#I planned this for a while so | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

devil-doll13 · 1 year ago

Text

The Cold Gun

Tw: Guns, Zach and Jude go to a shooting range and use it for its intended purpose, Zach getting roasted, Death mentions.

Cold Case In Harlem inspired me a little, you can consider it a moodboard for this fic? Sort of?

OCs Included: Zach, Jude, some hints to future OCs…

Dividers by firefly-graphics

“You’re terrible at this.” Zach muttered.

Jude almost whirled around to glare at him, but she was still locked onto her target and abandoned the action halfway through. He watched her straining her sunburnt forehead, white-knuckling like she always was when she was struggling. She fired off another shot that went way off mark and huffed in annoyance.

“You don’t have to be so insufferable, you know. Not everyone got a sponsor like you did.” She flicked her braid back over her freckled shoulder.

They were about the only people still using this decrepit shooting range. It was given sparse maintenance, and the old bullet holes in the targets could’ve been years old by now. The one she had chosen was already barely holding itself together. Zach was sitting on a bench at the back, watching. He rather wished he wasn’t, because Agent Judith Bell’s shoddy aim was a sorry sight to behold. She always fared better when she got up close and personal, but that was also pretty dangerous to do under most circumstances.

“Well, I have been doing this longer than you, so I suppose…” He leaned back leisurely, knitting his hands together. His seat creaked ominously.

Admittedly, he’d been well used to shooting cans off fences years before Jude even set a fingerprint on a gun (and she’d vowed never to touch one before then). It was a matter of experience as well as skill.

“Flexing your seniority on me again? Don’t start. Maybe give it a few more years and I bet I’d outshoot you.” She sniffed, tilting her chin forward defiantly. Zach supposed she must be in a rotten mood of some sort, one unrelated to her shitty aim. Jude usually wasn’t given to such a contrarian attitude.

That was mostly his thing.

“You really don’t wanna bet against me. Keep trying.” He said. He crushed his cigarette into an ashtray that was balanced precariously on the railing. Surprisingly, he was still allowed to smoke in here.

“Go away. I’m trying to get some practice in here.” She grumbled, and went back to hopelessly shooting at her chewed-up target.

Not too keen on getting too much on her nerves (since that was his specialty), he decided to leave her be and peeled open a newspaper that had gotten stuck together at the bottom of his pack. Here was the usual sensationalist drivel about celebrities’ love lives and weight gain, sandwiched between sports news and advertisements. What he was really looking for was reports on local crime, and sure enough he found it: “New York man found frozen to death in apartment in record-breaking heatwave.”

There was usually a whistleblower in every big law enforcement department they could manage to infiltrate, so he knew this one already.

It was the reason why they were here, after all.

“What are they saying now?”

Zach glanced over to see that Jude had materialised in front of him with her hands on her hips. She must’ve given up on hitting her mark. He rolled the newspaper back up and stuffed it into his bag. He’d only come here for her benefit (although it’d be good for both of them if she could actually hit something for once) so he was just about ready to go.

“Oh, just the usual. Your average pig’s about as useful as a wet paper towel when it comes to the paranormal. Should’ve learned years ago to trust us with it instead. Can’t believe we still have to pretend this shit doesn’t happen…” Zach blew smoke out of the side of his mouth forcefully.

“Well, that’s not their fault…” Jude said softly. “It’s probably for the best that most people don’t know about all this. Blissful ignorance and all.”

He stared up at her, frowning.

“... It probably is.”

Zach found himself focusing again on the crooked line of targets. He remembered this place filled with warmth and life. He used to go down here to metaphorically and literally shoot the shit with agents who were older and cooler than he was. Now, it was empty.

Most of those people were dead now, too.

An hour later they were loitering around the sidewalks of Harlem, grazing on street food. He’d bought Jude a cold chicken wrap to make up for her sour mood; and for his prodding. She couldn’t seem to decide whether or not she had an appetite, but he knew he did, and demolished his own tortilla. Right now he was leaning on a sign pole, waiting for the bus, blowing smoke rings into the city air.

“I can see why the cops are stumped.” She said between gulps of water. “Freezing to death? In this weather? It’s not normal…”

He flicked some ashes into a nearby gutter.

“This case is pretty straightforward for us, but yeah, for your average person it’s definitely strange. I’m sure the higher-ups will send in some hush money afterwards. We just have to do our jobs, save them the hassle.” Zach hummed pleasantly.

Jude looked disgruntled. “Is it straightforward? We’ve been running in circles for days trying to pinpoint where this asshole is.” She was selectively picking on various ingredients from her wrap, as if they were only parts of it she was able to stomach.

He turned back to give her a wry smile. It was unusual for her to swear. He took a mental note not to push her too far today.

“Well, If we can just rule out any of our high rollers… It might just be a particularly pesky imp.” Zach said. He supposed from her facial expression that his tone was a bit too casual, but that’s how you get when you do this sort of work for years.

“... It killed five people…” She murmured, sucking her finger dry of sauces.

Zach sucked in a breath, nodding. “... Yeah, It did.”

He saw the bus coming up and hurriedly discarded his cigarette on pavement and ground it down with his boot. It was stuck in rush-hour traffic, of course.

That was why it took so long to get back ‘home.’

Zach wrenched the door of their safehouse open with a groan. It was starting to get stiff and stubborn. Must’ve been just as annoyed with the nosy neighbours as he was. He often found old Mr. Galloway stooped down low to peek into the keyhole, ‘sneakily.’

Jude slipped in before him. “So we’re dealing with another ice spirit,” she said wearily.

Her face was grim. This had been how she’d started every conversation on this mission since they’d been assigned to it. He knew she hated the cold.

“Or an imp.” Zach followed in behind her.

He dropped his bag carelessly on the saggy coach, and Jude’s pack followed soon after it.

She waded through piles of books and folders into the kitchen. The flat’s walls were lined wall to wall with spreads of annotated maps, newspaper clippings and circled photographs. They had been using this place for half a year now - after the previous agent went ‘missing in action’ - and it had started to resemble the cluttered hideout of a conspiracy theorist.

“I don’t think it’s 530. That one usually doesn’t go this far into the city. Just the outskirts, and always farther North than here” Zach sighed.

At this, Jude just shook her head and switched on the coffee machine. On the bus, she’d brought up No. 530 and had seemed convinced it was the culprit. They’d had a minor disagreement over it. Zach rummaged through a locker and, after some digging, finally found the block of files they kept around for records.

“You know we can just hit up ‘Polly for these, right?” Jude made a face at him, setting two steaming mugs on a desk. It was so overcrowded she had to shuffle off some folders to make room.

“Yeah, but you know I’m old school…”

Jude rolled her eyes in response and snatched up some documents from his hands. “You act like you’re allergic to the Internet.”

She sat down and grazed on her tea.

“Yeah, well… The Internet’s not completely safe either. Remember that shapeshifting hacker we had?” Zach shot back.

This was the exact reason why he wasn’t overly fond of the decision to convert all their records into that shiny new AI. Jude set her cup back on the table.

“It would just be a lot easier is all I’m saying…”

She turned her attention back to the files.

“You’d think this thing would have the sense to at least wait until Winter. Summer is getting hotter every year now; you can practically fry an egg on our car’s hood some days.” She shook her head, peeling through papers and throwing unlikelies onto the floor. Zach gave her a sidelong glance. He knew she made the most of every Summer that rolled by.

“Not too smart, I’d wager.” He said, and lit himself another cigarette, perhaps the twentieth of the day.

“Sorry to say, but I think you share two minds.” Her hazel eyes flickered back up to glare at him. “When’s the last time you ditched the trenchcoat?”

He stopped. It was Nathaniel’s coat, and she knew that. She understood his reasons. Jude seemed to recognise this mishap and coughed.

“You know I can’t…” He said quietly.

Jude sighed. “I know but… Just promise me you wont let yourself boil in all that leather. I don’t need you sweating out all that remaining brain juice.”

He forced a chuckle, wanting to keep the mood light.

“Thought I didn’t have any?”

“Yeah, well… Maybe you have some, but you’re in danger of losing it.” She gazed at him sharply.

Zach’s throat felt unnaturally tight. He quickly changed the subject, flicking through his chosen files for a routine process of elimination.

“‘Victims were found frozen in carved sculptures…’ No… ‘Bite marks on the arms and chest…’ Nothing like that… We can rule out the yeti, I think.” He muttered.

“It really is just like 530...” Zach looked back up at her. She was staring at No. 530’s file in the same way she often did when she thought he wasn’t looking. He shook his head. Nothing good ever came of trying to understand these malicious entities’ motives. They were all rotten to the core, the lot of them. They’d always be quick to take advantage of misplaced sympathy. Jude was sometimes a little too kind for her own good, and still had a regretful splinter in her heart that made her easy to sway with pity.

“Not as famous, though. 530’s a bit more careful with its victims, it seems.” He said, gulping down a mouthful of his coffee. “And it prefers up northwest, and it goes for late night drivers, not people just living their lives in the city. We can rule it out.”

Jude still had a thoughtful expression on her face. “You know I sometimes wonder if there’s a reason fo-”

A heavy banging on the door interrupted her. The agents looked up from their files towards the source of the noise. Zach saw Jude start, but beat her to it:

“I’ll get it,” he said firmly. The stern glance he gave her left no room for argument. It might’ve been nothing much, but if anything dangerous came through that door he’d prefer it hit him first. In two strides, he cleared the small space and cracked it open a slice.

What met him instead was the aged face of ‘Agnes Tompetty’ - who some might’ve still considered dangerous, but to him was a trusted ally.

“Get your ugly face out of mine, lad. I like the girl better.” She spat out in a hoarse voice. Zach couldn’t help but crack a cheeky grin.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Tompetty.” He lay open the door for her like a gentleman, well used to ignoring her remarks. She didn’t mean it. Or at least, he didn’t care too much if she did.

“It’s the bloody evening!” She crowed, and hobbled inside with her walking stick. “And there’s nothing good about it. Hmph.”

He quickly checked his watch. “So it is…”

Mrs. Tompetty was something of a sleeper agent. She had fought monsters all her life until she went blind - then she adopted a fake name and ‘retired’ into the same block of apartments they were staying in. Zach was certain that if some silly vampire tried to drink from this old bat, they’d find themselves with a broken off cane stick shoved into their shrivelled up heart. Her reflexes were still unreasonably sharp.

The fact that she could still navigate her way through this mess was proof of how capable she still was, Zach thought to himself as she kicked away some stray debris.

Jude’s face had lit up at the sight of her.

“Coffee, Agnes?” And she got up, hurrying to wash out another mug before she even had an answer. “We actually have sugar this time.”

“No, don’t. Leave it. I said leave it! I’m only here to pass you a message from Mr. Roy.” Mrs. Tompetty batted the air like she was swatting a fly.

“For godssakes. It’s too hot for that shite anyway.”

Jude sat back down, looking disappointed.

“And why can’t he deliver it himself?” Zach furrowed his dark brows, expelling a puff of smoke. “We’ve been here for a week, he could afford to pay us a visit, right?”

The older woman turned around slowly to face him, her dull white eyes still and glassy. Zach had the feeling that, blind as she was, she could still see right through him. He’d heard of fellow agents who were so destroyed by what they’d seen in the field that they’d gouged their own eyeballs out. He supposed those as old as Agnes had developed senses beyond sight by this point, but he certainly did not envy her, seeing that he was halfway to blindness himself.

“I imagine he finds you dreadfully irritating, same as me.” Mrs. Tompetty said grumpily. She was searching through her purse for something.

Zach sighed. He’d invited Agent Roy many times for a drink, but the other man never took up his offer. He was starting to think Gabe didn’t like him!

And why wouldn’t he like him?

“Anyway. Shut your fat mouth and take this.” She snapped, and thrust a wrinkled hand into his chest. Zach realised it was holding a letter, now crumpled up and smelling of mints and hand lotion. He ripped it open and unfolded some lined paper.

Sure enough, there was Agent Roy’s neat, loopy handwriting. Zach stopped to squash the stub of his cigarette into a nearby ashtray before reading:

“Agent Johnson. You know what this is about.”

“Don’t bother scouring the city, because this slippery fucker doesn’t like crowds. You’ll find him down South, much farther down South than you were expecting. I’m talking Maryland, not New York. You’re barking up the wrong tree, Johnson, I’m just trying to set you straight. Of course, I can’t tell you his exact location because, like I said, he’s a little snake.“

“You’re probably aware of the five reported fatalities, but I unfortunately have to tell you that there are a lot more than that. A lot more. It’s a nasty business, I’m afraid. It involves- Well, I think you know personally that these creatures don’t discriminate based on anything, really. So you can feel free to torture him as much as you like. Just know that you’ll be delivering actual justice this time.”

(This choice of words made him raise an eyebrow.)

“Also. Stop mailing me gun magazines.”

~ Agent Roy

Out of force of habit, he turned over the paper to check the back of it, but it was empty. Still, he felt confused, as if there was a hidden passage he’d missed somewhere.

Where in the fuck does he get all his information? Zach shook his head in disbelief, and then he felt a twinge of annoyance. He should really just do all this himself…

“He was in a right hurry, that boy,” muttered the older woman. “Must think I’ve got nothing to do all day, hmm…”

Jude piped up. “Hopefully he can come tell us in person next time. He’s a nice guy, you know.”

When he’s around you, anyway… Zach thought.

“I should hope so! I’m not a carrier pigeon.” Mrs. Tompetty turned back with a huff and slammed the door behind her. Zach knew she would be back around talking his partner’s ear off by the next day.

“Well, um…” Jude rubbed her arm. “So what does it say?” She nodded towards the letter in his hand.

He glanced back up at her with a dubious expression.

“He’s got information on our target. Apparently Agent Roy has his own sources that he’s not willing to share.” He couldn’t help but say this somewhat bitterly.

“He’s just like you.” She remarked. “Sending letters in this day and age. Why not an email? A letter can be intercepted a lot easier.”

“Mrs. Tompetty’s got better security.” Zach said amusedly, shrugging.

“I can believe that. But still…” She sighed, then got up to dump the rest of her drink into the sink. It was too hot for enjoying coffee.

Zach was beginning to feel the heat too, and found the leather strips of his gun holsters were were now cutting into his skin. He stuffed the letter into his pockets and paced the floor, restless. “Gabriel says we’re way off mark. That our target’s down South in Maryland.” He quickly summarised for her.

“Maryland?” Jude repeated back. He could hear the sheer incredulity in her voice.

He scoffed. “I know… I’m not entirely sure if I should believe it to be entirely honest with you, but as far as I’m aware, Agent Roy has no reason to lie… Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve been thrown off the scent like this, wouldn’t you agree?”

She bit her lip, still leaning against the kitchen sink. “But Cooper’s corpse was frozen. Do you think there might be more than one?”

“That’s entirely possible.” He turned back towards her and nodded. For a moment they stared at each other, and a moment of understanding flashed between them.

“Right… You go South, then.” She pursed her lips.

“You wanna stay in the city?” Zach couldn’t help but let the surprise show on his face. He was certain that she would prefer to leave it; crowds and smog and all.

Jude shrugged helplessly. It looked to him like she just wanted to be left alone. He’d been there, too.

“Okay.” He said, quickly downing his coffee and gathering up his equipment again with a groan.

“I’ll be taking the car. I assume you’ve got the gist of the city’s layout by now?”

Jude not being a city girl, he did worry for her in this situation. Might get lost in the alleys again…

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Was all she said.

With that, he left her standing there, despondent, in the middle of the room, trying to push back strange, persistent feeling that he’d been sent into a trap.

(Taglist: @rottent33th, @slaasherslut, @the-pinstriped-hood, @goldrose-star, @soupbabe, @bluecoolr, @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better, @flower-crowned-lady, @probably-a-plant-thing, @solmints-messyocdiary, @myers-meadow)

#I promise to actually make a followup this time #I planned this for a while so #Zachariah Johnson #Zach #Judith Bell #Jude #Gabriel Roy #Gabriel #The Organisation #fic #my writing

12 notes · View notes

kaidatheghostdragon · 7 months ago

Text

Good reveal au, where after learning phantom's identity and realizing the atrocities that the GIW have committed (or alternatively, ethical science au, where they find out the GIW plagarized them), the fenton parents decided to create the 'ultimate ghost-ending weapon' and sell it to the agents.

They go absolutely overboard, describing to the agents in meticulous detail how it evaporates any ghost it hits near-instantly and describing it quite ruthlessly in the blueprints, and soon the GIW have raplaced all their main weapons with the new gun.

Except it doesn't actually kill ghosts. It's the Fenton Bazooka. You know, the one that creates a portable portal to suck the ghost back into the ghost zone? What they actually did was retool it slightly to make it look more grusome than it actually is. They even added a beacon in Phantom's Keep, which all Fenton Bazookas will target when they open a portal, so the ghosts are always delivered to the keep.

From there, Phantom stationed an emergency medical team at the keep to treat the many injured and ragged ghosts that the GIW 'destroyed,' and to explain what just happened.

What they didn't anticipate was that now that the GIW have a mass-produced weapon that they believed would effectively eradicate ghosts, they would go on the offensive. They have a number of cities they've been monitoring but didn't want to get involved in without better tools.

One of those cities is Gotham.

And the Bats are ectocontaminated enough to register as ghosts.

Batman witnessed several of his children get evaporated by green energy weapons within mere moments of each other. He's absolutely gutted. Devastated. They didn’t even stand a chance.

He'll get his revenge, and it's frighteningly easy to track the weapon to private subcontractors. The Doctors Fenton, in Illinois. Their research calls for the genocide of all ghost kind, and apparently, that war started by killing his own children.

His children will not die in vain.

He gets to Amity Park and finds the Engineer's Nightmare of a building that is Fentonworks, but that night, before he can hack through the security and break in, one of the windows opens.

It's one of his kids that he had watched evaporate before his very eyes. They give him a silent signal of one of their identifying security codes and gesture for him to come inside.

Is it a trap? A prank in poor taste? Utterly genuine?

He goes through the window.

All of his dead kids are there, wearing borrowed pajamas and only their dominoes to conceal their identities. Daniel Fenton (son of the Fentons, this is his bedroom, has voiced a few arguments against his parent's views, but still an unknown) is among the crowd of teens and young adults, twirling on an office chair and obnoxiously sipping a capri sun.

"First thing you need to know, Bats," Daniel says after finishing his drink, "is that my parents are absolutely NOT genocidal ectophobic scumbags, and that is the reason why your kids are still alive."