#Oc Agent Maryland

[smilysstuff]

Shaking you please tell us about Agent Maryland (and some more abt Nevada), I'm INVESTED in these goobers now

You really have to ask the one agent where I didn't give much character development to😭😭 Well, Agent Maryland specialises in explosives, either to disarm them or make em go boom boom. One time she was thought to be KIA because she was in a building that detonated, few weeks later she came back to the moi with a missing arm and a big smile. She's a badass, and when the ship crash nobody knows whether if she lived or not.

(The last person beside her is Agent Pennsylvania<3They besties)

((AND YES I'LL POST MORE OF NEVADA I literally have multiple drawn videos of him))

[crystalsandbubbletea]

A info post about my Agent Alabama OC!

Her name was Georgia Sanchez

She is VERY short, to the point she's an armrest for everyone

She doesn't mind Wyoming's knock-knock jokes, sometimes they even earn a laugh from her

It was VERY easy to scare in her early Freelancer days

She's fast, very fast

She speaks Spanish whenever she's very angry, scared, or both

She has some burn scars on her side from a incident that happened when she was six, she's not too fond of talking about what happened

She spends most of her free time either writing or with Florida and Wyoming (Or sometimes North Dakota)

Much like Virginia, she's extremely fond of Theta

"I want to get Theta a dog."

"HOW WOULD THAT EVEN BE POSSIBLE!?"

"Be quiet, Maryland."

"BUT ALA-"

"Shush."

[forgottenfreelancers]

The girls alive and in casual clothes I found on Google, will probably draw more of that premise

[katyaromanoffpetrova]

Is this the end? (part III)

Katya is new at SHIELD. When she messes up during her probation, she thinks Fury will send her away. To ease the pain, she distances herself from Nat.

• Natasha Romanoff x Fem!OC • Wordcount: 4.8k • Warnings: angst, mentions of self-harm and (sexual) abuse (both not detailed) •A/N: The final part!! Sorry it took me over a month to finish... Hope you enjoy! Masterlist

Do not repost my work as your own or translate my work!!

"Another lap! Keep going! Keep going!"

Katya's head still spun from the psychological tests they drowned her in this morning, and now they had her doing a military physical test in the Maryland afternoon rain. She completed the obstacle course in record time—as expected—and was now running laps around a muddy track with her lungs burning in her chest.

"Come on! I've seen kids go faster than that!"

Katya clenched her teeth, refraining from yelling anything back to the stupid woman in the middle of the track, with her stupid stopwatch and her stupid clipboard. There were two intimidating looking SHIELD agents, one at the south gate and one at the north, with pistols strapped to their legs, that wouldn't appreciate an outburst like that. 

She knew for a fact that she was going twenty percent faster than the fastest human being. Twenty percent smarter, twenty percent stronger, twenty percent faster. At least, that's what she was told. Who knows how true that all was. 

There were more things she didn't know about herself than she did know. This morning's tests had proven that once again. 

Besides the puzzles, the riddles, the IQ tests, the personality test, and the lie detector loyalty test—the one SHIELD knew she could beat if she wanted to—there was the shrink, the therapist. Katya hated them. Always pretending to understand what she felt, the sympathetic look, the invasive questions; those people could never help her. She didn't want their help.

But answering their questions was a part of this weird test day that she didn't fully understand, but she felt she had to behave for.

So she acted like nothing the shrink said bothered her, talked around things, and tried to fight off the pit of despair in her stomach when he asked her the most basic questions.

"Where were you born?"

"I don't know."

"Do you have any siblings?"

"No idea."

"What are the names of your parents?"

"Couldn't tell you."

Lucky for her, Katya didn't have time to dwell on them like she usually would. She was ordered to put on sports clothes and shoved in the back of a SHIELD van right after the interview ended. And now she was here, trying very hard not to think about them again as all the laps she ran blurred into one.

Instead, she tried to figure out what this testing thing was all about. Because last night, she was still one-hundred percent convinced she would have to leave SHIELD. No doubts. Her bags were packed. She had made peace with it. 

But then they pulled her out of bed at 6 this morning. First to put her in a room with all these tests; figural reasoning, logic-based reasoning, situational judgement. And now to test her physical fitness. All stuff to determine how good of a spy she'd be. 

Why?

Katya mulled over that single question on the journey here, to this SHIELD training facility. 

Why would they be testing her if they were sending her off?

That question spun around and around in her head. It was there as she climbed the rope net, there as she crawled through the mud—inches below barbed wire, there as she dashed across a slim beam, and there as her feet splashed tirelessly in the puddles on the oval track. 

She still didn't have a solid answer. 

She didn't dare to think about the positive answer. 

Nothing in her life had ever turned out good. Her stay at SHIELD—it had felt finite from the start. Too good to be true. She was a tool, one that was meant to work and function. Worthless if it didn't. There was no way SHIELD was going to keep her if she didn't function. The organizations she was a part of before didn't. Why would SHIELD be different? Even here, there must be no space for leniency.

No, they were definitely going to throw her by the side of the road like trash. 

Or—and this possibility started to claw at Katya's heaving chest with terror—they were selling her again. Back to the Russians. Back to whatever party wanted to have her.

Katya hadn't noticed her rhythmic steps had started to falter until a loud voice called across the field.

"Come on! Don't stop! Keep going!"

But she was heaving now, panic slashing through her body when she couldn't catch her breath. She stumbled clumsily, her heart racing in her chest. The ground rushed towards her. 

They were making her go back to Russia.

"Hey! Petrova!"

She wasn't gonna let them. Another life of abuse, of torture. She couldn't do it. She wouldn't do it.

"Are you hearing me?!"

She'd die before going back there. If she was going to be handed off, she was going to make a run for it. Either she'd make it out alive, or they'd shoot her dead. A win either way. 

"Are you hearing me? I said: keep going!"

Katya abruptly shot up, her eyes spitting fire as she turned around with newfound energy. "Shut up!" She screamed, so loudly her aching lungs burned. "I'm trying! Can't you see I'm trying!" 

Her supervisor blinked a few times, her thumb frozen on the start/stop button of the old-fashioned stopwatch. She didn't look surprised as Katya glared at her. That must not be a good thing.

Immediately knowing she fucked up, Katya turned around again and ran off as fast as her numb legs could carry her. Through the mud, through the soppy grass, with no real destination in mind. There was no way out of this fenced complex, but she didn't stop until she collapsed against the wall of an electricity cabin, black spots dancing across her vision. 

Tears burned behind her eyes. Her breath came and went in short bursts as she tried to fight off an even intenser panic attack. 

Everything was officially over. Yelling at her supervisor definitely closed the book of a life at SHIELD for good. And it was all her own fault. Her fault for not being good enough, and that was a completely new thing for her. She'd always been the best.

Katya turned her face up to the sky, the cold raindrops refreshing on her burning skin. She used them to ground herself, counting them one by one to gain control of her panicked body.

Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine.

Strangely enough, she longed for Natasha. The woman had no clue of her panic attacks, but Katya suddenly felt a strong need to have her by her side, helping her through this one.

Thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two.

Her chest ached, but not because of her lungs this time. She would have to say goodbye to Natasha again soon. 

Thirty-three, thirty-four.

Her tears mixed with the rain. All her emotions surrounding the redhead were a confusing mess. Where her whole life and future felt unsure and scary, Natasha was the center of calmness. If Katya thought of her, she felt strong, safe, able to do anything.

Thirty-five, thirty-six.

Natasha brought up emotions within her that Katya hadn't felt in ten years. Genuine happiness, affection, purpose, but most of all, that incredibly dangerous four-letter word.

Thirty-seven, thirty-eight.

But there was also fear, and guilt, and anger, and grief. One minute, Katya was confident of what she felt and wanted. The next, she was sure everything was doomed and nobody ever loved her.

Thirty-nine, forty.

"Petrova!" A voice called from the distance. Katya turned her head away from the sky, squinting through the rain. "We're done for today! Let's go! We're leaving!"

Forty-one, forty-two.

This was the end. But her life at SHIELD was doomed to end the day it started, so what did anything still matter?

~~~~

She didn't apologize for her outburst when she got into the car. The concept of a genuine apology was foreign to her. Nobody had ever said sorry to her. Not for touching her, not for beating her up, and not for starving her to death. So she never apologized either.

Rain, sweat, and mud dripped from her body onto the leather seats and the floor mats down below. Katya felt disgustingly gross, if that was even a thing. Her socks were wet, she stank, her skin felt gross, and her nails were black with mud. It only added to her emotional misery. 

She wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. Her life had known very deep lows, but this must be one of the most painful moments of all. Right when everything was at the tips of her fingers, it fell out of reach. And that happened while she looked and felt like a drowned rat.

Shivering and shaking, Katya crawled out of the car an hour later, eager to take a shower. 

She decided not to wait any longer. After getting clean, she was going to pack her bags and leave. She had waited long enough. This had dragged out long enough. If they weren't going to make the decision, then she would, walking out of the best thing that ever happened to her.

"Fury wants to see you in this office."

That sentence should have instilled more fear into her than it did, but Katya felt physically nothing as she nodded once, turning to the lifts to freshen up before facing the most important man of the Western world.

"Right now."

She stopped and turned back to her supervisor, raising her eyebrows. Some dried mud cracked on her forehead. "Can't I shower first?"

"Now," the woman ordered, striding off with big steps.

Katya suppressed a scoff, sighing deeply as she dragged her feet to the elevators. What a way to get fired. She didn't blame the people that shuffled away from her in the elevator this time. In the reflection of the doors, she caught sight of herself and completely understood their disgust.

"What the hell happened to you?"

Those were not the first words Katya had expected to hear from her boss when she stepped into his office, but she hadn't missed the hint of amusement in his voice and in the glint of his eye. She couldn't blame him either.

Awkwardly, she pushed her damp hair behind her ears. "Maryland rain, sir," she answered stupidly, too paralyzed to come up with anything better.

Fury scoffed a laugh, rustling through the papers on his desk. "You better not drag any of that on my carpet."

"I'll try not to," Katya answered, standing even more still.

It appeared Fury had no rush, because he kept searching for something in the silence that settled into the room. She hoped he couldn't see her anxiety. Because despite her acceptance of the future, Katya's heart pounded in her chest with nerves. She hated it. There was only one emotion that could persist after all this: 

Hope.

Her mouth opened before she could stop it.

"Before you send me away, sir, I would like to say something, if I can." 

Blankly, Fury looked up. He couldn't be thrilled about an interruption, but Katya took his sudden attention and silence as a yes. She cleared her throat and felt the corners of her mouth turn up.

"I just want to say thank you. I know it wasn't generosity that allowed me to stay. It wasn't pity either. I don't know what it was. But you gave me an opportunity to become better, to turn my life around… and that means more to me than you'll ever know."

Now, she was ready to leave. Thanking him was the last thing on her to-do list before she could peacefully go. He was, after all, the first man who had ever protected her.

"Who said anything about sending you away?" 

Katya blinked—once, twice—trying to grasp the meaning of his words. Somewhere in the back of her mind, the world started to spin.

Fury sighed, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands over his stomach. "I had Romanoff storm into my office on Monday. She's very… protective of you. Said I had no reason to doubt you. That you hadn't lied about anything. Was she wrong?"

"No, sir," Katya answered on autopilot. Her brain was numb, too confused trying to understand what the hell was going on. She was only half aware of what he was saying.

Fury calmly studied her. "I assume she told you that the mission was a test? A test of loyalty."

Katya nodded once. It had felt so unimportant when Natasha told her that. She failed her mission, test or not. End of story.

"See, I can never be certain of the choices someone makes until they are in a life or death situation," Fury continued. "When you joined our fine organization, you were locked up, literally chained to the floor with nowhere to go. It's easy to give up your loyalty that way."

His leather chair squeaked when he sat up straight, folding his hands together on his messy desk. His one eye pierced her skin until it stared straight into her soul. Katya had never felt more like a kid.

"So, I wanted to see if you'd do the same thing again. If choosing to join SHIELD was just a way to save your own ass, or that you really wanted a second chance."

A drop of rain water trickled down Katya's temple and cheek.

"The easy way out would have been to surrender to Hydra, convince them you joined us with the goal to spy on us and report back later. But you didn't. You fought for your freedom, for your return to us."

Part of Katya was hurt and furious that he put her through that. That he emotionally broke her by letting her believe that she messed up. But the bigger, rational part of her completely understood. Fury wasn't the director for nothing. He made smart choices—hard choices—in order to keep his organization safe. 

She wouldn't have trusted herself either if she was in his shoes. She had all the odds against her. Russian, a spy. She'd killed dozens of good guys, grown up brainwashed and indoctrinated. She'd been physically, mentally, emotionally and sexually abused her whole life, making her the most unstable, traumatized person on the planet.

The only reason she was standing here was because of Natasha. And because of that small, tiny spot in Fury's heart that was soft for lost, broken people like her.

Fury picked up the iPad in front of him, swiping and tapping on it until he started to read from it. "See, today, you gave me the best scores I've seen since Romanoff did the same military course. In dry weather." 

Surprised, Katya's lips parted. Her performance today didn't feel like anything special.

"You ran multiple track records forty minutes in. You're stronger than the strongest guy we have, you are more intelligent than most of the scientists we have down at the lab, with zero mistakes on the tests from this morning. Your aim is impeccable, and your situational judgement is excellent." Fury lowered the iPad, pointedly looking at her. "I would be extremely stupid to let a good spy like that walk out of my building."

Katya could hardly hear anything over the pounding in her ears. She was shaking so violently she feared she was spraying drops of water everywhere like a wet dog. "What are you saying?" She asked, suppressing the hope in her voice.

"That I'm taking a big leap—no a huge leap, by making you an official Agent of SHIELD, but I believe that you won't break my trust."

Katya squared her shoulders, ignoring the huge wave of relief that crashed into her. "I'll be the best, most loyal spy you've ever had."

Something flickered behind Fury's eyes. A smile? He reached for the drawer of his desk, pulling something out. "Somehow, I don't doubt that." 

With a flick of his wrist, he tossed something on the far side of his desk. Curious, Katya took a step closer, stretching out to see what it was.

Her own face stared back at her. 

Katariina Alina Petrova. Level 1.

"Welcome to SHIELD, Agent Petrova."

~~~~

Katya pulled her knees tighter to her chest, closing her eyes and enjoying the hot water that cascaded down her body. It wasn't only cleansing her skin, but her heavy soul, slowly washing away all these months of insecurity and tension, revealing the person that she forgot existed underneath. It felt freeing, like a rebirth.

Another violent tremble shook her so badly that her teeth clattered. For this reason, she had to sit down to shower. It started once she realized she was safe, shedding her muddy clothes on the bathroom floor. First, she'd thrown up her lunch in the toilet and nearly fainted, and then the trembles started. It was just her body's way of getting rid of all the tension.

Katya didn't even mind it. She was too ecstatic to be bothered. Her sobs bounced off the tiled walls in relief, in disbelief, in happiness. She sobbed until her lungs hurt. It felt so good.

There was only one person on her mind who she desperately wanted to share the news with. The only reason she hadn't stormed over there immediately after getting her SHIELD ID was because of the way she looked and smelled. And because of the way Katya had been treating her these past few weeks… 

It took an hour for her body to calm down enough that it was safe to stand up. Katya got out of the shower on shaky legs, made herself look presentable, and then snuck to the kitchen. Her stomach felt queasy, her throat raw and dry. She chugged a whole bottle of water and stuffed a sandwich down before stealing something out of the special cabinet.

Even the hallways of SHIELD HQ felt different as she walked through them. She saw things she'd never seen before because she had been too anxious, too focused to see them. She'd never fully taken in all the details, because why would she do that if she wasn't sure that she could get to stay? Like a foster kid that didn't dare unpack their clothes until a few months later because they weren't sure if their foster parents would want to keep them.

Katya sat outside, by the river, on one of the only recreational benches that were placed there. HQ was built on such a small island that there wasn't much space around it. And all the space that was there, was used efficiently. Agents that wanted to go on a stroll in the fresh air had to cross the bridge. 

But Katya wasn't looking for exercise. She was looking for a quiet place to drink. Was that a smart idea on a sensitive stomach? No. Probably a very bad idea. But even though she felt on top of the world, the reality of her actions also came down on her in this sudden clarity of emotions. 

She'd treated Natasha like shit. Avoided her, yelled at her, ignored her. And the redhead had deserved none of those things. 

Katya's heart ached when she thought about it. She couldn't help how dark things got when she fell into a depression like that, but it didn't mean she shouldn't take responsibility for her actions. It wasn't an excuse to behave like she did. 

But it was so, so hard to talk about. Emotions, feelings, they weren't supposed to be spoken about. They were supposed to be hidden. She was supposed to be stronger than those raging feelings in her body. Look where it brought her if she gave in.

Katya shook her head strictly and took another sip of vodka. Those were toxic thoughts. Things they programmed her with. She was human, and humans had feelings, and feelings were meant to be felt. What she was about to do went against everything she was taught.

She was going to apologize to Natasha. 

By the time she managed to muster up the courage to knock on Natasha's apartment door, she'd finished half the bottle of vodka. It had done little to nothing to ease her nerves. Her hands still shook as she pushed her ID deeper into the back pocket of her jeans and fiddled with the cap of the vodka bottle.

Katya was prepared for anything. If Natasha wanted to slam the door in her face and yell mean things at her, then she deserved that. Honestly, she expected it. Anything slightly better than that would be too generous.

Her heart threatened to burst out of her throat when she heard shuffling on the other side of the wooden door. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe she should just send a text message. But before she could actually bail, the door swung open.

Natasha froze in place, her eyes widening. "Kat," she breathed in surprise. It must have come out different than she wanted to, because she shifted her weight around and added a more casual, ''Hey.''

She must have seen the difference in Katya's demeanor right away, right when she laid eyes on her. The dark war flag had been taken down for one of surrender. Usually, it was a shame to wave a white flag. But in this case, it was bravery.

"Hey," Katya answered with a trembling half smile, avoiding Natasha's gaze in a way that was meant to be nonchalant. Stupidly, she hadn't thought of what to say. Who the hell came up to give an apology and didn't rehearse what to say first? "I have something for you."

As disoriented as she was, Natasha took the bottle of vodka without thinking. When she held it up to study it, Katya realized what an incredibly stupid gift it was, and how she deserved a slap in the face for this terrible attempt at an apology. It's just as soon as she was in front of Natasha, all the words left her brain.

"Yeah, sorry, I drank half of it," Katya said sheepishly when she saw the odd look on Natasha's face. "I needed some courage to come talk to you.''

Her vulnerable confession came as a surprise to both of them. Natasha's expression visibly softened while Katya fought the urge to run away or make a joke to cover it up. She'd never felt this uncomfortable, but she rooted her boots into the floor and refused to give in to it.

Natasha turned the bottle over in her hand, reading the label on the back. "Where did you get this?" Katya was grateful she didn't comment on her confession.

"The kitchen."

The redhead's head snapped up. "You stole this?" Her eyes flickered left and right into the hallway, the blood draining from her face. She looked afraid. "Kat, one foot wrong and you're out—"

"Yeah, I wouldn't worry about that anymore." With a sly smile, Katya pulled her new SHIELD ID from her pocket and held it up. 

The rest of Natasha's scolding words died in her throat. Her mouth closed, and she slowly raised her free hand to take the ID. It was obvious that Katya had surprised her. So many different emotions crossed over her face but they were gone too quickly to nail down. She was too hard to read. Even for Katya right now.

"When did you get this?'' She asked distractedly, reading the words on the very plain, very boring ID. Katya's headshot wasn't even pretty. They took it right as she came out of the isolation cell, when she had barely seen the sun in weeks. 

''Two hours ago?'' She nervously chewed on her lip. She couldn't tell if Natasha was happy about it. What if she didn't want her to stay anymore after this week? Oh gosh, what then?

But then, right as Katya couldn't take it anymore, a smile broke through on Natasha's face. ''Well, shit.'' She gave a disbelieving chuckle, her green eyes sparkling proudly as she looked her childhood friend in the eye. ''Congrats. I knew you could do it.''

Katya felt tingly all over. The first person to believe in her wasn't herself, it was Natasha. For a long time, it was only Natasha. It made her want to hold her chin up a bit higher, and try a little bit harder. For her. 

''Thank you.'' She ignored the heat in her cheeks as she stuck the ID back in her pocket. Receiving compliments was an art she didn't master, so she covered it up with a joke. "A lot of people aren't going to be happy with this decision."

Natasha scoffed cockily, stepping aside to let Katya into her apartment. "Screw that. You belong with m—us now. I always knew, but now it's on paper too." She shrugged her shoulders after she closed the door, placing the vodka on a cabinet to the side. "Or on plastic, I guess."

Puzzle pieces fell into place. Peace settled over Katya like a warm blanket in the winter as she looked around Natasha's plain apartment. This was her home now. She was officially safe. She had friends who had her back. She belonged somewhere. She could breathe.

The emotions were so overwhelming. The urge to curl up into a ball on the floor and cry happily was so strong. Twenty-three years of living and she finally had a place in this world.

"Natalia.'' 

Natasha was already looking at her, but Katya felt the need to say her name, to make sure she was listening. That she knew something serious was coming. Uneasily, the blonde shuffled in her spot, staring at Natasha's stomach instead of looking into her eyes. She wouldn't be able to say what she wanted to say.

''I'm sorry.'' Her throat felt tight. The words were hard to get out. But Katya pushed them out and threw her heart at Natasha's feet. ''I really thought Fury was going to send me away. I tried to make it easier for myself by distancing myself from you, to try and make the heartbreak hurt less. It was stupid, and unfair, and I hurt you, and I'm really sorry for that."

She sucked in a shallow breath. That was the most open she'd been her whole life. But it felt good to get that off her chest.

"It was stupid," Natasha said. Shocked by her bluntness, Katya forgot her nerves and looked up. "Stupid to think I wouldn't follow you out that door if you left."

Katya quickly shook her head, refusing to acknowledge the weight of those words. "I would never want you to give all this up for me. It's the reason I didn't come to find you in the first place.''

''Looks like I don't have to give up anything now.'' Natasha looked so sure about her decision that Katya didn't even try to argue any more. She just observed the woman standing in front of her. The one she didn't deserve in every lifetime.

"I'm sorry, Talia. Again. I fell into old habits."

"Don't beat yourself up. You're already forgiven,'' Natasha said softly. She glanced at the floor, sliding her hands into her back pockets. ''I also want to say sorry, for the way I reacted when I found you in the shooting range.'' She shook her head, as if she disapproved of herself. ''That could've been done way better. I was just—you scared me.''

Katya mirrored her depressing mood, shame washing over her in waves. She was so far away from that state of mind right now, that it was hard to understand why she wanted to dig that knife into herself to begin with. ''That was the first time somebody was there to stop me,'' she muttered, immediately beating herself up over saying that when Natasha's face saddened further. 

''I'm sorry.''

Katya shook her head. ''I don't want you to feel like you have to keep me alive or something.''

''I don't feel like that,'' Natasha answered with conviction. ''But when you ever feel that urge again, will you come to me?''

''I can try.''

The redhead nodded once, then straightened up and took the vodka from the cabinet. ''Enough of the heavy stuff. We should celebrate. Have you been to the roof?'' She asked mysteriously, a smug sparkle in her bright eyes. And just like that, the conversation was over and they were all good again.

''No…?'' Katya answered warily.

Natasha smiled, swinging the door open. ''Let's go then, Agent Petrova.''

Katya chuckled as she passed through, watching Natasha take a big swig of the liquor as they walked down the hallway. ''You do realize you're going to be stuck with me forever now, right?''

''It's the only way I wanted it.''

[ghoulantic]

ehehehe more rvb oc art (ft. @sspicynoodless's agent colorado and @nullkraken's agent montana)

click for better quality i h8 tumblr

[raycelestial-blog]

Agent Psychoanalysis Report on Agent Michigan

Conducted by Dr Aiden Price

Mental: Stable Physical: Mesomorph <Despite looking normal for their height their weight is constantly undetermined. Unsure if this is concerning or not.> Status: Active

Induction - Child of Freelance scientists <Believed to be studying the effect of covenant DNA in Humans.> - Was used as a human test subject for most of childhood. - Enlisted in the army at 16. - Served for three years before enlisted by Project Freelancer.

Age - 21 <Assumed> Gender - Undetermined <Confidential Information according to the Director.> <<I have suspicions that he may not even know.>>

Appearance - Androgynous face. - Eyes have Heterochromia Iridum. <Blue with brown.> - Short dark brown hair, curls on top sides completely shaved. - Covered in freckles. - Covered in a range of scars and burns. <Piercing holes are present, however, I have not seen them wear any jewellery.>

Armour - Recon <Both helmet and body.> Armour Enchantment - Promethean Vision AI - Kappa - The Trickster Fragment. <Blue in colour.> Leaderboard Rank - 10

Weapon - Specializes with a Light Rifle - Occasionally uses Binary Rifle for stealth assassinations. <Prefers not to use due to the lack of ammo.> - Grenades <Uses all types but actively avoids covenant plasma grenades.> <<I suspect this is due to childhood trauma.>>

Specialty - Long Distance Support

Physical Strengths - Hyper-mobility <Has proved to be able to fit in tight spaces not fit for a human to fit into.> Physical Weaknesses - Frequently loses balance at random points. <Possible reaction to experiments conducted on them.> Fatal Flaw -  Overly-Emotional to a fault.

Saving Virtue - Is consistently correct despite the odds against them. <Unsure as to the method behind this, needs further investigation.> - Ability to manipulate others with guilt and/or pity with a look. <I've been told this is referred to as 'Puppy Dog Eyes.'>

Fears/Dislikes - Issues with certain Agents. <the Main antagonist appears to be Agent South Dakota.> - Medical procedures. - Anything to do with the covenant. - Their Parents.

Talents - Specializes in Promethean weapons. - Uses grenades effectively no matter the situation. <This includes Splinter Grenades while the other agents seem to struggle with them.> - Unnaturally Strong. <Results of covenant DNA>

Anti-talents - Struggles with hand-to-hand combat. <Due to their habit of second-guessing their actions allowing opponents to strike.>

Goals - To become better, whether that be stronger, smarter, or funnier. They never want to stop being a better version of themselves.

Closing Notes/ Predictions

-Agent Michigan constantly proves them self to be a valuable member of Project Freelancer. However, their 'abilities' need to be addressed thoroughly. -Their over-emotional tendencies need to dealt with, consider pairing with Agent Maryland to balance out their emotions. -Has formed a dangerous mutual attachment/Attraction to Agent North Dakota. Must keep a close eye on both. -Pairing with the Kappa AI could cause problems in the future due to their nature of becoming overly attached to sentient beings. Possible experiment opportunity here to study an Agent's reaction to losing an AI.

Signed: Dr Aiden Price.

Introducing Agent Michigan from Those the Leaderboard Forgot. A collection of short stories focused around two agents and their friends who found themselves just below the line of rememberable.

Read now on AO3 - https://archiveofourown.org/works/16496138/chapters/38634764

Art by @immortalerror

[evis-gossip]

“The girl from the library” - Chapter 2

Summary: Spencer has been going to a specific library for a specific reason, and it may not be for the books.

Pairings: Spencer Reid x Reader, Spencer Reid x Reader x OC!Frank (platonic)

Genre: fluff, like fluff to root teeth, like I have diabetes now, and angst if you squint

Warnings: canon type violence kissing if that counts (I started working on this a long time ago, so I don't remember some things. If you see something, please let me know)

Word count: 3.5k

A/N: hi guys! Here’s part 2 written with the outmost love i could put into something, i hope you love it as much. Please take in to a count that English is not my native language, so all mistakes made are mine. If you see any, let me know Lots of love <3

Series Masterlist

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A child. Out of anything they could’ve had to save, a child from being auctioned in a pedo ring, on a day like today no less. Spencer takes the conscious decision of focusing on the case, knowing perfectly well that thinking, even in the slightest about how he left Y/N without even so much as a phone number, would mean going down a rabbit hole he isn’t even sure he can get out of. The thought of her going to the library and waiting for him to talk about the book he hasn’t read yet, and the disappointment in her gorgeous face when she realizes he’s not coming, almost has him running to Penny, asking her to find the girl from the library to at least warn her of the situation. He knows he can’t right now and he should never, but god he wants to.

He consciously decides to focus on the case, not only because a little boy’s life is at risk and the clock is counting down, but also because he knows that as soon as everyone’s safe he is a step closer to her. Everyone’s running against the clock and he’s thinking about a girl he barely knows. He knows the danger, so he goes back to the case. With Elle back on the team, assigned to go with him to the Crimes Against Children Unit in Maryland, there will be no other opportunity for distraction. Or so he hopes. The room not being a room, Mr Rawlings, the tadpoles shirt, Mount Pleasant, the church, the school, it all leads to Charlie Sparks. There’s only one hour left, so it’s time to do what they do best, profiling. Something changed a year ago when Charlie, back then Peter disappeared, it’s clear that it was Agent Katie coming too close to finding him, so the unsub pulled the boy from school and locked him in prison cell like room with no doors or windows, so she must have been really close, it had to be someones he interviewed. It all comes down to Michael Earlson. Soon enough, they’re there. The child is safe, the unsub in custody. The child’s real name is Dustin Powers, he was abducted when he was only one year old. Luckily, JJ is able to trace his mother, Jackie, and finally they are reunited.

It’s not many times that happens in Spencer’s line of work. But with such a happy ending, he can’t help but feel hopeful as his thoughts go back to Y/N. Hotch doesn’t press too much on the paperwork, given that it’s been a long day and it all ended well. Spencer doesn’t give the time to Morgan and Elle to tease him about his rush like they always do, he’s already too late. Him being ahead of the paperwork as usual, is the first to finish and as it’s been happening in the later weeks, he leaves as soon as he’s dismissed. I don’t think the team has ever seen Reid run so fast out of the bullpen.

He considers stopping and asking Derek for advice before rushing to the library, but he knows all too well that Derek’s advice when it comes to women wouldn't work for him, and he hopes they also wouldn’t work for Y/N. As much as he wants to stop the hope before it becomes disappointment, the hand holding just the day before gives him something to hold on to. And he can’t help it, he might not admit it, but this is everything to him. He runs to the metro, and it’s not until he comes to a halt that he realizes he has not read a single page of the book that they agreed they would talk about, but at this moment, he’s too nervous, his hands are shaking too much while he thinks of a good enough apology. He has the feeling that Y/N knowing the truth would let it go without a big struggle, but still, in his eyes she deserves the world, not a half-assed apology. So he thinks over and over, rehearsing, practicing, internalizing his best words. It doesn’t cross his mind how, as much of a man of words as he is, he’s always at loss for them when it comes to speaking with her.

He was in no time at the steps of the library, running up to the building as fast as his legs would take him, even skipping steps with the knowledge of the risk that comes with the action, but not caring in the slightest. Completely out of breath, barging through the door, directed to the counter, Spencer is a man on a mission. It’s too late to think twice as he always does, too late for overthinking. “Hey m-” Frank starts before being interrupted by a very agitated Spencer “Hi, where is she?” the doctor demands, pulling a frown form the librarian’s face “She has been here all day waiting for yo’ ass to show up, what makes you th-” he’s interrupted again “I just want to apologize” he breathes out calming Frank, before slowly retreating to the back where he knows she’s always sitting to read.

As soon as he sees Y/N, as we all know was going to happen, all of his thoughts, along with his well elaborated apology, fly out the window. When she looks up at him he recognizes the disappointment and nearly anger in her big beautiful eyes, and he hates that he is the reason for it. “Took you l-” “I was on a case” Spencer is apparently on a strike for interrupting people. The frown on her face quickly turns to surprise and a dash of curiosity “What do you mean?” she crosses her arms across her chest sending the you man into his usual speech characteristics “I- I- I was called on a case l- last night” he pauses but still sensing confusion on her face knows he should explain what he does for a living, it had to be done sooner or later “I’m an FBI agent, I work at the Behavioral Analysis Unit, commonly referred to as the BAU” his rushed words pull a small smile on her face, knowing that he missed out involuntarily is enough for her to forgive him. As she’s still sitting in her usual chair and the book on her lap, Spencer thinks she is going to ignore him when she goes back to her stationery and starts scribbling something. But the smirk on her face when she finally looks back at him is nearly enough to put his nerves to rest.

“Can I see your badge?” “Y- You want so see my badge” confusion in his voice as he pulls out said item, handing it to her. In any other occasion he’d be wary about the actions, but somehow he knows he’d trust Y/N with nearly anything “Spencer Reid, SSA. Anything else I should know about?” she inquires while signaling to the seat next to her for him to take “It’s actually Dr. Spencer Reid” she hands him back the badge, with the sticky note she had scribbled before on it. It’s her number, in a messy calligraphy, a set of digits he knows he won’t have to look at again because they’re ingrained in his brain. Still, he carefully saves the small piece of paper “So doctor, huh?” she presses further leaning closer to him “Um, yeah, they’re PHDs, 3 of them” he answers feeling calm already, expecting to see her utmost surprised face, but her expression doesn’t falter “Well, having seen how fast you read, I wouldn’t expect less” she chuckles, but it takes Spencer to the immediate conclusion, she has been watching him. That simple thought converts into a blush that creeps up his face “I have a- an eidetic memory and can read 20000 words per minute” he stammers out deciding not to bring up his IQ “Hum, that’s cool, oh, have you read the book we talked about?” damn it, the book. He has to admit, he is curious about why both her and Frankie have been so insistent about the book, but he doesn’t take anything further from it “N- No, I was on the case” “It’s okay, you can do it know, I suppose it wouldn’t take you more than ten minutes” he nods pulling out the book from his satchel.

Spencer thinks concentrating while having the girl of his dreams right next to him was going to be an impossible task. He’s surprised, to say the least. He found the book so incredibly fascinating he nearly forgot about Y/N. Of course his brain doesn’t let him forget anything, but still he can’t put his focus on anything but the pages before him. He’s not that into the novel when he realizes he’s nearly skimming through it instead of enjoying it. He starts over. If Y/N was so insistent about it, there must be a reason, therefore, he sets on making the most out of it, taking his time, knows it won’t be that long anyway. He reads every word with intention, every sentence and its meaning. He finishes in 20 minutes, and he almost wishes he could start over, but as of right now, he prioritizes getting to talk Y/N as soon as possible. Lucky him, she’s sitting in the chair right next to him.

He waits tentatively, not knowing when, how, or where to start. It has been a long time since a novel has left him as speechless as he finds himself right in this very moment. Y/N, as if reading his mind, diverts her attention from her book to the young man sitting beside her. “That took you longer than I calculated” “Y- Yeah, I tried enjoying it as much as I could. And it was so worth it. No wonder you and Frank were so persistent” she chuckles at his words “No, but to be honest, it has such a captivating narrative, so well constructed that I felt like I was immersed in it. I have spent the last years of my life mostly reading textbooks and divulging works, which I love, don’t get me wrong, but this made me feel like no other book has in quite a while. So thank you for that” seeing the wide genuine smile on her face as he was done speaking made Spencer want to repeat a speech like that all over again. He would do anything for that view.

“C’mon, it’s getting late” she started getting up, still smiling. It makes Spencer doubt how abruptly she proposed leaving, but that look tells Spencer she isn’t leaving without him. They approach the counter together, where Frank is standing with a mischievous expression. In the midst of confusion and excitement, Spencer overlooked his face completely, placing his new favorite book on the counter, unfortunately to return. “So, something tells me I nailed it with this recommendation” “Yeah, you did. It greatly surpassed my expectations. It’s so new and it feels like such a breeze of fresh air. I’m gonna head to a bookstore as soon as I possibly can to buy it. I wish I could meet the genius mind who wrote it” Spencer sighs looking at the cover, missing the smirk plastered on Frank’s face while he looks back and forth between the two, and the obvious creeping blush on Y/N’s cheeks. “Well, today must be your lucky day, man, cause she’s right in front of you”

Spencer’s face can only be described as confusion at this very moment as he looks up at the librarian, who nods his head towards the girl trying desperately to avoid eye contact, timidly rocking her body back and forth as the genius sets his eyes on her. The uttermost disbelief, but not for the reasons the poor girl might think. It’s not that the doctor wouldn’t believe she was the mastermind behind it, it is simply that he can’t believe his luck. The girl from the library, the one that has been captivating him in the distance, that just the day before showed him how she, not just doesn’t interrupt his rambling, she rants as well, the one he felt so incredibly comfortable around as to hold hands in public, even though they had just met officially, is not just the girl of his dreams, she’s also the writer of his new favorite book. That can’t be, Spencer doesn’t get that much luck, never, much less in one day.

“No” he mutters in a low voice, almost to himself “Yes” she whispers back, in the softest demeanor, as if not to scare a terrified little animal “B- B- But- I- I, um, How?” he barely got out, her following chuckle lets him know everything he needs. “Come on, let’s go for a coffee. I’ll explain all of it, I promise” she leads back to where they were before to pick up their belongings. Spencer can’t help the goofiest grin creep up his face as he drags his feet behind her. Frank shakes his head laughing to himself as he watches all of these interactions happen. He wouldn't admit it, but he watched for nearly six months this whole drama unravel, pressing Y/N to talk to Spencer, pushing Spencer to speak to Y/N. Intentionally recommending him a book he damn well knew she wrote. Because they’ve known each other for years, he loves playing matchmaker. He wouldn’t admit pulling the strings, or maybe he would, he might as well take pride in it. All this writer knows is that he did God's work, and we all thank him for it.

The pair left the library with a short goodbye. No time for elaborated farewells, coffee awaits. The excitement in Spencer’s body bubbles up at an increasing rate. He feels like a million dollar man, walking down the stairs of the old building again, just like the day before. She mindlessly grabs his hand, and Spencer feels again uncaracterisricly safe in the physical contact, he feels comforted, and cared for. He never wants to stop. The young man leads her to a book-coffeeshop he knows well. The short walk is enjoyed in silence, listening to the soft whoosh in the autumn air. He’s always known this was his favorite season, but never so strongly had he felt like the colors were so vibrant yet calm. The warm tones and brown leaves perfectly match everything from how great he feels to the color tones in both of their clothes.

They reach the place as Spencer finally reacts from the haze he had been up to this point. He opens the door for her before she even tries to reach. The soft spoken giggled thank you she gives him makes the afternoon sun shine a bit brighter. He takes her coat, pulls her chair out, a whole gentleman ordeal, he needs to impress. They order their coffees as conversation starts to flow simply. Where are you from, do you have any siblings, where did you study, etc. “How is it that you are always in the same library? You took the metro yesterday, so I would assume you have other libraries closer by” he inquires “Are you implying I should find a different library?” she chuckles making Spencer panic “No no no, not at all. It’s just, um I’m curious, t- that’s all” he laughs nervously, but calming down at her easy expression “Frank and I have been friends since college, he basically adopted me the first year. We had a couple of classes together and I was nearly alone in a completely different city, not to mention country. So we became besties. Then when we graduated we still kept in contact and now that we live in the same city we hang out again like old times” she finishes as their coffees came, obviously with the expected joking around the insane amount of sugar in his coffee “That can’t be good for you, but somehow I feel like that’s not the unhealthiest habit you have” They drink their coffee with the constant enquiers on her career “Sorry if I’m pressing you” he meeks “No, don’t worry, it’s normal. Not everyday you meet a published author” “And an excellent writer if I may add” he smiles gaining her smile back “You may”

They get up to go wander around the books, as necessary for the two young people. As she’s taking a look at the classics section, he takes his route to the young adult fantasy, with a very specific title to find. His absence is noted only as he comes back with a wide grin on his face. It makes her cackle seeing the cover she knows all too well. “What? It’s a great book, written by a great author, who also happens to be the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen” he says boldly with a sly grin, just to see her blush, which he does achieve “Stop. It’s embarrassing” she shoves him to the side, looking away. Both of their stomachs flutter like crazy, not nervous anymore, but excited like they haven't been in a long time. After everything has been paid they take the short walk again, holding hands like it’s the most natural thing to do, and for them, it already feels like so. She stops on her track as they arrive at the subway station, just like the prior day, but Spencer draws her hand “What are you doing?” she inquires quizzingly “I’m walking you home” he shrugs “Spencer, you don’t hav-” “But I want to” he states simply. At this point, Spencer’s on his way of becoming a master at making her blush. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

The crowded car leaves them no other choice but to stand very close, almost holding each other. They don’t complain. You see, something about Y/N is that she is tiny, especially in comparison to Spencer. Y/N has always hated how much she loses stability in the metro, but it just so happens that everytime her balance stumbles, pretty boy is her to catch her by the waist, apologizing profusely nonetheless, even after her constant reasussence and “it’s fine”. Y/N can’t help but find herself stumbling more than usual, forcing Spencer to leave his hand at her waist, most pleasant occurence for either of them. Unfortunately, the ride comes to an end, but that doesn’t mean Spencer gets any further from her. Quite the contrary, he gets closer. Again, no complaints. This might be surprising given how adverse he is to physical touch, yet he finds that he craves it on this occasion.

Soon enough, they’re already at the steps of her building. The bittersweet feeling knowing they're about to say goodbye is palpable in the air. An awkward farewell is about to happen as they stand merely inches apart. They’re both over the moon, and as we have come to realize, Spencer’s feeling bold today. He slowly reaches his arms, cupping her face in his hands, boring into her eyes longingly. Nothing can be heard but their soft breathing, and the rapidly accelerating beating of their hearts. As both of their gazes slowly shift to the other’s lips, their already close stance becomes an embrace. Spencer’s insecurities come back rushing to him at an unstoppable pace. “Y- Y/N, are you sure you want this? I- I’d never want to-“ his half formulated thought is cut off when she reaches up on her tiptoes to kindly put him out of his misery with a gentle kiss.

Of course Spencer had been kissed before, yet he found himself feeling like a brand new man. He deepens the kiss with a renovated vigor and most importantly, hope. Y/N’s hands slide up to the ape of his neck from his waist. Their lips move in sync, their limbs easily fall in place into each other’s embrace, this is perfection, this is art. They only separate slightly when the necessity for oxygen becomes far too big, but still coming back for sweet pecks not wanting to let this moment die. Saccharine little kisses start being peppered all over Y/N’s face, eliciting most endearing giggles. “Spencer” she breathes out in between kisses prompting the tiniest gap to separate the two, only enough for him to glance at her blushing face, knowing well of equally red his looks. His glasses slid down his nose in the most awkward way possible. “Sorry” he mutters, pushing them up “Don’t be, you’re simply the cutest” she offers with a proud smile “Would you like to come up?” “Oh, I- um, I- I’m sorry, I should come back home now, I- I-” truly, he’d like to spend every second with her, but all the confidence he had been exuding all this time has suddenly from and leave him back to his normal clumsy self. He can’t help but feel like coming up the stairs would mean embarrassing himself to unknown levels (even if in the back of his head he knows Y/N would never see it like that) which is not exactly the desired outcome of the day. “It's alright. Will you call me then? I’d love of us to see each other again” “Y- yeah, I will” he promised “Bye, Spencer” “Bye, Y/N”

[panther-os]

I have been working on a giant project as a follow-up to this post where I redesigned Alpha Squad in the Halo 4 customizer, and I have finally finished the bare bones of it and consolidated the pictures into an amount Tumblr won’t hate.

Behold, my Freelancers! (under the cut)

Some of these agents appeared in Temple’s murderfridge, but I have no way of telling who’s who and no access to any armor that’s in Halo 5 but not in Halo 4, so I just yote them all and started over.

First up is Alpha Squad once more - Tex, Carolina (MAJ Rebeca Church), York (MAJ Joey Marchesi), Wyoming (SPC Reginald Winthrop-Covington VI), North (CPT Ustin Voronin), Wash (CPL David Ortez), Maine (MAJ Moses-046), South (MAJ Viktoriya Voronin), Florida (CPT Butch Flowers), Connecticut (LT Iona Blair).

And then we get into my OCs starting with Bravo Squad. Georgia was an absolute dick in Season 14, so he gets to be an incompetent and self-important white boy followed by eight increasingly terrifying women and one himbo. Left to right, top to bottom - Georgia (PFC James Wright), Kansas (SSG Elena ”Wheat Thin” Campo Escarra, ODST), Indiana (SPC Tereza “Zippy” Kudrna), Louisiana (SPC Takara “Swamp Lady” Mori, ONI), Michigan (LT Ravid Wolff), Nevada (MAJ Antonia “Tony” Marchesi), Tennessee (LT Yona Keyes, ONI), California (CPT [REDACTED]), Hawai’i (SPC Zoe Choi), Massachusetts (CPT Jean Martel).

Michigan is a nonbinary Jewish person who chose that name because I, a nonbinary Jewish person, think it’s a fucking awesome name. California does not have a name yet because I have a very specific facecanon in mind for her and I’m waiting to hear back from a direct source on a respectful name for her background.

Charlie Squad is entirely OCs! There’s Arizona (CPL Naomi Blum), Kentucky (LT Miles Parker), Oregon (Dorian “Dory” Teague), Mississippi (SGT Justice Hawkins), Arkansas (SSG Noelle Abrams), Vermont (SSG Colby “Cheese Man” Leafield), Oklahoma (SPC Skylar “OK” Ned, ODST), Wisconsin (CPL Ernst “Ravioli” Kasperson), Rhode Island (SPC Lovel Short), and Montana (SSG Daisy Feng).

Dory doesn’t have a rank because he was recruited straight from mercenary work. You might recognize Montana from this fic series I published recently featuring North/York/Montana.

Delta Squad has a familiar face (potentially a second if you’ve seen Zero, though I forgot that guy’s real name, if it was ever revealed) and also, accidentally, the most agents that look alike. There’s West Virginia (COL Rasmus Lucassen), New Mexico (SSG Lars Korhonen), Utah (LT Oriole Vives), Pennsylvania (SPC Sladjana Novak), Puerto Rico (CPT Dina Abbing), New Hampshire (SPC Phoebe Daugherty), Delaware (SGT Jeremiel Carver), Alabama (SPC Priyanka Devi, ODST), Illinois (SGT Roger Lennox), and Maryland (SPC Tuana Demirci).

Echo Squad has the triplets, but I wanted to mix it up a little. Ohio (SPC Vera Czajkowski) actually leads this squad, with Idaho (CPL Ezra Katz) as her second. After them are Alaska (SGT Faraj Nejem), Colorado (SPC Marvin Cole), Minnesota (SSG Anton Peerenboom), New Jersey (CPL Kyung-Hee Moon), Nebraska (LT Armann Gunnarsson), Virginia (SGT Zarina Zaman), and then Iowa (PFC Michael Gutermuth, ODST) at #49, followed by Missouri (PFC Fabiano Necchi) at #50.

After the triplets are abandoned, this squad falls apart in a major way and all the other agents in it leave or are made to leave.

(I want to start leaning into the leaderboard really just being arbitrary bullshit but not starting that way in my writing, and the not starting that way is most clear with Echo Squad.)

And, then, because I used Puerto Rico but haven’t seen anyone use any of the other inhabited US Territories in RvB before, I also put together the Quality Assurance Squad, aka the Counselor’s snitches among the non-agent personnel, the crew running the day-to-day of the Mother of Invention and, later, Freelancer Command.

This is Guam (CW2 Isabela Hernandez), American Samoa (CW2 Lee Michaels), US Virgin Islands (CW2 Ulysse Desrosiers), and Northern Mariana Islands (CW2 Erik Bergstrom). They’re not a part of the leaderboard and most people - including the other agents - don’t actually know they exist. They all report directly to the Counselor, but Samoa, Virgin, and Mariana also all report to Guam. Mostly, though, she’s only in charge of Quality Assurance as another one of the Counselor’s experiments, they’re all equally capable. Of all Freelancer personnel aside from the Director and Counselor, these four know the most of what’s going on - and they actually are encouraged to work together as a team - but they still don’t know everything.

Please feel free to send me asks about all these agents! They’re still very much in development, but I had a lot of fun with this project and got really excited and wanted to show everyone! ^_^

[hazza-bear-care]

Stay Safe (1/3)

A/N: I FINALLY STARTED WATCHING CRIMINAL MINDS!!! Granted I am still on season 1, I feel a little more comfortable writing about the BAU crew. Dr. Reid is definitely my favorite so far, but there’s always room for improvement lol. Anyway, enjoy. PS my timeframe is all over the place. I described Spencer’s looks from the later seasons, but kept the season 1 characters because they’re the only ones I know right now lol. Sorry for the confusion, but I hope you guys enjoy it anyway!

Pairings: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (oc)

Warnings: THREE CHAPTERS WORTH OF SMUT!!!! This one is light (fingering mostly, kinda public, dirty talk from Dr. Spencer Reid himself)

~~~~~~

Nova Calderon is a child psychotherapist born and raised in Baltimore, Maryland. After graduating from Towson University with her bachelor’s in criminal psychology and receiving her master’s from John’s Hopkins, she finally felt ready to start a job with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit. 

Shouldering her black leather satchel, File-O-Fax clutched tightly the grip of her left elbow, a blistering cup of coffee in her right hand, she nudged her way through swarms of people. Silently praying that she wasn’t late, Nova took a seat on the Metro and decided to flip through her portfolio: three years interning under the best of the best in the Pentagon, a permanent position following not long after. But, the Pentagon couldn’t sustain her for too long: by the time she finished a pile of reports, fifteen more showed up on her desk. She longed to do more than just basic homeland security. Nova always knew she wanted to work in the government, but she didn’t spend all that money and energy in school to be someone’s assistant. After those three years and six months, Nova had the opportunity to join the BAU after her boss had put in a good word with Jason Gideon about her work ethic as well as her interactions with the children that often passed through the halls whenever a higher-up decided to bring one in for fun or even school field trips. 

The train screeched to a halt and she assumed, quite correctly, that the current stop was hers. Jumping up from her seat and startling the creep sitting next to her and almost breaking his nose with her shoulder, she scrambled off the train and scurried through the streets of Quantico. Finally locating the right building, she entered and was immediately intimidated by the hustle and bustle happening around her. 

“Hi. I’m Nova Calderon. I have a meeting with a Jason Gideon?”

“Agent Gideon is out for today, but his associate Aaron Hotchner will be conducting your interview.” After listening to the instructions the receptionist gave her on how to find Aaron Hotchner, Nova straightened herself up and mentally prepared herself for how this interview would go. She walked through the double glass doors with a deep breath, and the people in the room went quiet. 

“Well, hello. How can I help you?” An attractive black man said from his desk, his jaw on the floor. 

“Um, I don’t think I’m in the right place. I’m looking for an Aaron Hotchner?”

“You’re in the right place, sweet cheeks. I’ll show you to his office.” The same man responded, his flirting skills leaving something to be desired.

“I was told to wait for a Jennifer Jareau?” Nova replied, trying very hard not to roll her eyes at the man attempting to approach her. 

“That’s me. I will show you to Agent Hotchner’s office. Follow me, please.” A cute blonde instructed, leading Nova up a ramp and to an office with a closed door. Jareau held a finger up, signaling for Nova to wait until the coast was clear. The brief pause allowed Nova to glance around at who she hoped would be her new coworkers: A dark haired woman who looked like she couldn’t be bothered with Nova, the same man that flirted with her just a few seconds ago, his nose now buried in a manila envelope as a way to hide his staring, another blonde girl who had a big smile on her face and shot Nova a thumbs up for luck, and a skinny man with curly hair and a little scruff not bothering to hide his wandering eyes. His gaze was almost scrutinizing, scraping up and down Nova’s body repeatedly. Their eyes met and immediately the two both felt a fire erupt on their cheeks as Hotchner’s door opened and Nova got roped in. 

~~~~~~

Three days later was Nova’s first official day. Agent Hotchner was incredibly impressed with Nova’s portfolio and resume. While working with children wasn’t something the BAU did regularly, it was still a good choice to have a child psychotherapist on the team. Just because the typical profiles include men in their 20′s and higher, doesn’t mean a child still can’t be involved. 

“Morning, Nova. Are you ready for your first day?” Elle asked from her desk, legs propped up on the flat surface as the team awaited further instruction. 

“I’m nervous, but yes, I’m ready.” Nova had gone through a sort of orientation, meaning she already had a gun strapped to her waist, which she wasn’t comfortable with just yet. Nova didn’t like guns, but in her line of work it was hard to do anything without a gun. She took a seat at her desk, which happened to be across from Spencer’s, and attempted to get comfortable. 

“You’re not used to your gun yet,” Spencer noticed as Nova shifted uncomfortably in her seat. 

“Wow, Reid, you are some profiler. I, uh, don’t like guns. Never have.” Nova remarked back.

“You don’t like guns? How the hell did you last so long at the Pentagon?” Derek asked.

“I was a secretary. I was never required to carry one. I did have one issued to me, but it was never loaded. The ability to fire a gun wasn’t a requirement for desk jobs.” The slight hint of annoyance in Nova’s voice was only caught by Spencer, but he didn’t say anything about it. Nova rubbed her eyes and tried to stifle a yawn. 

“Long night?” Elle asked.

“I couldn’t sleep because I was so excited. Ugh I sound like I’m 12 years old and waiting to go on my first field trip.” Everyone around her chuckled, but Nova didn’t notice that Spencer was no longer sitting across from her. A cup of coffee appeared on her desk along with a bottle of sugar and some creamer cups. 

“I didn’t know how you take it.” Spencer muttered as he sipped his own coffee and sat on his desk, rather than in his chair. 

“Wow. Um, thanks, Dr. Reid.” Nova whispered as she reached for the coffee and the supplies Spencer had gotten for her. 

“You can call me Spencer.”

“How come she and JJ get to call you by your first name, but we have to call you Reid?” Derek muttered, crossing his arms, almost like he was pouting. 

“Let me ask you something, Morgan: Are you a pretty girl?” Spencer asked, a serious look covering his face. Nova blushed and tried to discreetly cover her face. 

“No, Reid, I’m not. But are you saying that Elle isn’t pretty? Or Garcia?”

“No. They’re pretty. But they prefer to call me ‘Reid’. Right, Elle?” Elle nodded. 

“Thanks for calling me pretty, Reid.” Spencer shot Elle a small smile and nodded, further proving his point to Derek. 

“Yeah, I think Nova enjoyed it too. She’s as red as a stop sign.” Derek laughed as he teased the newest member of the BAU team. Nova covered her face even more by slamming her face down on her desk and wrapping her arms around her head. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the light teasing, but she knew she could never look at Spencer with a straight face again. Nova felt someone rub her back in comfort, but she didn’t care to find out who it was. Then to everyone’s rescue, JJ walks in with a case. 

~~~~~

The case went smoothly, and Nova couldn’t have been more exhilarated. She had rescued three children from a serial sex offender who got off by murdering the people he raped. The gruesome pictures and the events leading to find the missing children exhausted Nova, yet she couldn’t fall asleep on the jet flying from Colorado to D.C. 

“Great work, Nova. I honestly didn’t think you’d be able to keep up with us.” Hotch commented, a slight smile gracing his lips. The older man adjusted himself in his seat as he quickly prepared to catch a few winks on the flight home.  

“Yeah, Nova. You did an amazing job,” JJ gushed, making herself comfortable. She was asleep in five minutes, leaving Spencer and Nova the only two awake.  Stifling a yawn yet again, Nova tried to make herself comfortable on the stiff plane seats without drawing too much attention to herself, but evidently failed as she had caught the gaze of a certain doctor. Spencer snapped his fingers, effectively getting Nova’s attention. Quirking his fingers, he gestured for her to join him in his seat. Nova blushed, scooting across the aisle and standing awkwardly in front of Spencer. With a smirk, the doctor hooked his arms around Nova’s waist and pulled her into his lap, securing a blanket around them. 

“What are you doing, Spencer?” Nova whispered, making herself comfortable on Spencer’s lap. 

“Shh. You don’t want everyone to wake up, do you?” Spencer whispered back, a slight smirk on his face as a response to Nova’s confused look. 

“Spencer, what are you--” Nova froze in her place as she felt Spencer’s hand creep up between her legs and find it’s home just a few inches away from her core. With wide eyes, she quickly looked around the jet, silently praying that everyone truly was asleep. 

“Don’t worry. As long as you’re quiet, no one will know what’s happening. Are you gonna be quiet for me, little girl?” Nova’s breath hitched in the back of her throat, the dirty words coming from the usually shy doctor quickly dampening her panties. Not trusting her voice, Nova nodded, not confident enough to make even a little bit of eye contact with the man holding her firmly on his lap. Spencer chuckled and placed a few sparse kisses around Nova’s face, avoiding her lips entirely. She let out a small whine when Spencer avoided her mouth for the fifth time, a rumbling in the man’s chest. Finally giving in, Spencer lightly placed his mouth on Nova’s, breath’s mingling just enough to make the girl wiggle on his lap. 

“Sit still,” Spencer growled, his erection becoming more prominent every time Nova moved. 

“Then kiss me, Reid.” Without further prompting, Spencer slammed his lips to Nova’s, tongues immediately dancing together. While still fully immersed in the kiss, Spencer took the opportunity to once again slide his hand up until his long fingers met the area Nova needed them most. A gasp radiated from her mouth into Spencer’s as she silently thanked whichever deity she believed in that her pantyhose stopped just before her knees, allowing the doctor to simply push her panties to the side and run his fingers along her slit.

“You’re so wet, little girl. Is all this for me?” Spencer whispered, the teasing tone in his voice thick with desire. Once again trying to keep quiet, Nova nodded and brought her lips back to Spencer’s. He chose to roll her clit between two fingers for just a few tantalizingly long seconds, his mouth snuffing out the sounds of her soft moans. In a flash of surprise, Spencer jammed two fingers inside Nova’s wet heat, the pair groaning simultaneously into their kiss. They quickly pulled apart as Nova choked out a breath, gluing her lips shut to prevent any noises from coming out. 

“Fuck, Spence. Go faster, please.” Burying her face in Spencer’s neck, he did as she asked, quickly speeding up his fingers and marveling at the squelching sounds her pussy was making around his fingers. He curled his fingers up and Nova gasped, melting into Spencer’s grasp as his fingers brushed against the soft spot that was buried so deep inside her tight heat. Nova clamped her hand over her mouth, smothering her moans, the sounds ever increasing in volume involuntarily. The hand that wasn’t buried in her pussy came up to her her mouth and smacked on top of hers, preventing more moans from slipping between her fingers. Spencer went impossibly faster, the sounds becoming more lewd the harder he buried his fingers in Nova. Her legs started shaking and her walls were clenching around Spencer’s fingers, signaling that she was close to the edge. 

“You’re close, aren’t you baby?” Spencer whispered in her ear, slamming his fingers ever deeper in Nova’s pussy, the girl trying very hard not to scream or thrash in his grasp. “Yeah, I can feel that your close. Come on, baby. I know you can do it. Go ahead, make a mess for me, Nova.” With that, she squeezed her eyes shut, dropping her jaw in a silent scream, both her hand and Spencer’s still covering her mouth as a precaution. Her legs shook furiously as Spencer kept moving his hand, helping her through her high and removing his hand from under the blanket, putting his fingers in his mouth. Nova watched with hooded eyes as her new coworker of a week sucked her climax off his long fingers. When he was finished, he planted his lips on Nova’s again in a heated kiss. Spencer pulled away and kissed the girl’s forehead, pressing his hand to her head and leading it to his shoulder, a silent prompt to sleep. 

“Spencer?” Nova whispered, still trying not to draw too much attention to the pair. 

“Hmm?” She could feel his throat vibrate as he hummed in response.

“What was that for? What does this mean?” Spencer smirked at her questions, his mind running equally as fast.

“I’ll tell you some other time, love. Just go to sleep.” Nova nodded and closed her eyes, mind running with images of a happy future with Spencer. She was asleep in 5 minutes, similarly to JJ. 

“Hey, lover boy. I’m glad you’re making a move and all, but how about making absolutely sure everyone is asleep before you finger a girl so good she’s practically screaming, okay?”

“Shut up and go to sleep, Morgan.” Spencer muttered angrily, blushing as Morgan ruffled his hair, chuckling. 

[captaincherrie]

Nefarious Pt. 1

Aaron Hotchner x OC

Warning: mentions and details of murder, blood and abuse

summary: In a constant game of life and death, two people meet. Changing their lives and those of everyone around them.

It’s finally here omg!! Im so excited, i hope you all enjoy this first chapter! With research and help from my amazing friends i finally managed to set up this first chapter of a story I’v had inside my head for a long time now!!

With a special thanks to @sumska-vjestica​ @mollygetssherlockcoffee​ @buckyownsmylife​ :)

Enjoy!x

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Here Comes The Sun

When all hope is lost in reality, people find solace in the stars. - Sumit Agarwal 

“Around the table in five,” JJ sighed.

 It was currently five am and the BAU just got a call from the Baltimore Police department. Another gruesome murder that needed their attention to help solve it. Barely functioning the agents moved to the conference room, coffee cups in hand.

Once the agents are planted in their seats, faces appear on the screen and a bloody image right after. 

“Last night Frank and Allison Taylor were murdered in their home, Baltimore, Maryland” JJ began, sliding the screen to pictures of children “leaving their three children Ben, 11, Scott, 7 and Aubrey, 5 as orphans.” 

“It says here they were strangled with a very thin cord, might even be shoe laces. That's not even all of it, they were both stabbed with a sharp kitchen object. My guess would be a knife or scissors by observing the entry wounds, Allison was stabbed in the abdomen and Frank in the crotch. Those are oddly specific places΅ Spencer noted softly.

Emily looked up from her file, “Maryland? Isn't that where the Crimes Against Children Unit is?”

Hotch nodded, “I could give them a call and see if they’re involved in this case.”

“There is no need, I already spoke to SSA Katherine Cole and they are sending a team down. They suspect the murders might have a connection to another murder that happened a few weeks ago.” JJ informed. 

“Are there any suspects?” Morgan asked.

“So far no leads, that’s why they called us,” JJ said, “The children were brought to the precinct for questioning and consoling. The department called Megan Barlow, Allison's sister, to come to the station. There are no other immediate family members to come to the station. Allison’s parents passed away and Frank cut all ties with his.”

“Have Garcia run a background check. We can start victimology on the plane, we have to go,” Hotch grunted, five am was way too early, “Wheels up in thirty.”

-

“Order for Josephine!” The barista called out, waving her hand in the air. 

Josephine walked up to the front, grabbing her coffee and finding a little table in the back. She sat back and watched the people around her, students who were studying hard for their exams, businessmen waiting impatiently on their orders and mothers with children who desperately needed a coffee to keep their eyes open. 

Everything seemed so peaceful, people who were unaware of the horrors that filled the world. Josie loved watching her surroundings with a good coffee and a book, it was one of her favorite activities outside of work. Life could be pretty hectic while working at the Crimes Against Children Unit, so today she took off, ready to visit her sister and enjoy the day doing nothing.

Suddenly something snapped her out of her concentration, a small girl was staring at her. Josephine smiled shyly at the girl and gave a small wave, the girl hid behind her mothers leg, who picked up on the interaction. 

“You know, she normally never does that. She mostly keeps to herself,” The mother smiled. “I think she thinks you're pretty,” she added. Josephine blushed a little at the woman's words.

Suddenly her phone rang, fastly putting her phone on silent. She replied to the woman, “You have a beautiful daughter, take care and have an amazing day!”

After the little interaction, Josephine picked up her phone, seeing the caller ID appear a second time, “Hello, this is Josephine.”

“Josie, it's Katherine. I need you to come down to Baltimore PD, three children came in after their parents were murdered last night. We need you to question them later,” The older woman spoke to the phone, “The BAU is already here, but the kids are terrified and we can use your skill. I know it's supposed to be your day off, but i'm begging you here.”

Josephine felt her heart breaking for the kids, “Katherine dont worry about it, I'm on my way. I’ll be there in an hour.”

-

“I called in agent Lovejoy, she used to be a psychiatrist, specialized in child behavior, she will be here in an hour to talk to the children,” Katherine spoke to the room full of agents.

“We can talk to the children ourselves, no need to bring another agent in,” JJ replied. 

Emily nodded, “We speak to kids on a daily basis, I don't see why this is different. We will use some different communication techniques.”

“Agent Prentiss, these young children lost their parents merely 8 hours ago. They woke up and the first thing they saw was something they will never forget again, have you seen them? They are terrified and haven't spoken a word to anyone. I called agent Lovejoy because she can read body language from young traumatized victims, she had training and long years of studying in Medical School we didn't have, Josephine is great at what she does, I would appreciate it if you dropped it.” Katherine spoke firmly.

After discussing what to do next and informing the detectives, Hotch got up from his seat.

He looked at Katherine, then at his team and the police officers, “We wait with the questioning until Agent Lovejoy gets here. Now, I want Prentiss and Reid to set up here at the station. JJ, you wait here with Agent Cole until Agent Lovejoy arrives, stay with the kids and try to ease them a little. Rossi, Morgan and I will head to the crime scene. That's it, lets go.”

Each going their own ways, Rossi and Morgan got to Hotch. Slowly walking to the exit of the building, they saw Katherine checking her phone a few times, looking up and checking the room.

“She is nervous, could it be because of the other murder? Morgan spoke.

“If this case is connected to the murder that happened a few weeks ago, then she has every right to. The CACU has been on that for weeks without a lead.” Rossi replied while walking to the passengers seat of the car.

Getting in the car they saw another car getting parked. A small woman came out, briefcase in hand and a leather bag over her shoulder, capturing the attention of the agents. Taking big strides she passed the car the three men were seated in, glancing through the glass to see if she recognized anyone, she locked eyes with the man behind the wheel, before straightening her gaze and walking to the door.

“Well, there goes a woman on a mission. Hello Mama” Morgan interrupted, popping his head between the two front seats, checking her out.

Getting pulled out of his admiration, Hotch shook his head, “Morgan.”

Starting the car, Hotch saw Rossi eyeing him, “What?” Rossi only shook his head to that.

-

Hearing the door open, Katherine walked towards the person coming in, “Thank you so much for coming Josephine. This is agent Jareau, she is the media liaison for the BAU.”

JJ took the hand the woman had stretched out, “Call me JJ.”

“Im SA Josephine Lovejoy, please call me Josie. Only Katherine here keeps calling me Josephine.” Josie blushed at JJ.

JJ looked at the woman before her, her kind eyes spoke for itself. She signed for Spencer and Emily to come over. 

“This is agent Prentiss and Dr. Reid, they are working on victimology now.” JJ explained.

“Hello, I'm Josephine Lovejoy, please call me Josie,” giving Emily a handshake and Reid a little wave. “Before I go talk with the children I would like it if you could explain to me what happened exactly on the scene. Uh- It was my day off, but Agent Cole just called me and only told me the basics on this case. It would be easier if I get all the details, that way I can calculate my approach better while talking to the children.”

“Did you know that most of the time traumatized children at this age will not speak up about their trauma if it happened under the age of Seven?” Spencer stated.

Josephine widened her eyes a little at the statement of the doctor, surprising her with her knowledge. She giggled a little at his sudden wordstream and gave him a friendly smile. “Yes I knew that, it was one of the first things we learned in medical school.”

“If you walk with me to the conference room, we will show you the details,” Emily said, pointing to the room.

Once they were in the room, Spencer started his talk. “What happened here was what we call a crime of passion. The victims were both choked to death and after that stabbed, both in different areas, autopsy reports say it was with a pair of scissors, but it's absent from the crime scene.”

Emily continued, “We believe the unsub is someone they know, maybe a neighbor or a friend, perhaps even family. Our technical analyst is checking for fingerprints and is running a background check. We have agents at the house right now seeing if they can find anything else. We will keep you updated on that.”

Glancing a few times to the children who were sitting on an office couch, Josie felt herself getting distracted. Spencer noticed Josie's eyes wandering and spoke up a little louder, snapping her attention right back.

“And finally, it was 11 year old Ben who found his parents and called 991 this morning. He and his younger brother and sister are with JJ and agent Cole right now, they haven't spoken to anyone, but their aunt is on her way.” Spencer finished.

Josie closed her notepad and replied, “Great thank you, if you’ll excuse me. I-I need to go prepare and talk with the children. If you have any updates, please let me know!”

Spencer and Emily nodded and watched as Josie walked away, stopping once to check her back. She entered the office across the room and started getting stuff out of her bag, coloring books and pencils, blocks, and small snacks. Turning back to their own work, they both decided that they would later go see the interrogation.

-

She stood before the door, taking a deep breath she stepped inside. Three pairs of big blue teary eyes looked right at her.

“Hello, my name is Josie.”

[thewnchstrs]

The Usual Suspects

Pairing: Winchester!Sister(OC)

Summary: Sam, Dean and Ellie investigate the murders of a lawyer and his wife who claimed to have seen a ghost right before they died.

Disclaimers: death, angst, swearing, mentions of drug use

Word Count: 9.5K

S E R I E S  M A S T E R L I S T

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Baltimore, Maryland

Detective Pete Sheridan didn’t have time for this today. Christ, he hardly had time to pour himself a cup of coffee from the maker in the breakroom. He didn’t have time for the phone calls, the pressure coming down from the higher ups about his cases that were quickly running cold. He didn’t have time to deal with the fucking lunatics in Baltimore, Maryland.

It wasn’t until he saw the intake form printing from the fax machine, his phone balancing on his shoulder where he was drowning out an agent going on about another repeat offender upstate.

“I know, I know,” he said, tapping his fingers on the wooden table. The ancient fax machine whirred as the paper slowly inched out of it until finally Pete snatched it from the machine. The name on the intake form is what made Pete Sheridan stop, reading and rereading the name over and over as if to ensure he wasn’t dreaming. “I’ll have to call you back.”

Now this…this he had fucking time for. He was nearly skipping to the interrogation room. This man, the man they’d all seen plastered on every news outlet over the eastern coast was now sitting in his station. Not Detective Morgan’s, not even that pretentious prick Detective Porter’s. No, this was Pete Sheridan’s moment. He was not going to let this murderer slip through every other crack he’d been able to weasel his way through before.

He kept a calm demeanor as he stood outside the interrogation room, but on the inside, he was doing cartwheels. He smiled at the thought of the team of agents that were probably already swarming the guy’s partners. It was the best fucking day of his life.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The news of the arrest swarmed the FBI quickly and within a matter of an hour, the SWAT team ran quickly up the three flights of motel stairs, their guns held low as they followed the woman leading the charge. She motioned them forward, her gun aimed downward as she led them to the room the motel manager was more than willing to give out. Not that she had much say in the matter.

Detective Diana Ballard was no rookie when it came to criminals like these. She’d seen the worst of the worst. The most despicable human beings she’d ever laid her eyes on were while she was working the line of duty. But these three, God, she’d never seen anything like them.

At the sight of the motel room, she turned to the SWAT team members who each held a side of a door breacher, waiting for Detective Ballard’s go ahead. She stood off to the side before nodding. The officers took a step back before ramming the breacher into the wooden door, watching it easily break off its hinges.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Inside the interrogation room, Detective Sheridan pulled a chair across from his favorite study who was handcuffed to the table, his hands in his lap. Pete straddled the chair backwards, “Well, first I thought you were just stepping up your game. Credit card fraud, breaking and entering, and this one...puzzled me.”

He held up a police report to show the man who didn’t even spare a glance at it, just continued to eye Detective Sheridan who thought back to the officers who told him this guy was a cocky S.O.B. But, now, he didn’t seem so big and bad. This only spurred Pete on, lighting a fire under his ass. “Grave desecration. But still, these are a long way from murder.”

Pete watches to see if the accusation shifts anything in the man, but this guy is hard to read. Even after nearly twenty years in law enforcement, he’d never met such a cold-blooded killer.

“Then we get a fax from St. Louis. Where you're suspected of torturing and murdering a young woman. However, no one could prove anything, of course, because supposedly you died there. But I gotta tell you something,” Pete goes on as he stands from the chair, circling the table until he’s sitting on the edge of it. Dean Winchester keeps his gaze forward and Pete Sheridan smiles, “you look pretty healthy to me. So now we know Karen Giles wasn't the first person you murdered…” He leans in close to the fugitive until he swears he can smell the iron of Karen Giles’ blood on his body, “but I guarantee you she's the last.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sam and Ellie Winchester instantly throw their hands into the air, their eyes wide as they stood from where they’d been sitting at the small motel dining table. Detective Ballard came into the room, smirking. They finally had three of America’s most wanted and they found them in a City Centre motel.

“Hi Sam, Ellie,” she smiled. “Goin’ somewhere?” - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Ellie’s POV

I drummed my fingers over the metal table, sighing as I spun myself back and forth in the chair. I watched through the small window at the top of the door, noticing the faces that spared a look into the room before quickly averting their gazes when I stared them down.  

I sat up straighter in the chair when the door suddenly swung opened, a petite, stern looking blonde woman in a pantsuit stepped inside, a large folder under her arm and a coffee cup in hand. She faked a smile before setting the cup in front of me, “Thought you might be thirsty.”

“I’m more of tequila lady myself,” I said, nudging the cup back toward her as I leaned back in the chair, my hands folded in my lap. “So, you’re the good cop. Where’s the bad cop?”

“Oh, he's with your brother,” she retorted.

I clenched my jaw, “Okay. And you're holding us why?”

“Well, he's being held on suspicion of murder,” she said plainly, my eyebrows shooting upward as I leaned forward. “And you…we'll see.”

“Murder?!”

“You sound genuinely surprised. Or are you that good of an actor?”

I opened my hands in confusion, “Who was he supposed to have murdered?!”

The detective smirked, “We'll get around to that.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sam’s POV

“Well, you can't just hold us here without formal charges!” I nearly shouted, stepping away from the window. This was crazy.

“Well actually, we can, for forty eight hours,” Detective Ballard corrected. “But you being a pre-law student, would know that.”

I recoiled, watching her carefully as she went on, opening the file she’d brought in, “I know all about you, Sam. You're twenty three years old, no job, no home address. Your mother died when you were a baby, your father's whereabouts are unknown. You have a younger sister, Ellie. And then there's the case of your brother Dean. Whose demise was, well, just a little bit exaggerated. Feel free to jump in whenever you like.” I continued to stare at her, clenching my jaw.

“Shy? No problem. I'll keep going.” She paced the floor slowly as she read. “Your family moved around a lot when you were a kid. Despite that, you were a straight-A student. Got into Stanford with a full ride. Then, about a year ago, there was a fire in your apartment. One fatality. Jessica Moore, your girlfriend. After she died, you fell off the grid. Left behind everything.”

My fist closed around air as she mentioned Jess. I spoke around gritted teeth, “I needed some time off. To deal. So, I'm taking a road trip with my brother and sister.”

“How's that going for you?”

“Great. I mean...we saw the second largest ball of twine in the continental US,” I said sarcastically, flipping the chair around before sitting in it. “Awesome.”

“We ran Dean's fingerprints through AFIS,” she said then. “Got over a dozen possible hits.”

“Possible hits,” I pointed out, “which makes them worthless.”

The detective leaned forward over the table, her palms flat against its surface, “But it makes you wonder. What are we gonna find when we run your prints?”

“Yeah, well,” I brought down a closed fist onto the table, “you be sure to let me know, alright? May I?” I gestured to the coffee cup.

“Please.”

“Great.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie’s POV

I was standing now, facing the bulletin board in the room, my eyes scanning over the newspaper clippings that praised the officers of the sheriff’s department.

I crossed my arms, shaking my head as she spoke, “Ellie, you seem like a good kid. It's not your fault Dean's your brother. We can't pick our family. Right now, detectives in St. Louis are exhuming a corpse. They're trying to figure out how your brother faked his own death after torturing all those young women. Dean's a bad guy. His life is over. Yours doesn't have to be.”

I turned back to her, narrowing my eyes, “You want me to turn against my own brother?”

“No,” she said calmly. “We already caught him cold. Red-handed at the Karen Giles murder scene. We just need you to fill in some missing pieces.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because I can talk to the DA. Make a deal for you. You can get on with your life, Sam, too. Dean's as good as gone.”

I stayed silent before coming back to the table, not meeting her eyes as I spoke, “My dad and Tony Giles were old friends. They were in the service together. We've known him since we were kids, you know?” I glanced up at the detective who nodded intently, urging me on. “So we came as soon as we heard about his death.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2 days and 6 hours earlier.

I balanced three coffee cups in my arms, handing them to Sam and Dean before sitting down at the table outside of the coffee shop, “You find anything?”

Dean took the sharpie from his mouth, turning the newspaper toward me, “Anthony Giles.”

I raised an eyebrow, taking the paper where a man’s face was plastered on the front, “Who's Anthony Giles?”

“He's a Baltimore lawyer,” Sam answered. “Working late in his office, check it out.”

I picked up the paper, mumbling as I read the article, “Uh...throat was slit, room was clean…” Nothing really piqued my interest until I got to the bottom. “Huh. No DNA, no prints.”

Dean nodded, urging me on, “Keep reading, it gets better.”

My eyes scanned the rest of the article, “Security cameras failed to capture footage of the assailant.”

“So, I'm thinking either somebody tampered with the tapes –"

“Or it's an invisible killer,” Sam finished, taking a drink from his coffee.

“My favorite kind,” Dean smirked. “What do you think, Scully? You wanna check it out?”

I folded up the newspaper, gathering the rest of my things, “We have a choice?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Sam’s POV

“Woulda been kinda hard for Dean to kill Tony, considering we weren't in town at the time,” I lied. Detective Ballard watched me closely. I knew what she was doing. She was watching me for any indication I wasn’t being truthful.

“So tell me what happened next.”

I sighed, “Okay, uh, that's when we went to see Karen. She was barely holding it together. We just wanted to be there for her, you know?” - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

27 hours earlier.

“Insurance,” Karen mumbled between tears, looking down at the form in her hands. “I totally forgot about the insurance.”

“We're very sorry to bother you right now, but the company is required to conduct its own investigation. You understand,” I apologized. She was a mess, but who could blame her, after what she’d been through.

She wiped at her eyes with the sleeves of her sweater, nodding, “Sure.”

“Okay,” Ellie began, “if you could just tell us anything you remember about the night your husband died.”

Karen shifted in the dining room chair, recalling that night, “Uh, Tony and I were just supposed to have dinner. He called and said he was having computer troubles and that, that he had to work late. That was it.”

“Do you have any idea who could have done this to him?” I asked.

Karen shook her head, “No. No, it's like I told the police, I, I have no idea.”

“Did Tony mention anything, you know, unusual to you? In the days before his death?” Dean asked, guiding her toward the information we needed in order to get to the bottom of what killed Anthony Giles.

Karen narrowed her eyes, tilting her head at him in confusion, “Unusual...”

“Yeah, like strange?”

“Strange?” She echoed.

“You know, Karen, weird? Weird noises, uh, visions, anything like that?” He asked. Ellie cleared her throat, shooting him a warning glare.

“He had a nightmare the day before he died,” Karen recalled. Now we were getting somewhere.

“What kind of a nightmare?” I prodded.

She tightened her sweater around herself, beginning to sound slightly irritated at the questioning, “Uh, he said that he woke up in the middle of the night and there was a woman standing at the foot of the bed, he blinked, and she was gone…I mean, it was just a nightmare.”

Dean, Ellie and I shared a glance before Dean looked back to Karen, “Did he say what she looked like?”

“What the hell difference does it make what she looked like?” She asked angrily.

“Uh, it's just, our, our company's very thorough,” Ellie said quickly.

Karen’s agitated gaze shifted from Dean to Ellie now, “He said she was pale, and she had dark red eyes.” - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie’s POV

“So I gave Karen a hug, told her to call me if she needed anything and that was it. End of story,” I said. I balanced on the edge of the table, doing everything I could not to show that I was lying through my teeth. Lying wasn’t exactly my strong suit.

Detective Ballard watched me suspiciously before sighing, lightly setting her pen on her file. This obviously wasn’t what she wanted to hear. She wanted something solid, something that’d throw us all in prison for probably the rest of our lives.

“Ellie, I am trying to help you here. But you have got to be honest with me.” She looked up at me now, her voice raising. My heart skipped a beat. “Now we have an eyewitness. Someone who saw three people fitting yours and your brothers’ description breaking into Giles' office.”

“Okay, look, Karen called us later, said that there was some stuff that she wanted from Tony's office, but the police weren't letting her in,” I dismissed quickly. “Like, a picture of the two of them in Paris, and some other stuff. Look, it was wrong to enter a crime scene, but she gave us the key!” - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

12 hours earlier.

I swiftly picked the lock to Giles’ office later that night, the three of us glancing down the hallway before letting ourselves in. We shined our flashlights over the large office. I walked deeper into the room, noticing for the first time the large bloodstain on the wood, “Hey. Anthony Giles' body was found right about here.” I looked down at the file, reading from the crime scene report. “‘Throat slit so deep part of his spinal cord was visible.’"

Dean whistled at the gory details, “What do you think? Vengeful spirit? Underline vengeful?”

“Yeah, maybe. I mean he did see that woman at the foot of his bed,” Sam said as he sat down at Giles’ desk, picking up a loose paper that was sitting on the glass. His eyebrows furrowed, handing it to Dean. “Take a look at this.”

Two words filled the entire page, from top to bottom over and over again. I shined my flashlight over it, furrowing my eyebrows, “Dana Shulps. A name?”

“I dunno, but it's everywhere.” Dean picked up another loose paper with the same thing. “Well, all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.”

Sam shook his head before glancing down at the glass desk. I followed his line of sight where, under the moonlight, we could see what looked like fingerprint smudges. Sam leaned in close, breathing over the words. DANA SHULPS staring back up at us. Sam sat back in his chair, looking up at me, “Wow. I'd say we've officially crossed over into weird.”

“Maybe Giles knew her,” I suggested.

Dean nodded, “Or maybe it's the name of our pale red-eyed mystery girl.”

Sam sighed before clicking on the monitor of the computer, “Well. Let's see what we can see.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It was hours before we were able to go through every file in Giles’ office. His filing cabinets were filled with documents and even with Dean and I going through each one, neither of us came up with anything of use.

The sound of a cabinet drawer slamming shut made me turn to around in my chair to where Dean ran a frustrated hand through his hair, “There's not a single mention of a Dana Shulps anywhere. There's not a D. Shulps. Or any other kind of friggin' Shulps.”

“Would you keep it down?” I hissed, glancing out the of the office’s frosted windows. “If you hadn’t noticed, we’re at a crime scene.”

“We’re at a crime scene,” Dean mocked, rolling his eyes. I reached up, punching his shoulder but Dean grabbed my arm, twisting it before putting me into a headlock.

“What have you got, Sammy?” Dean asked casually as I desperately tried to free myself from his grasp, punching at his sides.

“Nothing,” Sam said before shooting him a glare. “Let her go, Dean.”

Dean sighed, releasing me from under his arm. I stumbled backward, panting, “Stop doing that!”

Dean only smirked as Sam went on, “No Dana Shulps has ever lived or died in Baltimore in the last fifty years at least.”

“So what now?” I asked, rounding the desk to get as far away from Dean, rubbing the sides of my neck.

“Well, I think I'm pretty close to cracking Giles' password. Maybe there's something in his personal files, you know?”

Dean cocked an eyebrow, “By close you mean...”

Sam shrugged, “Thirty minutes, maybe?”

“Awesome,” Dean droned, checking his watch before plopping down into the chair across from the desk. “So I guess I just get to, uh, hang out.”

I watched as Sam continued to break into the computer as Dean lightly clicked his tongue. My eyes darted toward him as he stared off into space beginning to make fart noises with his mouth.

“Dude, seriously,” Sam groaned, dropping his hands from the keyboard.

Dean instantly stood from the chair, “Alright, I'm gonna go talk to Karen again, see if she knows anything about this Dana Shulps.”

“Great,” I said.

Dean smirked, shining his flashlight at Sam, “Keep going, Sparky.” - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sam’s POV

“Then Dean went back to Karen's place to check up on her,” I finished, the most truthful thing I’d said all day. “I mean, you know, she had been pretty upset earlier.”

“So why didn't you and Ellie go with him?”

“We just went back to the motel,” I shrugged before narrowing my eyes at her. “How'd you know we were there, by the way?”

Detective Ballard pulled a plastic baggy from the file as if she knew I was going to ask. She held it up in front of me, “We found the motel matchbook on your brother when we arrested him.”

I gritted my teeth, shaking my head, knowing I wasn’t gonna let Dean live this one down. The detective slammed her hand down onto the table, “Let's quit fooling around. Now you were with your brother the whole time you were in Baltimore. Why separate now? Because your brother left you and your sister to go murder Karen.”

“He didn't kill anyone.”

“I heard the 9-1-1 call!” She shouted. “Karen was terrified. She said someone was in the house.” - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

9 hours earlier.

Dean’s POV

I knocked on Karen’s door twice, calling for her, “Karen, you in there?” I leaned in close to the door, but when I didn’t hear anything from inside, I glanced over my shoulder as I pulled the lockpick from my pocket.

The house was quiet inside. I flicked up the light switch next to the door, but the power refused to come on. I flicked the switch up, down, up, down. Nothing.

This can’t be good.

I glanced around the first floor, not finding much until I made my way up the stairs. I pressed my back up against the hallway, lightly pushing the bedroom door open, my heart sinking at what I found inside. Karen was laying in a pool of her own blood, soaked into the carpet. I sighed as I inched closer inside. Her neck was slashed, just like her husband’s had been. I shook my head at the sight, noticing something familiar at the scene.

The paper was sitting at the opening of the printer. I took it off the tray, reading the words DANA SHULPS over and over again, just like in Giles’ office. “Seriously, what the hell?”

I looked around the paper back down to Karen’s body. I crouched down next to her, noticing the purple bruises and blood oozing from both of her wrists. I gently picked one of them up, examining it when a booming voice came from behind me, “Freeze!”

I instantly whipped around where two officers had their guns trained on me. I threw my hands in the air, silently cursing myself for not just getting the hell out of there when I had the chance.

“Stay on your knees. Hands where I can see them. Now!” The second officer shouted at me, glancing to the officer beside her. “Cuff him.” - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Detective Ballard’s POV

I sighed as I left Ellie’s interrogation room. These two were some of the most exhausting people I’ve ever had to interview. I made my way through the station before spotting Pete in the viewing room where he was watching Dean Winchester through a pane of one-way glass. He smiled back at me as I came in, sitting on the edge of his desk, “You getting anywhere with him?”

“No. Just a lot of wise-ass remarks,” Pete sighed, running his clasped hands over his lips. “You?”

“Sam and Ellie’s stories match Dean's to the last detail,” I said.

Pete nodded as he stood, “Yeah, well, these guys are good. I'll give 'em that.”

I followed Pete out of the viewing room, down the back hallways of the station, “If we don't get Sam to flip, we have nothing but a lot of circumstantial evidence.”

“Hey. We've got Dean at the crime scene with blood on his hands. Juries have convicted for less,” he pointed out. He was always so confident about these things and, usually, his confidence would convince me, too. But now, I was just questioning myself more and more.

“Yeah, but, I mean, where's the murder weapon?” I asked. “What's the motive? You talk about reasonable doubt-”

“Diana. Do you have reasonable doubt?” He interjected, stopping in the hallway to look at me. I hesitated, making Pete hold my shoulders. “We keep leaning on these guys, one of them will tumble. And don't forget about St. Louis. I'm telling you. This Dean guy is our guy.”

I wanted to believe him, I did. I was always able to trust Pete, but my instincts were something that were never wrong when it came to these situations. I kept following him, “I know Tony Giles was a friend of yours.”

“Yeah. He was, he was a good friend.”

“And I know you want to clean this mess up quick. But come on, Tony knew a lot of criminal types, I mean, maybe we're just-”

“Criminal types?” Pete said, letting out a chuckle as we stopped next to a vending machine, leaning up against it. This was one of the only places we could be alone. “He was a defense lawyer, for god sakes, of course he knew criminal types.”

I looked up at him, a small smile playing at my lips. Maybe I was just being paranoid. I mean, all the evidence stacked against Dean, who else could it be? I sighed, turning back to the interrogation rooms, “All right, let's get back at 'em.”

“No, you know what? Let 'em stew in their juices for a bit,” he said, bringing me back in front of him. He smirked, his eyes darting down to my lips and back up to my eyes. “Come here.”

It was instinct now as I leaned in, kissing him lightly on the lips. I smiled, looking up at him, running a hand over his smooth jaw. Pete gave me one last, reassuring squeeze on my arm before I turned, winking at him before retreating back to work. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dean’s POV

“Dana Shulps, Dana Shulps,” I repeated to myself, my eyes closed, willing the words to make some kinds of sense. “Dana Shulps Dana, Dana Shulps...”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Sam’s POV

I pulled the file toward me Detective Ballard had left on the table, flipping it to the back as I wrote out the words: Dana Shulps. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie’s POV

I ripped a few of the articles down from the bulletin board, tearing out letters to form our mystery name. I arranged them on the table in front of me, highly aware of the fact that I probably looked like a serial killer getting ready to make a ransom note.

I stepped back from the table, hands on my hips as I narrowed my eyes, an idea coming to my head, frowning. “Maybe it's not a name.” I began to resituate the letters, holding my tongue between my lips as I worked, mumbling to myself. “Maybe it's not a name.” - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sam’s POV

“Anagram, maybe?” I thought aloud to myself, bringing the pen back down to the folder and began writing.

ANDA SH- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Dean’s POV

“Mr. Winchester?” A voice said, pulling me from my thoughts. I opened my eyes again, looking toward the open doorway where a short man in an oversized suit came in, a briefcase in hand. “I'm Jeffrey Kraus. I'm with the public defender's office. I'm your lawyer.”

“Oh. Thank god. I'm saved,” I said sarcastically as the man sat in the chair adjacent to me. “Hey, could I steal a pen from you? Some paper?”

“Sure,” he agreed, patting his pockets for a pen and then sliding a pad of paper toward me. I instantly began writing, drowning Jeffrey out as he spoke. “Uh, well, the police haven't found a weapon yet. So that's good. But, uh, they got your prints. And literally blood on your hands. And with your police record...” he paused as he eyed me, but I kept writing. “Mr. Winchester? What are you doing?”

“I think it's an anagram.”

“A what?”

“An anagram,” I repeated. “Same letters, different words.”

My eyes scanned what I was able to get from the letters:

DNA SHULPS DAN SHULPAS LAND PUSHAS SUPASH LAND PUSH LANDAS PLUSH DANAS

“Uh, do me a favor?” I asked, pushing the pad of paper toward him. “See if you recognize any of these words, you know, local names, places, anything like that?”

Jeffrey hesitated, “Do you understand how serious these charges are?”

I brought my cuffed hands up, “I'm handcuffed to a table. Yeah, I get it. Humor me. Take a quick look.”

He let out a breath as he grabbed the paper, narrowing his eyes, “Well, S-U-P, I don't know about that,” he began, scribbling out the three letters, “but Ashland is a street name. Not far from here.”

I raised my eyebrows as I pulled the pad of paper back, “A street.”

“Let's start with where you were the night Anthony Giles died,” he said, changing the subject, but I continued to drown him out. I tore the top piece of paper away, writing two separate notes.

“Can you get in to see my brother and sister?”

“Mr. Winchester…you could be facing the death penalty here.”

“Hey, thanks for the law review, Matlock. But. If you want to help me...” I held up the two scraps of paper between my fingers. “I need you to see my brother and sister.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Ellie’s POV

I read and reread the scrap of paper our lawyer had brought to me, saying it was from Dean:

HILTS— IT'S A STREET ASHLAND. -MCQUEEN

I ran my tongue over my teeth as I folded it, looking up at Jeffrey, “I hope that's meaningful. But I'd like to discuss your case now.”

I nodded, gesturing for him to sit across from me, “Sure thing, Matlock.”

Jeffrey let out a low chuckle, “You two really are siblings, aren't you? Now. As you know, the DA might be interested in-”

The door behind Jeffrey suddenly opened. We both looked up to Detective Ballard who stood in the doorway, glancing to me before looking back to our lawyer, “We need you. With the other one.”

Jeffrey shot me a glance and I smiled a tight-lipped smile, “See ya, Jeff.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dean’s POV

I sat forward against the table; my hands clasped in front of me as I stared down the lens of the camera directed at my face. I glanced up toward the glass in front of me, knowing it was probably packed with onlookers on the other side.

The door opened again, Detective Ballard and Jeffrey coming back into the room. Pete looked back at them, smirking, “Counselor, your boy decided to confess.”

“Mr. Winchester, I'd advise against that strongly,” Jeffrey said.

“Talk directly into the camera, first stating your name for the record,” Pete interjected, obviously giddy that he thought I was getting ready to put this thing to rest.

I smirked as I leaned forward, “My name is Dean Winchester. I'm an Aquarius. I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach, and frisky women.” I looked up to Pete whose jaw was set. “And I did not kill anyone…but I know who did. Or rather what did. Of course, it can't be for sure because our investigation was interrupted. But our working theory was that we're looking for some kind of vengeful spirit.”

Detective Ballard raised her eyebrows, “Excuse me?”

“You know, Casper the bloodthirsty ghost? Tony Giles saw it. I'll bet you cash money Karen did too. But see, the interesting thing is the word it leaves behind. For some reason it's trying to tell us something. But communicating across the veil, it ain't easy,” I said. I could tell Pete was getting fed up, his face turning red. “You know, sometimes the spirits, they, they get things jumbled. You remember ‘REDRUM’. Same concept. You know, it's, uh, maybe word fragments...other times, it's anagrams. See, at first, we thought this was a name, Dana Shulps. But now we think it's a street. Ashland. Whatever's going on, I'll bet you it started there.”

“You arrogant bastard!” Pete boomed. “Tony and Karen were good people, and you're making jokes.”

“I'm not joking, Ponch.”

He came around the table, leaning in close to my face, “You murdered them in cold blood just like that girl in St. Louis!”

“Oh, yeah. That wasn't me either,” I chided. “That was a shape-shifter creature that only looked like me.”

Pete’s jaw clenched as he grabbed me by the collar, throwing me against the brick wall behind us.

“Pete, that is enough!” Detective Ballard yelled at him.

“You asked for the truth,” I groaned against his fist that was digging into my throat.

Pete looked as if he could’ve ripped my head off right then and there. “Lock his ass up.”

An officer flipped me around, shoving me against the wall as he cuffed my hands behind my back. I groaned, praying that Sam and Ellie got the message and that it wasn’t too late for them, at least.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Detective Ballard’s POV

I kept my distance from Pete as we made our way back to the interrogation rooms. I tried to push the picture away of Pete throwing Dean up against the wall. I’d never seen him like that. Pete took Ellie’s door and I took Sam’s, the two of us stepping inside at the same time. However, my eyes widened at the empty room.

“What the hell?!” I heard from next door. I quickly left the room, turning into Ellie’s where Pete stood, looking around questioningly. “Where is she?”

“Sam’s gone, too,” I said, watching Pete as he glanced out the open window.

“What'd they do? The fire escape's way over...what?”

I picked up the unfolded note sitting on the table among scraps of torn out letters. I suppressed a humorless chuckle, handing the note to Pete, shaking my head, “These three.”

Pete cocked an eyebrow, “Hilts and McQueen?”

I nodded, “Hilts is Steve McQueen's character in The Great Escape.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Dean’s POV

The door to the interrogation room opened again. I picked up my head from where it was resting on my hand. It had to have been at least twelve hours that they kept me in this damn room. Detective Ballard came in, carefully shutting the door behind her.

“Can we make this quick? I'm a little tired, it's been a long day, you know, with your partner assaulting me and all.”

“I want to know more about that stuff you were talking about earlier,” she said.

“Time Life. Mysteries of the Unknown. Look it up.”

She stopped at the other side of the table, “Let's pretend for the moment you're not entirely insane…what would one of these…things be doing here?”

“A vengeful spirit? Well, they're created by violent deaths. And then they come back for a reason, usually a nasty one,” I said, unsure why she was even asking. “Like revenge on the people that hurt 'em.”

“And uh, these…spirits…they're capable of killing people?” She brought her hand up behind her neck, the sleeve of her suit pulling down slightly.

My face fell as I noticed the dark purple bruises over her wrists. I narrowed my eyes, “Where did you get that?”

She pulled her hand away, pulling her sleeve down. She shook her head in confusion, “I don't know. It, it wasn't there before.”

The fear in her voice was evident now, everything beginning to click into place. “You've seen it, haven't you? The spirit?”

She gulped, “How did you know?”

“Because Karen had the same bruises on her wrists. And I'm willing to bet that if you look at Giles' autopsy photos he's got 'em too, it's got something to do with this spirit, I...I don't know what,” I admitted. Detective Ballard turned away from me, looking at herself in the mirror behind her. “I know. You think you're going crazy. But let's skip that part, shall we? Because the last two people who saw this thing died, pretty soon after. You hear me?”

“You think I'm going to die.”

“You need to go to Sam and Ellie,” I said, making her turn toward me. “They'll help.”

She squinted, rubbing absentmindedly at her bruised wrists, “You're giving your brother and sister up.”

“Go to the first motel listed in the yellow pages. Look for either Jim Rockford or Sarah Nettles- it's how we find each other when we're separated. Now you can arrest them if you want,” I began, leaning forward on the table, “or you can let them save your life.” - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie’s POV

“So, Ashland, huh?” I recalled, thinking about Dean’s note. “How do you think he figured that one out?”

“Who knows,” Sam said, shuffling the papers in his hands. “But we gotta find out whatever’s there and kill it before-”

A knock on the door interrupted Sam. I furrowed my eyebrows knowing that nobody ever came to our motel unless it was one of the three of us. Sam slowly rose, holding his gun close before pulling the door open in one swift motion. My heart sank at the sight of Detective Ballard on the other side. Somehow, she’d managed to find us, again.

However, there was no SWAT team with her this time, and I could’ve sworn she looked terrified. I rose from my chair, “What’s wrong?”

“I need your help,” she said. Sam glanced around outside before letting her in. We watched as she rolled up her sleeves, revealing the dark bruises on her wrists. “I saw it. I saw the spirit.”

I glanced to Sam before looking back to her, “How do you-”

“Dean,” she said simply, making me nod.

Sam watched her, concerned, “These showed up after you saw it?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“All right,” he nodded. “You're going to have to tell us exactly what you saw.”

“Wait,” I interrupted, shooting a glance to Sam. “Can I talk to you?”

Sam watched me confused before following me toward the adjoining kitchen. I glanced over my shoulder, lowering my voice, “Sam…what’re we doing? This woman – that whole police force wants our heads on spikes.”

“So we’re just gonna let her die?” He asked, narrowing his eyes at me when I didn’t answer him. “We’re not letting her die!”

“No, I know, of course not, but…but what are the chances that after this is done, she just throws us behind bars anyway, huh? Dean won’t make it out of there alive, not with what they think he’s been up to.”

“We have to help her,” he said seriously, standing his ground. “We’ll figure all that out later but right now, we’ve gotta help her.”

I ran my tongue over my teeth before turning on my heels toward Detective Ballard who was now sitting at the end of one of the beds, “Okay. What happened?”

“You know, I must be losing my mind,” she shook her head. “You're fugitives. I should be arresting you.”

I dragged my eyes over to Sam, shooting him a silent I told you so.

Sam sighed, looking from me back to the detective, his hands held out in an attempt to defuse the situation, “Well, you know what? You can arrest us later, alright? After you live through this. But right now, you've gotta talk to us. Okay?” She slowly nodded. “Okay, great. Now, this spirit. What did it look like?”

“She was, um, really pale, and her throat was cut, and her eyes, they were like, this deep dark red,” she shivered. “It appeared like she was trying to talk to me. But she couldn't. It was just...a lot of blood.”

“You know what? Here,” Sam said, returning to the table and picking up the stack of autopsy photos we were looking through. Ballard followed us to the table. “We've been researching every girl that's ever died or gone missing from Ashland Street.”

“How'd you get those?” She asked. “Those are from crime scenes and booking photos.”

“You have your job, we have ours,” I said, giving her a tight-lipped smile.

“Here, I need you to look through these, tell me if you recognize anyone.”

Ballard took the stack from Sam’s hands as she sank down onto the bed next to us. We watched her closely as she shook her head at each picture before landing on one that made her sit up a little straighter. She handed it back to Sam, “This is her. I'm sure of it.”

“Claire Becker?” Sam said, reading her file. “Twenty eight years old, disappeared about eight or nine months ago.”

“But I don't even know her. I mean, why would she come after me?”

“Well, before her death, she was arrested twice. For dealing heroin,” I read, looking back over to her. “You ever work narcotics?”

She nodded, “Yeah, Pete and I did. Before Homicide.”

“You ever bust her?”

“Not that I remember.”

Sam rifled through another stack of papers before pulling out the police report from her disappearance, “It says that she was last seen entering 2911 Ashland Street. Police searched the place, didn't find anything…Guess we gotta check it out ourselves. See if we can find her body.”

“What?” Ballard asked in confusion, following us up as we gathered our things.

“Well, we gotta salt and burn her bones,” I said. “It's the only way to put her spirit to rest.”

Detective Ballard let out a short, unamused chuckle, “Of course it is.” - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

2911 Ashland Street turned out to be an abandoned building just off of the main road into town. We filed into the dark building, staying close together as we shined our flashlights over the room.

“So, what exactly are we looking for?” Detective Ballard asked.

“I'll let you know when we find it,” Sam said as he shined his light over a second level. He turned to me. “Stay with her, I’m gonna go check out the upstairs.”

“You’re gonna leave me with Law and Order over here?”

Sam glared, “Just keep an eye on her, alright?”

“Fine,” I groaned, glancing at Ballard over my shoulder who was examining the room. I peeked around the shelves, under large tarps, anywhere a body could be hidden but so far, nothing.

“You could be a detective, you know,” Ballard said from across the room.

I furrowed my eyebrows, “What?”

“I see a lot of me in you, Ellie,” she said, rounding the room as she came to stand by me. “You’re a smart kid. You’ve got a bright future ahead of you.”

I scoffed, “Yeah, I think that bright light might be hellfire.”

She stopped, eyeing me, “What happened to you, Ellie?”

I narrowed my eyes, “What?”

“Nobody distrusts people like you do for no reason,” she said, making me shift under her watchful eye. “Whatever’s happened to you in the past, it’s in the past. You can’t change it, but you can change where you go from here, Ellie. Just saying.”

I watched as she wandered away, her words running through my mind. I continued glancing around the abandoned room when a loud shriek came from where she’d gone off to.

“Sam? Ellie!”

I was instantly running toward her, dodging between shelves as I skidded to a stop where she was backed into a corner of the basement, her eyes wide. Sam came down a few seconds later, glancing around the room, “Hey! Hey, we’re here, what is it? What happened?”

“Claire,” she breathed out shakily.

I looked around, suddenly feeling the weight of having no weapons since the car was impounded, “Where?”

“She, she was here.”

“Did she attack you?”

“No. No, she was just like, reaching out to me. She was over there by the window,” Ballard pointed as she stepped closer to a large shelf up against the wall, looking back towards Sam and me. “Here, help me move this.”

We pulled the shelf away from the wall where a window was nestled behind it, the words ASHLAND SUP staring back at us. I was just able to make out the rest of the word, squinting: Ashland Supplies. “Our little mystery word.”

“Now the extra letters make sense,” Sam said, pulling out the EMF meter from his pocket. Ballard narrowed her eyes at it as he switched it on, the lights coming to life.

“What is that?”

“Spirits and certain remains give off electromagnetic frequencies.”

“So if Claire's body was here, that would indicate that?”

I shrugged, “Yeah. Well, that's the theory.”

We watched as Sam scanned the room, running the meter up over each wall when finally, he hovered it over the wall behind the staircase, the red lights instantly lighting up. Sam shot me a look as we each picked up two long pipes that laid abandoned on the floor.

We jammed the pipes into the brick, watching them crumble easily to the ground at our feet. We continued hitting the wall until finally, there was a hole just big enough for Sam to shine his flashlight into, “Yeah. Yeah, there's definitely something in there.”

Sam and I continued to hit at the wall. I panted, looking to Sam and Ballard, “You know? This is bothering me.”

“Well, you are digging up a corpse,” Ballard pointed out.

I chuckled, shaking my head, “No, not that. That's, uh, that's pretty par for the course, actually.”

“Then what?”

“It's just, I mean, no vengeful spirit I've ever tussled with wanted to be wasted, so why the hell would Claire lead us to her remains?” I ended up dropping the pipe to the floor, using my elbow to cave the wall in instead. “It doesn't make any sense.”

Sam pushed the last of the bricks from the wall, the hole now big enough to pull out what we hoped to be Claire’s remains, “All right, here. Give me a hand.”

Sam pulled out the body, wrapped in a bed sheet and secured with rope. I grabbed her legs as we gently led her to the floor. Sam took out his pocketknife, cutting through the brittle rope in one go before unveiling Claire’s now skeletal body.

I sighed, shaking my head. Who could do this to a person was beyond me. I watched as Detective Ballard pulled the material of her sleeves back, glancing down at her wrists and to Claire’s. I lightly turned Claire’s hand, nodding, “Her wrists. Yeah, they'd be bruised just like yours.”

Ballard’s eyes shifted then, just a little upward where a silver necklace dangled in between Claire’s exposed ribcage. Sam glanced over at her as the pendant balanced on her fingertips, “That necklace mean something to you?”

“I've seen it before. It's rare. It was custom made over on Carson street,” she said. I furrowed my eyebrows, wondering how she knew so much about it. Ballard reached into the collar of her shirt, pulling out the same necklace Claire was wearing. “I have one just like it. Pete gave it to me.”

I thought about it as I stood, turning around to Sam and Ballard who watched me, “Now this all makes perfect sense.”

“What?” Sam asked, confused.

“Sam, Claire is not a vengeful spirit,” I began, the pieces suddenly coming together at high speed, “she's a death omen.”

“Excuse me?” Ballard said this time, the two of them standing.

“Claire's not killing anyone. She's trying to warn them,” I said, making Sam think. “I mean, sometimes spirits, they don't want vengeance, they want justice. Which is why she led us here in the first place…she wants us to know who her killer is.”

Sam turned to Ballard, “Detective, how much do you know about your partner?”

Something seemed to click in her mind as realization seemed to settle on her features, “Oh my god.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” I said.

“What?” Sam asked, more sympathetic.

She hesitated before speaking, “About a year ago, some heroin went missing from lockup. Obviously, it was a cop. We never found out who did it…but whoever did it would need someone to fence their product.”

“Someone like a heroin dealer,” I said, making Ballard shift her gaze from me. “Somebody like Claire.” - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dean’s POV

The paddy wagon Sheridan threw me into was less than comfortable. My body jostled harshly on the metal bench, the cuffs on my wrist aching as they pulled against the chain attached to my feet. I glanced through the grate separating the front and where Sheridan was silently driving, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

“So I'm being extradited to St. Louis, huh?” I asked, but Sheridan kept his beady little eyes straight ahead. “And you just decided to transfer me yourself, eight hundred miles? At two in the morning?” He continued to stay silent, my gut telling me that this was not going to end the way I wanted it to. “This can't be good.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie’s POV

I glanced out of the backseat of Ballard’s car as she spoke into the phone, “All right. Thanks.”

“What is it?” I asked when she hung up the phone.

She hesitated, her eyes darting to me and Sam before speaking, “Pete just left the precinct. With Dean.”

“What?” I asked, eyes wide. I leaned forward in the seat, praying I’d just heard her wrong.

“He said the prisoner had to be transferred, and he just took him,” she said. “Dispatch has been calling but he won't answer the radio.”

“Radio?” Sam asked. “He took a county vehicle?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, then they should have a lo-jack, you've just gotta get it turned on.” - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dean’s POV

We drove for a few more miles before I felt the van swerve off of the road, the terrain becoming rockier. Complete darkness filled the van now that we were away from the streetlights lining the road. I watched as Sheridan threw the van into park.

“Pee break? So soon? You might want to get your prostate checked,” I said. Sheridan killed the engine, sliding out of the front seat. I grit my teeth as I heard him make his way toward the back of the van. “Son of a bitch.” Sheridan pulled the back doors open. “Hey, I'm cool in the van, you go do what you gotta do- “

In an instant, he grabbed me by the shirt collar and pulled me from the trunk, throwing me to the forest floor. I groaned, rolling over onto my knees.

“You're a cocky son of a bitch,” he snarled as he loosened the tie around his neck. “You think those people in St. Louis are gonna buy that crap you're peddling? Here's the thing. You're not gonna make it to St. Louis. You're gonna die trying to escape.”

Pete whipped his gun from his holster, pointing the barrel until it was inches from my face. I stared down it, my heart rate picking up as I brought my cuffed hands up, “Wait! Wait. Let's, let's talk about this. I mean, you don't want to do something that you're gonna regret later.” Pete ground his teeth as he cocked the gun. “Or maybe you do.”

“Pete! Put the gun down!” A voice from behind us called. Sheridan and I whipped around where Detective Ballard held her gun out at him, Sam and Ellie close behind her. I let out a breath of relief knowing they were okay.

“Diana?” Sheridan whispered, confusion lacing his voice. “How'd you find me?”

“I know about Claire,” she said, changing the subject.

Something in Sheridan’s demeanor changed, his posture shrinking a little as he shifted the gun to his other hand, “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Put the gun down!” She shouted at him.

“Oh, I don't think so,” he said, glancing back down at me before looking to her. “You're fast. I'm pretty sure I'm faster.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I didn't do anything, Diana.”

Detective Ballard grimaced, “It's a little late for that.”

“It wasn't my fault. Claire was trying to turn me in, I had no choice.”

Sam and Ellie looked to me, hopeless. We had a silent conversation, and I knew what they were thinking. I slowly shook my head. They were empty handed, and Pete was the one with the gun here.

“And Tony?” She asked. “Karen?”

“Same thing! Tony scrubbed the money, he got skittish, and then he wanted to come clean. I'm sure he told Karen everything. It was a mess; I had to clean it up. I just panicked!”

Ballard stepped closer, “How many more people are gonna die over this, Pete?”

“There's a way out. This Dean kid's a friggin' gift,” he said, jutting the gun in my direction. “We could pin the whole thing on him. Right? No trial, nothing. Just, just one more dead scumbag.”

“Hey!” I shouted defensively but quickly raised my hands as he glared, steadying the gun in his hands.

“No one will question it. Diana, please. I still love you,” he begged. I watched as Ballard, our only hope of getting this thing out alive, slowly lowered her gun to the ground. Ellie and Sam’s shoulders slumped at her movements, their eyes darting between the three of us. Pete sighed in relief. “Thank you. Thank you.”

Sheridan turned back to me, but the instant he did, a gun went off. I quickly rolled away, watching as Pete fell to the ground in pain, holding his left leg, smoke still rolling from Ballard’s gun, “Then why don't you buy me another necklace, you ass?”

Pete lunged, grabbing Diana by the knees as he pulled her to the ground, taking her gun from her hands as Sam raced towards her and Ellie raced toward me. He quickly rose from the ground, cocking the gun at them now, shouting a warning of what would happen if they came any closer, “Don't do it! Don't do it!”

He hopped backward on his good leg, training the gun on me, too before looking down at Ballard, but her eyes were trained just behind Pete.

The spirit stood inches from his back, blood spurting from the wounds in her neck as she reached toward Pete. He stiffened as he turned when two gunshots rang out from Ballard’s gun, the bullets entering right into the middle of Sheridan’s back.

We watched as Pete sunk to the ground, and finally, the spirit disappeared, too.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie’s POV

Sam, Dean and I watched Detective Ballard where she stood from next to Pete’s body, folding her arms as she came towards us.

“You doin' all right?” Sam asked.

“Not really,” she said honestly before changing the subject. “The death omen. Claire. What happens to her now?”

“Should be over,” I said. “She should be at rest.”

Dean nodded, “So, uh. What now, officer?”

“Pete did confess to me. He screwed up both your cases royally. I'd say that there's a good chance that we could get your cases dismissed.”

We raised our eyebrows in hope as Sam spoke, “You'd take care of that for us?”

“I hope so. But the St. Louis murder charges? That's another story. I can't help you,” she said, glancing to Dean who nodded understandingly. “Unless...I just happened to turn my back, and you walked away. I could just tell them that the suspects escaped.”

“Wait, are you sure?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, she's sure, Sam,” I said, slowly walking backwards before she changed her mind.

“No, it's just, I mean, you could lose your job over something like that,” Sam said, Dean and I sharing a look at the fact that Sam was basically handing the detective the option to take us back into custody.

“Look, I just want you guys out there doing what you do best. Trust me, I'll sleep better at night,” she reassured. “Listen, you need to watch your back. They're gonna be looking for both of you right now. Get out of here. I gotta radio this in.”

We nodded, turning on our heels before Dean turned back to her, “Hey, uh, you wouldn't happen to know where my car is, by chance?”

“It's at the impound yard down on Robertson,” she said, instantly noticing Dean’s gears in his head begin to turn. “Don't...even think about it.

“It's okay, it's all right, don't worry. We'll, uh, we'll just improvise,” Sam said. “I mean, we're pretty good at that.”

“Yeah. I've noticed,” she smiled softly. We turned away, beginning to walk back down the dirt road when she called out to me. I turned, hands in my pockets. “Remember what I told you, alright?”

My eyes bounced from Sam to Dean and back to Ballard, remembering our conversation at the warehouse, “I will.”

“What was that about?” Dean asked as we turned back around. I shook my head, dismissing it.

“Nice lady,” Sam said.

“Yeah, for a cop,” I agreed. “Did she look familiar to you?”

Sam shook his head, “No, why?”

“I don't know,” I said.

Dean sighed, “Anyway, you two hungry? For some reason I could really go for some pea soup.” I laughed, nudging his shoulder as we continued down the long, long stretch of road.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

PREVIOUS: NO EXIT

NEXT: CROSSROAD BLUES

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*DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SUPERNATURAL OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS.

[haltraveler]

Now that she’s canonically dead, I thought I’d finally get off my ass and draw my OC version of Agent Maryland. 

Left: Project Freelancer

Right: Immediately Pre-Season 15 

Backstory and such below the cut

Agent Maryland/Elizabeth “Liz” Hargrove

A laser technician with a lifelong enmity towards projectile physics, Agent Maryland was one of the youngest recruits into Project Freelancer. Though she never made it very far in the ranking, she was happy with mediocrity, especially since it allowed her to work closely with her friends Agents Delaware and Rhode Island. During the days of Project Freelancer, she was rarely seen in action without her customized SPARTAN Laser, “Sarah”. Though she was dealt with energy weapons, she could never get the hang of ballistics, one of the reasons she never progress very far in the PFL ranking. Still, her cheery demeanor and technical skills made her invaluable to her squamates, and even when the Mother of Invention fell and the three of them went rogue, she was able to keep them together.

Everything changed for Maryland when Agent Delaware committed suicide, leaving her and Rhode Island on their own as they tried to figure out where they could go from there. After wandering for several months, they were able to buy a rundown refueling station on a small moon near a well-travelled slipspace route. Maryland worked to help refuel and repair ships in need of her expertise, while Rhode Island put his considerable culinary skills to work running a small diner. Though their new life was peaceful, Maryland’s cheer and optimism were gone, and she spiraled into depression when she learned that her uncle Mal had been responsible for heinous crimes against the people of Chorus. 

[curiousconch]

Exit

Chapter 6 of Ricochet (An Open Heart AU)

Catch up here: Series Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis: Heather is taken hostage, but by whom? And she isn't alone. Rafael and Bryce set tries to find the missing link.

Pairing: Rafael Aveiro x MC (Dr. Heather Song) | Bryce Lahela x MC (Dr. Heather Song)

Words: 1.4k+ | Genre: Crime, Suspense/Thriller, Romance

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / violence, language

Author's Notes: Thank you so much for taking time to read this series. Please let me know if you want me to include/remove you in the tags list. Also, disclaimer: Majority of the characters are owned by Pixelberry, except the main character Heather Song and an OC Jordan Anderson.

Heather was due for another week in Johns Hopkins. So even though she didn't feel up to it after last night's fiasco, she forced herself to pack her clothes from the washer and clean out her temporary room.

She snuck glances to Bryce's bedroom door, trying to muster up the courage to face him and apologize. She was drunk last night. Drunk people make the lousiest mistakes, especially when that person is an emotional wreck. Long kept secrets of the heart creep up to the surface, often loaded with regrets like ticking time bombs inevitably blowing up the next morning.

In the end, she decided not to tell him her impassioned speech about nothing good ever happens after 2am, a reference from their shared favorite sitcom. Instead, she washed and cleaned and packed, and when the time came, left without a single word. She thought it was best to leave him be, giving them both space to process what they've just revealed. They'll just deal with it after she's done with her commitments in Maryland.

So she booked a car. And with one silent goodbye, she stepped out into the empty hallways. Her steps felt heavy against the carpeted floors, feeling more and more rueful with each. She was about to turn to the elevator bay when the fire exit flew open behind her.

Before she could turn around to see, an arm grabbed her by the waist while a piece of cloth covered her mouth and nose, muffling her shouts for help. Her head began spinning almost immediately. It wasn't long before she completely blacked out.

***

When Heather came to, she only saw darkness. Her immediate reaction was to scream, only to whimper after realizing she was gagged. Panic rose within her chest, as she struggled to think straight. She tried to blink to no avail. She was living in a nightmare, and she badly wanted to wake up. So she had two choices - either be a victim or be a survivor.

She chose the latter.

With that, she began to assess her surroundings, using her limited capabilities. She could tell that her eyes were covered, and by the tingling pain in her wrists behind her, she knew she was tied up. Strangely, her ankles were free. While most of her senses were restrained, those that weren't became magnified.

Her back felt the hard floor, she banged her head against it, confirming her theory.

Concrete? Uneven. Unfinished?

She tried to stand up, her legs felt weak, almost like jelly. She tried another time, and succeeded on kneeling. She balanced herself and used her legs to stand up, one after another.

She heard the sound of plastic rustling in the wind, and the cold night air brushing against her face.

Seems like I'm somewhere cold. Is that wind coming from large windows?

All of a sudden, she heard voices. The sounds were inaudible, but she observed intense shifts in the faint conversation.

Two voices, another room? Are they arguing?

She tried to direct herself towards the voices, taking caution not to make a noise. The volume gradually increased, aiding her to understand the conversation clearly enough.

"You're one hour late and you didn't bring enough."

"Such a whiney brat. Did you get that from juvy?"

"It's a mystery why someone haven't punched you and your perfect teeth."

"Some guy already did. But you? I bet ten grand you wouldn't. You're just a piece of shit without my funding."

"Right, without your pockets lined with cash, what are you?"

"Uh, free man with lots of connections?"

The words didn't make sense to her, but the voices that threw them around sounded familiar. She strained to get closer, trying to think who they could possibly be. Before she could hear more, she stumbled, her body making a noisy thud as it quickly planted on the ground. She felt something hard scrape against her cheek, a warm liquid trickled after, then pain.

Blood.

She shifted her head sideways, her legs dangling over something she couldn't quite figure out from the thick fabric of her jeans. Then it moved.

She gasped and retrieved her legs, her mind racing.

Who is it? Bryce? Rafael?

Her anxiety rose as she struggled with the mere possibility that she wasn't the only one kidnapped. The danger of the situation suddenly becoming more grave.

Then the body elicited a groan, a sound similar with her failed attempt to scream earlier. She heard it grumble once more, and then again. It was in the third time that Heather finally figured out who the voice might belong to.

Senator Ed Farrugia's.

Like a bucket of ice, a bone-chilling realization came to her. If they went all this way to hostage the senator, what's gonna stop them from killing her?

Her panicked thoughts were invaded by the sound of steps approaching. In an instant, she felt that she was shoved upright in a sitting position. The same person grabbed her by the collar and dragged her body back to where she came from, making her bare feet blister and bleed against the rough surface. Her face touched edges of plastic as her body followed the steps of her attacker. She tried to swallow her screams in an attempt to preserve energy, but the hairs at the back of her neck gave her fear away. She was then banged against a wall, followed by silence.

A set of steps receded, probably of the person who just dragged her back to her original place. This was quickly replaced by another set of steps, producing a distinct tapping. Different shoes, different person. First one seems like running shoes, this one sounds like leather.

Without warning, her hair was pulled backwards, making her wail beneath the cloth in her mouth. She smelled the scent of cigarettes.

"You just won't go down without a fight, eh? Well good for you, doctor. This will be all the more enjoyable."

Finally giving in on her fears, she shivered. She knew that voice anywhere. It was a sound so despicable that she hated it ever since the first time she heard it. The one man who mocked her, brought her down since her intern year. Arrogant, ambitious and immoral. All the curse words in the world couldn't describe this person. It belonged to a man she never wanted to see, hear, nor be in the presence of ever.

It was the greatest scumbag of all time.

Declan Nash.

***

Rafael was in full blown recon mode for Senator Farrugia's disappearance when he learned that Heather was also missing. Elijah called in to check if she has contacted him for the last 12 hours, he wished she did, but he told him no. When he got off the phone, the conference room he was in suddenly felt crowded.

"Dr. Song is apparently missing too," he reported to the rest of the team working on the Farrugia case. "Let's find where and when she was last seen, and start from there. I have a hunch she's going to lead us to the senator." He called IT to extract Heather's phone logs and location pings before he stepped out for a moment to process this new information. He found himself slumping in the fire exit stairwell, feeling an urge to punch the wall.

When he was about to act on it, his phone rang. It was ADA Lahela.

"Have you heard?"

"Yes, I just got off the phone with Elijah."

"And Senator Ed?"

"Yes, we're trying to find leads for the past 3 hours since we were notified."

"Okay, have you checked her phone records?"

"IT is working on it now."

"Okay. She supposedly left the condo around 4am this morning. I heard her leave. That might be a good starting point."

Rafael made a mental note.

"I'm going to meet Perry. He's in the front and center of this thing. I'll let you know as soon as I come up with anything." Raf heard Bryce say, after which the line ended.

He felt like an idiot, a sinking feeling of regret drawing him in. But he couldn't wallow in it now. Not until they find her.

There's time for that later. Right now, Heather needs me.

Fired up with resolve, he went out of the desolate stairwell and worked. He immediately followed up on Heather’s phone logs and available electronic records. He also called up field agents to go down at Bryce's complex for a copy of CCTV footage for the past 24 hours.

Once the instructions were handed over, he focused on Travis Perry. He helped himself to a cup of black coffee, willing his mind to stay sharp. He pored over Perry's file, searching for anything they may have missed.

He sighed, pushing back his emotions to the back of his mind. It's quickly becoming one of the longest nights of his life.

Author’s Notes 2: When I wrote this, I thought of merging this with the next. I just felt that they're best read together. So instead of combining the two, I've decided to publish both chapters simultaneously. Both is packed, I know, even I got dizzy writing it. But I hope you'll enjoy the roller coaster ride as much as I did. Appreciate it if you could share your thoughts!

Taglist: @ramsey-lahela @eleanorbloom @choicesficwriterscreations

[forgottenfreelancers]

ASKS ARE NOW OPEN! But before you send any...why not get acquainted with these fellows?

[floosies]

Beechwood Park

pairing: 60′s au (Richard Madden x oc!poc!fem!Reader)

summary: In the late 60′s Cynthia was struggling model who’d just about reached her wits end and succumb to her parents wishes for her to continue her studies. Mr. Madden would say otherwise though.

warnings: age gap, smut, cursing, 18 + material

Series Masterlist

A/N: I think I hit the jackpot with this (fingers crossed though)

Actress inspo for the character is Judy Pace, she was well known in the 60s.

1. Humble Beginnings and Pink Ribbons

In 1965 Cynthia Ridge was an academic miracle sent from the heavens above to her family. A true prodigy of the finer things in life, she’d learned french, could read latin, and played piano as her pass times. Where her parents assumed this would grant her open doors to the thing they could never have themselves. 

Little did they know that what she really wanted was a break. Her friends were going to parties and dating boys while she sat at home writing honor roll essays. However, her birthday arrived in early November. With it came a moment of fate or pure luck. She was out shopping with her cousin when the woman who would become her first agent/manager came across her. 

Ingrid Beaumont was a french woman who’d made her living working for modeling agencies in Europe. One look at Cynthia and she knew there was the muse for the upcoming year’s fashion trends. It took a lot of pleading and negotiating with the teenager’s parents. At the end of it all though, she’d gotten herself a star client.

The first months were interesting, there was difficulty in the states. Getting her photo shoots was a nightmare, and Cynthia blamed the thinking of most people on it, but in the U.K.? Well it was different there, very different. When she did book a shoot in America, the copies were sent to a sister agency in London. By then she began to shoot ad campaigns for catalogs in the U.K.

At home tensions grew though. Her parents despised the french agent and what she’d made of their academically prized daughter. They fought constantly, so much so that by the end of the year she’d had enough. Cynthia knew deep down it was wrong, perhaps maybe even too far, but she couldn’t risk losing what made her feel happy. With the help of Mrs. Beaumont she was able to enroll at a college in England. 

Her parents would be under the impression that their daughter would be receiving a well rounded education and degree in the foreign nation. The truth could not be further from that assumption however. Instead she went to school for two semesters, meeting her closest friend Stella Darwin, with whom she moved in with after dropping out.

Cynthia’s modeling paychecks helped ease some worries at the start. It seemed that things were great for the two girls in London. Stella had graduated and worked at a high end boutique in Soho. So much for being a writer, nevertheless she hoped with the money she saved she would be able to make it happen in a couple of years.

It was a whirlwind for two years. Countless parties and events, meeting people over drinks. There was so much traveling too. Of course it was all courtesy of the famed Cynthia and her modeling career which gave them everything. The menagerie was lavish, it was everything any of the two could have hoped for. 

Neither one of them could have expected what would come though. How the agency would close down and leave the young American girl empty handed. Or Stella’s lavish Soho flat being taken from her through an eviction notice. Nevertheless, the girls persisted and finally came the breakthrough. After months of sleuthing she had found an agency looking for talent and she wouldn’t let the chance pass up. Without a hesitation she made a meeting with the head of the agency.

She’d been countless catalogs and even had the pleasure of meeting Princess Anne once. Yet not even the royals could save her now. It was early summer and the small flat she shared with Stella was beginning to become a stuffy chaotic mess of dresses and empty bottles of liquor. Stella was bent over the windowsill smoking her midday cigarette, “maybe going back home to Maryland wouldn’t be so bad love,” of course Cynthia gasped at the very thought. She looked at herself one final time in the mirror, “Maryland is a place I hope I never see again. Stella, darling, wish me luck. I have a good feeling about this interview today.” Her friend giggled a bit and kissed her cheek before she headed out to the spectacle that was the busy London streets.

The building was right in the heart of the city, small and disclosed. Inside was front desk and a small hallway. A blonde secretary typed away on her typewriter, “morning. Can I help you darling?” She spoke kindly, Cynthia nodded explaining she had a meeting with Mr. Egerton.

Inside his office Mr. Egerton was having his lunch break with an old friend. The two men cracked on about some event they’d both attended the previous weekend, “it was an absolute snooze fest. The guest list must have been mixed up with an elderly home’s check in sheet.” His friend, Richard, continued to joke. They reached a moment of quiet and that’s when his phone rang, he’d forgotten about the meeting with a potential new client.

Richard could see the expressions on his friend’s face changing as he hung up his office phone. An intrigued look on his face formed as his friend began to clean the lunch off of his desk, “you’re in a hurry to clean aren’t ya? Is she a client or a tango dancer?” He looked at Richard with an upset face, “oh come on Taron I’m only joking. With a sigh he finished cleaning up the small mess and fixed his tie, “this girl is a potential client with connections to the royals if you could believe it.” Now this was interesting, “really? A model who’s friends with the royals, is she the daughter of a lord?” Taron lit a cigarette before answering his friend.

He picked up the phone and got his secretary on the line, “tell her I’m ready please Holly,” as quickly as he spoke he hung up. Richard was still waiting for an answer, “soo...lord?” Taking a drag and a puff Taron answered, “actually. She’s  American if you could believe it.” He had to see who this girl was, “mind if I stay and meet her?” A knock came from his door, “you might have no choice but to. Come in,” and there she was. In a pink mini dress and a smile that could make any man weak at the knees, Richard had already fallen for this girl and he didn’t even know her.

[ghoulantic]

sometimes u redesign an old red vs blue oc from 2016. this is a normal thing to do

2016 design under the cut :)