy's eyes flickered back to Griffin, reading his reactions carefully. The initial relief that had come vanished as the boy's temper visibly grew, and instinctively, his muscles tensed as he prepared to step in. Tommy kept his breathing even, observing the way Griffin's nostrils flared as his next-level arrogance began to take over. He was irritated rather than scared, that much Tommy knew, but once the first threat was thrown something snapped. His hand shot forward, gripping Griffin's arm with more force than he'd managed since his capture. Locking eyes with the younger man, Tommy's expression darkened. "Don't," he growled in warning. He wasn't foolish enough to believe he could actually win, but the threat did not come lightly. If it meant giving Syria and Reese even a split chance of escape, he was prepared to give his every last breath to defending them. He felt his own rage brewing in the pit of his stomach, but he focused on centering that emotion, using the excess adrenaline that flowed through him to draw strength and stability. His eyes glistened with determination, and though it came as a surprise, Tommy gave nothing away as the news of Eurydice and Rory's failed attempt at rescue reached him. All it accomplished was renewing his faith in the fact that whatever these two were up to — they had a plan. Tightening his grip, he headed one last advisement. "I'd listen to your friends if I were you. Like I said, the good guys always win." Shoving him off, Tommy flashed Syria smug grin, but remained cautious to keeping Griffin within view. "Better now that you're here," he glanced back at his team. "But I never doubted you," turning to Reese, he gave him a pointed look. "We'll talk about the 'sir' stuff, back home. I'm guessing your sister's waiting." Scratching the back of his neck, the idea of home seemed to sink in for the first time. If they pulled this off, he'd hopefully never have to see these dungeons again. His face smoothed over, and the thought of it all nearly choked him up. "I've got someone too."

Syria made herself stand tall. She was used to being on the end of her Father’s anger. But not Griffin’s. Though she was sure that one day she would have be dealing with it herself. Knowing that she wasn’t the daughter her father really wanted. That Griffin was more like a son to her father then she’s ever be a daughter. Syria kept her eyes focused on Griffin only breaking her stare when Reese or Dr. Oliver spoke. “Griffin, you need to realize that this person you are becoming isn’t really you. It’s the person my father wants you to become. And the person he wants is a mindless soldier that will follow commands blindly. You no more important to him than I am. He could easily replace us both. Don’t be fooled by whatever fancy words he has been using. Let us help you. I know that the serum is messing with your brain.” Syria spoke as she kept a her mind focused on Griffin’s. Normally she didn’t enjoy reading other’s minds, or keeping her mind link with someone unless they wanted the mind link (or trusted her). But this was a matter of being aware of Griffin’s next move and saving both Dr. Oliver and Griffin. Shaking her head a little. “I know that I am good as dead as soon as my Father finds out I betrayed him. But, I am willing to sacrifice my life if it means saving others. Including you Griffin.” Syria said knowing that she is probably making him even angrier. Sighing Syria thought about telling Griffin that he was meant to be the Yellow ranger. Not Sawyer. But with Reese around. She was sure that little bit of information would get back to Rory. And Syria kept that from Rory for a reason. “Come on Griffin I am probably one of the one people that understands how you feel. Come home and we’ll figure it out.”

Griffin took pleasure in the anger he saw in Reese. It was obvious he knew exactly how the confrontation with Eury and Rory had gone, and Griffin was ready for round two. "And you think you can take me? Here of all places? Look around, Reese. I've got the high ground." Griffin had no idea what kind of love affair was going on between Dr. O and Syria, but the whole thing infuriated him. All three of them were so smug, acting like they were on their way to a victory, but he had something to say about that. Crushing their dreams would feel even better than it normally did. Getting sick of hearing Dr. Oliver's condescending Mr. Miyagi impression, Griffin balled his fist up and swung, hitting his sparring partner square in the nose. The solid sound or bone cracking was worth the pain that shot through his own knuckles. He was outnumbered at the moment, but he knew that could all change in a hurry. All he had to do was get the attention of the Cylatrons outside, and the scales would tip back in his favor. "I thought you understood me, but you don't. You lie just like everyone else. They'll never accept you," he spat in Syria's direction. He felt betrayed more than he ever would have expected. She claimed to know what it was like to try and deal with all the turmoil Nexus had heaped on their shoulders, the feeling of living up to the unfavorable expectations they carried by being half breeds, unwanted by both sides of the war. The common ground and understand that he'd taken comfort in during the insane past couple months suddenly vanished. "They're using you to try and take down your dad, and you picked the wrong side."

Blue eyes narrowed as Griffin continued to taunt Reese. “I look around and I see you hanging out in a cave with a bunch of weird lizards. I’m not scared of them and I’m not scared of you!” His voice raised for the first time since entering the cave, but he chose to channel that anger into something more productive. He wasn’t going to let his anger cloud his judgement. Seeing Dr. O summon enough energy to stand up to Griff was incredible, but Reese should have known it was too good to be true. Reese no longer held himself back from morphing into the White Ranger, and wasted no time lurching towards Griff, pushing him away from the doctor and Syria, before cloaking himself from view. Reese revealed himself near the exit of the training arena, “Over here, big guy!” He waved, “But you’re gonna have to catch me first,” he barbed before sprinting head first out of the caves trying his best to follow the same path he took with Syria.

Griffin was surprised when he heard Reese raise his voice at him. He rarely saw his former friend loose his cool like that, and to Griffin, it was a sign that he was getting to him. He wanted Reese to feel the same anger that had been brewing inside Griffin for months. He was ready to prove once again that any of the rangers didn't stand against him. The moment that Reese shifted into the white ranger, Griffin knew he was getting his wish. The shoved knocked him back and couple feet, and when he regained his balance, Reese had vanished. "Come back here and fight like a man," he shouted out as he morphed into his own black armor as he chased after Reese. "Even your sister's got more balls than you." Griffin fired energy blasts at the white ranger's retreating back, trying to knock him off his feet, and stop him from the track star act he was doing.

Reese’s stomach dropped as he caught a glimpse of the black ranger before running off. Suddenly he was reminded of his first run in with the black ranger along with the rest of the team, and the way he had to sit out of baseball practice for two days as a gift for catching an energy blast the wrong way. A little voice that sounded an awful lot like Dr. H whispered in the back of his mind, that just because the rangers needed more training to harness the strength of the sum of their parts, doesn't mean that they are inferior to Devone and his budding army. Reese charged ahead, dodging the blasts of energy meant to knock him down. Every so often he'd cloak himself from sight, and reappear in a different spot in Griff's vision. "Are you telling me you don't like playing a little hide and seek?" He hollered before disappearing yet again. "I thought we were having fun!" Reese didn't appear again until he saw the opening of the cave, his metaphorical finish line, and sprinted towards it, avoiding the debris created by the black ranger's energy blasts. Once they were out in the open, and Bianca greeted the black ranger he hung around for a moment before making his way back into the caves to assist Syria with Dr. O.

Bianca paced the small stretch of the island she had sanctioned herself to in order to stay hidden from the human volunteers and cylatrons that were busy laboring away to construct Devone’s camp. She consistently pulled up the electronic dash on the visor of her helmet to check her vitals (unsurprisingly, her blood pressure was higher than usual) and reference the time. It had been nearly twenty minutes since Reese and Syria had ventured into the camp and she began to worry whether that was a normal amount of time to be sneaking into an evil mastermind’s base or if it was an abnormal amount of time, in which case she needed to be bold and run in after them to help. She didn’t want anyone to get hurt and no one had to if her plan panned out the way she had initially hoped. To her relief, she caught a flash of white and black in her peripheral vision, alerting her to Reese and Griffin’s presence. It’s now or never, Bianca. You’ve got this. Drawing in one long, deep breath, she firmly planted her feet on the ground, squared her shoulders, and placed her hands on her hips. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Black Ranger,” she greeted in a deeper tone than normal, hoping her cover wouldn’t be blown by Griffin recognizing her voice.

Griffin chased after Reese, taunting him about the fact that he was running away from him like a coward. "Even your sister put up more of a fight than you." He wanted combat, not a track meet. Hurling bursts of energy at Reese's retreating back wasn't near as satisfying as squaring up toe to toe would be. It wasn't until he spotted the pink ranger standing, waiting, that he realized Reese might not have been quite as dumb as he'd thought. He'd brought backup. Backup that sounded a lot like a child trying to impersonate their dad's deep voice, but backup all the same. "You going to try and run too?" he asked. If this was a trap he was being led into for a two against one, he was more than ready. No matter how many of his color coded friends showed up, Griffin wanted to take them all on. Flashes of going up against Eury and Rory the week prior entered his mind, but he didn't have time to deal with any memories. He wanted a fight, and he finally had one. Seeing how unlike Reese this new pink figure was standing in one place, Griffin fired a blast of energy at her chest before she could take off. "Because I am sick of running after cowards."

Bianca didn’t have super speed nor did she have the best reactionary time to escape the shock of energy Griffin had sent catapulting towards her chest. Thankfully this time around she had her armour to cushion the blow and instead of being knocked off her feet like the last time they saw each other in person, she simply stumbled backwards and yelped as the wind left her lungs. She had spent hours upon hours researching telekinesis in the command center and with the guidance from Professor Hillard, she had learned enough to know how to work around it to her best ability during battle. It was all part of the preparation for this mission and had been what she’d worked on since Arlo had convinced her to join the team and save the world. She still wasn’t so sure about the saving the world part, but her once wavering confidence was now stronger than ever before. Bianca crouched down and pretended to need a moment to recover, bending her knees and placing her hands on top of them. Within a second though, she had pulled her bow from the holster on her back and aimed the loaded weapon at Griffin’s thigh. With her eyes narrowed on her target, she released the string and sent the arrow whizzing through the air before it made contact with his thigh. “Sorry,” she muttered under her breath, sprinting to close the distance between them, slamming her body into his to knock him onto his back while he was still caught off guard. “Listen here, Griffin,” she started, using all of her strength to pin his shoulders to the ground. “You need to overcome the serum that Devone injected into you. Your family and friends are going to help you.”

Griffin glanced behind him to see if Reese was preparing to jump him, but as he did he missed seeing the pink ranger pull out her bow. It wasn't until the sharp pain hit his thigh that he realized his mistake. Every time he squared off against any of the rangers, they seemed to be getting stronger as they mastered their powers. The pink ranger was no different. Jerking the arrow out of his armor, Griffin barely had time to brace himself before his opponent slamed into him, knocking him off his feet. He'd been sacked by plenty of linemen when playing football, but despite the smaller size, the ranger packed more of a punch. Her words infuriated him more than anything. How did everyone think they knew what he needed? They knew nothing. "I'm right where I'm supposed to be," he said as he gathered strength and threw the pink ranger off of him. "You're the one that doesn't belong." Griffin scrambled to his feet and executed the same spinning kick he'd been practicing on Dr. Oliver moments ago. "You think you put on that suit and got powers out of nowhere?" Pulling his axe from his suit, Griffin didn't take his eyes off the pink ranger again. He'd learned his lesson there. "You're the one being used."

Bianca winced as Griffin pushed her off of him, sending her body rolling across the jagged rocks and sand on the ground. Shaking her head, she pushed herself up to her feet only to be knocked back down with a swift kick to her side. “I was meant to have these powers,” she argued, crawling away from him as quickly as possible until she could clamber back upright. “The powers that I have are going to save the world from the man who did this to you.” Her words were falling so quickly from her lips she was afraid he wouldn’t understand. How would she be able to communicate with him long enough to get through to him? Syria and Dr. Hillard had both described that Griffin, despite being influenced by the evil ranger serum, was still capable of experiencing moments of clarity. She had witnessed that in the alley all of those weeks ago. Remembering how gentle he had been, how scared of the world he was and who he’d become made her heart feel heavy. Knowing that she needed to move before it was too late, she crossed back towards the black ranger and channeled all of her energy in executing hand to hand combat. She carefully dodged all angry swipes from his axe, twisting her limber body to avoid his blows. Her right fist smashed against the chin of his helmet which probably did more damage to herself than him, but she paired it with a solid kick to his groin. “Sorry again,” she apologized through ragged breaths. Lastly, Bianca grabbed Griffin’s right wrist and spun herself around so her back was to him, squeezing as hard as she could to wrestle the weapon from his hand. “Stop resisting!” she shouted.

Griffin had never been more thankful for his suit than when a solid foot hit him square between the legs. Without his armor, he likely would have been down for the count, and even though he knew that, it was hard to celebrate that fact when his opponent added a punch to the jaw and went for his weapon. "Stop everything," he grunted out as he tried to shake the pink ranger's grip from his axe. Of all the rangers he'd faced, this one reminded him more of a hyper puppy that refused to give up. It irritated him to put it mildly. Kicking the back of the pink ranger's knee to try and knock her down and break the hold, Griffin regrouped. Letting go of his axe, he used the newly acquired space to regain the advantage. Sending jagged rocks flying in her direction like miniature missiles with his mind, Griffin was ready to end things. He'd had it with everyone trying to 'save' him and tell him what was best. He needed to squash this pink armored bug, and the follow it by finding Reese, and kicking his ass too. Channeling his rage and anger, Griffin lifted up a boulder and hurled it at the pink ranger with a force he didn't know he possessed.

Bianca struggled to hold onto Griffin’s arm but realized that there was no way she could match his strength. He had been training significantly longer than she had, even beyond being injected with the serum. Griffin was an athlete and although she knew she was stronger than most expected considering her petite size, she couldn’t restrain him on her own. Hope was not lost on her, however. This was precisely why she had arranged backup with Sawyer, Rory, and Eury. “I’m never going to stop!” she yelled, falling back to the ground after the black ranger’s boot slammed into the back of her knee. To her surprise, he dropped the weapon and she foolishly allowed herself to believe that this was his moment of clarity. A huge smile broke across her face and she reached up to pull her helmet off and reveal her identity, but before she could she was attacked by a wave of debris from the shore. “Ah!” she screamed, shielding herself with her arms from the sharp rocks that Griffin had sent her way with his special ability. A sinking feeling settled in when she took in the boy in the black suit in front her. Though she couldn’t see his face, she could feel the anger radiating off of him which sent uncontrollable shivers up and down her spine. He wasn’t near experiencing a moment of clarity- far from it, to be honest. Her chest tightened and anxiety consumed her as she missed the opportunity to page her fellow teammates to request their help. Instead, she froze in the same spot on the ground and watched the boulder hurl through the air towards her. She didn’t think about hopping to her feet and flying to avoid it, though if she had she probably wouldn’t have had the speed required to escape in time. The massive rock crashed into her body, accompanied by the outrageous force of telekinetic energy Griffin possessed, pinning her frame to the ground. It felt as though her chest was going to cave in from the weight of the boulder and she struggled to push it off of her. When it finally rolled away, she drew in quick breaths, crying at the pain that radiated through her body. Slowly blinking open her eyes, she gasped at the destruction the rock had done to her helmet. There was no way she’d be able to call for help now, for the glass visor was busted and the electronic dash was displaying an angry ‘error’ screen. She was at a complete loss and felt like a failure. Why were they not capable of saving him? They had tried numerous ways to accomplish this one thing and it had proved time and time again to be impossible. In the end, they would never be good enough. They didn’t have the strength and agility to fight with Griffin and that meant that he was never going to come back to them. Even if he did, how would any of them recover from the doom that was to come? How would she be able to look him in the eyes and ever trust him if he kept trying to kill her and her friends? The error message on her dash beeped shrilly in her ringing ears. “Deactivating suit. Goodbye,” it stated in its computerized tone before her gear disintegrated from her body. Panicking, Bianca was left bare and vulnerable in her street clothes.

Watching the boulder collide with the pink ranger, pinning her to the ground, Griffin took a minute to savor his victory. Another ranger trying to knock him down, and another one stopped in their tracks. Devone had told him to be ready when the moment came, and Griffin felt a sense of pride in living up to what was asked of him. With each battle he entered, it got easier for him. The small voice that used to tell him to hold back out of fear of hurting people was all but gone. Rory, Eury, Reese if Griffin ever managed to find where he'd disappeared to, and now the pink ranger. Walking over to ranger sprawled out on the ground and barely moving, he was ready to gloat and use her as leverage to stop Reese from playing hide and seek, when he saw the suit disengage completely. "Bianca?" Griffin shoved the boulder further out of the way like it was the shadow the large rock cast that was making him see things. Logically he knew that someone had been inside the pink suit he'd gone up against, but he never expected it to be her. Suddenly the weird apologizing every time she landed a blow made more sense. "What are you..." Griffin didn't even begin to know how to complete all the questions running through his head. Seeing Bianca laying there in pain, it brought him back to the first time it had happened in the alley way. She'd been so scared, but hadn't wanted him to leave despite it all being his fault. He'd hurt her then, and he'd done so again only this time was worse. He'd done it on purpose. Sure he hadn't known it was her in the suit, but would that have stopped him? Suddenly he wasn't so sure. "Bianca?" he said again softer as he bent down to the ground. His hand trembled as he reached out to brush her hair back from her face. He knew it was her, and yet there was still a part of him that hoped it was all a mistake. "Are you okay? Can you move?"

Bianca gazed forlornly at Griffin’s approaching body, cursing this island and the alien tyrant that had hurt him in the first place. She was overwhelmed with a sense of loss, though she knew that it wasn’t appropriate for her to feel that way. Liam or Rory or even Sawyer and Aspen, yes. But her? What was she other than the girl who caused too many noise complaints on the floor he was in charge of advising? Perhaps she was just sad that she couldn’t be the hero that they needed to get their friend back, but deep down she acknowledged that she was disappointed that she had failed him herself. She’d made a promise to him, after all. She would save him, no matter how hard it would be. Maybe if she had trained harder or strategized better she wouldn’t have ended up the exact same place that they had started. “Please don’t,” she warned in a soft voice, flinching as he announced her name and kneeled beside her. Was this where he stabbed her like he had Eury? Rather than ending their battle once and for all, however, Griffin gently swept the hair from her eyes and asked her if she were alright. She was sent back to that day in the alley once again, witnessing his moment of vulnerability. “Griffin?” she dared to ask, her heart racing in her chest at the thought of it actually being the same boy she’d met during Welcome Week. Or was he playing some twisted game with her? Tears welled up in her eyes and began to stream down her cheeks. “What’s your favorite movie?” she dumbly questioned, blinking away the tears furiously. She needed some sort of confirmation that the black armoured man was truly back to normal.

Griffin saw the fear in Bianca's eyes and heard the tremor in her voice. It was what he'd been trying to accomplish in one way or another for weeks at Devone's request, but in that moment it was the last thing he wanted. Unmorphing from his black ranger suit, Griffin let her see that it was him beneath it. Of course lately seeing his face didn't mean anything in the way of reassuring people, but for the first time in a while, he wanted it to. "Braveheart. No question," he said as the corner of his lips tugged up into a half smile. "But are you sure you want to talk about that now? You're hurt." Looking around, Griffin was glad they hadn't attracted too much extra attention, or at least not enough to have anyone or anything rushing their way. His head was swimming with enough information without adding anyone else to it. He'd hurt her again, and would have done worse if he hadn't have snapped out of it when he did. He didn't want to think about what would have happened if he hadn't. "What are you doing here?" he asked as his eyes found hers again. "And when did you become a power ranger?"

Bianca inhaled sharply, catching her breath in the back of her throat as his black suit retracted from his body. There was no way that she had pulled this off… Responding to her question and following up with a genuine smile (she hadn’t seen one of those in months), it dawned upon her that this was the real Griffin. It had been so long that she’d had almost forgotten what it felt like to have him look at her like she wasn’t the worst, most annoying person in the world. She laughed at his next statement, shaking her head in disbelief. How could he care that she was hurt right now? Sure she may have developed a few bruises and scratches but the minute she’d seen the warm look in his eyes she felt like she was on top of the world. “I am okay,” she reassured him. “I promise.” She didn’t want him to worry about her, especially not now after he’d had finally made a breakthrough with the serum. Her muscles ached as she pulled herself up into a sitting position, but sat up nonetheless as if to prove her point. “I told you that I don’t give up easily,” she reminded him, sharing a gentle smile that reached her eyes. “I was chosen like the others but I needed a little extra convincing to get me to join. Dr. Hillard and I thought it’d be best to keep the pink ranger off of Devone’s radar and I’m glad that plan worked because I don’t know how else we would have pulled you out of the effects of the serum.” Her head was spinning as she attempted to catch him up to speed, but there was so much to tell and it wasn’t fair for her to dump a load of information on him all at once. They could wait until they returned back to the mainland for that. Alternatively, Bianca locked her arms around Griffin in a warm embrace and hid her face in the crook of his shoulder, holding onto him as tightly as she could manage. “Third time’s a charm, eh?” she joked as she weaved her fingers through his thick curly hair and squeezed her eyes shut, allowing the problematic world around them melt away for just a few moments. She thought that they deserved that at the very least. “It’s really you.”

Griffin welcomed the embrace and wrapped his arms around Bianca's slender frame. He didn't know what he'd done to deserve it, but with all the information swimming around in his mind, he let the hug ground him. He tried desperately to focus on her and block everything else. He couldn't lose himself and risk hurting her again. "I'm so sorry," he said softly as he clung to her. "I'm sorry," he repeated over and over. He didn't think he would ever be able to say it enough. All the things he'd done replayed in his mind, all the people that he'd hurt. As he much as he wanted to stay there, he knew it wasn't safe. Not only because they were squarely in Devone's territory, but because he didn't trust himself. He'd had moments when he'd fought through the cloud of darkness before, but it never lasted. "We can't stay here." Griffin reluctantly leaned back from her. "It's not safe." Through his thunder cloud of thoughts, another one occurred to him as he remembered punching Dr. O in the face just minutes before. "Dr. Oliver," he said as he looked back the direction that he'd left him. "He's here. We have to get him out too. We can't leave him here. God, I've been terrible to him." The shame he felt was almost overwhelming. He knew that getting Tommy back home wouldn't make up for all of it, but it was all he had.

Bianca couldn’t begin to understand how badly Griffin probably felt. He had caused quite the ruckus since their initial trip to Shadow Island and had seriously worried his family and friends. Eventually he would have to accept that the people who truly cared about him would forgive him for all that he had done, though. She had told him once that people are capable of forgetting what one’s said and done, but they will never forget the way that they made them feel. Once upon a time his jovial spirit and goofy personality had the ability to make her smile at the drop of a hat. Simply having him hug her back, even apologize to her, was enough to evoke the same feelings she’d had for him before he became the black ranger. Bianca disentangled herself from his embrace, nodding her head quickly. “I know it isn’t. Reese and Syria went back inside the camp to help break Dr. Oliver out but I can’t exactly use my morpher to communicate with him now,” she explained, looking at the busted piece of technology that was secured to her waist. “Hey, don’t do that to yourself,” she warned softly, using her hand to tilt his chin up so he would look her in the eyes. “You were not in control of your actions, Devone was. All of us understand that, including Dr. Oliver.” She paused for a minute, gazing past his shoulders at the camp that she knew Reese, Syria, and Dr. Oliver were most likely still in. “Look, I don’t know this place like you do. We need to come up with a plan to get all of us out of the camp and we have to do it quickly before anyone notices that Reese and I are here. Do you have any ideas?”

Griffin swallowed hard and tried to fight off tears that stung the corners of his eyes. He didn't have time to feel sorry for himself or dwell on everything he'd done. He couldn't. Looking into Bianca's dark eyes and seeing no hatred reflected back at him, he nodded his head. He didn't fully believe that he wasn't responsible himself, but he could see that she did. In that moment, it was enough for him to cling to. Griffin knew that letting Bianca just walk right into the caves would never work. They had to be smart about it. If Devone even suspected that something was going on, they'd all be dead right where they stood. Too many people had seen him chasing after the white ranger and then tangling with the pink one, and nothing short of defeating them was ever acceptable in Devone's eyes. Losing was never an option. "I know you have no reason to trust me," he began as a plan started to form in his head. Taking in their surroundings and the distance they had to go to get back to the others, there was only one way to get them both there unharmed, but it was asking a lot. "But I need to put these on you." Griffin unhooked a pair of cuff like shackles that were used for other prisoners on the island before Devone fully got into their heads. He looked from the unforgiving metal in his hand and back up to Bianca's face. "If they believe you're my prisoner and I'm taking you into a cell, no one will think twice about it. It's the only way."

Bianca’s eyes widened as Griffin extended a pair of rusty shackles towards her, slowly piecing together his idea before the words even left his lips. She hated that there was a part of her that told her to run, a part attempting to convince her that he had been pretending to be his normal self again just to turn her into a prisoner like Dr. Oliver. Devone would love if his evil ranger had captured one of the good rangers who were trying to interrupt his overtaking of the earth. Yet she stifled that warning voice in her head, replacing it with happier thoughts. She could trust Griffin, even if it meant taking a huge leap of faith. She hadn’t made it this far to simply give up and she knew that he needed to see that he still had someone on his side. Though she didn’t want to have to put her acting skills to use to pose as a captive, she admitted that it was a good plan and it was definitely their best shot at returning home in one piece, all together. “Okay,” she murmured, reluctantly holding her hands out.

Griffin could see her reluctance, and after everything that had happened, he would have been more surprised if there had been none. He had done nothing but hurt everyone around him ever since his first run in with Devone. He wouldn't have judged her if she'd taken off and left him in the dust, but he knew it was the only way. When she held out her hands and accepted his plan, Griffin clasped the metal around her wrists. "This will all be over soon." He tried to reassure her with a soft squeeze of her hand before he stood up and wiped all emotion off of his face. He couldn't let her down again, and that meant convincing everyone that he was the same person who had been around the camp for months. He was Devone's right hand man in a lot of ways, and he didn't want to give them a reason to doubt that. "Come on," he said loudly as he grabbed Bianca's arm and pulled her towards the caves. "I'm sick of you rangers showing up here and getting in my way. It's time to teach you a lesson." Gone was the soft reassuring tones he'd been using, and in its place was the cold and angry mask he'd been stuck behind. "Let's go." Griffin continued to pull her along the path and through the tunnels. He wanted to reach the others not only to get everyone back home safely, but also because he didn't fully trust himself. At least with the others around, they could try and stop him from hurting anyone again. Griffin didn't so much as slow down until they finally reached Dr. Oliver and the others. It wasn't until he was completely sure that they were only among allies, that he released the hold he'd had on Bianca's arm. "Are you okay?" he asked as he uncuffed the shackles. He didn't want her to have to wear them for a second longer than necessary.

Bianca clenched her teeth when the cuffs were secured to both wrists, hating the dehumanizing effect that they had. When his found hers in a reassuring squeeze, her anxieties began to wear away and she followed him as he led her through a system of tunnels that now existed in the caves. When she had been here the first time, the caves were what one would expect- dark, cold and humid. Now they had been restructured to resemble a grid of connected corridors. Other volunteers and soldiers trudged through the tunnels and Griffin made sure to make a scene of treating her as another infiltrator of the camp, another human who would be locked behind the bars before an unfortunate and miserable death. Her blood ran cold at the sight of the cells that they passed and although they were too dark to see if anyone were occupying them yet, she knew that if her team didn’t intervene with Devone’s plans this camp would be filled with innocent people. Even the other soldiers were potentially good people. Griffin had been forced to work alongside Devone with some type of drug and she wondered how many others were under similar potions. She peered warily at the taller man beside her, shivering each time his deep voice barked at her. The minute they stepped foot into Dr. Oliver’s cell she let out a breath that she didn’t know she was holding. Relief flooded her when she saw she now had Reese and Syria back by her side, a precautionary thought. Luckily Griffin uncuffed her the minute they were inside. She felt suffocated by the cold metal, as silly as it seemed. “Yes,” she answered in a calm voice, hovering close to his side. “Thank you, Griffin.” Turning to look at the others, she shrugged her shoulders and let out an excited giggle. “We did it! He’s broken through the serum. Now we need to get out of here. Syria, can we teleport back to command?” she asked hopefully, itching to get out of the disturbing camp.

Reese felt his stomach twist as Griffin toted in Bianca like a prize catch. Before he could even take a step towards the duo, Griffin was unlocking the shackles, and it took a moment for what that meant to finally sink in, but once it did he excitedly charged towards Giff and Bianca. Unsure who to hug first he wrapped his arms around both in a tight hug. “It’s good to have you back, man,�� he nodded, giving Griff’s shoulder a squeeze before pulling away from his friends. “Good work, funny girl,” he smiled at Bianca, anxious to get off of the island and back to command. “I’m with B. Let’s get outta here,” he replied, rubbing his hands together and turning to face Syria, knowing she was the girl with the plan. “And Syria? Thanks. We couldn’t have done this without you.” Trust was something that needed to be earned, but helping bring Dr. O and Griffin back to the city safely was a heroic start.

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut, his vision clouded by stars from the heavy blow. He hadn't known what he expected, but the massive amount of force behind the hit had left him reeling and dazed. His entire face throbbed in pain as the blood flowed freely down his face, dripping steadily to the ground, but still, his concern stayed with Syria and Reese. He used the back of his red-stained hand to wipe, gingerly, at the wound, but it was useless. “That could've gone better,” Tommy tried a joke, but winced at the use of his muscles. Carefully, he slipped his shirt off and gently dabbed it gently at first, before holding it to his nose. The laceration Griffin had left stung upon contact and he could tell from the tightness around his face that it was swollen, but a broken nose was manageable. Exhaling slowly, he blinked to clear his sight just as Griffin returned with who Tommy assumed was a freshly coined power ranger. Immediately, his muscles tensed at the sight of chains but his fears were quickly calmed when it was Bianca who spoke. He let out a sigh of relief. “You had me going there,” he spoke through his shirt. “I thought I was gonna have to take this punk back to school.” Stepping forward, his hand fell to Griffin's shoulder and he caught his eye. “Welcome back, man.” No hard feelings. He looked around the room, appreciative of his saviors. “And thank you. All of you.” He looked from Reese to Bianca to Syria and paused on her. His heart sank at the sight of her, understanding that this could never be a total victory. His jaw tightened at the thought, and he shuffled over to her. “They couldn't have done it without you,” he said, wrapping his arms around her as a way to express his gratitude. “He won't be happy.” The silent question lingered between them.

Griffin expected Reese to clock him one as he rushed over, but he knew that he wouldn't fight back even if he did. He couldn't blame anyone for wanting to smack him around, but when instead he was embraced in a hug, Griffin relaxed the slightest bit. He still didn't know what was going to happen or what anything meant for him anymore, but he got the first hint that maybe he could come back from all of this after all. Glancing up at Dr. O, Griff saw the mess he'd left of his face and quickly let his eyes fall back to the ground. The dried blood and bruises were impossible to ignore. He couldn't face him, not after how he'd acted. He didn't know if he could face any of them again. Instead of joining in, Griffin stood quietly and let the others celebrate as he tried to focus on remaining present. It wasn't easy when the guilt over what he'd become threatened to overwhelm him, but he couldn't lose himself again.

Syria kept her eyes on Dr. Oliver. Having gotten used to taking care of the former green ranger whenever training ending with him getting injured. She shook her head little at him joking around. But didn’t mind it. It was a why for the doctor to keep his spirits up. Syria’s attention left the doctor at the sound of footsteps drawing closer. It wasn’t Reese. He already returned to join them in waiting for Bianca and Griffin. Her eyes narrowed at the sit of shackles on Bianca’s wrists. But when Griffin took off the shackles, Syria let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Syria listened to everyone. Somewhere in the back of her mind she thought that they could have done this without her. But thought it would be better left unsaid. “ I am just trying to make a few wrongs right again. I know that’ll I’ll have to earn your trust again. But I am on your side. No, matter what happens. I’ll always be on your side guys.” Syria said looking from Bianca to Reese and Griffin. Dr. Oliver already knowing what she would be willing to sacrifice to keep everyone safe. Syria was a little taken aback when Dr. Oliver hugged her. Though she returned the embrace with a sigh as she whispered to him, “He’ll be pissed. But it’s nothing I can’t handle. Saving you and Griffin is more important to me.” When she let go of Dr. Oliver Syria looked over at Griffin. Slowly walking over to him. “You’re still fighting the serum aren’t you? Do you feel any pressure on your brain? Because if you do we might need to relieve the pressure on your brain.” Sighing as she looked around at everyone. “Which mean brain surgery.” Syria spoke, not sure if she could handle this task.

Bianca bit her lip nervously at the sight of Dr. Oliver. She didn't actually know him, but after doing some casual snooping around Kat’s home, Bianca learned about their relationship and how special he was. She could tell by his forgiving nature and father-like guidance that he was a good guy and was happy to help break him out of this camp. By the looks of it, he definitely needed medical attention. He was in rough shape, and she sensed that majority of the scars and bruises that littered his body were a result of Griffin’s anger induced state. The guilt and shame was exuding off of him and she again wished she could find a way to explain to him that it wasn't his fault. Sure it was technically him who was going around and hurting people, but he literally had no control over that. There was a lot of science that went behind it, most of which she didn't understand, but she'd communicate it to Griffin once they were back home. She returned Reese’s group hug, wrapping her arms around her two friends quickly. “I couldn't have done it without you and Syria,” she reciprocated the sentiment, nodding her head in agreement when Reese continued to share his gratitude with Syria. The concerns expressed by her roommate, however, made her heart skip a beat. “What do you mean?” she inquired in a worried voice. Syria didn't even have to explain further to her- obviously the serum didn't just wear off, Bianca had simply been able to induce a moment of clarity. Fear seeped into her bones at the realization that Griffin could very easily transform back into the brainwashed super soldier Devone had made him. “How are we going to do that? I don't even think Dr. Hillard knows how to perform brain surgery and there's no way we can bring him to a hospital.”

Syria sighed as she ran a hand through her hair. “Well we could use my lab. But first I really think that Reese she get Dr. Oliver to command. So he can receive medical treatment and see professor Hillard. I am sure that she is worried about how this mission is going.” Syria looked around for a moment before continuing, “Reese you should be able to use the device that I made to get us here. All I have to do is set it so you guys can teleport home.” Cracking her neck out of nerves. She stopped to think for a moment. How was she going to pull this off. She did have a device that was like an MRI machine. So, she would be able to she see if there was anything causing pressure on Griffin’s brain. But how would she get rid of it? Syria didn’t have healing powers. Yet she could try the healing serum, even though it was still untested. “Brain surgery is serious and I do have a device that is similar to an MRI. (Though it is kind of like a hand held device.)” Sighing a little before she continued. “Once we find out what is causing the pressure. We’ll need to think of a way to deal with it. I don’t having any healing powers. I only have the ability to read other people’s minds and then there is my dark magic. Which if they are anything like my father’s they will be only destructive. I don’t really know if they could be helpfully here.” Syria said as she looked from Bianca to Griffin. “What do you guys want to do?”

Reese struggled to keep the look of surprise off his face when Syria mentioned brain surgery. Ever the optimist, he hoped Griff's moment of clarity would be enough to break through the serum, or maybe that some sort of antidote could be whipped up in Syria's lab. However, he didn't have time to waste being scared for his friend as he was given the task of making sure Dr. O gets back to command safely. Reese was silently thankful that his presence wasn't needed for the brain surgery. Even some episodes of Grey's Anatomy managed to make him queasy. "I can do that," he nodded. "Will you be able to get back without it," he asked, taking the offered device, and turning to face Dr. Oliver. "Let's go home," he smiled. "Syria's right. We can't leave the welcoming committee waiting."

Releasing a slow breath, Tommy nodded in agreement, gradually resigning to her choice. Despite her origins, Syria was one of the good ones. He stepped aside to clear her path, lifting his head when she suggested taking him back. Any other time, he'd have fought it, but in his current state, he wouldn't make it far. "She's right. I'm dead weight," he simplified. "Besides, you've made it this far. Might as well let you save the world," he tried to grin but winced instead. Glancing to Griffin, his chest ached for the boy. Coming down from the destructive high was excruciating. The things he had done would follow him forever, and the guilt that weighed down on him... it was unbearable. It was something that still, to this day, haunted his dreams, and he wouldn't wish that on anyone. "Whatever happens, don't sweat it," he assured him, stepping closer so that only Griffin could hear. "You're forgiven." Patting his arm lightly, he joined Reese's side a fresh wave of concern washing over him. "Brain surgery? I don't like the sound of that," he licked his lips, looking to Syria for guidance. He shook his head at Bianca's sentiments and pondered the situation. "Kat's incredible at everything she does, but she's not that kind of doctor." Turning to Syria, he wondered, "Are you sure you can go this?" It was risky, but he'd seen her do incredible things. Reese and Bianca were standing here now largely because of her. Looking between them, he trusted their judgement. Crossing his arms across his chest, his head pounded as he tried to process it all. His eyes landed back on Griffin and he reached out to steady himself by leaning against Reese's shoulder. "It's up to you, bud. Your body, your call. But I think you're in good hands. We'll be waiting for you when you get back... be safe," he turned his attention to the girls. "If you get into a pinch, the power will protect you. Trust your instincts and follow your gut. With any luck, you'll be back before dinner." Tapping Reese's shoulder, he was ready. "Alright, man. Let's get out of here." He felt terrible for leaving them there, but he'd meant what he said. They had each other, and together, they could get through anything. As for him — he was going home.

Griffin looked over at Syria like she was speaking another language. She might as well have been for how much sense it made to him. Brain surgery? She couldn't be serious, and yet he didn't think Syria had ever made a joke in her life. He doubted she was going to start now. "What?" was the eloquent reply he came up with. His head throbbed as he tried to remain in the moment, but he was thinking more like grabbing a couple Tylenol, not letting a college freshman go poking around in his brain. Magic or not, the idea of it was terrifying. "You want to do brain surgery? You're not a doctor. You're not even a nurse. You're the reason that this happened to me, and now you want to poke around in my head?" Maybe this was how they were going to get rid of him for everything bad he'd done. He'd hurt Bianca, Rory, Dr. Oliver, and almost killed Eury. Maybe this was what he deserved. They couldn't win against him in a fight, so they'd come up with another way. They'd slice him open and kill him right there in Syria's lab. No one would even blame them since they were pretending it was for his own good. They were the 'heroes' after all. Recognizing that his thoughts were beginning to spiral in darker directions, Griffin swallowed hard and decided that he had to put some trust in them. He'd asked Bianca to trust him when she had no reason to, and now it was his turn to step up to the plate. "We have to go before anyone finds us." He tried not to think about where they were going and why, reminding himself that he didn't have any choice. He wasn't happy about it, but with how he felt himself slipping away again, he knew they had to do something now before it was too late.

Syria set the device before handing it to Reese. “I can teleport us back to command when we are done here. If we have any issues, I am sure Bianca will let you know that she needs help.” She said nodding her head at Reese and giving Dr. Olive a small smile. Syria looked at Griffin as he spoke. There was no real reason that any of them should trust her. Including him of all people. Griffin was right she was the reason he was the way he is now. Only if she was able to stop her father from taking him that day. He would have been the yellow ranger, not Sawyer. But then they would be saving Sawyer right now. Signing a little at the thoughts running through her mind. “No, I am not a doctor, nor am I a nurse. But I did help create the serum and I am the only person her with photographic memory. Also I am the person that invented the devices in my lab. So sadly I am the only person we have that can do this right now. Trust me when I say that I wish we had another option.” Syria spoke looking from Griffin to the others. Syria wasn’t confident that she’d be the person that could pull this off. But she was pretty sure that she was the only her that could possibly do it. If the odds were in her favor. Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes for a moment. Syria wasn’t really sure about this. But she agreed with Griffin. “Let’s quickly head to my lab.” Syria said before leading them to her lab.

Bianca waved to Dr. Oliver and Reese before they transported from the cell and back to command. Although she was relieved to know that they had escaped the camp safely, fear preoccupied her mind with the inescapable surgery Griffin had to have. She flinched at his resistance, involuntarily scooting closer towards him in case she needed to attempt to stop him from running. Whether they liked it or not, they had to accept Syria’s expertise on the subject. Bianca knew that she was insanely intelligent and while she didn’t have the experience to back it up, it was all they had to work with. Syria’s careful, calculated words echoed her own thoughts and before she knew it they were travelling through another set of tunnels towards what was apparently her roommates lab. Fortunately for her, these seemed to be travelled less often and they didn’t run into one of the alien tyrants that stalked this place, or worse yet, Devone himself. The lab was significantly better than the cells where prisoners like Tommy Oliver were stowed away. It reminded her of their medbay they had in command; high-tech devices that even the most advanced hospitals in the nation didn’t have were arranged carefully on the blacktop counters, notes were drawn on a whiteboard pinned to the wall, and an uncomfortable surgical chair sat in the middle of the room beneath an ominous fluorescent light. Bianca rubbed her exposed arms with her hands, hoping to get rid of the goosebumps that dotted her skin. She approached one of the tables and observed the small-scale MRI machine. It was essentially a handheld device, almost like a scanner that was used in grocery stores. How did Syria have the ability to make things like this? She didn’t doubt that she was smart but where would she have gotten this technology from in the first place? So many questions swarmed her head but she knew she’d have to save them for later. “Is this the device?” she prompted, carefully holding it up.

Griffin followed along in silence. He hated everything about what he was walking into, but then again he hated the person he'd become. Even though he would have gladly picked anyone else in this world and all others, his life was going to be directly in Syria's hands, and there was nothing he could do about it. Walking into the lab, Griffin couldn't focus on just one thing. His nerves were running too high, and there was too much to look at. There were devices and high tech equipment all over the place. Seeing Bianca pick up some scanner looking thing, he looked from it to Syria and back again. For a potential torture device, he expected at least a spike or two attached to it. "Let's get this over with," he said as he climbed into the chair with a false bravado. He was terrified, but his pride wouldn't let him show it. Devone's words about showing no weakness and Nexionians being superior echoed in his mind. To keep his hands from trembling, Griffin gripped the arms of the chair, and tried to squash down the growing urge to run for the door.

Syria was thankful that the path leading to her lab was not heavily guarded. She wondered if how her father work showed itself through how his lair was set up. But that really didn’t matter. They would have to come up with there own conclusion as to what could be revealed here. When they arrived at her lab she quickly made her way over to where her lab coat was. Quickly she put it on as the others looked around her lab. Syria looked over when Bianca asked her if the device she was hold was the mini MRI machine. “Yes, that would be the one.” Syria said making her way over to where Griffin was in the chair. “Alright, I’m going to start scanning now. Are you comfortable?” She asked Griffin. Once Griffin confirmed that he was comfortable she turn on the device and started to scan Griffin’s brain. Syria took into account how Griffin’s behavior was when the serum was working. If she was right the serum messed around with his emotions. So, Syria started by scanning the frontal lobe. “Hmm… there does seem to be a shadow on part of the frontal lobe and the temporal lobe.” Syria said looking from Bianca to Griffin. “There the parts of the brain that play a part in our control over our emotions.” Syria paused for a moment. “Which would explain why Griffin became aggressive quickly.” Syria looked at Bianca quickly to see if she understood what was being said. Not that she doubt Bianca, Syria just didn’t want to confuse anyone. “So, any question or would you like us to get started.”

Bianca curiously watched Syria start the MRI scanner and hold it up to Griffin’s head in amazement, hoping that the results would show nothing abnormal and they could teleport back to the dorms like she had originally planned. However, Bianca saw the tiny screen on the device pinpointing a mass located in his frontal lobe. The explanation that Syria provided for the results of his scan made sense, yet Bianca couldn’t help but feel like all of this was a nightmare that she was trapped in or worse, some sick joke they were trying to pull on her. Would she really put it past Sawyer to arrange a plan as excessive as this? In this moment, she wished that the cameras would come out, Syria would yell that she was on the revamp of the revamp of Punk’d, and Griffin would ruffle her hair playfully. But that wouldn’t happen. This was their reality now. When Syria asked if they were ready to get started, she swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded her head. She wanted to be helpful, and though she didn’t have the magical abilities that Syria possessed, she could certainly be a pillar of support for Griffin during this stressful period of his life. Turning towards the wash station to clean her hands and soak sterilized towel, Bianca prepped herself for whatever this brain surgery would consist of. She returned back to Griffin and cautiously sat on the edge of the chair, feigning a level of confidence that she didn’t necessarily have but desired to. “Look, I know that you’re scared,” she spoke in a quiet voice, pressing the cool towel against his face. “But you have to let her do this if you ever want to be completely normal again. If she doesn’t remove the growth it can overtake your entire brain, Griffin. Call me selfish but that’s the last thing I want to happen.” Pausing to draw in a steadying breath, she flashed him a gentle smile before uttering two simple words, “Be brave.”

Griffin took a deep breath and tried to calm himself as Syria and Bianca went about getting ready. "If I die, could you tell everyone I'm sorry?" he asked as he wiped his hands on his pants. His palms were sweaty from nerves more than actual heat. "Not that I'm sorry I died, but you know, for everything I did." He took another breath and leaned his head back against the head rest and closed his eyes. Maybe if he blinked hard enough everything would magically be over. Maybe he'd wake up from the nightmare of his life. Feeling the cool towel against his face, Griffin opened his eyes and found Bianca looking back at him. As she gently wiped the dirt from his skin and tried to reassure him, he suddenly remembered being a kid on Nexus. He'd been terrified after he was discovered hiding, and Ariana hadn't shown any fear as she'd reached over and wiped a smudge of dirt from his face. She'd given him strength just like Bianca was now. A look of confusion briefly washed over his face before he hide it again again and chalked the memories away to his life flashing before his eyes. After all, the odds of him making it through having his head screwed with by an alien freshman seemed close to none. "Be brave," he repeated like that would somehow help him. "Right. I can do that." Taking another deep breath, Griffin let go of the arm rest he'd been gripping and turned his hand over, silently hoping that Bianca would take his.

Syria sighed before putting the device down on a counter. While Bianca washed her hands Syria went to go grab a few supplies that they would need. She was still unsure of herself. It didn’t help that this was going to be the first time she tried using her dark powers for anything. Syria was still not sure any good would come from that type of dark magic. But she could hope that maybe they would work differently for her. Shaking her head a little as Griffin spoke. She hoped that she wouldn’t screw this up and end up killing him. But Syria knew that little voice in her head (that sounded a lot like her father) would remind her that she was going to screw this up somehow. After Bianca was done getting ready. Syria went over to wash her hands and while she did that tried to gather some kind of confidence. Taking a deep breath to ready herself for what she was about to do. Syria quickly set up what she needed to set up for this. Quickly she double checked everything to make sure it was in order. “Alright, it seems I have what we need. Now I am going to put you under. So you won’t feel anything.” Syria said as she looked at Griffin. “I promise that I won’t let you die on me.” She looked over at Bianca for a quickly moment. “I assume that you’d want to hold his hand during this.” Thinking that it would be helpful. Just incase Griffin wakes up during. He can squeeze Bianca’s hand. “Ok, I am going to put the IV in. So you are going to feel a pinch.” Syria said before acting on that task. After she did that, Syria went back to grab the device. She focused on Griffin’s mind. Seeing if she was able to pick up any thoughts. Once she was sure he was out Syria spoke to Bianca. “He is out, so I am going to start alright.”

Bianca nodded her head optimistically as Griffin repeated her words, lacing her fingers through his and grasping his hand tightly without hesitation. She ignored the way holding his hand made her skin tingle and heart race, choosing instead to focus on the IV drip Syria was inserting into his other arm. She pressed her lips tightly at the other brunette’s suggestion but agreed with the logic behind it. Hopefully there would be no waking up during surgery; she wasn’t so sure squeezing a hand would suffice in that precise moment of panic and pain. Bianca stared at Griffin, not knowing what more to say to him. She wanted to apologize for taking so long to save him; for the fact that he was even put through this nightmare. Before she knew it, his eyes were fluttering shut as the sedative circulated through his bloodstream. Taking a mental snapshot of the peaceful state he was in, Bianca looked back to Syria with determination in her dark brown eyes. “Go ahead,” she stated, eager to get this done with. She engrossed herself in the act of holding Griffin’s hand instead, gasping as she felt a strange sense of warmth radiating from his skin. Perhaps his body temperature was raising due to the work Syria was performing on his brain. Whatever it was, it sent chills up and down her spine and made her squeeze his hand even harder, nervously waiting for the procedure to be completed.

Looking at the mass with the mini MRI device, Syria would be able to tell if her powers were working on it. She still was doubting her abilities. Knowing that from watching her father use his dark magic powers. That they weren’t meant for healing, only destruction. Syria quickly looked up at Bianca holding Griffin’s hand in a vice like grip. Smiling a little at the gesture. Before she fully started to concentrate on the mass. Slowly Syria gathered her dark magic. Focusing the light purple energy on the mass that was putting pressure on Griffin’s brain. As Syria looked through the mini MRI device at the mass she noticed that it was slowly being inclosed in a very light energy. That energy started to slowly shrink the mass. ‘Am I doing this?’ Syria thought to herself. ‘But, that energy isn’t a light purple. How could this be my powers?’ Syria was slightly confused and shock that her powers seemed to be working. Yet, something felt off about this whole thing. Syria couldn’t feel her powers shrinking the mass. ‘Why can’t I feel my powers working if the mass is shrinking?’ She thought. Still not sure if she was the reason that the mass was slowly but surely shrinking down in size. Syria was still not sure is she was the one shrinking the mass down in size. But, she continued to focus her dark magic on until it was no more. “The mass is gone now.” Syria said, still slightly confused that her powers might have actually worked on getting rid of it. Syria looked at Bianca. Asking her silently if wanted to take a look at Griffin’s brain.

Bianca’s eyes found the concentrated look on Syria’s face but the pressure of situation drew her attention back to Griffin, who was sound asleep, for majority of the procedure. Was it even a procedure? Syria hadn’t even made an incision in his head to extract the mass, but Bianca was aware that Nexonians possessed powers that she couldn’t wrap her head around yet. She could feel the shift of energy in the room once Syria had activated her abilities and zoned them in on his brain; it almost reminded her of what it felt like when she found out that Griffin had telekinetic powers in the alley way. Her hands began to sweat in her overwrought state but suddenly their alien scientist announced that the mass was gone. Reluctantly releasing Griffin’s hand and standing up to peer over Syria’s shoulder at the MRI scanner, she gasped at the image that was now displayed. Just a half an hour ago an angry dark mass clouded the frontal and temporal lobe, and now it looked entirely normal. “You did it,” she murmured in disbelief, an easy smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Thank you, Syria.” Her words, though simple, expressed the immense appreciation she had for the other girl. Returning to Griffin, Bianca pushed his hair back to feel his forehead and slipped two fingers to his neck to check his pulse. “No fever and a normal pulse,” she continued, still dismayed at the fact that Syria was capable of doing such a thing. A loud scraping sound on the other side of the door pulled her from her state of wonder. “We need to leave!” She had no clue who was on the other side or if there even was someone. Regardless, they couldn't spend a minute longer in this camp. It was beginning to make her sick. She watched Syria remove the IV from Griffin’s arm before she used all of her strength to hoist his body up from underneath his arm. “Syria,” she heaved, “Grab his other arm, okay? Let's go home.”

Syria was still taken back by how the mass in Griffin’s brain was healed. She was almost positive that her powers had nothing to do with that. Though maybe she was wrong, maybe her powers were the reason why the mass was gone. Though she was relieved that Griffin would be able to go back to his life. Well, normal as any Nexonian could life with Devone still being a huge threat. Shaking her head a little, Syria looked at Bianca. “Don’t thank me. He was only here because of me in the first place. I just wanted to make things right.” Syria forced a small smile. Still not sure what really happened. Yet, she would have to focus on that later. “That is a good sign. He should wake up in a few hours or maybe minutes. If he still has any powers left. Though I am sure Professor Hillard could test for that.” Syria said before her thinking was interrupted by a loud scraping sound. She nodded in agreement as she moved to take out the IV as quickly but carefully as she could. Muttering as she went about how she hate those giant metal lizards. Syria was a little shocked at first that Bianca strength. Then she remembered that the serum must have made all of them stronger than a normal human. “Alright” Syria quickly grabbed Griffin’s other arm trying to take some of Griffin’s weight off of Bianca’s shoulders. “Let’s get you both back to command.” Syria said right before she teleported them all back to command. Once she got them there safely Syria helped Bianca bring Griffin to a nearby bed. “Alright, I’ve got to get back before anyone realize that both Dr. Oliver and Griffin are gone.” She said quickly looking at Bianca. “I’ll keep you guys posted on what’s happening back at Shadow Island. And if my father is going to go on a rampage because he lost both Griffin and Dr. Oliver.” Syria sighed before waved before teleporting back to Shadow Island. Where her father was most likely going to be waiting.

Bianca sighed as Syria helped hold Griffin up, allowing her to snake her arm around Griffin’s back and support his head to her best ability. She silently cursed their height difference but it was only mere seconds that she had to keep him upright, for Syria had teleported them to the medical bay in their Command Center. “Sorry,” she grimaced as she awkwardly shifted to get him on one of the hospital beds. Bianca prevented herself from insisting that Syria stay and not transport herself back into that hostile environment. If Devone wanted war with them, by all means he was welcome to come knocking on Katherine’s front door. No one should have to sacrifice their safety to try and stop it from happening. Her nightmares indicated that no matter what they did, he would come for them anyway. But this man she had yet to meet in person was Syria’s father and no matter how skeptical it made her feel, there was no point in trying to stop her from going back. “Okay. Be safe.” She twinkled her fingers in a small wave and the other brunette disappeared in the blink of an eye. Wiping the sheen of sweat from her forehead, Bianca placed her hands on her hips and took a brief moment to thank todos los dioses for getting them out alive. The events of the day had happened so quickly, yet the clock on the wall indicated otherwise. It had been hours since her mission had begun and that’s not including the month of preparatory work that it took. To say she was drained was an understatement and her own sore body yearned for a couple of ice packs in the wake of that vicious battle, but it could wait. Though it had been quite the struggle to have gotten to this point, Bianca was ecstatic to have made it. Glancing down at Griffin, she smiled affectionately and placed her hand on top of his once again. “You are so worth it.”

#post: para #p: 008 #p: gs #p: sf #p: rhm #p: to #p: we're still here #//UMMM Y'ALL!#griffin

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shleezaemour · 8 years ago

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Back at camp 20 years later ( part of the soangelo 20 years of marriage series)

Will and nico are back to their old ways at camp. Only now they can embarrass their kids! Memories of the old days resurface and they get wrapped up in eachother once more afraid to let go. I own nothing. Review at will. Enjoy!! Love the reviews so far guys! If you guys see something happening in the story that you might want to see let me know and I'll do my best to work it in! Nicos POV Getting ready to start training in the arena today was nerve wracking. I haven't trained actual students for going on two decades. My kids of course but the kids were easy to train and let's face it... naturals. With him and Will as parents of course they would be and of course with Reyna as their bio mom they were made for battle. I decided on my usual black in black. It was hot today so I went with a tank top in hopes to possibly catch my husbands eye. After last night I was feeling very sexy and I wanted to ride out that ego boost. Grabbing some gear I put my hair into its usual man bun and made my way toward the grounds. Will had already left for the infirmary to assess it and make plans for teaching the healers. My three glorious children were already at the arena albeit half asleep and looking like they could kill me for what I was wearing. Fucking teenagers I'm 38 not fucking dead!! A gathering of kids started to pile in as I set up practice dummies and targets. I walked up to the crowd as I finished to be met by a few wolf whistles from a few of the girls. Bianca and Naomi cringed at them. I may be 200% gay but wolf whistles were always appreciated. "Ok kids how many do we have?" "There's about 60 of us papa" Bianca answered for me, "Good ok well I'm going to show you guys a few blocks and strikes. Then I want you to pair off and practice. No holding back guys! War isn't practice and it isn't pretty. It's actually pretty serious. I've been through two of them by the time I was 15. Plus countless battles and random monster attacks. Ok Bianca your going to help me out showing striking and blocking " She rushed over happy that I'm using her as an example. I'm not supposed to say hat she's the best fighter out of the three but.. she's the best fighter. Naomi was gifted with more of my talents with shadow travel and hypnokinesis but Bianca was a great fighter and strategist. She had Geokinesis and used the earth as a tool and a weapon. So proud! Paul well... he was great at archery and a glorious singer and guitar player but he wasn't a fighter. Much like his father he would rather be on the sidelines catching those who fall. I could see Bianca trying to slip something past me. I heard it before I saw it. I caught the throwing knife before it hit my shoulder. My little show off. Trying to show the kids how tough she was. Ok that maybe my fault and I blame Reyna too. Not for the biological standpoint but I'm pretty sure she had a talk with her yesterday about asserting dominance over the other fighters. "Ah well nice try BiBi but no cigar" "Father !! Don't call me BiBi infront of the other campers !" She stressed between her teeth. Oh she pulled out the "Father" card. Not papa or dad but father which means she was pissed! Well then maybe she shouldn't be throwing Stygian knives at her "Father". "That was a great throw though! If you all were watching you saw that it was going for my shoulder. I promise this was not an accident or a miscalculation. My daughter was simply not wanting to hurt me to bad if I didn't catch it. Bianca here is an amazing shot and if she wanted to aim for my head or heart she would have nailed it!" She smiled. "Thanks papa" Great I'm papa again. "I think you should give a demonstration of what you can really do!" Someone shouted. Who was that? Mother fucking Jason Grace! My best friend. Godfather to my children was challenging me. "Put your money where your bolts are Sparky!!" Jason headed toward me. Of course son of Jupiter only got better looking with age. In his practice gear it looked like he was planning on helping out anyway. Jason had asked me to help him with Powers control classes he was going to be teaching later this week so I guess he thought that meant he was supposed to return the favor with battle practice. What the hell the more the merrier. "Let's do this Deathboy!" "Hey it's Deathman now!" "Oh someone's cocky!!" "Fine before Bianca and I demonstrate the strikes and blocks how does everyone feel about a full hand to hand demonstration?" The crowd cheered. I could see Will in the back. He must have walked here with Jason. In fact I wouldn't be surprised if he was the one who came up with this little challenge. My husband I swear always looking for a way to get me sweaty. Jason and circled eachother. I looked around the arena for spots with shadows. Luckily it was partly cloudy day even though the temp was up. Plus the trees and beams cast shadows as well. Not that I couldn't travel in pure daylight. I learned somewhere in my early twenties that I could use the shadows made by my own body to travel. I also learned how to grab the shadows and use them almost like they were ropes. Jason was sizing me up to. Checking wind and other factors. I picked up my Stygian sword as we circled eachother. Flipping his coin an imperial gold sword shot into existence. Clash! We shot at eachother so fast most of the kids bumped into eachother trying to follow our movements. A dance ensued of clashing metal. Jason tried to fly up to gain leverage but I used his own shadow to pull him back down. Wildly flipping and striking eachother the adrenaline of a real fight filled my ears. I loved this. Sliding between his legs I knocked him off balance and ripped the leg of his pants. Twirling around he hit the butt of his sword against my jaw catching me off guard. Blood filled my mouth. It was leaking down my chin. I smiled as I circled him again. That's what I'm talking about! Once again a dance of us playing off eachother ducking and twirling. Getting closer he kicked my legs out from under me and had me on the ground. Not going to lie it was a little sexy. Pushing my sword against his I felt he was gaining position. Fuck it I let him think he was winning long enough. I traveled and landed on his back my sword to his throat. Blinking sweat out of his eyes he tapped the ground and conceded. Applause rang out! I helped him to his feet. "Almost had me there old man!" "Who you calling old you little ankle biter?" "Yeah well Will is over there I think he's going to kill you when he sees my jaw" "Nah he can fix that in a millisecond." Taking off my shirt I wiped some of the blood off my chin. More wolf whistles. "Jason why don't you and Bianca show everyone the 3 strikes and blocks?" "Yes of course! Bi Bi my love come join me!" Bianca didn't bat an eyelash when Jason called her that. Figures. I saw my husband and headed toward him. --------------------------- Wills POV Most of the morning I checked out the infirmary. Everything seemed to be in order except that the kids seemed to not know how to properly make unicorn draught. As I taught them the proper measurements I saw that my father had been busy. I had atleast 15 new siblings and these were just this generation. Kayla was teaching a class on reattaching limbs in the back room and Austin was focusing on Apollo hymns. I was happy the siblings from my generation were here helping. Seems like a lot of us came back to help with this war. Drew Tanaka was in the infirmary heavily sedated. On her way here with her family they were attacked by the arai. Drew lost her son and her husband. 3 of her girls made it though. They were in the arena with Nico learning to fight. Piper was next to her half sister holding her hand. None of us liked Drew. She was a pain in the ass and always looking to tear someone down but she didn't deserve to lose part of her family like that. "Where's Jason?" "The arena helping Nico" "Where Percy?" "The beach. I think he's meeting his dad and Tyson. " "That's good. Stay with Drew will you I'm going to check in on Arena training see if they need an on site medic" "Good idea. You know how those two get." "Yeah. Where are your two boys?" "They are still at school for another week. My father is taking care of them and will send them along once they finish. Don't worry about them Will between Jason and Nico training them through the years and Marcus having my charm speak they will be fine. They will make it. Drews husband was mortal. He didn't have a chance. " "Sad. I'm glad the rest made it and you're right Marcus and Tom will make it here on their own. It's just hard to imagine the kids getting older you know?" "Gods do I. The worst part is the only thing I can think of is that the only way we could win this war is Annabeth. How are we going to win without her?" "Well we haven't truly lost her Piper. We have everything she knew in that library. The answer is in that building I'm sure of it." "Yeah your right. " "Ok I'm out. Send someone if you need me I'm ok to probably be patching kids up down there" "Hey Will! Take Raze with you !" Austin called out. Austins son Raze grabbed two medical bags and smiled at me. My nephew was going to be a great healer one day. He had the drive and was less musically inclined than his father. His mother was a child of Hecate so Raze had a special punch to his healing abilities. "Cmon Raze let's patch up some cuts!" "Yes uncle Will!" "Good man!" We headed toward the arena. Jason was coming up beside us. Guess Piper was wrong. "Hey Grace your wife thought you were at the arena!" "I'm heading there now I just had to deal with some stuff." "Stuff?" "Yeah stuff." He eyed Raze and gave me a look of I will tell you later. "So you going to help out my husband or just be a pretty distraction for the girls to swoon over?" "I'm a little to smart for the hot for teacher complex thank you and I wouldn't worry about me getting stared at. I saw Nico this morning heading down and he is going to break a few hearts fighting in that tank top. I don't know what diet plan you have him on but he doesn't seem to age or gain weight like the rest of us." "Yeah fucking bastard. I watch everything that goes into my mouth to the point of obsession. I've gained 10 pounds. Nico eats fonzis and drinks wine and keeps the six pack of a 21 year old Adonis. Makes me sick" "Yeah I'm sure it does. Except you get to touch that Adonis every night." "Do I ever!" Raze coughed and blushed. Guess that's TMI for a 13 year old. I stood in the back and handed Raze the bag and showed him the supplies we may need. Jason was challenging my husband in a "who had a bigger dick" contest. I hate to break it to Grace but I saw him naked once in the locker room at the gym. Nicos was bigger. Lucky me. Poor Piper. They began their contest in a whirl of limbs and metal. I was always amazed watching Nico fight. So fast even after all this time it's like he never left. The smile of his face while he fought was a bit frightening. His battle smile. Where I dreaded a fight Nico lived for it. To the point that I was afraid of him getting bored at home but his father kept him busy and once the kids were old enough to train he had them handling sharp objects. I was not happy about that but it was a battle I had to lose. Plus the kids were naturals. I wouldn't be surprised if they were the best fighters in the camp of their generation. Nico had them at it 5 nights a week for the last 8 years. Jason got Nico in the jaw. Blood stained Nicos teeth and dripped off his chin. Still smiling through it. I was both revolted and turned on at the same time don't ask me why it was always a confusing feeling seeing Nico in full battle mode. Sweat clung to him making his tank top look like it was painted to his skin. Damn I'm a lucky man. Nico finished Jason a lot quicker than I thought. Breaking up he had Jason do the first demos with Bianca and he headed toward me taking his shirt off. The wolf whistles started and I could see the hickey I left on Nicos hip. "Hey doctor could you help a damsel in distress!" "Oh yes you are so distressed!! I can practically smell the endorphins pouring out of you." "What no kiss!" "Not with a mouth full of blood like that babe. Come here let me check you out." I placed my hands on Nicos jaw and and sang. My hand glowed slightly as I felt his jaw healing and the bite mark he had on his inner cheek close up. "Thank you sweetie that feels better" he took a bottle of water and rinsed his mouth out and wiped up the blood. I kissed him after that. Paul came up to us while the others were watching Bianca and Jason. "Dad you should take papa to the infirmary he has some cuts on his back. And uhh the bruise on his hip maybe you could do something about that..." "That's not a bruise Paul that's a hickey I left of your papas hip from last night!" "Lalalalalalalala I don't need to hear this and I'm almost certain it's child abuse!" "What you don't want to hear about how your dad loves me?" "Love is fine! Hand holding and hugs not hickeys and blow jobs" Paul turned beet red. "Do you think he's jealous that we got laid last night and he didn't?" Nico chided "Maybe though he looks a bit red do you think maybe he might have got some too last night maybe one of the Aphrodite girls?" "Both of you!! I swear this is child abuse!!" He stomped off. "Why do you do that to him Will?" "Because it's soooo easy. I'm not condoning teen sex but that kid is wound so tight sometimes I kinda wish he would get a girlfriend and loosen up" "Teen sex? Hell we were only a year older than him when we started having sex and before that we were doing a lot of other stuff" "Exactly it's natural. He's smart and informed he's not going to knock up some girl to soon. I just wish he would let go a little." "You would not feel the same if it were Naomi and Bianca." "That's different they are girls and I don't want anyone to take advantage of them" In that same moment the girls took their opponent to the ground. "Actually maybe we should be scared for the guys they date? " "Oh I'd be terrified to date the Hades girls" "Hey! You dated the Hades boy!" "Yeah and the Hades boy was like 20 times more femme than those girls" "Are you saying I'm girly?" "I'm saying your delicate and do your make up better than Piper does" "Point taken" "But I like that about you" "If you like me so girly why didn't you just date a girl?" "I tried but their dicks weren't big enough " "Oh my gods you have to save that one to say infront of Paul " "He would die " "Yes he would. But I stand my ground I like you just the way you are. You may have a few femme qualities that I like but you never look more manly and sexy than when your fighting " "Careful Doctor Solace im susceptible to flattery." "Oh well maybe we should go back to the infirmary for these little cuts. We could make out in the storage closet like the old days." "Chiron was sooo mad when he caught us" "He wasnt mad about us making out he was mad that we were crushing the supplies" "Yeah he seemed to not care about us to much" "Well I think he was just happy for us. If it took me having my hands all over you to keep you from running away from camp than he was fine with it" I sat down on the bench and Nico sat on my lap giving me access to heal his cuts. "Speaking of having your hands on me" "Why are you so touchy babe I swear we have had more sex in the last week than we have had in months?" "I don't know I guess it's a combination of us having more alone time than usual and us being back at camp where it all started." "Oh I see. Well I'm not complaining I just wanted to know where your head was." "I guess it's been stuck in memory lane since we have been here" "What's on your memory lane now?" "You know just reliving all the firsts we had here. The hearth where we first held hands" "The capture the flag game where I first kissed you against that tree" "The first time you spent the night in my bed" "Oh yeah. Clovis came to get me you were having a nightmare. I came in and held you until you could go back to sleep. Then I fell asleep. " "You held me so tight" "I never wanted to let go" "You never did" "Do you remember the first time I told you I loved you?" "Yeah I broke my wrist falling out of a tree cause I miscalculated my landing spot when I traveled. I was trying not to cry when you were setting it. We were alone in the infirmary and you were whispering sweet nothings trying to keep me calm and distract me from the pain and you said "Nico it's ok baby I have you I'll make it go away. I love you I won't hurt you" and I stopped breathing" "I didn't even realized I said it. It just popped out seeing you upset" "When I started breathing again I told you I loved you too" "Yup and that's when I realized I said the L word" "You cried" "I did not!!" "You so did" "Well I did love you. I loved you then and every minute after that." "I'm so happy Will. You know that right ?" "So you still love me?" "I love you so much that the idea that we are going through another war makes me want to run away with you and the kids. Wrap you all in bubble wrap and keep us in s bomb shelter until it's all over" "We can't do that Will. We have to be here" "Oh baby I know. But the idea of waking up and not having you on the other side of the bed. That the spot next to me would be cold. That the smell of clove and lavender would never fill my nose in the morning as I bury my face in your hair. That I would never get to trace my fingers up your spine as you lay on top of me head against my heart. The idea that it could happen takes my breath away and ties my stomach in knots. The thought of it hurts so much that my throat feels tight whenever you leave my sight. I just want this to be over so that we can go home and sleep in our own bed and hell I would love nothing more than to send the kids to my moms for the whole summer just to make love to you at any given moment. " "Gods I love you William" he leaned into me and I settled my nose into the crook of his neck. "I love you too Niccolo" "Wanna go back to the cabin and wash up before lunch? Looks like Jason has the class?" "Let me check with him first. HEY JAY!! YOU GOT THIS?!" "YEAH BRO GO WASH THE BLOOD OFF!!" Nico gave him and thumbs up and we walked back to the cabin. --------- Nicos POV I started the shower. I really was covered in dirt and blood and sweat and it was disgusting. Will was back in our room laying on the bed with his eyes closed. "Hey baby?" "Yeah what's up neeks" "Come join me?" "Can't reach your back?" "Can't reach my heart actually thought you could help me find it" "Oh well that's not possible cause that's mine and I'm keeping it" "Well if that's the case then why don't you show me why you still have it" I pulled him up into a kiss that was so much more than a kiss. I could feel him pouring every worry he has over us being here into it. Conveying every ounce of love for me for the kids for our life back in Long Island. Shedding his clothes we tumbled under the water still his mouth on mine. I both hated and loved how much taller he was than me. The water bounced off of him and into me. Washing away the stress and heaviness. He grabbed the loofa and began to wash all the things that had marred my body from this morning. All while never having his mouth leave me. If it wasn't on my mouth it was in my shoulder or my neck. Moving his lips over me sometimes not moving them at all. Keeping them still but parted over me. Feeling him breathe over my skin as he lathered and soaped my body. Dropping the loofa he trailed his hands across my abdomen nuzzling the nape of my neck. "I love you " "I love you" Kneeling down he peppered kisses down me. Pulling my foreskin back he engulfed me in his mouth. Watching the water cascade over him as he bobbed his head reminded me of the first time we showered. In this very shower. It was less smooth than this was. *** flashback*** I was in the shower after a very hard day of training til I practically dropped. Will had convinced me to finally call it a day and half carried me home. I was rinsing my hair when I realized I had left my razor on the sink. My legs needed a good shave and I didn't want to get the floor all wet. Will was in my room reading yet another medical journal. Fuck it I'll get him to hand it to me. "WILL!" I heard the door open. "Yeah Neeks what's up?" "Could you hand me my razor it's just on the sink there." "Your shaving your face in the shower? How can you even see what your doing?" "I'm not shaving my face just give me the damn razor!" He opened the glass door peaking his hand through. Jokingly he said "Want company" he laughed. "Um yeah, yeah I think I do" Silence. Oh shit I went to far. We have only made out like twice and had about a few dozen kisses this was to soon. Fuck what was I thinking! Then I heard him taking his clothes off. Oh shit he was coming in here! He's going to see me naked! What if he doesn't like it! What if I don't like it! Opening the door again he came in with his eyes closed. He felt around til he found me. Good lord he was so much better looking without clothes! Freckles all over him and I do mean all over! "Will open your eyes" He opened them slowly. Looking me up and down the smile in his face grew. "Wow uh your.. your naked " "I usually am in the shower" "Yeah uh so umm what are you shaving?" He asked embarrassment coloring his face at the comment. "M-my legs actually. I don't like hair on me. It's just a thing I have." "Well um. Want me to help you w-with that?" "You want to shave my legs for me?" "Uh sure" "Ok" He took the razor and kneeled down (I have a large shower with a seat in it and everything) I put my leg up on the seat and he lathered my legs and with a slightly shaky hand he began dragging the razor over my leg. He was super focused. By the time he finished both legs his breathing had picked up a bit and he began to shake himself instead of just his hands. "Will are you ok?" "Yeah I just.. um.. Nico" he stood infront of me. Leaning down to kiss me he backed me into the stall wall. "Can I- can I touch you?" "Yeah I .. sure but only if I can touch you back" "Yeah yeah of course" Lowering his hand he kissed me and began to touch me. I thought my knees would give way. I had never experienced anything like this. My skin set itself on fire. I reached my hand to him in the same way and oh... I gasped "What?! Are you ok ?" "Yes it's just.. your bigger than I thought you would be I mean I didn't think you were small I just.. I don't know what I'm saying can you shut me up!" Cutting my rambling off with a deep kiss and a firmer stroke. We began a slow but steady rhythm between us. My breath was hitching against his mouth. He was gasping little noises of pleasure into mine. It didn't last long but gods was it good. He came first shooting it all down my freshly shaved leg. Soon after I came into his hand in a long shiver and deep moan that I didn't even know I could make. Breathing hard against eachother he said.. "So that happened" touching our foreheads together. "Yeah it did" "Was it ok?" "Yeah... yeah it was amazing " "Ok" "Ok" Breaking from my recollection I looked down at him there. We had come so far from that moment yet here we are. Same shower. Same feeling. I loved him so much and I wanted to feel his love on me. He got up and sat on the shower seat. Pulling me to him I could feel his erection on my back. Reaching his hand around me he prepped me. Feeling his fingers slide in and out of me easily. I explored his mouth with my tongue in long slow strokes. Grabbing my hips he lifted me into him. My back to his chest sitting in the shower. I set the pace with his hands on my hips. I took my time wrapping my arms around his neck from behind me. Keeping on arm wrapped around me he used his other hand to stroke me in time to my grinding. I love the fucking I do but I live for these moments. Me making love to him. Slow and steady. Being able to hear his breath and his little moans. I could feel him getting close and I was about to come way to early but I couldn't hold it. A string of Italian flowed from my mouth as my orgasam peaked. My words set him off and I could feel him pulsating against my prostate in little spurts. Still kissing him. Kissing my William. Feeling his heart settle from behind me. Holding me to him. Holding me never letting me go.

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antlerscolorado · 8 years ago

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chapter 8, part 2

A cursory search of the house yields no sign of Richard - luckily, it’s not very hard to figure out the only other place he could be. Cillian drops Austin off at the hospital twenty minutes later, with instructions to come and debrief at Department headquarters once he’s finished.

The thought of being tied down by red tape every step of the way sets Austin’s teeth on edge. It’s not how he’s used to working, even with Monty. But he agrees, mostly to get Cillian off his back, but also because he needs to be able to work this case. If that means he has to navigate within the boundaries of the DPR’s endless paperwork and bureaucracy, then so be it. Hopefully Cillian won’t deem it necessary to assign him a partner to look after him - or, God forbid, a whole squad.

Har-Megiddo, Havenwood’s hospital, is markedly different from St. Sithney. Its hallways are more colorful, the nurses and secretaries more smiling and talkative, but it still carries the same sterile smell as all hospitals. With a pang of something akin to homesickness, Austin catches himself scanning a group of nurses clad in sea green scrubs, hoping to see Otter among them.

I’ll call him later, Austin promises himself as he boards the elevator. He and Otter didn’t have time for more than a few brief phone conversations, during his trip to Havenwood. Austin punches the button for the fourth floor, and tries to put it out of mind for the time being.

Jacob’s room isn’t hard to find - straight down the hall once the elevator opens onto the fourth floor. August is standing just outside the door, leaning against the wall, and startles as he sees Austin approaching. He stands up a little straighter, unfolding his arms from his chest and blinking hard, as though trying to gauge if he’s hallucinating or not.

“You’re home,” he says.

“For now,” Austin says. He stops just outside the door to Jacob’s room, and raises an eyebrow at August. “Can I go in, or do you have to frisk me first?”

“Does Jacob know you’re coming to visit?” August eyes him carefully.

Austin shrugs. “I guess we’ll find out.”

August makes an affirmative grunting noise, and holds the door open just long enough to grant Austin passage inside.

The hospital room is coldly lit, a trio of chairs with visibly scratchy upholstery shoved into a corner, a large window taking up the far wall. Jacob is awake, though from the disheveled state of his hair, it’s clear that he hasn’t been for long. He’s propped up against his pillows, intently scanning what Austin would guess is today’s newspaper. Richard is hovering above him, nearly horizontal in the air, reading over his shoulder.

“Well-rested is a good look for you,” Austin says. Jacob looks up sharply.

“Austin! You’re...here.”

“Uh huh,” Austin says, walking over to the side of the bed. “Scoot.”

Jacob obligingly moves from the center of the bed to the side closest to the window, creating a space for Austin to climb up and sit. Austin doesn’t bother taking his shoes off before getting onto the bed, stretching his legs out on top of the covers and settling in, trying not to think about how awkward the ensuing conversation is going to be. He already feels nauseous with anxiety after saying a sentence and a half to Jacob.

“Are you staying at the house?” Jacob asks.

“Yeah.” Austin tugs on his shirt. It’s just slightly too short on him, and keeps riding up to show a couple inches of his stomach. “Is that okay?”

“Oh - no, no, it’s fine,” Jacob says hastily. “Of course it’s fine. It’s your house, too.”

Neither of them says anything after that. Jacob flips to a new page in the newspaper, and Austin stares at the wilting flowers in the vase on the windowsill. The sun is beating down on them, trying to illuminate petals that can’t possibly be as vibrant as they were when they were freshly bought.

“Dad’s here,” Austin says, after a few excruciating minutes of silence. He leans his head back onto the pillows and looks up at Richard, who doesn’t seem particularly mad about having his cover blown.

“Dad - you mean…?” Jacob follows Austin’s line of sight, leaving the rest of the question unasked. He can’t see or hear Richard, not like Austin can, but he’s still always been semi-sensitive to ghostly presences in a room. It’s a muted version of mediumship that might not be so useless, if he ever bothered to try and strengthen it.

“Yeah,” Austin says. “I came here because Cillian wanted me to ask him about Abbott.”

“Abbott?” Richard asks, his eyes narrowing suddenly behind the thick lenses of his glasses. Not the subtle reaction Austin had been anticipating. “Abbott Kilgannon? What’s he got to do with this?”

“He stabbed Jacob,” Austin says, and Jacob winces almost imperceptibly.

“That’s impossible,” Richard says. “He may not have a code of ethics to speak of, but I’ve never seen him get violent with anyone, not even when he was being fired. Why did he stab Jacob?”

Austin parrots the question aloud, and Jacob winces again, setting the newspaper down on the nightstand next to the bed.

“I told Abbott that he was overstepping boundaries by having you brought home,” he says quietly. “I said he needed to call off the people he’d hired to escort you, and he - he just pulled a knife on me.” Jacob pauses, running a hand through his hair, eyebrows knitted together in thought. “He was here, to visit me, the day after it happened. He said that I owed him an apology for what happened. He seemed...I don’t know. Scattered.”

“That doesn’t sound like the Abbott I knew,” Richard muses.

“Did you apologize?” Austin asks. He can feel his blood boiling at the mere suggestion that anyone might have the gall to stab Jacob and then demand an apology for it. What a fucker. And he was the one who hired Hall and Oates and Jenny, too? Fucking figures. I guess he thought bringing me home would help him get on Jacob’s good side or whatever. Or make Jacob indebted to him. Gross.

“Of course not,” Jacob says, with a sharp laugh. “I don’t owe him anything.”

“Good,” Austin says.

“Can you ask Rich - can you ask Dad what happened the first time Abbott was at the DPR?” Jacob asks, looking up in Richard’s general direction again. “I need to know why he was fired.”

“He can hear you,” Austin says dryly. “I’m not an English to ghost translator.”

“Don’t talk to your brother like that,” Richard says. Austin rolls his eyes.

“Fine. Richard, why’d you fire Abbott?”

“He was using the underground labs for unethical experimentation.” Richard’s expression is grim, his eyes cast towards the floor, away from Austin and Jacob. “He was getting prepubescent children's’ parents to sign waivers allowing them to be subjects in a study that he thought would unlock an innate potential for supernatural powers in their minds and bodies. The first series of subjects - ten of them - all died. The second series survived, but with massive post-traumatic stress. We wiped their memories and sent them home.”

Austin dictates the answer to Jacob as Richard talks, and only takes the time to process what he’s said once the room falls silent again. Jacob’s face is drained of color. Austin’s nausea is back with a vengeance, his stomach clenching horribly.

“We sealed the underground labs after we fired him,” Richard adds. “But Abbott found his way back there, somehow. I heard he was using them for some kind of drug trial for a bit, before he dropped off the Department’s radar.”

Austin repeats the words numbly to Jacob. Jacob nods in recognition.

“Yeah. The labs are the Underground now - they got turned into kind of a home base for criminals after Abbott cleared out, after that drug trial. Some of the people who used to work for Abbott still live down there.” He pauses, frowning. “The part that I don’t get is why anyone would seal those records.”

“To reduce the fallout, probably,” Richard says. “It’d be a big scandal for the Department if those records got out, and around the time I died, there were a lot of conspiracy theorists trying to get their hands on anything that proved we were real.”

“Why’d you let him get away with it?” Austin asks suddenly, each word burning as he forces it out of his throat. His eyes sting as he glares up at Richard. “Abbott had to have asked for funding, right? He had to have put a proposal together. Why didn’t you stop him until those kids died?”

“He lied to us in his proposal,” Richard says. He looks more sad than sheepish now, his voice much quieter than it was. “He said it was a trial to strengthen the abilities of children who had already proved to be psychic at an early age. I had no idea what he was actually working on until he requested the mind wipes for the surviving subjects.”

“You should have arrested him,” Austin growls.

“You’re right,” Richard says, “I should have. But I was too caught up in raising the two of you, and my investigation into the cult - I wasn’t thinking straight. I just wanted him gone.”

“I want him gone, too.” Austin feels a pain in his palms and looks down to find his hands curled into fists, nails biting into his skin. “We just have to find him first.”

“Cillian said he might have a lead on that,” Jacob says. “I don’t know if he told you.”

“He’s probably saving it,” Austin says. He rolls to one side, slinging his legs over onto the floor and dismounting the bed. “I’m about to go to the DPR and see him, so no spoilers.”

Jacob laughs, less cold than before, and picks up his newspaper again. “Okay. No spoilers. Just...Austin?”

“Yeah?” Austin asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Be careful, okay? And keep me posted.”

“I’m always careful,” Austin says, with a tiny grin. “But I will keep you posted.” He looks upwards one last time, to Richard, who is pointedly avoiding his gaze. “You coming with?”

“I’m going to stay here a little longer,” Richard says, settling back into the position he was in earlier, reading over Jacob’s shoulder. “I’ll catch up with you.”

Austin nods, and opening the door to the hospital room, steps out.

“How’d it go?” August asks him, as he takes a deep breath.

“Oh, you know,” Austin says. “Can I get a ride, by any chance?”

8.1 || 8.3

#story

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nh935 · 5 years ago

Text

The Adventures of Solaire, Part III: Introductions All Around!

The Incredible Yet Accurate Adventures of the Dread Pirate Captain Solaire Ravenheart

Otherwise known as

The Adventures of Solaire

Part III

Introductions All Around

“People,” the third king of Nestoria, Solomon Prester, once said, “are a most peculiar animal,” and while he said that while he was very drunk at a banquet and later clarified that he meant to say “pigs”, the phrase turned out to be such a quality piece of accidental wisdom that it has spread to every corner of the globe. Today, it is commonly used as a neutral response for a grieving friend. Whenever someone comes to you with news of a neighborly dispute, an unfair ruling of justice, or even a broken heart, it is safe to respond with “well, people are a most peculiar animal,” as that allows you to take your friend’s side of the story without commiting to a point of view on the matter.

I, myself, have never liked the phrase. It makes human beings look like some sort of mysterious mythical creature, of which the inner workings will never be understood or explained. On the contrary, I find humans to be very simplistic creatures, driven by the same needs of food, shelter, companionship, and pride that most of the animal kingdom follows. What it does reveal to me, though, is that some people will never understand other people. To them, the machinations of a mind that is not their own is as mysterious as the forces that cause a small acorn to grow into a mighty tree.

Solaire is one of those people. More so than most, in fact. But a quality that is even more Solaire is to fix a problem with the most unorthodox solution available, and his lack of empathy is no exception. You may see for yourself in the pages ahead.

***

Weiss stared at the five men in the glass in front of him. Thanks to a very thin layer of silver on the pane (another invention of Weiss), they sat oblivious to his surveillance, believing that the large reflective sheet was nothing more than a mirror. He was unable to hear what they were saying, but that was of no consequence. He just wanted to take this moment to study them.

Three were in cuffs, with metal plates stapled to their neck. First there was Willaby, the strange fat man in the horrid green suit. He’d actually cried when they brought him in. Based on the reports of the sparkly smoke found in the second deck hall, he was a mage of some kind. Not a very good one, but a mage nonetheless. Then there was Skylar. One of the security men hired on. Shame about that. He’d shown quite a bit of promise, especially with those hook swords of his, but if his own guard would turn on him for the promise of quick coin, better to find out this way, he supposed. And then there was the youngest Ravenheart, the cause of all this commotion. Sitting there, surrounded by his two most intimidating guardsmen, the steely-faced, armored Tomo and the humongous, grinning Austin, he looked…

...bored.

Weiss “tisk”ed to himself and furrowed his brow. Such strange behavior from one of such noble blood. Surely, there was no way the money he was trying to steal was anything more than pocket change to him. Perhaps he was broke. Or simply stupid.

Solaire yawned.

That had to be it, he decided. He was giving the man too much credit. There was no greater scheme behind boarding his ship in the middle of a voyage. Even the sugar was most likely a fluke. He had potential with a pistol, that much was certain, which was the only reason he was alive right now. But in the mental department? Not much there.

Behind Weiss, his accountant Winthrop Skroob, second mate Charlie Scotts, and two more guardsmen stood. All four knew better than to interrupt their employer when he was thinking.

“Vhen did zis happen?” Weiss finally asked, back still turned to his employees.

“Um, at about 0540, sir” Charlie responded.

“Vhy vas I not informed?”

“You told me not to bother you with any more calls about this man, sir.”

Weiss chuckled. “Ah, yes. I did say zat, didn’t I?”

Nobody responded.

He pulled out a pocket watch and checked the time. “At zis point in ze voyage, ve are fife hundred miles avay from ze uninhabited Chrysanthemum Isle, nien?”

“I believe so, sir” Winthrop replied.

Weiss nodded. “Change course to brink us alongside it. Hold zis man in ze brig until ve can maroon him zere.”

“What? No!” Charlie exclaimed as the guardsmen wrapped their arms around him and dragged him away. “You can’t do this, please!”

“Standard pistol wis one schot. You’re lucky I’m gifing you zat much. Frankly, it’s a vaste on you.”

Charlie began screaming in protest and thrashing as he was carried down the hall. His voice faded away.

Weiss turned to face Winthrop. “Correct me if I’m vrong, but I belife Strussenbaug vas his second in command?”

Winthrop withdrew a small notebook from his jacket pocket and flipped to a page. “No, that’s correct sir.”

“Promote him to Charlie’s old position. Let him know in no uncertain terms vhat happened to his predecessor. Oh, and Vintrhop!” Weiss called out as Winthrop was about to leave, “put in an order for glass panes to place in ze slot machine vindow. Ve don’t vant anyone else to try zat again.”

Winthrop gave a polite nod and left the room.

Weiss turned back to the one-way window. Five more minutes of observing his charges, he decided. Then he’d have enough information to begin this little showdown of wills.

***

Meanwhile, on the other side of the glass, Solaire yawned again. “This Weiss guy better show up soon. I’m bored.”

Skylar, the man in the red and brown leathers, ogled at him. “You’re bored? We’re about to be punished by one of the most powerful men in the world for making him look like a fool at his own casino, and you’re bored?”

“Well it’s not like there’s anything to do while we wait” Solaire retorted.

Willaby, the round man in green tweed, was staring up at Austin. The man was gigantic, easily over six feet tall and close to three hundred pounds of pure muscle. With his large, blad, head, massively broad shoulders, bronze tanned skin and swirling black tattoos all over his face, he resembled a bit more of a mountain brought to life and stuffed into a gentleman’s white suit coat and trousers than a man.

Austin gazed down at Willaby and grinned, revealing a mouth of triangular, shark-like teeth. “Whatcha lookin’ at?”

Willaby’s eyes widened. “Oh, sorry, I-I’ll stop staring now.”

Austin laughed. “C’mon, tell me what’s on your mind. I don’t judge.”

“Well, it’s just…” Willaby leaned in and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Are you a grunzen?”

The large man nodded. “Yep. ‘Cept in my tribe, we called ‘em Nunui Nui. ‘Big Ones’. Elders figured it out when I was five feet tall by the time of my fifth birthday. Seemed to have capped out, though.”

“Goodness me. It’s just… well, I’ve heard about them, but I never got to see one before. Is it true that it’s just a random condition of birth?”

Austin shrugged. “That’s what the hoity-toities on the top deck tell me.”

“Well, I have to say, you seem very, um…” Willaby stopped, having trouble with the words.

Austin leaned over. “Yes?”

“...er…”

“Not stupid,” Solaire called out.

Willaby gaped back at Solaire in shock and fear. Austin just laughed. “Yeah, I know. Elders told me I was the first Nunui Nui to figure out how to talk, let alone carry out conversations. Probably would have been a genius otherwise.”

Willaby turned back to Austin. “So the intelligence levels of grunzens differ?”

“All sorts of things differ,” Austin said. “Some of us get really fat instead of strong. Some have shark teeth, like me, and some of us like to take our enemies, rip open their throats, coat our skin in their blood, and dance naked under the light of a bright full moon.”

Willaby went pale. “W-what? Grunzen don’t d-do th-th-that.”

“Oh.” Austin’s grin went wider. “Guess that’s just me.”

A slight whimper escaped Willaby’s lips.

(A quick aside: Austin’s shark teeth are not a random trait of the grunzen. His were filed to that shape as part of his initiation ceremony as a warrior of the tribe. I am unsure as to the exact purpose of this lie, outside of scaring Willaby, though he is a grunzen, if that falsehood caused that fact to come into question.)

While this was happening, Skylar scooched himself, and, by extension, the chair he was bound to, over to the bronze-skinned, clean-shaven, stoic-faced warrior wearing a huge set of armor made out of scales of iron and hardened leather painted dark red. He also carried a long katana sheathed at his side.

“Psst,” he hissed, “hey Tomo.”

Tomo slowly turned to him.

“You’re going to help me get out of here, right?”

Tomo returned to staring straight ahead.

“C’mon,” Skyler pleaded, “don’t do me like that.”

“You have brought shame and dishonor upon yourself by betraying the trust given to you by your employer,” Tomo responded. “I do not wish to speak with you.”

“That makes it sound a lot worse than it actually is!”

“You attacked the charges you were supposed to be helping for the promise of gold coin.”

Skyler mumbled something unintelligible and angry. “Alright, fine! But I’ve learned my lesson. Please, Tomo.”

Solaire rolled his eyes. “Give it up. Mr. Stick-in-the-Ass isn’t going to budge.”

“I am not” Tomo confirmed.

“See?” Solaire replied.

“I also have no sticks in my anus.”

“You get many ladies with that sparkling personality of yours?” Solaire asked.

“I do not associate with women. I must remain pure, disciplined, and celibate to uphold the code of bushido.”

Solaire groaned. “Weiss, just get here already!”

“Shut up!” Skyler spat at him. “You, of all people, have no right to complain right now!”

“I have every right to complain,” Solaire shot back. “I’m stuck in this holding cell with three wet blankets and a crazy shark man.”

“Crazy shark man…” Austin muttered, amused.

“I see no damp sheets” Tomo observed.

“Yes, because of you!” Skyler scowled at him. “If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t be down here.”

“I don’t recall holding a gun to your head to help me,” Solaire remarked. “If anyone has a right to complain, it’s the fat man with the whiskers.”

“Yeah!” Willaby exclaimed.

Solaire glared at him.

Willaby’s gaze returned to the floor. “B-but I won’t.”

“Don’t let him intimidate you!” Skyler yelled.

“Don’t let him intimidate you into not being intimidated!” Solaire yelled as well. “I’m very scary, trust me.”

Austin chuckled. “I like this one.”

“Are the sheets hidden?” Tomo asked.

“Shut up!” Skyler shouted.

“Or what?” Solaire challenged.

“I’ll shut you up myself!”

“Quite a boast coming from a man tied to a chair.”

“I will...”

CLANG.

Mr. Weiss entered at the other end of the room, accompanied by a thin man who looked like a vulture in human form, carrying a small book.

Austin and Tomo subtly straightened up.

“Vell, vell, vell.” He approached a metal table at the center of the room, set his red velvet tophat on the surface, and leaned onto the table. “Zis is quite ze interesting situation, nien?”

Willaby and Skylar glanced nervously at each other.

“Ah, but vhere are my manners?” Mr. Weiss continued. “Allov me to introduce myself; my name is Mr. Veiss, and I am your nev boss! Nov, you might hafe noticed zat zere is a metal plate attached to your skin. Vould anyone like to help me demonstrate it?”

Solaire narrowed his eyes at Weiss. “How about you demonstrate it after you shove it up your… GAAH!” A buzzing sound filled the air as Solaire jerked this way and that, eyes screwed shut in pain. When it was over, a long line of ozone-reeking smoke trailed from the plate in his neck.

“Zank you, Mr. Ravenheart.”

“It’s Solaire,” he gasped. “And happy to help.”

Weiss chuckled. “Zese are Abrary slave plates,” Solaire looked up and gritted his teeth at that, “and zey vork vis a combination of magic and technology too far adfanced for you to underschtand, let alone vork around. I can gife you a controlled, non-lethal schock vis zis,” he held up a small remote with a button, “or I can tell it to delifer a lethal blow. It vill also deliver a lethal schock if you tamper vis ze plate, attempt to remofe ze plate, or if my heart efer stops beatink. Undershtood?”

Nobody spoke.

“Excellent! I’m schure it goes visout saying, but you are all mine now. Vhen I say jump, you say ‘hov high?’ Vhen I say run, you say ‘hov fast?’ Zere are seferal tasks I need you to complete for me as ze days go by. Tomo and Aushtin” he said, gesturing to the two men behind them “vill also be helpink you. Vhile I am not vis you, zey will be in command, so if zey ashk you eizer of zose questions as vell, you are to respond in ze exact. same. vay. Do zis all vell and visout queschtion, zen ve can talk about releasing you.”

“Talk?” Solaire interjected. “You expect us to kiss ass to you for a pat on the head and a maybe?”

Weiss glanced over to Solaire. “Ah! Mr. Ravenheart…”

“It’s Solaire.”

“...glad to see you so… comfortable, on my schip. I hafe to say, you caused quite ze commotion back zere, vhat vis ze slot machine and ze gold coins and makink my men look like fools.” He smiled. “I’m schure ve vill hafe quite ze time workink togezer, Mr… Solaire.”

Solaire stared him right in the eye. “I’m sure we will, Mr. Weiss,” he said, pronouncing the name “Wees”.

“It’s Weiss” he corrected, pronouncing it “Vice”.

“Wees” Solaire confirmed.

“No, Vice.”

“Wees.”

“Vice.”

“Wees”

“Vice”

“Wees.”

“SKYLER!” Weiss exclaimed, loud enough to make the man jump. “I hafe to say, of all ze people I expected to see down here, you were not one of zem.”

The man in leathers squirmed a bit. “Well, you know what they say, first time for everything… right?”

“And your lasht, one way or anozer,” Wiess said, nodding. “Disappointink zat you decided to srow all zat talent avay. You had quite ze fote of confidence from your former captain, and I could see vhy. Hook svords are a hard veapon to mashter, much less climb vis, nien?”

“They are.” Skyler’s face began to look hopeful. “Lot of time and talent went into that.”

“Schame zat you couldn’t hafe had more discipline elsevhere in your life.”

“L-look, maybe we could work something out, right? Public apology, pay you the money back, m-maybe we could discuss other forms of favors?”

“Yes, and zen I’ll let eferyone know zat mutiny isn’t serious and seft from me is okie-dokie. Maybe I schould shtart forgifink ze gamblink debts as vell?” Weiss rolled his eyes. “Honeshtly, you shtruck me as smarter zan zat, Skyler.”

Skyler’s eyes fell to the floor. Willaby looked at Skyler, then back to Weiss. “I’m sorry, but there must have been a mistake here, sir.”

Weiss turned to him. “Ah! And Villaby, vas it?”

“Er, Willaby, yes.”

“I hafe to admit, I hadn’t had ze pleaschure of meetink you before. Do you mind tellink me vho you are?“

“Well,” he stammered. “I-I’m a baker. Was a baker, I suppose. Place burnt down. Not sure why, come to think about it. L’homme de guimauve, it was called. Specialized in cakes and pastries. I was the pastry chef.”

Weiss nodded. “And a sorcerer.”

The eyes of Skyler, Tomo, and Austin went wide as they stared at Willaby, who began to nervously fidget from the attention.

“Well, I-I-I mean, that didn’t really come into play with the baking thing. It was more of a minor… thing… I could do… sometimes.”

“Minor thing?” Skyler exclaimed. “You were lucky enough to be born with magic and power literally in your blood, and you call that a minor thing?”

Solaire yawned.

Willaby’s expression went dark for a second. “It’s only a good thing if you can control it, and I was not given that ability.” He turned back to Weiss. “But surely there has been a mistake! I had nothing to do with this commotion, I swear!”

“Oh really?” Weiss asked. “Because accordink to our records, you lied to a crew member to hide Mr. Solaire here…”

“He was threatening me with a gun!”

“...got into a shcuffle vis ze crew member vehn he tried to enter…”

“I panicked!”

“...cast a shpell to obscure vischion to aid in his escape…”

“That was an accident. I can’t always control…”

“...shtabbed ze poor crew man after Solaire had left…”

“...what? No... I didn’t…”

“...and zen attempted to fight ze security forces in ze hallway.” Weiss smiled. “Vell, at least ve got ourselfes a sorcerer out of all zat chaos, nien?”

A look of horrified realization crossed Willaby’s face. “You can’t.”

“Can, did, and done!” Weiss glanced back to the vulture man. “Nov, Vinthrop, if you vouldn’t mind giving zese people back zere veapons and oser effects so ve can let zem go. Zey schouldn’t be a problem vis ze plates.”

Winthrop approached, lifted a large oblong bag off the floor and onto the table, and opened it up. “Tomo, would you please untie Mr. Skyler?”

Tomo unsheathed the katan and flicked faster than the eye could follow. The various ropes binding Skyler fell to the ground as he stood up, rubbing his wrist.

Wintrhop began withdrawing items and placing them on the table. “Two hook swords, one custom made revolver pistol, long barreled, and one custom made revolver pistol, short barreled.”

Skyler took the items and placed them back in his holsters, mumbling as he did so.

“Next, Mr. Willaby please.”

Tomo repeated the motion to Willaby’s chair as he unsteadily got to his feet.

Wintrhop studied his notebook. “Nothing”

Solaire looked at Willaby and raised an eyebrow.

His face turned a bright shade of scarlet. “I’m a baker on vacation!”

“Zat won’t do.” Weiss reached into his coat and pulled out a short wooden rod, cut into square and diamond-like patterns. “Here’s a shpell focus. Schould reign back your power enough for you to defend yourself magically, efen sough it’s cheap. Try not to oferload it.”

Willaby took it and oggeled it like a jungle native encountering a bar of soap for the first time.

“Lastly, Solaire?”

Tomo repeated the motion, and for just a second, Solaire saw the side of his neck, There under the skin, so old it had been healed over, was a foreign object. A slave plate, he realized, as he walked to the table.

“One custom made revolver pistol, broad barrel. Two single shot hold-out pistol attached to a spring-mounted vambrace…”

Weiss took one of the hold-out pistols off of the table before Solaire could take it. It was a small flintlock, welded to a brass extension arm that could be drawn back and clicked into place. He pushed and pulled the spring back for a bit before nodding approvingly and extending it towards Solaire, who immediately snatched it out his hands.

Winthrop cleared his throat. “Two revolver pistols, one pair of knuckle guards, three daggers, one cutlass…”

“Gods and demons” Skyler muttered.

Solaire saw him remove the very last item he had on him before he was captured: a long ivory cane. A long ivory cane with a sword hidden inside.

“Can we hurry this up?” Solaire interrupted before Winthrop could announce the last item. “I need to get out of here before I fall asleep from boredom.”

Winthrop looked at him confused. “I beg your pardon?”

“C’mon, you know, faster! Vamoos! Andele!” He thought for a minute. “Eedspay-upsay!”

“We have a process we need to…”

Weiss chuckled. “It’s alright, Vinthrop.” He took the cane out of his hands and handed it over to Solaire. “ Let’s let him safe zat fim and figor for ze job, nien?”

Solaire took the cane and held it at his side, his only ace up his sleeve left secret.

“I vill let you knov vhen you are needed, gentlemen.” Weiss gestured to the open door beside him. “Until zat time, you are free to avail yourselfes of ze room and board in ze crew quarters.” He smiled. “Enjoy your shtay at ze Emperor.”

***

After a brief meal of not quite the worst slop he’d ever had, but pretty close, and a sleep on a cot that ranked just above “tavern floor” in Solaire’s experience, he was back out and about the ship, taking in the sights, sounds, smells and feels of it, mentally cataloging every weakness he could find or think of.

So he’d gotten a little curious and things hadn’t gone exactly as he’d planned. So what? The mission was still the same. Find out where the information about River was kept, steal it, and sail away, preferably with a gunshot through the neck of that smug Eiswhen-accented son-of-a-bitch in the red velvet suit. And yes, now the ending of the plan had a few complications thrown into it, but at least he had a reliable alibi until he was ready to make his move. Who knows? Maybe he could even get into a few places a bit easier like this.

While making his way through the engine room, trying to understand the mess of pipes and valves and having absolutely no luck doing so, he spotted the familiar form of a large man in a green tweed suit standing a bit away.

“Hey! You there!” Solaire called out.

Willaby turned around, saw Solaire, and attempted to hurry off.

“Wait a moment.” Solaire jogged up to him and put his hand on his shoulder. “I’m glad I ran into you. I found the captain’s room, but it’s sealed with some kind of multi-stage lock I’ve never seen before.”

“M-hmm.” Willaby started to strode away.

Solaire kept pace. “It’d take me too long to pick it, so I thought that you could do whatever that magic voodoo you do to it. Maybe melt it off.”

“Mmm,” he responded. His tone became more terse.

“So if you just want to follow me…”

“What’s that?” Willaby’s gaze suddenly shot up and to the right, at something he couldn’t see. “You need my help over there? Way over there? And you need me to come alone? Will do, good sir!” He walked away from Solaire with a quick march, refusing to look back.

Solaire scratched his head. “What’s up with him?” He shrugged and turned up a staircase, heading to an upper deck.

Voices sounded from the landing above him, just out of his view. Curious, he slowed his pace and listened as he walked.

“Darrensby, would you just listen to me?”

“I did listen, and I told you no.”

Solaire turned a corner and saw Skyler arguing with someone he didn’t recognize on the staircase landing, though from the uniform, he could tell the other man was one of the ship hands. As he came into view, both of them stopped to look at Solaire.

“Oh, blast it to hell” Skyler groaned.

The shiphand sniggered. “Why don’t you ask your girlfriend there?”

Skylar glared at the man and grabbed a handful of his shirt, shoving him down the stairs. He caught himself easily and winked back at Skyler as he passed Solaire and descended the steps.

“What in the name of the abyss do you want?” Skyler spat at him.

“I found the captain’s quarters,” Solaire responded, “but I’m unfamiliar with the lock. Since you’ve been here for a bit…”

“Of course.” Skyler rolled his eyes and try to push his way past the pale noble. “Rot in hell, Solaire.”

Solaire stepped in front of him. “What is this about? This hostility. You and the tweed man, you both…”

“Tweed man?” Skyler’s stare shot daggers at Solaire. “You mean Willaby?”

“If that’s his name.”

“You want to know what’s wrong, Solaire? You ruined our lives. We’re pissed off at you. So if you’d please go away…”

“I did that?” Solaire thought for a moment. “Tweed might have a case, but I remember you being just as eager as me to get off this ship with that money.”

“Yeah, and you know what? I thought that meant working together. We could have escaped, easy, but when I turned around, my ally was nowhere to be found. Instead I had a whole other platoon of robots getting in line to stab me.”

“Well, that was your fault for trusting me.”

Skyler put his arm across Solaire’s throat and pushed him into the wall. “Until Weiss gets whatever that job is lined up for us,” he growled, scowling at him inches away from Solaire’s face, “I don’t want to see you. You get that?” He shoved himself off and walked down the stairs before Solaire could respond.

Solaire stood in the empty staircase for a moment before continuing his climb upwards.

***

There’s only so much searching any man can do in a day before his body makes a request for food, however vile, and so Solaire tore himself away from his task once evening fell to make his way back to the crew’s mess hall.

The large room was incredibly loud and crowded, with sailors and wait staff moving this way and that, shouting over each other and raccously laughing. Whatever revulsive white creamy stew they had served the day before was today’s dish as well, as people lined up to fill up their wooden bowl and move into one of the many long tables running the entire length of the hall.

“Hey, fairy man!” A sudden motion from across the room caught Solaire’s eye. It was a green lime, sailing through the air to hit Willaby on his back, who didn’t so much as turn around from his spot seated in the corner when it hit him. “Give us another dose of pixie dust!” A chorus of cruel laughter rang out.

Skyler stood up next to him and shouted back “Fuck off!”

“Oooh, I’m so scared,” the man at the table retorted back. “He might fight us. Here, is this enough?” The group began throwing copper pennies at Skyler, who stood there and fumed as the coins rained down upon them.

Willaby gently grabbed Skyler’s arm. “Forget it, it’s not worth it.”

Solaire sighed and walked over to the table of taunters.

The apparent ringleader of the group saw him walking over and nudged the others. “Hey, lookit. We’ve got the mastermind right here! Tell me, what’s it feel like to be smart enough to come up with a heist like that?” he shouted as the others howled.

“Why? Want some help filling the holes between your ears?” Solaire asked.

The laughter died down, replaced by stares of anger. The man got up from the other end of the table and walked around until he was inches away from Solaire’s face. “You think you’re clever, huh?”

“Not really,” Solaire said. “But among you lot, it sure makes me look like it.”

He nodded, turned back to his friends and nodded, then reeled back with a sudden wide swing aimed straight at Solaire’s head.

As Solaire watched the sailor telegraph his punch, he couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Schoolyard bullies fight the same everywhere, it seems.

Solaire ducked under the blow and lunged forward, driving his fist straight into the pit of the man’s stomach. Startled, he clutched his belly and leaned over in pain, allowing Solaire to move past him and drive his foot into the back of his thigh, toppling him onto the ground and giving the noble space to put his shoe onto the back of his neck.

Across the table, the man’s friends started to get up.

Solaire drew the Ivory River and aimed it at them.

The whole mess hall went silent.

“You stupid or something?” one of them snarled. “You got that shock plate on you. One call to Weiss and you’ll fry.”

“Go ahead,” Solaire invited. “Honestly, I’m curious how many how many of you I could take with me before I went down.” He twirled, moving open the flaps of his coat and revealing the small armory stored inside. “Enough to use all twenty bullets loaded, I’m sure. Then we’d have to get creative with the daggers. So, who wants to go fetch Weiss?”

You could hear a pin drop in the mammoth room.

“Right then.” He faced the rest of the mess hall. “Listen up you lily-livered arse-faced shit-for-brains collections of human waste! My name is Captain Solaire Ravenheart and these,” he gestured to Willaby and Skyler, “are my crew! Anyone has a problem with my crew, they take it up with me! Anyone who takes it up with me has a bullet from this gun in their future! Now did you all get that or would you like for me to repeat it slower?!”

The only reply was an awkward cough from the back.

“Good!” Solaire removed his foot from the man’s neck and knelt down next to him. “How about you?” he whispered. “We understand each other?”

The man quickly nodded.

“Excellent.” Solaire stood up, gave the man a swift kick in the side, and headed over to Willaby and Skyler. Slowly, the staring heads turned back and the conversation picked up again.

“You always make that much of an entrance?” Skyler asked.

“Usually.” Solaire responded, then sighed. “Listen, I know the two of you hate me. And you have every right, so hate me all you want. Hell, plot your revenge while you’re at it. But since we’re stuck together, we might as well work together while we’re here. Save the shouting and fighting and stabbing for when we’re off this ship, alright?”

Willaby and Skyler looked at each other, then back to Solaire.

“You… you want to sit here?” Willaby asked, pointing to the seat next to him.

Solaire shrugged. “Don’t see why not.” He picked up the lime from the ground, sat down, and began to peel it with a dagger as three of them sat together.

#the adventures of Solaire #Adventure #pirate #fantasy #steampunk #short story #series

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