#YOUR DRIVING PRIVILEGES HAVE BEEN REVOKED SIR

[autumnoakes]

i can see why people say re6 is bad but honestly i'm having a good time watching these cutscenes

[u5an5]

SCP : Sedition - SCP-049

<- Previous | Masterlist | Next ->

.

[START LOG]

_

Jacobs: Let's get this over with.

Guard: Sir, O-5 Council must never-

Jacobs: Direct orders from the council. My expendability has been reached, it seems.

Guard: Sir! Jacobs... He could kill you.

Jacobs: I'm dead either way. Never was partial to a bullet.

Jacobs: Close camera feeds. If my death is caught on film, I don't want to give them the satisfaction.

Guard: Already done. And, Sir... good luck.

_049 cell_

*Jacobs is talking to his tape recorder, standing next to the door of the holding cell. 049 is standing few meters ahead*

Jacobs: I will be conducting a mandatory interview with the SCP designated as 049, also known as the "Plague Doctor". This interview is taking place at the Bridge Facility, July 27th 2018.

Jacobs: Due to the nature of containment and history thereof with the subject, your cooperation in these proceedings is required, under penalty of any and all privileges being revoked. Do you understand the terms?

SCP-049: ...It's good to see you again, Administrative Oversight Jacobs. Pleasant to encounter a familiar face.

[Rest bellow the cut]

Jacobs: Site director. Answer the question

SCP-049: Oui. Aves-vous peur de ce qu'ils pourraient entendre? (Yes. Are you afraid of what they might hear?)

Jacobs: Non, et tu peuxparlier anglais. (No, and you can speak english)

SCP-049: As you wish. Come to co-opt another service of me? You promised me a worthwhile test subject last time.

Jacobs: He... had to meet his end elsewhere.

SCP-049: More's the pity. In him I sensed so much of the pestilence building, twisting his very DNA, corrupting all life around him. if i remember correctly, it was your offer of Mr. Lambert's body that brought your delay from undergoing my procedure.

Jacobs: Unless you want to go fishing in an acid bath to find it, I wouldn't get your hopes up that that promise will ever be fulfilled.

SCP-049: Now the years have passed, my list of patients grows stale. And the pestilence has made a meal of you. It festers even now, greater than any I've witnessed before. You won't be able to buy your way out this time, my friend.

Jacobs: I know.

SCP-049: ...However, I am willing to entertain your notion of an interview. For old times sake.

Jacobs: Mercy for the infected? That's not like you, Doctor.

SCP-049: Call it a mellowing of nature, or the smell of Lavender from your breast pocket. I'm feeling... indulgent.

_

*Jacobs is now sitting on one of two beds in 049s room, on the one farther from 049 that is*

Jacobs: Let's start from the beginning, shall we? How did you come to be taught about the Great Pestilence? Did anyone teach you the skills you currently possess? Where did it come from?

SCP-049: The Great Pestilence is older than you could possibly comprehend.

Jacobs: Any chance I could get some actual details?

SCP-049: It is a factual enough answer.

Jacobs: <annoye> It's evasive and only the first goddamn question!

Guard: Site Director-

Jacobs: <pissed of> I know! I-!

Jacobs: <trying to calm down> I know. Look. I'll make this simple, answer me appropriately, and you don't spend the rest of containment in a one-by-one cell.

SCP-049: You drive a hard bargain. Very well: No. I had no pedagogue to instruct me on the ways of the Pestilence, nor the intricacies of treatment. What has been gleaned, has all been derived from personal interactions and studies. Or was... until my access to resources was unwisely stemmed.

Jacobs: What of its origins?

SCP-049: Ah, now that is a mystery I cannot help but be vague with. Wherefore indeed? Theories abound, but none are set in stone. Judging from how intertwined the Pestilence is with its victims, tied directly into every molecule and fiber, most, if not all, life upon this world is infected. Carried from birth it seems, so it may be hereditary.

Jacobs: If it's as old as you claim, why hasn't it mutated into something more lethal? Why haven't we been wiped out?

SCP-049: That is not the nature of the Pestilence. It cannot exist without a host. Like any virus, it must maintain its ecosystem. But the changes are small, unnoticeable, minuscule. Perhaps it existed within the primordial soup from which life first erupted into being? Piggybacking of the first sentient creatures to take root on Earth.

SCP-049: Mayhaps an offshoot of some prehistoric neolithic variant of human ancestry interbreeding with a deformity, creating a sequence of genes that retroactively attack and overwhelm it's host-

Jacobs: Layman's terms, doctor.

SCP-049: *as if he didn't hear Jacobs* -Or has the pestilence merely become unavoidable, when all infants are born pure, but immediately exposed to its effects through contact? Nutrients? Too young and indefensible to protect themselves, they wouldn't stand a chance. Would a single party benefit from a virus such as this? Is it a means for control? Or an exertion of power?

Jacobs: What does any of that mean? 

SCP-049: It means what it is always meant. Behind all the theorizing and contemplation, my eons of study: <devastated> I don't... know.

Jacobs: <dubiously> But- How did you come into contact with it? You must have had a first patient?

SCP-049: And like most in my profession each and every one bleeds together. I recall miniscule details. A solitary merchant on the road, desperately clinging to his wares for safety. Twin sisters barely alive in desperate need of relief, their parents, lords, queens, nobles, and peasants. Rich, poor, disenfranchised, well-to-do, an ocean of patients.

Jacobs: <stuttering> I-I get the picture. You must remember where it all began for you..?

SCP-049: ...

SCP-049: An overgrown cottage on the outskirts of a decrepit battle-worn castle. I had been passing by on my way from... I cannot recall. When I was flagged down by a distressed servant to a prince. Humans were scarce in the region, and so my services were desperately sought. The prince's bride had been struck with an ailment of unknown origin, and her life was feared in jeopardy.

SCP-049: However, upon reaching the hut, separated from the rest of the court to keep the illness from spreading, I discovered the source.

Jacobs: Origin of the Pestilence?

SCP-049: Not quite. While her ailment was severe, his was far greater. The symptoms were present, if subdued, but I felt a great well of Pestilence within. Not the source, but a carrier, capable of spreading it far and wide. I could not allow any of them to refuse treatment, it would go against any ethical code I hold dear.

Jacobs: You killed them all.

SCP-049: Cured them all. First the cottage, then the castle. They were willing at first, but much like yourself, they were displeased with the results. They opted to flee and burn their castle, with myself and their healed brethren trapped inside. They thought much like you: That I create monsters from the ill. That is the farthest from the truth. I create life.

SCP-049: <growing agitated> It is not I who destroys what they do not understand, it was here that I learned, that in order to achieve what must be done to eradicate the Pestilence, I would have to be as ruthless as I am dedicated.

Jacobs: And look where that's got you.

SCP-049: Exactly where I need to be. For here is where I can best influence the outcome of the Pestilences spread, given the power to do so.

_

Jacobs: Are you immune to the Pestilence? 

SCP-049: I am more than well equipped to prevent the strain being passed on to me.

Jacobs: That wasn't my question.

SCP-049: Hmm..?

Jacobs: <through clenched teeth> Are you. immune. to the Pestilence?

SCP-049: ...

Jacobs: Have you been infected since birth like the rest of us? Or have you managed to whip up some kind of miracle cure just for yourself?

SCP-049: I'm... not sure I understand the meaning of your inquiry.

Jacobs: You've said every living thing on Earth has this... thing. According to you, I have it. Yet... I don't feel anything wrong with me.

SCP-049: An insidious virus. Is it not?

Jacobs: <sputters> That's not what we're talking about. Focus, 049.

SCP-049: My apologies, but your words aren't making much sense. It borders on incoherent babbling.

Jacobs: <under breath, to himself> Christ, you're as bad as my ex.

SCP-049: Pardon?

Jacobs: Never mind! ...Once more: You've maintained all organic life carries the Pestilence, correct?

SCP-049: That would be an accurate assumption.

Jacobs: You've also theorized that it lays semi-dormant within us from an early age: childhood.

SCP-049: Not all together correct, but yes. This is a valid conclusion.

Jacobs: Then if you too were born as helpless as other children exposed, would that not also make you a carrier?

SCP-049: I... I do not believe so.

Jacobs: Why not? You're just as likely as anyone else, by your own logic.

SCP-049: That is untrue. I possess many methods of combating infection.

Jacobs: <unbelieving> Uh- Yes, now you do! But what about before?

SCP-049: I do not understand what you're saying! This is nonsense!

Jacobs: <gradually louder> As nonsensical as a sick doctor treating patients just as ill as he is? If you are infected, aren't you more likely to spread this Pestilence rather than contain it? Is it possible that the only reason you find it wherever you go is because it follows you!

SCP-049: <furious> STOP!

SCP-049: (deep inhale) Stop. Cease this. I am willing to answer your queries, but as part of an interview. Not an inquisition! Is that understood?

*Jacobs silently looks at 049, then down at his questionnaire*

_

Jacobs: Despite appearing to be wearing a medieval Plague Doctor's uniform, our studies have determined your clothing is made from muscle and skin tissue. In other words, it's all part of your anatomy. My question is: How is this possible?

SCP-049: That, my dear acquaintance, depends upon your perspective.

Jacobs: Well?

SCP-049: Any good doctor must single out a diagnosis in order to treat a patient. Given several indications one is led to a conclusion. And thus the road to a cure. But in order to walk the proper path of healing, one must be sure they are tracing the cause, and not the symptom.

Jacobs: Which one are you then? The cause, or the symptoms?

SCP-049: Et donc, l'étudiant devient le maître. (And so, the student becomes the master.) How does that saying go? Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. It astounds me how similar a mentality humanity is to a virus. How eager you are to assimilate another, simply because you can. You excuse it through reason or feeling, but all the same, you carry out your shared function... without fail.

Jacobs: Are you saying that Plague Doctors were inspired by you?

SCP-049: <gradually with more hatred> I can hardly call what those imposters became an "inspiration". A virus would not be so if it were not for its imperfections. In its attempt to impersonate, the virus is unable to change one but durable difference: itself. An imitation is still an invitation, no matter how many skins you wear, or reasons to justify your appearance.

SCP-049: To say they lost sight of the importance of my work, is to imply they even understood that concept in the first place.

Jacobs: ...They didn't believe you.

SCP-049: They watched. They learned. And then they left, to kill colds and coughs and broken bones. Insignificant in the wake of such destruction as the pestilence presents. These "doctors" call themselves men of science, but elect to ignore the enormous catastrophe waiting on the doorstep. Why would I associate myself with such blind stupidity?

Jacobs: And yet, their "blind stupidity" has created a wealth of knowledge in the ways of treating the ill, not just with medicine, but dignity. From the Dark Ages, new science has brought about the health and well-being of billions across centuries of study. Is that not a thing to be proud of?

SCP-049: And in their ignorance, have merely healed the sick, in order to further propagate the Pestilence, prolonging the inevitable downfall. All your treatments and advances are meaningless, buying your only temporary respite. What good is dignity and medicine against the wrath of the Pestilence?

Jacobs: Then again, that's (with unbelieving chuckle) not what my question was about. You're very eager to remain ignorant of the subject at hand, 049. Are you afraid to answer?

SCP-049: Ridiculous.

Jacobs: Then answer me!

SCP-049: <annoyed> I am as such because I was born as such. Do humans question their own anatomy? Do they claim awareness of life before the Neanderthal? Do you hold any perception of time before birth? Before life? Before creation? Do you know? Or do you rely on observation and history to write the past for you?

Jacobs: You don't know. Hell of a roundabout way of saying as much. But we know something of your anatomy. Your skeletal structure, though enveloped in... this, is still human. Is it possible you were human at some point?

SCP-049: Flesh is still flesh, regardless of its shape. While the bones lay the foundations, the rest of the structure is influenced by it's environment, tailored to best suit its needs.

Jacobs: Are you saying you're like this... because of evolution?

SCP-049: I would not label myself as such. What I am saying is that my construction, indifferent of similar traits, was made to carry out a singular purpose. And that... is my only concern.

_

Jacobs: Are you the only one of your kind?

SCP-049: Of... doctors?

Jacobs: No, of you. Beings like you.

SCP-049: If there are, or ever have been, we have never encountered one another. Nor have I particularly dedicated myself to finding out the answer to your question.

Jacobs: You've you ever been curious at all? Finding out whether or not you are, truly, the only one of your kind?

SCP-049: My "kind", as you put it, rests less on the physiology of my person, and more upon the practice. My kind are men of science, logic, and reason. Medical practitioners, not species. Since it is quite clear any biological classification would be useless, given my own personal lack of health issues, I have no use for one. I am not diagnosing myself.

Jacobs: How very selfless of you. (deep inhale) I suppose we would have encountered another by now, if there were more of you in the world. <to himself> Perish the thought. Well, instead of another of your race, what about colleagues or assistants? Have you ever had an apprentice?

SCP-049: Several over the last millennia and a half. Some have remained after the rest abandoned by work, others who followed after witnessing my prowess in the field. The countless lives I had saved was not unnoticed by a few. They had their uses, in spite of their... impediments.

Jacobs: You mean, despite the fact they carried the pestilence.

SCP-049: they grovelled at the opportunity to stand by my side, and help absolve humanity of this plague.

Jacobs: <incredulously> Are you sure they weren't begging for their lives, whatever it took to keep it?

SCP-049: The chance to pass on my knowledge to a willing party is not an opportunity to squander. I had hoped, given time, their fear would be converted into understanding. That my work takes precedent over all other worldly concerns, and therefore all methods in its treatment were necessary.

Jacobs: And, pray tell, what was the success rate of these students becoming enlightened?

SCP-049: Ultimately, néant. (none.)

Jacobs: That sounds disappointing.

SCP-049: Your sarcasm is poorly concealed.

Jacobs: <under breath> I should try to try harder next time. <purposely louder> Do all of these people "bleed together", as did your patients? Or are there one or two that stood out above the rest?

SCP-049: ...

SCP-049: Jolanda.

Jacobs: <surprised> A name? She must have been... special.

SCP-049: I rested more hope on her than any before or since. None truly seemed to grasp the Pestilence as well as she. Her family had lost their battle with another sickness spreading across Europe at the time, but Jolanda had managed to avoid contamination. She crawled out of the filth like a rat, and despite the Pestilence's grasp on her, something within me stayed my hand.

SCP-049: I sensed a higher purpose for her, and she was willing to follow.

Jacobs: <incredulously, with a dose of disgust> Jesus, how old was she?

SCP-049: I am not certain. I do not tend to judge by a specific age, but she was a child, make no mistake. She showed remarkable resilience both in survival instinct and mentality. The things she saw with me, traveling together for nearly a decade, would have broken most men's minds. And her senses of detecting the Pestilence, impressed even me.

Jacobs: She could... see it?

SCP-049: Oh yes. She could identify exactly who had it in a room... with absolute accuracy.

Jacobs: According to you, that's everyone.

SCP-049: But she believed! We would sit and discuss the Pestilence by a fire. She even taught me to appreciate the clarity of a mind after a well-cooked meal. I hadn't eaten food until she came along.

Jacobs: Reminds me of...

SCP-049: Yes?

Jacobs: Just- someone I knew... They're gone now.

SCP-049: The infamous interviewer? I've heard whispers of his exploits. A shame I could not have made it acquaintance, he would have made a most interesting study.

Jacobs: Anyway, you were saying?

SCP-049: Hmm? I sensed in Jolanda unease. She was no longer a child, and through her life had seen much exposure.

Jacobs: To the Pestilence?

SCP-049: To humanity. The logical, impartial side of her was giving way to a sympathetic soul who saw her patience is more than just that. She was growing attached, and it was interfering with the necessity of our work. More and more, she began to question the path she had chosen, and the expressions she made around the surgical table group courser. Sometimes I feel morality can be as deadly a plague, it's the worst of them.

Jacobs: Morality keeps people from forgetting that all life is

important, and your ethics are how you enact that.

SCP-049: All life is important, of course I know that. But there are things that must be done to ensure survival that-

Jacobs: Everything you do is morally wrong, and goes against everything doctors stand for. Can't you see just how much you have hurt people?

SCP-049: And you are in a position to judge over me? When we first met, you attempted to elicit me into murder. From what I understand, we SCP are little more than refuse disposal to you. What I do is selfless, a cause to benefit all mankind and beyond. You kill for your own benefit.

Jacobs: <defensively, with high-pitched tone> You think that's what I want? Lambert was a threat to us both, and I am always under the Council's thumb-

SCP-049: Just "following orders"? I've walked many battlefields in my lifetime... Atrocities you wouldn't even imagine, left out in the open for all the world to see. Survivors on both sides would crawl to me with what little strength they had left in beg, "It wasn't my fault". "I was just following instructions", "They were the enemy". I have no enemy. All are patients in my eyes, but you... You're just one more along in a long line of monsters, excusing your crimes on the basis of "following orders".

SCP-049: Do you deny this?

Jacobs: <in small voice> no.

SCP-049: Admitting the problem exists, is the first step to finding the cure.

Jacobs: And what about Jolanda? What became of her?

SCP-049: We happened upon a village in the midst of an epidemic. I wanted to administer my cure, but Jolanda insisted on an alternative treatment for their current ailments. She was turning into one of those who had betrayed me and lost their way. I admit to feeling disappointment in her, especially as she forbade me from curing them. She said she would keep me from them, no matter the cost.

Jacobs: Did you leave?

SCP-049: No. She had not outlived the Pestilence's influence, nor morality's. I had to stop it there. Her... then the town. It was not an… enjoyable experience, but it had to be done. The calling demands it.

Jacobs: <resentfully> Following orders.

_

Jacobs: If everyone has contracted the Pestilence, might that not mean it's just... the next stage in our evolutionary line?

SCP-049: (chuckles)

Jacobs: Is there something funny?

SCP-049: On the contrary, it's an interesting concept. I suppose I could understand how a layman such as yourself might be goaded into believing such a proposition. Genetic evolution, possibly being perceived as a type of deformity leading towards an actual growth or supplement, marking an improvement upon life form. However, you are missing a key component: I. know. what. it. is.

SCP-049: You can't possibly understand what it's like to sense the Pestilence. I can feel it throughout my body. I can see it. Taste it. Smell. Get close enough, I can hear the individual molecules churning. But it's not just physical sensations of stimuli. I can feel the emotion of it.s presence, how it affects me. That tells me all I need to know about the Pestilence.

Jacobs: What is it you feel?

SCP-049: Fear. As to whether it is my own, or projection from the victim's own subconscious, screaming for help, like they know deep down that something is horribly wrong, I cannot say. Have you ever felt like there's something inherently wrong in the world? With you? Something you can't see, but an instinct buried so far into your soul, it's calling to warn you.

Jacobs: It's part of the human condition, everybody has it.

SCP-049: And the Pestilence has everyone.

Jacobs: Everybody has a pulse too, but just because I say someone is dead on the inside, doesn't stop it from being subjective.

SCP-049: Thus, you have proven my point. You cannot sense it like I can. You do not even register its existence outside of our discussions. So how can you even make a claim that could be the future of your species?

Jacobs: <exasperated> Has there ever been anyone immune to it?

SCP-049: If I had ever found any instance of a naturally occurring immunity within a life, do you not think my role here would be complete? With it, I could easily derive a cure, but the Pestilence is universal.

Jacobs: There may still be hope.

SCP-049: If you'd been looking for an immune individual as long as I have, you too would have lost all semblance of hope. It will never happen. And your being here, your position at my mercy, also means that you too have given up hope. What do you say, Site Director Jacobs? Is my inquiry, like your suffering? Finally at a close?

Jacobs: Not quite yet.

Guard: Sir, it's here, waiting just outside.

Jacobs: Thank you. Disengage locks.

*the cell door open. Jacobs walks out and after moment comes back pushing a bed on wheels with a corpse on it. It's visibly disfigured with black spikes sticking out of it and dark grey skin, bordering on black. He pushes the cart until it stands next to 049*

SCP-049: A new cadaver. *looking at body* Not as fresh as I expected.

Jacobs: Our own doctors had reason to conduct an extended autopsy... What can you make of it?

SCP-049: *looking at corpse with interest* We shall see.

_All lights in the cell are turned off, except a lamp illuminating the autopsy theatre and one in the corner over beds, barely illuminating Jacobs, who still sits on the bed. 049 is shown looking into decedents chest cavity_

...

SCP-049: *pulls out his hands and looks up to Jacobs* Do you object?

Jacobs: What?

SCP-049: Your ilk and I have had our disagreements on the nature of my practice. They simply refuse to understand what it is I am trying to accomplish.

Jacobs: Oh, they understand all right. And if the Pestilence, if there even is such a thing, presents as much of a threat as you imply, then I don't think anyone would argue with your goals.

SCP-049: *Back to poking into decedents chest cavity* You present as skeptic and adaptable, an invaluable combination.

Jacobs: The real issue... science has with you is your methodology.

SCP-049: All in the name of saving lives.

Jacobs: At an inhuman cost.

Jacobs: If any of you understood, the true consequences the Pestilence has on mankind... none would argue with the costs. *pulls out scalpel and gesticulates with it* Every cut, every incision, brings my work a step closer to perfecting a cure, *puts scalpel down* and reading this scourge from every organism. Preventing further outbreaks from arising. *looks up at Jacobs* Is that not what you want?

Jacobs: Trying to convince us to fear the theoretical.

SCP-049: *looks down at spike growing out of corpses abdomen and starts poking at it* And yet, when a madman claims to have witnessed a spirit, there will be more than a few to rally in support. *stops poking and looks up at Jacobs* Perhaps humanity finds it easier to believe in lesser threats than an extinction-level plague?

Jacobs: <vexed> Our doctors and scientists have spent years trying to follow your research to reach the same conclusion: that this Pestilence even exists. Nothing. Any help on your end... always results in the same convenient dead-end. *counting on fingers* You give us your journal for study, the text is untranslatable. We ask for a list of symptoms, too many and varied to pinpoint a single illness. Even your methods of treatment-

SCP-049: Imperfect, I admit. But trial and error-

Jacobs: *stands up, shouting furiously* They were people!!! <incredulous> Have you ever bothered to stop and ask who it is you're torturing?!

SCP-049: *gestures with bloodied scalpel* It is not torture to safeguard the future.

Jacobs: <furious, points finger at 049* Bullshit! I've seen what becomes of your experiments! That is not a cure! It is beyond torture! They lose EVERY remnant of themselves after you've had your way with them. And that is no way to live. Your cure isn't worth the cost!

SCP-049: It may be... one day. *slicing down corpses abdomen* Even now I am content with the results, given the alternative.

Jacobs: And what about him? The man you're operating on right now? Have you considered what cure he'll settle for? What costs he'll accept? Of course not. You just poke and prod and twist everything inside until you feel the disease is eradicated. But so is the man! What's the point in a cure if nothing of us remains?

SCP-049: ...*looks at the corpse up and down*

SCP-049: What was his name? This subject. This... person.

Jacobs: Gregory Slyne. He was an engineer.

SCP-049: A science none too distant from my own. Man and machine are far more similar than most care to admit. Operations. Communication. Internal network. Fuel and fallibility. *looks up at Jacobs* How did he die?

Jacobs: Why does it matter?

SCP-049: Because I cannot cure him.

Jacobs: Of course not. He's already dead.

SCP-049: *gestures above Greg's body* There are no traces of the Pestilence in his system, however there are clear signs of its presence at some point in time prior to death. When Gregory Slyne died... he did so cured.

Jacobs: How's that possible?

SCP-049: I am unsure, but the results speak for themselves.

Jacobs: They tell you?

SCP-049: That with perseverance and dedication, a cure may yet be possible. *gestures at Jacobs and backs up* you may remove him. Do not fear, he won't rise again. I have been satiated for the moment.

_room illumination is back to one before the autopsy_

Jacobs: What use do you find from your proxies?

SCP-049: The Cured. They are invaluable to my research. For starters, their behavior, their very state of being, reflects the effectiveness of my treatments.

Jacobs: Aaand... how would you gauge its "effectiveness" right now?

SCP-049: I have a revival rate of 95%, a key component to eradicating the infection. Living beings cannot survive the shock of being torn from the grips of the Pestilence.

Jacobs: And how satisfied are you with the results? How the person survives, and not just the body.

SCP-049: That... is a tough one not to crack. Granted, much of the mind... alters as a consequence, and physically there are permanent alterations, but there are benefits.

Jacobs: <doubtfully> Benefits? How?

SCP-049: For example, the Cured can now detect Pestilence carriers, and neutralize them.

Jacobs: You mean they kill anyone in their path, and rip them apart like animals.

SCP-049: Had they had the medical knowledge I possess, perhaps they-

Jacobs: You're brushing what they do aside, because they don't have your medical skills?

SCP-049: Regardless, it does not matter. I am still able to perform my part on the cadavers we leave behind.

Jacobs: Riiigght...

SCP-049: Do you need further explanation?

Jacobs: <sarcastically> Oh! No, I get it. It's... sick and twisted logic but I understand. I'm almost afraid to ask what isn't justified because of the Pestilence... How much you let yourself get away with.

SCP-049: I have no personal gain from any of this.

Jacobs: More subjects to experiment on. Isn't that the only thing you've ever wanted from us? From... anyone?

SCP-049: To cure. If I wanted to wipe out all life on Earth, believe me... I could. Very. Easily.

Jacobs: <cheery> Allright. Show me there's something behind that mask that isn't just flesh. Has there ever been someone you've not been able to "save"?

SCP-049: In spite of our opposing views, her betrayal of everything i'd worked so hard to accomplish, I had hoped to save Jolanda. I thought that she of all people would be more resilient, that not much of her would perish during the process. But she never did. She never came back. It was as though her spirit refused my services.

Jacobs: This is the second time you've alluded to a soul, is that something you believe in?

SCP-049: I have no reason to disbelieve it, and I'm not blind to the absence of it from those I cure. Or perhaps a more apt term would be... suppression.

Jacobs: You mean... you think those people's souls are trapped inside of the Cured?

SCP-049: Again, I have not said I believe in such a thing, but I would rather believe the Cured still have a chance of returning to their former selves. If their souls have been purged, then that is an impossibility.

Jacobs: Given what you just said, has there ever been someone you have cured, but... would have rather let die?

SCP-049: How much do you know of my history?

Jacobs: Everything we've catalogued thus far.

SCP-049: Then you should remember an incident with one of my first doctors from The Foundation staff: Doctor Raymond Hammm.

Jacobs: I don't think anyone who knows about you doesn't also know about Ray.

SCP-049: Did you know him?

Jacobs: Not personally, but... we had interacted in the past on administrative assignments. He was a good man.

SCP-049: You don't get many like him within The Foundation, it seems.

Jacobs: Try the world.

SCP-049: I haven't talked about him in years. When I did, I mentioned little remorse for his demise. With the addition of time, I've come to understand several truths. The first is that I can sometimes judge one too harshly based on the knowledge and bearing of the Pestilence. The other... is that I regret taking his life when I did.

Jacobs: When you did?

SCP-049: He might have understood, given time. And I may have also found a breakthrough with his help. Developed a vaccine. Made the need for terminating a patient to treat a redundancy. But I panicked, and the man paid a terrible price. If souls do exist, I subjected him to a claustrophobic and demeaning existence inside his own body. When your task force put him down, I'd hoped it was quick.

Jacobs: It was.

SCP-049: Good. Now, Site Director, I wish to move on to the next question. This line has run out of avenues.

_

Jacobs: Are you aware of any SCPs that have the Pestilence?

SCP-049: Yes, and no. It will be difficult to point

out to a select few. Unless you have several in mind?

Jacobs: Well... why don't we start with... 106, The Old Man?

SCP-049: Ooh yes, him. A rather fascinating specimen. I can see why you would link him to the Pestilence. And although he does carry the strain with him, his figurative and literal ethereal state is not a result of the infection.

Jacobs: The man literally dissolves metal and melts his way into pocket dimensions. If that is not an advanced case of Pestilence infection, then what is?

SCP-049: I have not allowed a full cycle of the pestilence to be completed in any one subject. To do so would be immoral.

Jacobs: <baffled> To... study? Diagnose? What kind of doctor doesn't try to understand what they're treating to the greatest degree?

SCP-049: If you were done, sir, reprimanding me for

saving lives once more, perhaps we can move on to another example?

Jacobs: Fine. SCP-008. It's a form of virus that reduces brain

function, limits mobility and increases necrotic decay, all whilst keeping the infected alive. Some refer to it as a zombie plague. Sound familiar?

SCP-049: I believe so, but I can't quite... Ah, the one from Russia. Correct?

Jacobs: As far as we know. No idea what they're doing with the stuff but... that's where it's from. Any correlation between it and the Pestilence?

SCP-049: Hardly. But should the Pestilence no longer threaten Earth, my next recommendation would be to purge this 008... from existence.

Jacobs: So you know what it's capable of. What was your take away from it?

SCP-049: Limited, given my current priorities. But it did not seem to me to be born of this Earth. And if that is the case, was its arrival here coincidence? A mistake? Or a calculated move?

Jacobs: I suppose that's a mystery for the Russians to worry about. Allright, umm... What about an inanimate object, like 079?

SCP-049: The intelligent machine? Not as far as I know, but there is every chance that it may be an unwitting puppet of the Pestilence's design.

Jacobs: But how? He's a computer.

SCP-049: Do not underestimate where the Pestilence may strike from. Even my senses cannot detect it at all times, and it is so very clever. Who knows which shape it will take next?

Jacobs: Riiigght. I... guess. How's about your old friend, 035?

SCP-049: F-friend? If he says so. Again, it is a difficult affliction to diagnose in things... such as him.

Jacobs: But what about the black goo? Surely that has to be something related to the Pestilence?

SCP-049: Is that what he told you? It is true that there are trace levels of Pestilence in his excrement, but dormant levels. Nothing I can do anything with. But the mask himself holds no Pestilence, so far as I can tell.

Jacobs: Just like 079?

SCP-049: Yes.

Jacobs: Alright then. Now... 343. God, so he claims.

SCP-049: I do not believe I have had any interactions with such an individual. And they say they are a deity?

Jacobs: The deity. The only one, according to him.

SCP-049: After the experiences of my life, I have little evidence to believe a God could be responsible for so much suffering. The vastness of his egotism...

Jacobs: <to himself, under breath> Said the kettle to the pot.

SCP-049: Pardon?

Jacobs: <hastily> Nothing.

SCP-049: In any case, if they are a living creature, it is more than likely that Pestilence has them in its grasp as well.

Jacobs: <sarcastically, with exhale> Such a shame. Well, that leaves one last candidate: SCP-001. Thoughts?

SCP-049: ...*silently looks down*

Jacobs: ...You do know the one I am referring to?

SCP-049: Yes. I can only hope it does not have the Pestilence in its system.

Jacobs: Why is that?

SCP-049: If so... My work is meaningless. As is the function of all life.

Jacobs: Understood. *to his comm* Get that?

Guard: Yep.

_

Jacobs: 035 spoke about how he accompanied you across Europe during the spread of the Black Plague. He said that not only were you able to resurrect the dead and injured to perfect health..., but that you wore him on occasion.

SCP-049: (chuckles) Dýo does have a wicked imagination for storytelling. What tale did he weave this time? Was he the reincarnation of Apophis? An embodiment of Loki? Was I an accomplice in his duplicitous acts? Or were we rivals? Friends or foes?

Jacobs: He said-

SCP-049: No matter. Anything he says is neither truth nor lie. Reality simply does not matter to a creature of his habit.

Jacobs: Well then, what is your recollection of 035?

SCP-049: I picked up the scent of a Pestilence mass across Europe, growing in size. My path led me through Bosnia, where I encountered 035 on a merchant train.

Jacobs: Right, 035 said he had been abandoned in an attack.

SCP-049: No such attack took place. He was not a forgotten trinket on the roadside. He was running one of the stalls. As soon as he laid eyes on me, he flagged me down. "You seem like an individual looking for a cure to all your problems.". Equipped with this forked tongue. "Come browse my wares.".

SCP-049: Every item of purchase, all of his stock, carried with it a tale of incredible utilization against some ailment or injury. Snake venom that reduces inflammation, a variant of the oriental "snake oil". Leeches that clean blood and infected areas, and re-inject stronger, nutrient-filled cells. Rabbit dung, elephant urine, unicorn horn, he claimed to own a piece of palliative care from every corner of the Earth.

SCP-049: A fallacy, all. He was a con-man, who could no more cure the common cold than he could keep consistency. No doubt he had suckered in several of those "doctors" who adopted my persona. He believed he could do the same with me. So when he presented arsenic as a way to ease sore throats, I implored him to please, demonstrate.

Jacobs: And did he?

SCP-049: If there was one positive I can give to that cretin, he is very dedicated. Much like myself. He drank the tonic, and to my surprise, did not falter. When I pointed out my observations of arsenic poisoning, he admitted to my superior knowledge of the matter, confessed to conning previous doctors along the path, and became interested in my trade. He inquired as to what I specialized in, to which I responded "the Pestilence".

SCP-049: He believed I meant the Plague, the current fascination of all in the medical profession, but no, I explained. Not wishing to extend my stay, I hastily departed.

Jacobs: <incredulously> That's it. That's your only interaction.

SCP-049: Unfortunately, no. Unbeknownst to myself, he stalked me across

Europe and observed my practice. Eventually, he came forward and attempted to assault me.

Jacobs: <with more incredulity> He did what?

SCP-049: Whilst leaving Venice, I encountered him along a pier. At that time, I did not recall who he was, but all the same, 035 lunged at me. I touched his host and rendered him immobile.

Jacobs: You mean you killed the host?

SCP-049: The host had already expired, I merely made the body useless to him. I sailed back to Trieste in Slovenia, and headed north toward Austria and Germany. Again, he pursued me further up the road. More and more over the centuries, I would see him, and soon his face became etched into my mind, almost as vividly as the Pestilence. Every time, he would attempt to remove my "mask", in order to supplant my mind with his will. He did not understand.

SCP-049: At first, his appearances were nothing more than a mere nuisance, until he began to take my avoidance... personally. On our next encounter in Belgium, he ensured it would be an event I could not ignore.

Jacobs: Knowing 035, I'd venture a guess and say it was psychotic.

SCP-049: The trail of pestilence I had been tracking diverged, leading me to Het Sten Castle in Antwerp. That was not its name at the time, but I understand it was rebuilt many years later. I arrived at the gates sealed shut, and the only sound from within was crying and screaming. I believed that the Pestilence had reached a new stage of mutation, that is until I saw him through the bars of the gate.

SCP-049: He gave me a single ultimatum: allow him to possess me, or have my precious patients die.

Jacobs: But... your mask is your face.

SCP-049: I explained as much, but he was convinced I was lying to save my skin. It did not take long for his patience to run out. He stared at me as he nonchalantly tossed the torch into the pyre, the flames spreading quickly into the hall, engulfing the castle and everyone inside within minutes. I had no time for petty games. I turned my back on him, and cast it from my mind.

Jacobs: What did he do after that?

SCP-049: He realized two things: One, I had been telling the truth about my face. Two, I was no doctor he had ever encountered before. From here, he focused on being friendly. With all prospects of ever possessing me diminished, 035 made do studying me as intently as I study a fresh cadaver. I returned the interest in kind by studying his attributes, to discern if there was anything of value from keeping his company.

SCP-049: The mask itself was uninteresting, but the excrement proved somewhat more fascinating. 035's hosts appeared nullified whatever Pestilence had been present prior to death. I attempted to create a synthetic ointment based on its design, but there was something inherent in its makeup that I could not simulate without keeping the excrement's acidic qualities. By the time my interest dissolved, I had developed a new reputation.

Jacobs: How so?

SCP-049: 035 had begun a rumor associating me with the omen of death. This image of myself spread faster than a virulent disease. Before long, I was being chased into the streets, out of townships and, across borders. 035 himself spurred on several of the lynch mobs against me. Eastern Europe had been poisoned by his influence, and I knew then that his usefulness had run out.

SCP-049: It was mid-19th century by now and cholera had begun to grip Italy pon our return. We reminisced about times past, and eventually led 035 to our first patient. Only, the house I took him to had not had a soul within for many years. I took 035 to the crypt below, convincing him that those sick were being quantitated within. The gullible fool... felt it was very atmospheric. I shut him in and made sure the door could never be opened. That is, until your organization set him free.

Jacobs: *drawn out* Yeah, we regret it too, sorry.

SCP-049: My only relief is that he is being held far away from me.

Jacobs: … <awkwardly> Um, actually, the Site you're being transferred to...

SCP-049: Oh no.

Jacobs: Sorry about that.

SCP-049: Let us hope they never put us in the same room.

...

Jacobs: <stuttering and unsure> Is it... Um, is it possible the Pestilence is a sixth sense for you? That it senses oncoming death and you are its harbinger?

SCP-049: Given a sufferer's ultimate fate, I could not differentiate the function of the Pestilence from that of Death.

Jacobs: *silently looks down at his questionnaire*

_

Jacobs: <curiously> Why did you surrender to us so easily?

SCP-049: Should I have fought it?

Jacobs: Well, we're rather glad you didn't, but... The circumstances of your capture are... suspicious.

SCP-049: How so?

Jacobs: Well, until months prior, we hadn't the notion of your existence, and... it just so happens that one of our operatives manages to escape your proxies without you noticing?

SCP-049: It is not a prerogative of mine to obscure my presence from the world. 

Jacobs: And then there's the capture itself. When we found you, several of your proxies attacked. We were delayed, and I'm almost certain you knew we were coming. And yet, when you had every chance to run, you decided to stay. In fact, you Watched us. Did you want to be detained?

SCP-049: Detained is such a harsh term. Temporary accommodation is more appropriate.

Jacobs: can the smartarse remarks. I'm tired of you all treating this facility as though it were a resort. Now, answer the question: Why are you here?

SCP-049: You claimed to have been observing me? but I was Watching you for much longer. What you do. How you operate. The stock of your subjects. But what attracted me here most of all were your morals. Your ethics. A distinct lack of both, just enough for me to see a glimmer of myself.

SCP-049: The Foundation is dedicated, ruthless, and willing to do whatever it must to ensure the survival of the human race against such an overwhelming threat. I knew then that being amongst you would be of great benefit to my research. And fearing the Pestilence, you would provide me with a sterile working environment, protection, and most importantly. Subjects.

Jacobs: Well... that backfired, didn't it? Since we've not actually found a shred of evidence that proves the Pestilence even exists, for all we know, it could be just a figment of your imagination. A justification for an incessant need to kill and disfigure all life to suit your own design. <annoyed> Which one am I supposed to believe more: that you surrendered in order to work with us to fight the greatest plague ever to face man, or that you're using us through a thinly developed ploy to make us accomplices through fear in your secret bid to create a world all of your own design?

Jacobs: The only other option I can see is that you're completely insane.

SCP-049: Believe what you will, sir. But in a matter of minutes none of your truths will matter... For you will be dead, and I will go on.

Jacobs: *nervously grips his pants on his knees* ...Last question, doc. *looks down*

_

Jacobs: What will you do after you have cured the Pestilence? Or do you believe this is an impossible goal to strive for?

SCP-049: If it were impossible, or I believed it so, that would not keep me from attempting to rectify the problem.

Jacobs: But wouldn't that seem pointless? Futile?

SCP-049: If you loved or believed in someone or something so much, that it was tied to the very fate of your soul. And fighting for that thing appeared impossible to succeed, would you still not fight for it? Would it still not be worth giving every ounce of yourself for? Even when all other hope is lost.

Jacobs: ...<quietly> I wouldn't know.

SCP-049: I've learned to diagnose many symptoms of pain. Do not think you can hide yours from me. It's the kind of pain that leads many to commit great and terrible atrocities. Though they think they are justified through their loss, that is never the case. Such is the fate I see for you.

Jacobs: Like you said, it won't matter soon. I'll die with many regrets, but at least that won't be one.

SCP-049: The undiscovered country from whose bourn and traveller returns, puzzles the will and makes us rather bear those ills we have, than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all.

Jacobs: Hamlet?

SCP-049: No, just something 035 would matter to himself from time to time. He would often ruminate on subjects such as death, and the human condition. How most feared the consequences of a life filled with evil, to be themselves evil, and so spent their lives too concerned with the afterlife to live. I have never held such a perspective. I do not believe there is an afterlife, waiting for me, much like you perhaps do not think there is one for you. I am certain that once this Pestilence is eradicated, my function is complete, and I will simply cease.

Jacobs: <unbelieving> You wouldn't turn to another illness?

SCP-049: It is not my design, much like a life after death is not in my design. But suppose you were wrong in your assumption? Suppose there is a life after death for you, would you suffer for the wrongs in your life? Or would you suffer for the good deeds you failed to act upon? Destiny is not a predetermined plan, but the inevitable result of the actions you perform. When death comes... Do you feel you will fulfill your purpose? Or do you feel there is more in life for you to achieve?

_

Jacobs: (sigh) It's done. No more questions.

SCP-049: Then it is time.

Jacobs: (deep breath) <quietly> okay.

Guard: Sir, I can still get you out of there. There's no need to-!

Jacobs: <emotionless> No interference.

Guard: But, Sir!

Jacobs: <quietly> That's an order.

SCP-049: Any final requests?

Jacobs: Will it hurt?

SCP-049: Yes.

Jacobs: ...Good. *stands up*

*049 walks up to the camera and directs it at Jacobs, then walks up to him with his arm pulled out towards him. Jacobs calmly looks in 049s direction*

*049 stops abruptly, merely feet away from him, and looks at him curiously.*

Jacobs: <exasperated> Don't just stand there. Kill me, damn it!

SCP-049: *looks at his hand and puts it down* ...Fascinating. Absolutely fascinating.

Jacobs: I don't understand. I thought you wanted me dead.

SCP-049: I do, but it appears another fate in store for yourself. The Pestilence has receded. It no longer invests you to such a horrific degree. The sudden change, it bears potential. Keeping you alive may yet be worth the benefits.

Jacobs: <in defeated tone> But- what we do now?

SCP-049: *Walks away from him towards the side of the camera* Live on. Act upon instinct. Shape your own future.

Jacobs: *looks down*

SCP-049: Oh, and should I encounter your dear friend Watch at this new facility, *grabs the camera and turns it to be directed at his face* I'll be sure to send him my warmest regards. *turns camera off*

-outside of 049 cell_

Guard: Sir... are you okay?

Jacobs: *shaky* F-fine. Fine.

Guard: What do you want to do with him now? 

Jacobs: Somehow I have to report my failure to die to the O-5 Council. 

Guard: What do you think he meant by "the pestilence has receded"?

Jacobs: <quietly, bordering on whispering> I don't know.

_Jacobs office_

*Jacobs is silently sitting in his chair. The door open, and Guard walks in*

Guard: Sir, I... *Jacobs stands up* uh, Sorry I-i didn't knock.

Jacobs: Is there any news?

Guard: No Sir. No developments from the surface.

Jacobs: <quietly> I didn't mean from them

Guard: No sir. *Jacobs slowly folds his hands in front of his chest* Watch hasn't made contact. Do you expect him to? He's probably long dead by now. So many SCPs, many of the most dangerous ones too... How could he survive?

Jacobs: After everything we've seen... I can't believe he'd go out like this... No. (deep inhale) Isaac is alive. I'm almost certain.

Guard: E-even then... What can we do?

Jacobs: … *hit with sudden idea*...What little we can.

Jacobs: <with conviction> Sergeant, ensure that anyone matching Watch's description who reaches the surface is not shot. I'll deal personally with anyone who disobeys.

Guard: *nods* Yes sir!

Jacobs: And, Sergeant. Drop the sir. We've known each other long enough... McCrimmon.

McCrimmon: *nods* Will do, Jacobs. *walks out*

Jacobs: ... *stays standing for a while, looking at the door after it shuts*

Jacobs: *sits down and takes out some sort of cylinder-shaped machine from under his desk. It starts emitting weird sounds. He then dials up a phone and calls someone*

???: Hello? Who is this? … Speak, god damn it! 

Jacobs: Hello, Watch.

Watch: Jacobs?

Jacobs: I know your instinct right now is to hang up on me... but unfortunately we've both ran out of time to hold grudges. Suffice it to say... I don't want you dead. I'm just glad you found this phone.

Watch: Reyes didn't seem like he needed it. But you tried to have me killed. That puts you on the same playing field as everything in here trying to do the same. I should be asking for more but give me one good reason why I should listen to you.

Jacobs: Because if we want to fight the future and lay the Foundations of what comes next, then we must work together. Our goals are the same. I see that now. *camera starts glitching*

Jacobs: But to survive you have to do exactly what- *words get incoherent due glitching*

_dark room with only door illuminated from back through its window_

*Watch gets aggressively shoved through the door*

Watch: *to the guard which shoved them* <exasperated> Thanks for the escort! Not like I saved your sorry asses or anything!

*perspective switches to focus on the corner in front of the door. Lights turn on, showing Jacobs standing next to the bed in the corner. A table with a laptop stands in the middle of the room.*

Watch: Aren't you a sight for sore eyes. So, what now? You're gonna manipulate me some more? Make me talk to these SCPs, get them dancing to your little tune? Everything go back to normal now? Ain't happening. I know now. I know why you put me there. It was all a goddamn test!

Jacobs: No. I put you there because there's been something you've been hiding from me. Whether you realise it or not. Whatever it is, has kept you safe. But believe me, I wouldn't have sent you there if the decision were up to me. Then who was it? You talked to me about being honest and keeping secrets, but you don't tell me jack shit. Well I'm tired of it! I'm done. You can take your little experiments and find another patsy.

Jacobs: The O-5 Council. It was a ploy. All of it. Staged. Meant to draw out people they'd suspected of being members of the Chaos Insurgency for a long time. So many high-profile SCPs in one area, so many of their operatives in one place, a gold mine for them. At the same time, it was a test. For people like you. People who exhibit abilities beyond our understanding. You *points at Watch* survived the impossible, Watch. And I know you saw things at C-2 that were beyond your comprehension... You may very well be an SCP.

Watch: I saw... what I did see couldn't be real. What about the breakout I was framed for? I was nowhere near 682 or 079! How could i-

Jacobs: I know! And they knew too. The evidence was obviously planted, but they had reason to send you to C-2 anyway. They used it as an excuse... and I played along. I'm sorry.

Jacobs: <voice gets gradually more shaky> All my career here, I've tried to fight against their bloody whims. We have an Ethics Committee, and for what? Half their members are funded by the Council, and the other half are just as corrupt or eager to abuse the system. For years I have tried to block them, divert the course, before one of their harebrained schemes really does some damage we simply can't walk away from or delete from someone's memory. And no one, no one!... I can trust. most of my life Watching over my back, trying to be better than they are, making this place better!

Jacobs: <getting teary> ... But I gave up. I lost hope. I gave in... and I almost gave you up with it. You were the first person in a long time who I can actually trust, because I know where you stand. I know just how much you want that change to happen, and you would do it an instant. I used to be like that. I can't let you do this on your own, because otherwise, you'll turn out exactly like me. Whether you can ever learn to trust me back, that's up to you.

Jacobs: *walks up to Watch* One more thing. The footage of the 682-079 breakout was anonymously sent to me to clear your name. It's from a closed camera feed outside of the official foundation security network. The person is blurred, but... clearly it isn't you.

Jacobs: *gives Watch a pendrive with video. Watch silently takes it and holds in clenched fist* Feel free to review it. The details of our next assignment are on there too. And you'll... need a change of clothes.

Jacobs: Oh and uh... your I-Class clearance has been reinstated. (hiccuping breath) You really seem to have a guardian angel looking out over you. But that angel... was the one who framed you too.

*camera gets close up, standing by their side*

Watch: *looks down* My sister... I think I saw her. At C-2.

Jacobs: *grabs his shoulder* Perhaps you did. We'll find out.. together. *pulls his arm away and walks out of the room. Watch looks at him as he closes the door*

Watch: *walks up to the table and puts the chip into laptop. It lights up and he scrolls trough it for a bit. He stops abruptly after seeing something on it* What the- *an audio recording starts playing*

Amnesty: Welcome back, Watch. This is a pre-recorded message designed to activate when inserted into a specific node located in your new quarters. Any attempt to preserve this message will result in self-destruction. You're probably wondering right now why I decided to set you up on a one-way trip into the D-Class pool.

Amnesty: At the time, I figured you were just another weapon of O-5's Council, being used to subvert and control the other SCPs with your... unique abilities. But after seeing you in action with C-2, I no longer believe that to be the case. I won't apologize, but I can offer you something better. I know you want to change things, so do. I if we work together I know we can tear out every last shred of abuse of power in this place. And what's more, we can get the SCPs to help us out too.

Amnesty: The Council, and more importantly, Jacobs, won't see it coming. I don't know what he's told you in the past to exonerate himself, but I don't trust him. And neither should you. The man has no past, no allegiances to anyone. Not even himself. Whatever his plan for the Foundation, it can't be good. And yes, I almost got you killed. Why should you trust me? The real question is: what choice do you have? If you agree, just open up a document and type. Don't save, don't send it anywhere. I'll see it. I'm always Watching.

Watch: *silently observes the laptop, when the pendrive starts sparking and smoking. He moves his hand away from it and keeps staring at the laptop motionless, shocked*

[END LOG]

<- Previous | Masterlist | Next ->

[loremonster]

Things that happened with me in the last decade I didn't fuckin expect

Writing for the Batman fandom -> realize I'm a pansexual disaster who had a repressed crush on their best friend since gradeschool and that's why I was always trying to play matchmaker for him cause I wanted someone to love him the way I would have

Writing for the South Park fandom -> realize I'm nonbinary but didn't have the language to describe it even 5 years ago because my parents were conservative assfucks who tried to Just Not Talk About It even tho MY MOM IS THE MANLIEST MOTHERFUCKER I KNOW like 24 pack of beer let's go cut down a tree and set up a bonfire to cook over with a cast iron skillet, but LITERALLY cannot focus indoors long enough to cook an egg because OH SOMETHING OUTSIDE NEEDS TO BE DONE ( she has caused 2 fires ) and GLEEFULLY recounts whenever she's called Sir instead of maam or miss

Still Writing For The South Park Fandom -> Meet enough other autistic folks that I share life experiences with that I begin to seriously consider I may have been misdiagnosed as a kiddo as ADHD

STILL Writing For The South Park Fandom -> Fully accept I Need Help with my mental and physical health and recommit to the overwhelming process of dealing with the health system, including persuing gender affirming care once I got back to WA

Get overwhelmed when lockdown happens

Stop in the middle of an unfinished holiday special because dear god lockdown was hell and financial difficulty had forced hubby and I to move onto base where the national anthem played EVERY DAY at dawn and dusk ( a ritual known as Colors ) that IT IS EXPECTED FOR CIVILIANS TO STOP WHAT THEY ARE DOING, FACE THE NEAREST SPEAKER OR FLAG, AND REMAIN STILL UNTIL ITS OVER, but no one tells you that. Ever. If you're driving, you're expected to pull over with emergency flashers and wait until the anthem is over. Again, you are not TOLD this, and base police will come after you for it and threaten to revoke your base privileges; meaning RENDER YOU HOMELESS if you live on base.

I suddenly got REALLY interested in cults

Learned way too damn much about the Alt Right, as well as the older hate movements they grew from

Started Writing And Drawing In The Fallout Space -> Realize I'm a socialist and Holy Shit All The Things My Parents Told Me About History And Politics Was A Gigantic Crock of Shit They Got Sold In The 50's And Never Fact Checked

Burnt Out In The Fallout Space -> wow I really need to do more yoga if I'm gonna draw that much, stretching is important folks pls take breaks for the love of all that is good and holy

Lost My Routine From Burnout -> hoooooooly shit I'm Autistic how the fuck did I not realize this????????

Still Burnt Out -> but goddamn I DO WANNA DRAW THAT MUCH! I WANNA MAKE COMICS AND ILLUSTRATIONS WITH MY STORIES! I WANNA MOVE MY SHIT TO AO3 AND LEARN HOW THAT SHIT WORKS BECAUSE IM PROUD OF MY WORK AND I WANT TO SHARE IT, DAMNIT

So

That's where I'm at, lol

[innytoes]

So @hawkguyhasstarbucks had this amazing idea of an AU where Reggie ends up as a Big Brother for Carlos and I love it so much.

Like, Reggie probably fled his parents house as soon as possible, and he’s not welcome back after he stood up to them about not fighting in front of Steve, so he misses Steve like crazy. So he signs up for the Big Brother program.

Insert Alex being like: Really, Reg? I had to butter your head when you got it stuck between the bars of the fence at the animal shelter because you wanted to say hi to the dogs. How are you going to be a good example for The Youths.

And Reggie is like: that was like six months ago, dude, I’m 18 now, I’m a mature and responsible adult.

(Alex: okay)

Carlos was probably signed up for the program by Tía Victoria, because she knows Ray has been taking extra jobs wherever he can (to pay off the crippling medical debt from Rose’s cancer because America is horrible), and Julie’s in her senior year and needs to study, and she worries about Carlos. And Carlos was kind of meh about it, until he meets Reggie, who is Cool and has a leather jacket and plays in a band and likes ghost hunting shows and is just super enthusiastic about whatever Carlos wants to talk about.

So they hang out, and talk about if Bigfoot is real, and Reggie lets Carlos come to a band rehearsal, and he starts showing up at Carlos’ baseball games, even the out of town ones. Sometimes he drags along some of the other guys as well, even if they don’t care about sports at all, and Bobby spends most of his time trying to explain what the hell is going on to Alex, who refuses to remember for next time. (Alex does like to heckle both the refs and the over-invested angry sports parents under his breath, though.)

Reggie makes sure to stay away from Ray and Victoria, because he’s kind of scared of them. But of course they notice the boy at the other side of the stands whooping whenever Carlos does something, and of course Victoria knows who he is anyway because she would never ever let Carlos hang out with some boy she hasn’t thoroughly vetted.

And slowly, Carlos starts opening up to Reggie about stuff other than video games and cryptids. He talks about his mom’s death, and how his sister lost music, which is why he likes coming to band practice so much, and how he’s worried about his dad taking on way too much, and how there’s these guys at his school who keep bullying him.

And Reggie is like: I can fix none of those things but I am here to listen to you and also we’re going to go to Luke so he can teach you how to throw a proper punch. And he and Luke spend an afternoon teaching Carlos how to defend himself and Reggie gives him this big lecture about how this is ONLY for self defense and if he hears Carlos used this for any other reason he is never buying him ice cream again and he will be Very Disappointed and at the end of it even Luke looks vaguely guilty, A+ Big Brothering Reggie.

So of course it ends badly when Carlos sends him a desperate text that he’s in the principal’s office for punching another student and to please come get him before his dad shows up. And Reggie of course drops everything (probably in the middle of rehearsal, and Luke is about to be pissy until Reggie shows him the text and then instead he gets Alex to drive them to the school because Alex drives like a maniac).

Reggie gets there before Ray and everyone is like: um excuse me sir you are not on the emergency list for Carlos Molina of course you can’t take him with you no he doesn’t have a big brother oh you mean like with Capitals. And Reggie is just trying to find out if Carlos is okay and what happened and if he has to revoke Ice Cream Privileges Forever.

So after he shows them his official Big Brother card or whatever, they let him sit with Carlos until Ray shows up. And Carlos explains that yes, he did kind of break Reggie’s rule, but only technically, because he got in between a bully and a boy in his class who was about to get beat up for wearing nail polish, so after the first punch it was totally self-defense, so honestly he deserves extra ice cream because he was basically being a hero. (And Reggie is like: okay I kind of agree that was awesome, little dude, but also you’re about to be suspended and I’m pretty sure I’m not allowed to encourage that.)

And Ray shows up and he looks really mad and goes into the principal’s office while the boys wait outside and Reggie is like: oh shit oh no this is the end, I’m going to lose Carlos just like I lost Steve, I fucked everything up.

And he’s trying to figure out how to say goodbye to Carlos without starting to cry, because he is for sure getting kicked out of the program now. And Ray comes out and still looks mad, until Carlos explains why he punched the other student, and Ray just like... turns right back around and goes back into the principals office, this time with extra Dad Shouting.

And when he comes out again, he still looks angry but not at Carlos (or Reggie) and he invites Reggie over for dinner because it’s about time they meet, and Reggie is so overwhelmed that he’s not losing another little brother that he says yes.

And then Reggie is basically adopted into the Molina family and so are the other boys and Julie meets them and joins their band and everything is great forever the end.

[avenging-criminal-bones]

After All This Time || Chapter Four

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Word Count: 2128

CHAPTER WARNINGS: hehe i don't wanna spoil it, but angst, language, case talk, the usual

A/N: This is the longest chapter so far, and honestly it took less time than some of the other ones. I got really into it.

TAGLIST:

@kingofthetwats @wanniiieeee @uwu-sebastianstan @piggyinthesea @yoshigguk @thatisthemagic @errorcosplay67 @ivebeenthinkingboutu @big-galaxy-chaos @rynfoxsleeps @phoenixsnape1 @mojofun @pachiibatt @enjoymyloves @thenewnormalforensicator @word-scribbless @zezezena @chelseyjoyce @ellyhotchner @lora21

AS ALWAYS, Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!

* * * * *

Halfway to the drive you remember to ask, "So who are we interviewing at the school?"

"James O'Malley, who is the principal, and Margaret Solokowski, one of three first grade teachers." His response is automated as he looks to the right out the window.

Your mind drifted back to the case from when you were only nine. It was the reason you wanted to be involved with S.W.A.T or the FBI.

Your brother was playing in a sand pit at the local playground when you turned around to go buy the two of you some ice cream cones from the truck driving slowly past.

There was a priest with a group of nuns walking through the park, discussing something about the "Lord's Will". You didn't believe in any of that stuff then, so you rolled your eyes and told the nice man what ice creams you wanted.

"There you go, kiddie."

"Thank you!"

Spinning on your heel, you licked your own ice cream as you went to get back to Joey, your brother.

Something was wrong though. When you looked, he wasn't there anymore. He had been playing with a group of three kids, and none of them were there anymore. Turning back around you remember the Priest had been driving away with the nuns. You saw the two other childrens' mothers crying and talking, flailing their arms wildly at each other.

"Joey? Joey where are you," you wandered around the play set for a minute and started crying when you couldn't find him.

Wandering up to one of the adults scattered through the play area, a mother with a small baby in her arms, and said, "Can-" a sniffle before, "Can I borrow your phone? I need to call my mom."

"Of course, honey," she shuffled the little girl to her other hip and grabbed the phone from her other pocket. "Here you go sweetie. Is there anything else you need?"

"No. Uh, thank you. I'll bring it right back."

Taking a few steps away you called your mother's house number, suddenly grateful for the pressure she had put on you from a young age to remember her house number and her cell number.

"Mom-"

Hey, honey,- what? What's going on?"

"Mom, I can't find Joey. He's not here. I just walked ten steps to get our ice cream and he's- I can't find him, mom. And the other two kids were gone too. I don't know what to do, he's gone. Mom-"

"Honey?"

"I can't find-"

"Y/N!" You finally stop rambling and quiet down enough to hear your mom's voice and your own heartbeat. "We'll find him, okay? Tell whoever's phone this is what happened, and then wait there for me okay? Ask the lady you borrowed this from to call the police and help you explain what happened and I'll be right over there okay? It will take me five minutes, okay?"

"Okay. I love you."

"I love you too, Peanut."

Hanging up the phone you do as she told you and explained your situation to the kind woman with the baby. She agreed to help you call the police, even though the other parents had probably already done it.

"Are you okay, Y/N?"

"Y/N? Hey. Y/N! You missed the turn..."

You snap out of your flashback and look around you at the road.

"What?"

Hotch let out and annoyed puff of air and pointed to the road that you were about to drive past. "That's our turn. You know, to get to the school. That's right there."

Mumbling under your breath you turn the signal on and slam the breaks after seeing there was no one behind you. You smirk to yourself when you see that the man in the passenger seat had to throw his arm out so as not to hit the dashboard.

"Agent, if you do not drive this vehicle with care, I will personally revoke your privilege of driving on the clock," he threatens as he adjusts the lapels on his suit jacket.

You ignore him and park in front of the school, getting out and straightening your own blazer.

"You let me do the talking, L/N." He declares as he brushes past you, not bothering to hold the door on his way.

Murmuring under your breath, you follow him in.

Almost immediately, you are stopped by someone from campus security and flash your badges in reply. The guard simply nods and sends you through, pointing to the principal's office.

"Mr. O'Malley? I'm SSA Aaron Hothcner, and this is Agent L/N. We are here from the BAU in Quantico investigating the homicides that I'm sure you've heard about. I was wondering if we could ask you a few questions about the victims; they were all students here." Hotch's air of professionalism was back full force rather than his childish antics only five minutes ago.

O'Malley shakes his head slightly, a red tint coming to his ears as his eyes scan the clock. "Actually, I don't have the time right now. I have another meeting coming up shortly-"

"Sir, your meeting isn't for another fifteen minutes," the secretary states before turning back to you and Hotch, "Surely that's enough time for you and your partner to ask him a few questions?" The young woman looks at you when she speaks, her eyes silently pleading. She must know something as well.

"No, Anne. I really don't have time for that-"

"Hotchner, if you want to talk to Mr. O'Malley, maybe I could ask," you pause, reading her desk tag, "Ms. Brink a few questions?"

She nods her head eagerly, and as much as Hotch wanted to argue, he has seen her desperate look as well and would have suggested splitting up if you hadn't.

"I was just about to say that. Mr. O'Malley is there somewhere we could go that's a bit more private?" Hotch questions, signaling behind him, "If that's a break room that would be perfect."

O'Malley nods, standing up. He walks towards the door, opening it as he turns back to look at the you and Hotch. There's a glint of something in his eyes and-

And he's running.

"Go! Hotch, go, go, GO!" Before you even finish urging him to chase the principal he's running after the man. "Anne, if you know anything suspicious about James O'Malley you need to tell me, and you need to tell me now."

Tears well in the younger woman's eyes as she nods, fists bunching in the skirt of her peach colored dress. "He, uh. He has made- you know. S-sexual advances on a few young girls. He did the same to me, b-but when he d-did it to me he said he would kill the next girl that w-was in here if I told..." Anne breaks into sobs as she hangs her head low.

"Anne, listen to me. None of this is your fault. You were only trying to protect these girls and yourself. This has been extremely helpful, thank you, Ms. Brink." Gently you reach over and squeeze her hand, sliding a box of tissues towards her before quickly slipping out of the office.

Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you call Garcia.

"BAU Sperm Donation: You jack 'em, we pack 'em. How can I help you my pretty?"

You don't have time to laugh, though you so badly wanted to. "Pen, I need to to pull everything you can find about James O'Malley. He's the-"

"School principle of Opportunity Elementary. He's 37 years old, comes from a highly religious background- Papa Bear was a Priest. He- oh boy. Oh no. This is not good." You hear computer keys clacking on the other end before you prompt her to keep speaking.

"Yeah, Pen? What's not good?"

"This guy," she clicks her tongue, "And his entire recent history when you deep-dive in my Fancy Google. This guy is on review for child molestation and rape charges."

You slam your fist against the nearby wall and curse lowly, "Do you have any large property in his name? Anything big enough to have some sort of shrine, or altar? Also, with enough room to... oh God... cleanly chop off a-"

"Ah! AH! Stop! I get it. I'm looking."

After a moment she sighs, "Bingo! 142 Walnut St. right outside of the town that the school is in. Twelve minutes and forty-three seconds from your current location. I'll ping the directions to you and notify the rest of the team. They are slightly further away, so you and your partner should get there first. Hurry, Y/N, he might have another kid there."

"Bye, Pen." You hang up and start running to the SUV, surprised to see Hotch there, already waiting in the passenger seat. You wonder why he hadn't sat on the other side and remember about the key in your pocket.

Getting in, you slam the door, not bothering to buckle and say, "Take my phone and pull up the directions from Pen. That's where our guy is going, she think he has another child based on video footage from this morning's video feed of the back entrance of his office."

Hotch surprisingly doesn't argue, instead doing exactly as he was told while you sped in the direction you had come from before.

Withing ten minutes you had made it to the house, not saying a word to Hotch as your mind ran through all of the possibilities of what you'd find. This was your first child case since you moved to the BAU and honestly you weren't handling it very well.

When you made it to the barn, you snatched your gun from your holster and kept it aimed towards the ground. Motioning to Hotch you signal that he should go left and you will go right.

Clearly, he didn't like you making all the calls, but he was so upset about losing the guy the first time around that he didn't have it in him to command you down.

Beginning your move-in, you start to circle the barn just how you had told Hotch and kept your gun up as you crept towards the final turn to the back of the barn. Out of the corner of your eye you see the rest of the team start to jog over to the barn from the forest behind the bar, they must have decided to use a different entrance as hopes to catch O'Malley off guard.

Taking a moment to steel yourself you keep your back against the side of the barn before spinning in a quick step to raise your gun again and aim at the final possibility of where he could be-

But it was just Hotchner.

"L/N, he must be inside, turn back the way you came and we'll go in together." His voice is stern as you nod in compliance and turn around, raising your gun as you see a little boy. With a gun trained on him...

It's Joey. Joey is there dead in front of the church, a big cross burned into his chest... his five year old body.

That's all you see, just like that day so many years ago. That's all you see, so you jump forward in front of him and you-

Fall. You fall. And you can't tell why.

Blood, there's blood under you. Who's hurt?

"Y/N! Oh my God, Y/N!" Anything between your name being said the first and second time is lost in your fuzzy ears.

You don't realize why the voice is yelling at you until you feel the burning, fire-like pain, radiating up your left side.

After a moment, you feel hands on your shoulders, one of them moving to slap you in the face a few times to get your eyes to open, which they did.

"Hey, you need to stay awake. Okay? Y/N! Open your eyes. Look at me." Emily transfers her hands to your hip, pressing down on the wound there roughly. Your body instinctively crunches up to get away from the new, uncomfortable pain, but Emily presses down on your chest, keeping you to the floor.

You try to mumble something, but the second your mouth opens, it's as if you completely lost your voice.

"Shh, Y/N, you're going to be okay, you just need to keep your eyes open okay?

"What the hell, Aaron?! You were standing right there, man, why didn't you go to her?! She was fucking shot and you just stood there! You're our leader, start fucking acting like one!" You can't pick out all the words, but you can tell that it's Derek's voice and you smirk to yourself.

The last thing you heard before passing out was Derek ripping into Hotchner like you'd been waiting to for months.

[olivarryprompts]

Fanfic Friday #7

Welcome to Fanfic Friday! Each Friday I will post a new fanfic here and on A03. Enjoy x

Read and save it on A03 here https://archiveofourown.org/works/32577124

{the anatomy of caring}

Ships: minor stevetony, focused on Tony & Peter

Warnings: none, it’s just fluff :)

Wc: 2355

It was obvious to anyone who knew the two well. It was Steve and Tony, Iron Man and the Captain. It simply made sense. If the logic wasn’t enough, the two looked at home with one and another. They slipped together like puzzle pieces. Tony always helped Steve through the confusion of a new world, and Steve always knew just how to help Tony deal with the anxiety of their reality. They were the perfect couple, and they both knew that.

Then, the spiderling came along. Tony saw a mirror image of himself in Spiderman. A young, ambitious boy who had the curse and gift of superhuman powers. He defied death each day he swung between buildings, and Tony couldn’t help but be enthralled. He couldn’t help but figure out who the kid was (It was pretty easy to figure out it was a kid, considering he only showed up outside of school hours). Steve, knowing his lover so well, knew instantly how protective Tony felt over the kid he’d merely stalked on the internet.

So when Tony explained the plan to show up at Peter’s with the “Stark Internship” it was no surprise to the captain. To the rest of the team, who’d all moved into the tower, it was a complete shock. The fact that Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, playboy, wanted to help this kid hone his powers and skills.

“You,” Bruce said, “Want to help this kid..what? Be a superhero?” “Well, someone’s gotta,” Tony explained like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Someone has to?” Nat questioned. “He can’t go around swinging off rooftops and beating up bad guys without any training. Or backup.” “Correct me if I am wrong, but didn’t your idiot ass do that?” Sam questioned. “I was not a kid. And I had money, friends, people,” Tony wildly gesticulated. “I am beyond confused,” Nat laughed. “Same train as Romanoff,” Clint agreed. “Guys, this is not that hard. Come on. Let’s take this scenario. He ends up meeting some guys, and, instead of, say, winning, he loses. And either he dies, or gets badly injured. Who does he have? No one? He bleeds out. He’s a kid for fuck sake.” “Cap’s been awfully quiet,” Clint pointed out. “What? I knew this was coming days ago,” Steve explained with a smile, “I know my man. He wasn't just gonna let this kid get himself into trouble if he could do anything about it. Plus, Tony doesn’t keep tabs, he violently invades lives.” Tony shot him a look. “With love, invades with lots and lots of love,” he quickly fixes, flashing his million dollar smile at his boy. Tony just rolled his eyes and focused on addressing the group, “Look, I know it’s a lot, but I think it’s just what I have to do. And I own the tower, so, my choice,” he said with a hint of banter in his voice. Tony headed towards the elevator. “Where the hell are you going?” Sam asked. “The spiderling’s.”

Tony left before he could hear any of the exasperated responses. It was a fair drive down to Queen’s where the boy lived. He parked outside the small building, and he then climbed the seven flights of stairs to the apartment. He knocked on the door and greeted, “Hello, I’m Tony, Tony Stark.” He smiled his media smile, extending a hand towards May. “I-I know. Mr. Stark, hello, w-what are you doing here?” “Well, your nephew Peter applied for the Steptember Grant, and well, he got it,” Tony said, thrusting all the enthusiasm he could muster. He maintained his fabricated nonchalant, disregarding manner in most places. “Wow this is, this is incredible! Peter will be home any minute now. Come in, come in. Can I get you a drink?”

He was back at the tower, recapping his meeting with Peter to Cap. “-can you believe no one knows? Well, now it's knew. No one knew this kid was swinging around. And he got these powers with no one to help him through it, and god, it must have been awful. But, he’s good, Cap, he’s so good. He feels the need to help people, beyond just guilt. He’s, he’s-” “Tones,” Steve said, kissing his cheek, “Take a deep breath.” To be fair to the man, he hadn’t slept for at least 36 hours. With all that coffee in his system he had the right to be a bit uncomposed. The two were sitting at the breakfast bar, well Tony was sitting and Steve was behind it, cooking some eggs for the younger man. “I’m just glad I found him before he killed himself trying to save the world.” “Me too. How long has it been since you’ve slept?” “J?” “Sir, it has been 36 hours.“ “Tonyyyy,” Steve said, clearly disappointed. “Steveeee.” “I’m forcing you to bed.” “I have work to do. Plus it’s only eight o’clock.” “Eat then sleep, honey,” Steve said in that voice that you just didn’t ignore.

C2

At first the “Stark Internship” started as Tony upgrading Peter’s suit, monitoring his patrols, and teaching how to fight. Well, Natasha taught him how to fight. After she offered, Tony was in no place to deny. It was overwhelming to Peter. He was being taught about tech with Tony Stark and being taught how to fight from the black widow.

For the first couple weeks, he was a nervous wreck in the tower. He’d hardly speak to anyone and only do and touch what he was told to. He’d change, head straight to the gym, and then Natasha would train him. At first, the training was silent, other than Nat’s coaching. Then, slowly, the two began talking. It started with Nat asking how he first got his power, then it moved to her first missions, and then suddenly Nat knew a lot about Peter. And Peter was one of the few people in the world who knew a lot about Natasha. “-so what, you fought alien robots sent by Thor’s brother?” “Yeah, that's about right. I had to get up to one of the buildings, so, with Cap’s shield as my trampoline, I launched myself onto one of their flying machines. Pretty fun time up there.” “Holy shit, that’s incredible. How’d you stop them?” Peter knew how the battle had gone down, afterall he’d been in New York during the attack, but it was something else hearing it from an actual Avenger. “Well, it was quite complicated. The scientist-” Nat reminded him to keep his wrist straight. He made the fix, and went back to punching the bag. She launched back into the tale,”The scientist, remember him, who Loki’d controlled woke up mid battle. He’d installed a death switch for the portal, but to access it we needed the scepter. But, the thing is, the government basically sent a nuke toward New York in an effort to contain the aliens, so Tony grabbed the nuke and aimed from inside of the portal and threw it at their main spacecraft. This turned off all of the alien tech. He was a he-” “Hey Kid, Nat. Please don’t tell me you're telling the New York story,” Tony said from the entrance. “Hi Mr. Stark.” Nat rolled her eyes, “I am telling the New York story. You were a he-” “Don’t say it. You almost done?” “I’ll call it. Good job today kid.” “Thanks.”

Similar to the gym, he’d become far more comfortable around Tony and in his lab. At first he’d sit silently, doing his work. Then he got used to Tony’s eccentric tendencies, he memorized the layout and where everything was, and he’d also been unofficially given a workspace. It became easier and easier to feel comfortable. The late night coffee and deep chats were simply a bonus. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, it felt like he had a father figure. It was nice.

One day, Tony was vibin’ to ACDC and chatting with Steve whilst working on Mock 50 of his new suit design when Peter showed up. Steve being in the lab was something Peter had also become accustomed to. “Jarvis, please get some good music on in here. Queen perhaps?” Peter requested. He did it to annoy Mr. Stark, and it did just that. “Hey kid,” Cap said. “Don’t “hey kid” him,” Mr. Stark said, faking anger, “Did you just insult my music? How dare you? I am revoking all Jarvis privileges.” Peter laughed alongside Cap. “Sir, you can’t do that. I quite like the kid, and the innovations he is creating require my attention.” “Why did I program you to have a goddamn personality?” Tony said, focusing back to his work, “And Jarvis, put the quality music back now.” “Anway, how was school?” Steve asked. “Good, yeah. The same really. We had another one of your “fitness” videos for class today. Real good,” Peter joked. “Oh god, please don’t tell me they really use those.” “They really use those,” Peter smiled, “I’m going for a shower. See you in a flash.” “Wrong superhero, kid,” Mr. Stark called. “Idiot,” Peter heard Cap mutter into the top of Mr. Stark’s head.

Upon returning, he noticed the absence of the team leader. “Where did Cap go?” “Actual work or something stupid like that.” Peter just smiled as he settled down at his workstation. He wanted to try out some new formulas for his web fluid. He’d had an idea in spanish class, and scribbled it down in his notebook. He fished for it in his backpack.

It was so easy. Too easy. And so so comfortable.

C3

“Come on, I’ve got something to show you.”

Peter had just finished sparring with Nat, and Tony, unusually, came up to the gym to “collect” him. He hadn’t done that for months. Mainly because Peter stopped coming straight down to Tony’s lab. Instead, he went to the kitchen and, mainly because Steve forced him, ate some food. He usually ended up in a random chat with Sam or Bucky. Occasionally he would catch Banner, and he’d end up in a different laboratory. He was always happy to learn about what the incredible doctor was up to. Sometimes, he was even able to provide a suggestion or two. Bruce always looked impressed by the boy. It made Peter smile.

Then he would actually make his way down to the lab, but not before trying to find Hawkeye. He'd wanted to learn some tricks with the bow and arrow. Somehow, Clint would be dragged into teaching Peter how to fire a bow once a week. At least. Clint pretended he minded through teasing and jokes, but realistically he loved hearing about the kid’s week. He’d always been good with kids. It became a running joke that Clint would let Peter know about all the tech upgrades he wanted, and then Peter’d report them to Tony. Most of the time Tony replied with something snarky like, “Tell the idiot he shouldn’t have picked a dumbass weapon like a bow and arrow,” or “do it yourself if you care that much.”

The Avengers Tower had become home just as much as his apartment in Queens was, and it was clear that Tony knew that. Hence the, “Come on, I’ve got something to show you.” He took the little Avenger to the elevator, hitting floor 80. He was a little confused given that floors 75-90 were all bedroom floors for the avengers or just spare bedrooms. “Mr. Stark-” “You’ll see, kid.” In reality, Tony was nervous. He and Steve decided a while back that Peter deserved his own space in the tower, but he had been scared that Peter wouldn’t like it. That he picked the wrong colours, or mattress, or well, anything.

The doors opened and there were two doors facing one another. Tony opened one of them with a key he pulled out of his black suit. The door opened and he was met by a beautiful and modern room. It had a huge bed and tv. There was a desk equipped with the latest stark Holographic technology. In the corner was a suit, specifically a spider suit. That is when it clicked. “Mr. Stark, is, is this all mine?” “Yeah kid, sorry if you don’t like anything. Cap and I did the best we could knowing what you like. And ye-” Peter cut him off with a hug, “thank you.” “Anything for you, kid. Just say the word. Want a tour?” Peter eagerly nodded. “Alright so that’s the bed, obviously. No more sleeping in the guest rooms or that couch in the worksho-” “You sleep ther-” “Don’t say that I sleep there, I am no role model for sleep schedules.” Peter just smiled. “This is a little workshop area I mocked up. You can’t really tinker up here, but do all the designing you want,” he pulled up the most recent project Peter was working on, “Then, just through there is the bathroom, a little lounge area over there and yeah, that’s all. Oh, there’s two mini fridges by the lounge area.” Just as Tony finished his explanation, Steve showed up. “Tones, you showed it to him without me,” Cap complained. “Sorry, babes, you took too long.” he turned around and placed a little kiss on his lips. “It’s fine. How do you like it Pete?” “It’s, it’s-” Peter couldn’t think of any words to describe how incredible it was to have a room at the Avengers Tower, but more importantly how incredible it was to have so many people looking out for him. Before he had just one, Aunt May. She is amazing, but he’d always longed for just a little more. Then, with the Avengers, he’d been given a lot more. They became his family. And now his home. “Thank you,” was all Peter could muster before falling onto the floor.

The two of them, now in each other's arms, just looked down fondly at the boy. “We did good,” Cap whispered. “We did good,” Tony agreed. They did good with more than just the room.

[ink-and-flame]

Kinktober Day 1: Intensity Challenged

Kinktober Day 1 Prompts: Sexual deprivation (long term) ~ Orgasm control ~ Competitions (with other Subs) Fandom: Original Tags: Exophilia, Sexual deprivation, Orgasm control, sub competition, angst, hurt/comfort, F/F themes, dom/sub themes, bondage Pairing(s): Orc(m)/Human(f), Darnok/Lia, Human(f)/Human(f)

[Authors Note: Welcome back to another Kinktober. I hope to do better this year than last because I have a lot of stories mapped out, especially for these two. Originally I had not planned for the competition to go this way and was not intending a mixed scene with both m/f and f/f elements. Hopefully it doesn’t come across as too muddled and unfocused.]

Lia was going to get to see Darnok again soon and they had the opportunity to enjoy the V.I.P. access. Slipping the card into her wallet Lia sent a message to Darnok, checking to see if he received his own invite. She was worried that he hadn’t and worded the question in a way that made it seem like she had not received one. Lia was relieved when he had also received the invite and informed him of her own. Their plans were changed to be more casual since it would be best to explore the lounge and what their new access had to offer as opposed to doing a complex scene. 

The night arrived and Lia was both excited and a little worried. She wasn’t sure what would happen and decided not to bring anything extra with her. She dressed a bit nicer than she usually would when going to the club, not wanting to upset Darnok by picking out something inappropriate. The drive felt like it took longer, though rationally Lia knew that it took the same amount of time it always did. 

She walked up to the club and showed her new ID card to the bouncer who waived her through with a smile. She headed to the main area of the club to wait for Darnok, not wanting to enter the V.I.P. area without him. Sipping on a drink her eyes lit up when he arrived, holding out an arm to her and escorting her to the Lounge. The V.I.P. area was named Destiny’s Lounge, but most just called it the lounge as that was simpler.

“I hope you aren’t too disappointed about not doing a scene tonight. I know we haven’t really had a chance to have a good one in a while and I wanted to make sure that was ok with you.”

“It’s fine Darnok. I think this is a better plan. See what is offered, and that might help us plan our next scene. I can be patient, can you?”

Darnok laughed and headed to the lounge with Lia holding onto his arm. They were allowed in after showing their cards and walked into the small foyer that granted access to the full V.I.P. area. The lounge had a sign over the door, a soft glow coming from within. Quiet music could be heard as well. There was a bar off to the side, separate from the lounge with plenty of seating for an intimate crowd. There were other areas to explore, but that could come later. The lounge itself seemed like the best place to start. 

They had not been there long when they were approached by someone Lia did not recognize, though he seemed to know Danrnok as the two shook hands. The man was unusual looking. Sharp features, horns curling up from his head, eyes that seemed to glow. Lia noticed his hand had dark claws, she wasn’t sure if he looked demonic or draconic as his skin had a somewhat dusty grey hue.

“Well, are you going to introduce me, or are you going to be rude?” The tall horned man was looking at Lia.

“Right, of course, how dare I be rude. Lucien, this is my sub Lia.” Darnok glanced down at Lia to check on her. 

“Well, Lia, as Darnok said, I am Lucien and I am quite pleased to meet you.” Leaning down he grasped her free hand, kissing it softly. His eyes shifted color as he winked at her. “I hope my appearance doesn’t frighten you too much.” He stood up straight releasing her hand. 

“No Sir, I am not afraid.” Lia knew she had to be extra polite. She didn’t want to embarrass or upset Darnok.

“Oh I like her, my friend, do let me know if you plan to ever share.” He gave Darnok a look and then addressed them both. “Well I must be going. I have some things to tend to and the grape vine is singing. Morwenna is looking for you both.” With a slight bow Lucien left.

Darnok looked down at Lia. “Lucien is an old friend of mine. He has been trying to get me V.I.P. access for over a year now. His sway isn’t as strong as Morwenna’s and my schedule prevented me from being able to attend some key events. I am glad that the owners were willing to overlook the past when considering me.” Darnok led Lia over to a couch with a table she could set her drink on. 

There were no worries about drugged drinks as the lounge was heavily surveilled and had security on premises. Everyone knew the punishment for such behavior and it was unpleasant and possibly illegal if Lia thought too hard about it. She relaxed into the couch, leaning into Darnok and observing the people. There was a good mix of races, just like with the rest of the club. She saw other orcs, some elves, a couple of goblins, and plenty of humans. Though some of them might not be human at all. 

The comfortable silence did not last long as Morwenna came into view. She seated herself next to Darnok with a smile and waved over a server ordering herself a drink. She looked Lia over with a smile before turning to Darnok.

“I am glad to see that you were finally able to get access to the lounge. It will be so much more fun with all the new blood coming in. The gala saw more invites than usual as there were exceptional performances and behaviors by both dom and sub alike. The owners are not usually so generous, but I am glad for it. We always need new and interesting people.”

Darnok nodded. “I am just glad they are still picky and stuck to their original model. Not letting people buy their way in or otherwise force their way in. It keeps the undesirables out. Having to earn it, means you will respect the privilege more, at least it should anyway.”

“Yes, well, not everyone does and sometimes after they get comfortable they get cocky and I have seen a good number of access privileges revoked over the last year. Not sure why, maybe something in the water? Either way, now that you are here why don’t we discuss that wager I mentioned” When her drink arrived Morwenna took a delicate sip and continued. “I am eager to play with new blood. So how about a two part competition?”

Darnok raised a brow. “A competition? Of what sort?”

“Your sub verses one of mine. A test of endurance, patience, and control.” Morwenna was smiling behind her glass.

“I’m listening.”

“Good. Part one is sexual deprivation. The subs must go without sex and release for as long as possible. That includes masturbation, but no one will be disqualified for any nocturnal releases. During this time the sub must perform sexual acts for their dominant. We shouldn’t have to suffer, this isn’t testing our abilities but theirs.” 

Darnok looked thoughtful. He had a better chance to win since he wasn’t able to see Lia regularly, something Morwenna wasn’t aware of. It did prevent him from keeping an eye on her, but he trusted Lia. “Ok, that seems fair, what is the second part?”

“Ah, the second part is more fun. Orgasm control. After the deprivation, someone one will of course either lose part one or we call it a draw after hmm, three months? Is that too long, yes probably, 37 days, how is that. A little more than a month. So after 37 days if no one breaks, we move to part two. This will require them to control their orgasms. That part of the competition we will need a room for. We will tease and pleasure our subs and it is their responsibility to hold off as long as possible. Whomever’s sub orgasms first, loses.”

Glancing at Lia Darnok looked back at Morwenna. “I could be on board with this. What does the winner get?”

“Aren’t gloating rights enough?” Morwenna laughed lightly. “I jest. We both have the funds for a substantial prize. Loser buys the winner and their sub an all expense paid trip to an island getaway. It would be just in time for the worst parts of the season and I do like warmth.”

“You speak as though you are going to win.” Darnok did some mental calculations and knew he could easily afford it. Though it would be nice and he could frame it as a business trip when he won. 

“Oh Darnok, you know I always get what I want. I rarely, if ever, lose. Still, you do have some advantages. I know you, but not your sub. So I am going in a bit blind. I am still willing to take the chance. So, do we have a wager?” Morwenna held out her hand to Darnok.

Shaking her hand Darnok smiled. “You might want to go ahead and book those tickets now. Save yourself a little money.” 

“Oh I do so love it when you are cocky.” Standing up, drink in hand, Morwenna smiled at them both. “The competition starts tomorrow. I suggest you enjoy your evening while you can, I know I plan to.” 

Lia watched the woman walk away and felt a lump in her throat. They had not planned to have sex and now she was going to have to wait over a month to do a scene with him? Or was it more she would have to wait to be allowed to enjoy it? Looking at Darnok curiously, she decided it was best to let him lead on this. Maybe he knew something she didn’t.

“I know I should have asked you before agreeing, but this is a perfect opportunity for us. Not only would it give you a chance to prove yourself as a sub, but a nice trip to an island, a resort, maybe a private bungalow. I don’t know about you, but that sounds like a dream to me.” Darnok stroked Lia’s cheek. “I know we can do this, our schedules will make this an easier competition for us, at least, the first part.”

 Those words hit deep, prove herself, that was something she wanted. She needed to prove to Darnok that she was perfect for him. If they won, a weekend together away from everything could change their entire relationship. It could potentially give Lia what she wanted, or at least put them on that path. There was the possibility of it going wrong, but she had to have faith that it wouldn’t.

“Ok, I am on board with this. I mean I am the sub so I know I don’t get a choice, but I also know you would give me an out if I really didn’t want to do it. How do we make this work though?”

“That will be the easy part. We already are not scheduled to see each other too much over the next month or so. For the scenes we do, I can help you work on your control. I suggest you also practice edging yourself just be careful. Sometimes you can trigger an orgasm without meaning to, and your body has always been quite responsive to my touch. This will take some practice on both our parts. I have to find ways to cool you down while I work you over, to help you keep from hitting that edge.” Darnok slipped an arm around Lia. “I have a hotel room, I wasn’t sure what tonight was going to be like. I suggest we leave now and make full use of it.”

She couldn’t help but laugh a bit and finished her drink. “Well, I can’t say no to that. No practicing, just driving each other crazy tonight ok?”

“That sounds like the most excellent of plans dearest Lia.”

Darnok’s stamina was put to the test as he and Lia chose to make the most of the evening, and into the early hours. Neither wanted to sleep, for different reasons, but the goal was the same. Close to check out time Lia was laying in the bed sore and completely exhausted. Though if she was honest she had been exhausted for hours. Maybe there was a thing as too much sex, but she refused to beleive it and just chalked it up to her body not being used to this sort of thing. 

“Well, I am pretty sure that will help keep me from wanting to have sex again for a while, and I am too sore to masturbate.” Lia admitted as Darnok walked back into the bedroom from the bathroom fully dressed. 

He was chuckling as he sat down and put on his shoes. “The shower is yours if you’d like, and I agree. I probably wont need sex again for a while, but I will contact you with instructions after a couple of days.”

Lia showered, dressed, and walked out with Darnok. She hugged him before getting into her car and heading home. There was a nap in her future, her very near future and she had to figure out just how she was going to deal with the next 37 days. Lia got the impression that this was going to be much harder for her than Darnok, but that was the point. She was the one trying to prove herself, not him.

The first week was easy, Lia had no desire to masturbate at all, and the idea of sex didn’t appeal to her. It took about that long for her to no longer be sore. Perhaps Darnok had been a little over zealous, but then that may have been the plan. If she was too sore and exhausted to orgasm, then they had this competition in the bag. Of course that didn’t last, but one week down was a pretty good start.

Even after the first week Lia was doing ok, she had gone longer without masturbating before, but now that she knew she couldn’t, the temptation was a lot stronger. It was during the second week that Darnok began instructing her on how she should edge herself. How to bring herself pleasure without release. He wanted to teach her to control her pleasure, to not get lost in it the way she sometimes did. He wasn’t worried about the first part of the competition, it was the second part he feared losing, and he expressed that concern to her more than once. 

Their first scene since the wager began was nothing like what Lia had experienced before. It was pure torture. Darnok drove her almost to the edge over, and over. Teasing different parts of her body. Showing her how to take pleasure, let it build, and then let it fade. He practiced a few techniques on her to try and calm her down while still bringing pleasure. There were a number of close calls that had him backing off and letting her cool down completely before he felt safe touching her again. 

He could see the frustration in her eyes, her desire for release, and knew to stop pushing. Instead he pleasured himself in front of her. Something he had never done, at least not all the way to completion. Seeing her covered in his seed only made him want her more. A temptation he struggled to resist. It would be too easy to fall victim to his own lust, and if he was inside of her, he would not stop, and he wasn’t sure Lia could resist at that point. As it stood he felt a little bad finding his own release when she could not. 

Carefully Darnok cleaned his sub, he praised her and comforted her. The aftercare was most important, not only to help her calm down, but to reinforce their bond. This was the only way to keep the experience from feeling unbalanced. Darnok had to let himself care for her, cherish her, treat her with love and reverence. Something he had been avoiding since things had become complicated in his life. 

The third week brought with it some relief. Lia’s hormones shifted and she simply had no desire to seek pleasure. She was still warm from the last session with Darnok. While the experience had brought her to tears, the aftercare had filled her heart even more than it had been before. He had never treated her so lovingly and if this was what it took to feel that, then she would gladly forego the pleasure of her body to have this with him. 

Once her hormones had cycled back up, resisting became much harder, especially since she had been practicing edging again. She was focusing on different forms of stimulation, the ones she knew would get her there quicker. She had to practice resisting that pleasure for as long as she could. Many days Lia found herself breaking out a toy multiple times, only to not let herself reach satisfaction. It was getting to the point where she did not want to keep going and just wanted release. 

Thankfully Darnok was there to soothe her frayed nerves with his deep calming voice. Their phone calls became more frequent as Lia needed the extra support to get through this and they needed to discuss their next session. This one would be harder than the last. Lia would have to resist even more because Darnok anticipated that simple teasing would not be enough and that Morwenna would expect him to penetrate her during the second part of the competition. This session was to help both of them resist becoming lost in the moment. 

When the session began, Lia was nervous, more so than the last time because she could see that Darnok was nervous as well. The time was almost up and Morwenna had not indicated that her sub had lost, that meant tonight could break them both if they got too caught up in everything. Something that was a very real possibility for them both. 

Darnok started slow, easing them both into the session. He treated it as a rehearsal for the real thing. Starting with simple touches, using his hands and mouth to push Lia to the edge of pleasure over and over, only backing off when he could sense her body tensing. When it was time for penetration Darnok talked Lia through it, explaining how he would move to keep from overwhelming them both. He held his body in a way that the pressure would not be on her clit, anything to give them an advantage. 

At first it was easy, he could go slow, roll his hips, they both enjoyed it but it wasn’t enough stimulation to get them to release any time soon. Gradually he sped up, his control slipping until his tusks were scratching her shoulder and he could feel himself on the edge. Pulling out quickly Darnok came on Lia, covering her slick folds, stomach, and breasts with his seed. He looked at her worried that she had reached completion as well as her body was shaking. 

“I… I am so close….” Her voice was small. “Darnok please…” 

The begging almost broke him, but he was so proud of her. He lost control, but she didn’t. His smile lit up his face as he shook his head. “Oh Lia, you have never made me prouder, please do not give in. We have come so far, you have done so well my dearest.”

Sucking in a breath Lia nodded. She focused her breathing and relaxed the tension in her body. The needy, pulsing, ache that filled her slowly faded in intensity. She was still filled with need, but she could handle it now. She wasn’t in danger of going over the edge unexpectedly. Darnok let her rest for a good while as he carefully cleaned her, not wanting to stimulate her too much and send her over the edge accidentally.

It was much harder to calm down this time and Darnok did his best to care for Lia, to bring her back to a more neutral place. He worried about overworking her body, taxing her mind, nothing was worth bringing her actual harm. He whispered words of praise and encouragement until he felt her relax in his arms. This session was shorter, he could not risk pushing for more, he did not trust himself to not give into her pleas. 

Lia’s frustration was turning to anger and she was glad the time was almost up for the first part of the wager. It was beginning to affect her day to day life. She was snapish, terse, and short with people more frequently now. Explaining it off as bad days was becoming harder and she had to be careful that she wasn’t risking her job. 

As the 37th day arrived and passed Lia was curious when she did not hear from Darnok. She had managed to survive the first part of this challenging wager, it was the second part she feared. Being this keyed up for so long meant that she could lose control more easily. Lia was ready to be done if she was honest and wanted nothing more than to go back to exploring this aspect of her life with Darnok, without all the restrictions. Maybe they could revisit this again, but on their own terms. 37 days did not sound like a lot until she had to experience it, and it was just too long. 

When Darnok finally called Lia was relieved. It seemed to have been a draw. Something that didn’t really come as a surprise. While Lia did not know Morwenna or her sub, she knew how to recognize a competitive streak when she saw one and the domme was competitive. Darnok scheduled their next play session for the weekend. They would be utilizing one of the larger rooms as all four of them would have a play session together. Lia wondered how much cross over there would be, or if they were just sharing space. 

The night finally came and Lia dressed comfortably. She packed a spare set of clothes and some other essentials. She was going to be spending the night at the hotel with Darnok afterwards. Lia had the feeling she was barely going to be able to move and that the after care would take the rest of the night. 

Heading into the club she saw Darnok waiting for her close to the entrance. He guided Lia towards the back rooms as they were the only ones open and big enough for all four of them to have enough space to enjoy themselves. Morwenna was already there when Lia and Darnok arrived. Her sub was naked, blindfolded, and bound to one of the small beds. 

“I wanted to save a little time and get my sub prepared. She has been, a little difficult to handle these last few days. I am sure we could have timed this better, but I did not let her cum, even after the 37 days were up. I wanted her prepared for this and eager.”

“Lia has been a dutiful sub and has not orgasmed either. Even though I never said she couldn’t, she chose to continue the deprivation of her own volition. I could not be more proud of her, or more eager for this wager to be complete. I miss scening fully with my sub and while this has been excellent practice and has given me some interesting insight, my pleasure comes from the pleasure of my partners. This was no easy task for either of us.”

“Shall we begin?” Morwenna asked her hand sliding slowly along her subs body, teasing the bound woman's nipple gently.

“Give us just a moment to get ready.” Darnok helped Lia onto the other bed, stripping her of her clothing. He would not use bonds to hold her, he needed to be able to read every movement of her body. Stripping down to his pants, he nodded. “We may begin.”

Darnok’s focus was on Lia, he could not allow what was happening next to them to become a distraction. He started slow, his hands roaming over Lia’s body, massaging her muscles, her breasts, hips, and thighs. He carefully avoided her hot spots, wanting to warm her up slowly, get her used to his touch, let her sink slowly into the sensations. When she was relaxed enough he began to tease her, attaching the little bell nipple clamps to her now pert nipples. Smiling as they made light sounds with her subtle movements. “So beautiful my little Lia.”

Lia was torn between focusing on Darnok and being distracted by the scene happening next to them. Morwenna had a similar approach, starting slow, but she was teasing her sub more with her mouth than her hands. Lia became curious about how different it might feel, having a soft feminine touch as opposed to Darnok’s firm and more masculine one. She loved the way Dar made her feel, but that didn’t mean she could not be curious about the touch of others. 

When his lips kissed over her inner thigh Lia refocused on Dar. This was a competition and she needed to remain relaxed and concentrate on controlling her pleasure. Even though the sound of the other sub’s moans tickled at her ears, Lia had to stay focused on her own pleasure. Making sure it didn’t overwhelm her or catch her by surprise. When his thick tongue pushed into her, she arched with a cry. It felt incredible, not enough to bring her to release, but enough to make her want more. He hands went to his head holding him in place. She knew that this would push her to the edge faster, but she had been practicing with tug signals.

Lia hoped that Darnok remembered and would ease up when she felt herself spiraling. His finger pushing into her was almost too much and she tugged his hair a bit sharply, it was a little too soon for penetration and she needed to calm down. Especially since it seemed the other sub could handle quite a bit. Morwenna was copying Dar, her face between the other woman’s thighs. If the sound was anything to go on, the efforts were quite enthusiastic indeed. Hearing the other sub moaning, seeing her arch and writhe, the way Morwenna delicately sucked and lapped at what little Lia could see. It only aroused her more. Now she understood why the sub was blindfolded. Yes, it increased her senses, but it prevented her from being aroused by the sight of what was happening in the room. 

Gasping Lia arched harder against Darnok, tugging tightly at his hair. She had almost lost focus and cum right then, it wasn’t going to happen so fast. She did not get this far for it to happen this fast. Panting and whimpering she tried to calm herself down but it wasn’t working. Thankfully Darnok stopped and stood up looking down at her. She could see the bulge in his pants, the dampness on his slacks, he was intensely aroused. 

“Oh Lia, I have missed your taste, your body, taking you the way I want to. I must have you.” He stripped the rest of his clothing, climbing onto the bed with her. He wanted it to seem like he had less control than what he actually felt, but the truth was, his control was already being tested. The cries of both women were getting to him and he knew that the sights were arousing Lia. 

Hovering over her, he slid himself against her, not penetrating, taking his time, letting her cool down some, but still teasing her. “I cannot wait to be inside you, to feel you hot and tight around me.” His voice was a deep gravelly growl.

Lia noticed the other subs cries getting louder when he spoke. Perhaps the blindfold helped with the sights, but not the sounds, so maybe she wasn’t at as much of a disadvantage as she thought. Then again, Darnok’s voice affected her too, so it wasn’t without issue. If he spoke more she might lose control, his voice always did something to her she couldn’t quite explain.

Turning her head she saw Morwenna pulling on a complicated harness. It looked like she was using a strap on, but there were modifications that allowed her to be stimulated, at least it looked like there was a part that went inside once it was buckled on. This excited Lia, having never really seen this kind of thing up close. Her eyes were locked on the Domme, and how she moved over her sub. Untying the bonds holding her down and giving her more freedom of movement. Lia was entranced by the sight of their intimacy. The way their bodies moved together, their breasts pressing into each others. It was beautiful.

“Please, Dar, I need you inside me.” She whispered, knowing that he would hear her, but that it would be hard for anyone else too. As an orc his hearing was far better than a humans and it allowed her to speak to him in low tones when she didn’t want to be overheard. All she received in response was a low, deep growl, and the sensation of his thick cock pushing into her. She hiked her legs over his hips, pulling him into her faster. Her control was slipping and they were at risk of losing. 

Maybe making it this far was enough. Lia wanted this, she wanted to cum, and she could not look away from the women next to them. Her face was forcibly turned by Darnok, who gave her an amused look and leaned in nipping her neck. Lia knew he was trying to keep her present, keep her from slipping and going over the edge too quickly. The nip helped ground her a bit, but also riled her. The feeling of him thick and hot inside of her was almost too much to take and she couldn’t resist another look at the couple next to them. 

Morwenna was clearly skilled if the noises her sub was making was anything to go on. The way her hips moved enticed Lia and she found herself spiralling towards that edge faster and faster. Lia simply could not look away, finding the women beautiful in ways she hadn't really thought of too much before. She had always had an open mind, but this was something different entirely. 

Turning to Darnok, it was his eyes that captured Lia. He had been watching her, watching them, but also glancing at them and it was taking its toll. She could see his control slipping, that slightly feral glazed look in his eye that he got when things were about to get rough and more of his orcish nature would come out. His hips moved faster as he thrust deeper and harder into Lia, filling her body in ways no other man ever had, or ever could. Her pleasure spiralled higher and higher, her body tense, the wager forgotten. She no longer cared. She needed release, craved it, and would no longer be denied. 

A sharp cry filled the air as pleasure had culminated in a powerful release of sheer orgasmic bliss, the other sub had broken first. Lia’s cries quickly followed not seconds after as her own orgasm overtook her. The pleasure she felt was so intense it bordered on pain, it almost wasn’t enjoyable it was so intense. Never before had her body reacted this way, the most powerful orgasm she had ever had, a gush of cum squirting out of her and soaking herself, Darnok, and the bed beneath them. Lia was shaking, tense, her body bowed as she rode out the blinding pleasure that tore through her. 

It took several moments for her to begin to relax, a foot had cramped because her toes curled so hard. Lia was not sure she ever wanted to hold off from orgasming that long again. The experience was simply too intense for her. She was panting, her vision blurry with little dots floating around when she blinked. It was a while before she came back to herself, seeing the worried look on Darnoks face. He had been speaking, she had not responded, she had not even realized he was talking.

“Lia, are you ok?” His tone was worried as she had not responded.

“Do I need to call the medic.” Morwenna’s voice sounded far away. 

“I am not sure. Lia, Lia sweetie you need to respond.”

“ok” Lia croaked.

Darnok breathed a sigh of relief as he slowly pulled out, a gush of fluid following the action. Slowly he stroked his hands over her body. “Tell me what you need.”

“Foot cramp” Lia whimpered as she began to come back to herself. 

She smiled weakly as Darnok moved off of her and started massaging her foot and calf, switching to the other leg once she had relaxed. He was talking quietly with Morwenna, both of them clearly worried about her. She raised a hand and waved it at them a bit.

“M’fine.. Think i saw god… or the devil, not sure”

Morwenna laughed heartily. It was the most warm sound Lia had ever heard the woman make. It was so genuine and somewhat contagious. Lia turned and looked at her. Disheveled, soaked in sweat, her hair a mess, clearly she had reached completion with her sub. For the first time, she actually looked human to Lia, and that only  made her more curious about the intense and aloof woman. 

“I like her, I really do Darnok. Are you sure you wont share?” Morwenna was tending her own sub now that it was clear Lia did not need medical intervention. She had removed the girls blindfold and was holding a water bottle for the sub to sip from. “Slowly dear. I will get you a blanket in a moment, you need fluids first.”

The aftercare was soft, gently, the subs being pampered by their doms with the utmost care. Both couples ended up on the couch. Lia wrapped in a blanket curled on Darnoks lap, and Morwanna’s sub was burritoed and draped across her Domme’s lap, hair being stroked softly.

“You won, but barely. I suppose a deal is a deal. Let me know the dates and I will get the tickets as agreed. I do hope we can do this again sometime. Well, maybe not this exactly, but it would be nice to play again. Maybe with a little more interaction?”

“We will see, I would enjoy that, but I have a few scenes planned out that I would like to get through first. I will need to check my calendars and get back to you on the rest. I am honestly surprised we won. I could feel Lia losing control beneath me and I hit a point where I no longer cared about winning.”

“I think we both hit that point. I got caught up in the moment just as much as you did. We all did, and I think that is what made this so much fun.”

Lia did not remember falling asleep or how she managed to get to the hotel. She woke up in Darnok’s arms, resting against his chest. He was deep asleep and she just watched him for a while. Wondering what tomorrow would bring. 

[layce2015]

John Wick Chapter 2 (John Wick x Reader)

Chapter 7: I'll Kill Them All

Chapter 1 / Chapter 6

"Good evening. Is the manager in?" Santino asked Charon as he enters the Continental, breathless. "The manager is always in." Charon said and Santino walks away and down the stairs.

"Winston." Santino said as he makes his way downstairs in the lounge area, where Winston was sitting in a chair reading a book. "Mr. D'Antonio." Winston greets once he looks up from his book. "Your evening has been colorful, I see. Seeking safe harbor, I presume?" He asks as Santino walks up to him. "I want his membership revoked. Now." Santino demands as he walks up to Winston and places his hands on his hip. "In the eyes of this institution, Mr. Wick has breached no legalities." Winston informs him.

"Then you know that I have the right to demand of you..." Santino said but Winston talks over him. "Nothing. You demand nothing of me, Mr. D'Antonio. This kingdom is mine and mine alone." Winston said, firmly, as he gives the young man a stern look. "All right. Then enjoy your kingdom, Winston, while you still can." Santino spat. "And you its privileges, sir." Winston said and Santino walks away and orders some food.

Charon was typing away on his computer when he hears approaching footsteps. He looks up and his eyes widen when he sees you and John walking in, both of you looked tired and battle damaged as there was blood and sweat dripping down both yours and John's faces. "We're here to see Santino D'Antonio." John said to Charon.

Charon swallows and hesitates a bit but he begins to speak. "He's waiting for you in the lounge, sir." He said and John nods and he walks off, you trailing behind him. The two of you walk over and look down from the little balcony to see Santino sitting at a table, eating. You clenched your fist as he looked up at you two and you could just see in his eyes that he believes that he won.

You and John walked down the stairs and towards him, while Winston looks at John with worry. "Duck fat. Makes all the difference." Santino said, smugly, as he takes another bite of his food.

"Jonathan..." Winston said, warningly. "Have you seen the menu here? Lot of options." Santino said. You wanted to hurt this man so bad but, even though you weren't an assassin, you still wanted to respect the rules of not hurting anyone while they were in the Continental. And by God did Santino know it as he sat there, a smile playing on his lips,like he was taunting you two.

"Jonathan, listen to me..." Winston said as you look over at John and you could tell he was pissed. "A man can stay here a long time and never eat the same meal twice." Santino said and John takes a couple of steps forward as he glares at Santino.

"Jonathan, just walk away." Winston said as you look back at John. "John...please..." you pleaded as you placed a hand on his shoulder. Santino gives John a smug smirk. "Yeah, Jonathan. Walk..." he started to say when in a quick movement, John raises his gun and shoots Santino in the head.

You jumped at this and gasped as Winston's eyes were wide and his jaw slightly slacked. "What have you done?" Winston asked John, in shock. "Finished it." John replied as he sets the gun down on the table. You stood there in shock as you stare at Santino's dead body while John starts to turn away. “W-What's gonna happen now?” you asked, in a worried whisper, as you look at Winston.

Winston doesn’t give you a response as he eyes still linger on the now lifeless Santino, but the silence was enough for you to understand one thing.

You can’t kill inside the Continental. 

That’s what Julius said back in Rome when you guys were fighting Cassian. But now that John has killed Santino, you don’t know how bad the consequences would be as you never gotten the full extent of the rules and what would happen if any were broken. But you will soon learn as John gently grabs your arm and leads you away.

Both of you walk back to the lobby, where you see your dog and Charon standing there waiting for the two of you. "How was he?" John asked Charon. "He was a good dog. I have enjoyed his company." Charon said and you smirked as you kneel down to the dog and pet his head then John scratches the back of his ear. "Let's go home." You said as you look up at John. He nods as you get up and you three start to walk out.

John and (y/n) Wick stood inside there in silence, their dog sitting beside them as they take in the sight of what’s left of their home, recalling the time before the Wicks were brought in with no choice. Everything you two had and shared together in this house was gone. Your wishes of having a family together one day in this house was gone.

Photos.

Memories.

Everything.

It’s all gone, burned to ashes and there is no replacing the damage that has already been done. You placed a hand over your mouth as tears began forming in your eyes as you two walk among the remains of your home. In what would've been yours and John's bedroom, you look down and saw something sparkling in the ashes, you kneel down and wipe away the ashes and gasped.

Under the ashes was a bracelet, that was still intact. You picked it up and sniffled a bit as you realize that this was the bracelet that Helen gave you for your sixteenth birthday. It was silver with about four of your birthstones on it and a charm of a daisy flower, since it was Helen's favorite flower. You clutch the bracelet to your chest and began to cry.

John's heart broke as he sees you crying, he always hated when you were sad or crying. He goes up to you and places his hands on your shoulder as you wipe away the tears. He turns you around and pulls you into an embrace and that's when you started to sob harder as you bury your face into his chest.

He looks behind him and sees a chair that was still mostly intact and he goes over and sits down on it, while pulling you into his lap. You lean your head on his shoulder as your sobs subsides a bit while a few tears run down John's face then he runs his hand up and down your back and kissed your forehead.

"John..." you choked, tearfully, as you pocket the bracelet. "Yeah..." he responded. "Wh-what...what are they gonna do? To you?" You asked him as you place your left hand on his chest. He sits there for a moment trying to figure out what to say, but the more you two sat in silence the worse you started to feel. "Well...they're....I..." John stammers, quietly, then he lets out a heavy sigh before he continues. "I broke the rules, I killed Santino in the Continental. The penalty of breaking that specific rule...is death." He said and you gasped as you raise your head up to look up at him.

"No..." you whispered, devastated, but you could tell that he was being serious. "I don’t want to pull you into this anymore if you stay with me. You need to run. And run as far away as you can. If you stay, they’re going to find you and hurt you or worse to get to me. I don’t want that to happen.” He said as you look at him and shake your head. "I'm not leaving you." You said.

"Yes, you are. I've already got you in this mess, you don't need to be deeper into this. You need to run and hide. Live a better life, find a better man." John said and his heart breaks as he hears himself say this. "Okay now, stop it, John! You know there's no one that's gonna replace you! I love you!" You said, your voice rising and becoming more stern.

"I love you too. And that's why I'm telling you to go. You deserve someone better. I'm just...I'm sorry I couldn't provide that life to you." He said to you as he pushes back a stand of hair behind your ear. "John! I said stop! I won’t leave you. We’re in this together...for better or worse. If they want me, they're gonna have to catch me, John." You said and you cup his face in your hands as you stare at him. "I'd rather die than leave you. I wouldn't be able to live with myself, knowing I left you on your own." You said.

Then John places a hand on your cheek and wipes away some tears with his thumb. "If they kill you, then they'll have to kill me too." You said then you remove your hands off of his face then places one of your hands over his, that's on your cheek, and you turn your head and kisses the palm of his hand. "I love you and only you." You whispered. John was speechless. He loves you with all of his heart and he thought that if he leaves on his own...against the world, it would be best for you to not get you involved in this life, his life, any more than you've already been put through since the night you were kidnapped.

He looks deep into your eyes, to see if you were bluffing, but seeing the spark in your eyes says otherwise. The spark that he loves about you. You were serious and he may have underestimated you. He places his other hand on the other side of your face then, gently, guides you towards him until your lips connected with one another.

You froze for a moment as the kiss turns very slow and intimate. You kiss him back and both of you began to convey all of the love you two had for each other in this one kiss. You place your hands on his neck as he wraps his arms around you and holds you close to him as the kiss turns deeper and sensual.

"Mr and Mrs Wick?" A voice said and both you and John pull away from the kiss then look over and see Charon standing at the doorway. "If you would be so inclined." He said and you look up at John as he stares into your eyes. He closes them then sighs and you get up off of his lap and he gets up, then takes your hand in his and the two of you follow Charon, the dog trotting behind you two.

You and John were in the backseat of a car as the dog was laying between you and John, nuzzled up to your lap, and Charon was driving you two to wherever you two were going. You look over at John and, even though he wasn't showing it, you knew he was nervous. You reached out your right hand to his left hand and take a hold of it, he accepts your hand and, instantly, grips it hard.

You stroked the back of his hand with your thumb then both of you share a look. John could tell you were nervous and terrified, and truth be told he was too. He was trying to be strong for the both of you, but seeing that look of fear on your face was breaking his heart. He wanted nothing more than to pull you in for an embrace and tell you everything was gonna be okay and that he will be fine.

But that would be a lie.

He holds up your hand, that he was holding, and kissed the back of it a couple of times. Before he looks back at you, you give a small sad smile before you bring his hand up to your lips and you kiss it as well. He stares at you as if to say I'm sorry when the Charon stops the car. 

John turns to the door and opens it then he let's go of your hand as he climbs out. "Come on, boy." He tells the dog and the dog jumps out then John holds his hand out to you. You take it and he helps you out of the car then John shuts the door behind you and both of you look over at Charon.

"It has been a pleasure, Mr. Wick." Charon said to John. "And it was a pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs Wick." He said and you smiled and nod as John shakes his hand. "Goodbye." Charon said then both of you walk towards the park, the dog following close behind you.

There in the middle was Winston as he sits near the fountain. "Jonathan." Winston greets. "Winston." John said and Winston looks over at you. "Madame." He said and you nod. "What am I lookin' at?" John asked Winston. "The Camorra's doubled Santino's open contract. It's gone international." Winston replied. "High table?" John asked. "Mmm-hmm." Winston said.

"And the continental?" John asked him. "You killed a man on company grounds, Jonathan. You leave me no choice but to declare you excommunicado. The doors to any service or provider in connection with the continental are now closed to you." Winston said and you gasped as John looks down. "I am so sorry. Your life is now forfeit." Winston said as he stands up.

"Then why am I not dead?" John asked and you bite your lips, nervously. "Because I deemed it not to be." Winston said then he nods at a man, who pulls up a phone. "Now." The man said and the people that were walking around you guys, stop and stare at you and John. Both of you look around and you become terrified as see all the eyes staring at you. Winston stares at you two then nods and everyone begins to walk away.

"You have one hour. I can't delay it any longer." Winston said after he checks his watch. "You might need this...Down the road." He said as he pulls out a blood oath marker and hands it to John. Your eyes widen at this as John takes it.

"Winston..." John said and Winston looks up at him. "Tell them. Tell them all. Whoever comes, whoever it is, I'll kill them. I'll kill them all." John threatens and you grab his hand then both you and John exchange a look for a moment, which makes Winston smirk. "'Course you will." Wisnton said, not surprised, he could see how much you meant to John and vice versa. "Jonathan. (Y/n)." Wisnton said to you two. "Winston." You and John said, in unison, then both of you turn around and started to walk away.

As you, John and your dog walk away, Winston pulls out his phone and dials a number. "Accounts payable. One-one-one-one-one. In one hour. John Wick. Excommunicado." He said and the operator was handed John's file then she stamps it. "Order 11111 confirmed." She tells Winston and he hangs up as he felt his heart go heavy. He still couldn't believe that this was happening but...he had no choice.

The operator begins to type on her computer about the order and send it out to everyone that was part of this world. 

You and John were walking along the park when you hear cellphones ringing. Both of you look over and see some people pulling out their phone then they looked right at John. It kept happening the more you two walked and you began to wonder just how many people in this city were assassins. Your heart began beating real fast as you looked at these people in fear.

John started to get worried as well and he starts to walk a bit faster. You meet up with his pace and take his hand in yours and held on. He holds onto it as well and realized that no matter what happens, no matter how bad it gets, he has you by his side.

Then both of you began to run as fast as you could, the dog running along beside you as John starts to figure out how to get both of you out of this....alive.

[thepineapplejuicer]

Imagine...Being one of the renown professional race car drivers and convincing Loki to take a spin with you

Tony taps along with his phone screen, irritating Loki with the bubble noises it makes. “Must you have the sound so loud?” Loki asks, baffled at Tony’s ignorance. “Woah, Woah, boyo, don’t talk to your babysitter like that.” Tony scowls. Loki’s face goes red with anger as he mumbles under his breath, “I do not need a nanny.” 

Due to most of the Avengers being posted on missions Tony offered to take Loki around on his errands. “I do not see why I could not stay in the tower, I have been a prisoner there for over six months now.”

“Yeah, your little stunt with nearly overloading all of my suit drive cores and blowing up the tower has resulted in that privilege being revoked. Obviously, you cannot be left alone.”

Loki looks out the tinted window of the sleek sports car, still surprised that Tony hardly drives himself anywhere. The driver never spoke a word, only ‘Yes, Sir’ or ‘No, Sir’. 

“Well, we got your haircut, your dry cleaning, spent at least two hours having you try on tuxes and not buying a single one, so pray tell, where are we off to now?”

“I have to see one of my drivers to sign some sponsor paperwork.”

“Why would you sponsor one of your drivers?” 

Tony looks confused, then remembers Loki’s inexperience with Midgardian activities, “Different kind of driver, you’ll see.”

After zigzagging along the highways Tony leads Loki to the entrance of a race car stadium. There was no race today so the place was only filled with scattered track workers and racers perfecting their techniques. 

Loki looked at everything like it was the strangest thing he saw. He always hated getting into the death coffins Midgardians call a ‘car’ and these people go into it willingly? 

Once walking along the side of the track Loki spots a young beautiful figure, speaking to a team in green matching uniforms with STARK written on the back. “So this is what you do all day?” Tony teases getting closer to the driver. Once they turn around Loki is taken back by the amount of black grease on their face and in their hair. Yet, they still look undeniably attractive. Loki scans them quietly until his heart races at the sound of their voice.

“Well, if you gave me the funds on time to fix this crap box, then I could spend a lot more time practicing.” the gorgeous creature smiles, fist-bumping Tony. 

“Like you need it. I saw your last race. You might’ve killed the damn engine, but you won and that is what I like to see.”

“We’re Starks, when we get a spark, we make our mark.” 

Tony’s eyes light up, “OH! I like that!” he dials his phone quickly, “Piper, yes sweetheart, I have a great idea for company T-shirts.”

Piper’s voice garbles from the phone and tony covers the speaker, “This is Loki, keep him company while I go sign the papers.” He whispers, “We are Starks when we get a spark, we make our mark! Good right?!” 

Tony walks away, leaving Loki to walk closer to this grease stained racer. “Well, since Tony isn’t much for manners I guess I should introduce myself, I’m Y/N, race car driver and all around Greece monkey.” (s)t(he)y gestures at the mess on her racer uniform. 

Loki only looks at Y/N sternly, skeptical of this meeting. 

“You’re Loki right?” Y/N smiles, “huh, thought you’d be more intimidating.”

Loki raises a brow, “yes, unfortunately, my nanny doesn’t let me where my horns out during the day.”

He earns a sweet, snorty laugh from Y/N, making him chuckle himself. 

“What exactly is the goal here?” Loki asks, watching the cars zoom past them.

“The fastest and best driver wins.”

“LIke horse racing.”

“Yeah, just with a lot of metal that can crush you if you turn the wheel the wrong way.” A spare practice car is driven up to them. Loki’s Adam apple bobs as he swallows harshly, intimidated by the thought of being trapped in one of them.

Y/N sees his discomfort, “I was scared at first too when I was young. You wanna try it out?” 

“I think not.” Loki scoffs, folding his arms.

“Wow.” Y/N sighs disappointed, “And here I thought the mighty Loki God of misdemeanors, who came down to rule us had a little more balls in his purse.”

Loki clenches his jaw, “For the record, it is God of mischief.” 

Loki quickly snatches the helmet offered by Y/N and mumbles a prayer before entering the vehicle. “More cramped than I originally thought.” He says, the static of the radio in his helmet blending with his voice. 

“Think everything is close now? Just wait ‘till we bring this baby up, you’ll be going to second base with that headrest.” Y/N laughs, driving onto the track. 

The engine rumbles as the speedometer dial shoots to the end, sending Loki to grip anything he can, not realizing his hand latched onto Y/N’s thigh. 

After a few laps and caping the car’s speed, Loki’s demeanor shifts into a wild devilish smile, “Yeahhh! Now I see the appeal! Can we go any faster.”

The radio just releases Y/N’s laugh, “You ask a good driver, they’ll tell you no way in hell. Lucky for you, I’m a hundred times better than good.” 

Y/N shifts the car into another gear, boosting the race car and sending Loki’s head to press the headrest leather. “WOOO!” He yells.

“Does get rather tedious though, round and round, over and over again.” 

“Well, it is a nice change to have an attractive passenger with me for once, better view.”

Loki’s hands shoot a bright green spark out the crack of the window, “Let us see you in a more challenging setting then.”

An enormous portal opens in the middle of the track, not giving Y/N enough time to hit the breaks. The car enters the next dimension, lined in darkness. The headlights blare into the dense obstacles, hopelessly trying to breach at least two feet in front of them.

“AH!” Y/N yells, dodging overgrown jungle leaves, thick tree trunks, and exotic man-eating animals that scratch at the paint of the zooming car. 

The road gets bumpier, but thanks to Y/N’s determination and natural skill of driving, they are able to reach a large clearing of wild grass. The car swerves to the side as Y/N comes to a halt. 

Y/N and Loki exit the car, not bothering to shut the doors. “Where did you take us?” Y/N asks, looking at multi-colored lights dancing across the night sky. A yellow and a red moon rotate gently on opposite sides of the planet, with craters you could almost touch. 

“I come here when I want to get away,” Loki admits, hopping on top of the hood of the car. Y/N follow and rubs inconspicuously against Loki’s shoulder. 

“You are impressive, Y/N.” Loki smiles, letting his hand fall in the small space between them. 

“You’re great for noticing.” 

“I think your attitude is already my favorite part about you.”

“Oh yeah, so what is your least favorite part?”

“Having to eventually say goodbye.” Loki’s voice turns soft and he feels Y/N’s fingers start to tangle in his.

“I guess we better enjoy this until Tony realizes we are gone.”

Y/N and Loki keep their kisses, their comfort, joy, and touches in this place where the moons touch the earth, the grass never wilts and the romance never spoils. 

-thank you for reading and your support. :)

[the-original-b]

Archangel--Chapter 8: Reckoning (or Blut und Verrat)

Format: Prose / Fiction, multi-entry

Part in Series: 9 of 9 (Previous Chapter | First Chapter)

Word Count: c. 6,500

Summary: Old secrets surface, Krueger gets an offer, and Khai makes the best of her current situation.

Warning(s): blood, violence

“Pull over here,” Khai suggested from the passenger seat. “The driveway entrance is half a mile up the road, but the property is just over this wall.”

Krueger did as instructed, pulling his sedan to the side of the road and parking it. He shut the headlights off and reached behind the passenger seat to retrieve the AR-15 he took from the Praetorians at Khai’s home half an hour ago. From the driver’s seat he re-checked the weapon, releasing the magazine and sliding it back into place, then pulling the charging handle back just enough to see the brass in the chamber. “I don’t suppose you know how many Praetorians are here?”

“No,” she admitted. “There could be five or fifty.”

Krueger took a breath to calm himself as he formed his plan. He didn’t have the advantage of having Khai watch over him with the recon drone this time, and he had to assume his enemies had technological advantages over him in addition to the numerical one, but Krueger had one distinct tactical advantage which he intended to exploit.

He fished in his coat pocket for the car key and gingerly placed it in Khai’s left hand, careful not to provoke her recovering elbow. “Wait in the car,” he said. “If you don’t hear from me in fifteen minutes, you get as far away from here as you can.”

“What—?”

Before she could protest, or even respond, Krueger stepped out of the car and effortlessly scaled the wrought-iron topped property wall, disappearing from her sight and into the unknown. Khai shut her eyes and exhaled, leaning her head against the leather headrest and looking up through the moon roof. “Don’t you dare die in there, Milo,” she said to herself.

Krueger kept a low profile as he crept through the woods, hanging onto his carbine by its barrel shroud in his left hand. When he arrived at the edge of the clearing he surveyed the area from behind an old tree trunk, noting a swimming pool, outdoor tennis court and handball wall, and the house itself. From his position he could readily see five armed Praetorians patrolling the yard. He could see the one closest to him had a pair of night vision goggles folded up on his forehead. He held his hand on his communicator as Krueger raised his rifle and took aim.

“Bloodhound Three to Actual, no sign of either target,” he said.

The moment he released his communicator Krueger fired, sending a bullet through his temple and killing him instantly. Krueger darted over to where the man fell and inspected him, taking the goggles off his forehead and noticing a fragmentation grenade fastened to his vest.

He recalled a high-value-target rescue he and his team ran in Angola over a decade ago, when they created a distraction to lure the guards away while he secured their objective. He thought to employ the same tactic here.

Krueger laid the Praetorian back down onto his chest to tuck the bomb between the ground and his body and pulled the pin, keeping the lever in place. He quickly scanned the area again before retreating back towards the woods and drawing his P30L.

According to Khai, Simon Wells’ home was the only one for miles in every direction; if that weren’t the case, this would have certainly backfired.

He fired into the air twice, and retreated deeper into the shadows as three of the Praetorians approached where the gunshots came from, noticing the body on the floor. He moved in a wide semicircle around them as they inspected their fallen comrade.

“Base Plate,” one of them said, “We got a body here.” He rested his carbine on the floor and put both hands on the fallen man’s shoulders to move him. “Stand by—”

By the time he noticed the active grenade it was too late.

“Get back—!”

Two of them were lost in the explosion, and the third wasn’t far behind them. Now all eyes were on that corner of the property, per Krueger’s design. “Base Plate, Bloodhound One,” another praetorian exclaimed. “Heard some kind of explosion! Secondary Target is on-site.”

Simon cursed under his breath into the communicator. “Is the woman with him?”

“Unknown. We’ll tighten our sweep on the area. Out.” He switched channels to address his team. “All units, switch to instruments and double your search. Hunt the son of a bitch down.”

 ~~

In the initial chaos, Krueger left his AR-15 behind and scaled a half-wall to pull himself up onto an awning while the other Praetorians’ attention was on the sprung trap. He entered the house through a second-floor balcony, pulling himself up over the handrail and activating the night vision goggles he took from his first victim.

He scanned the hallway, quietly unfolding his knife and maintaining a crouch as he moved from the balcony to one of the bedrooms. Once he cleared it, he put himself against the doorway, allowing one of the Praetorians to pass him by as he continued his sweep of the second floor.

Krueger maintained total silence as he crept out of the room, his knife in hand. He followed the Praetorian, and once he was in range he jabbed the blade just above the other man’s heel, severing the tendon, and then pulled the knife back out just as his victim fell backward into him with a pained groan.

Krueger cupped his hand over the man’s mouth, pulling his head back and burying the blade in his throat, silencing him, then laying him down onto the floor carefully once he stopped moving. The man was dead in a matter of seconds.

Below, the other Praetorian in the house looked up where the noise was coming from, then raised his weapon. “Stay here, sir,” he gestured Simon to remain where he was as he moved to the staircase to investigate the noise.

Krueger heard him coming; he cursed himself for not executing the move faster, the way he could when he taught it to Seza all those years ago. He had no choice but to adapt now, he knew he moment the other man got a shot off, it was over.

The Praetorian ascended the staircase and made his way to where he heard the noise, his weapon raised. Krueger kicked it from his hands as soon as he turned the corner, then dropped to one knee as he buried the blade deep into the side of the Praetorian’s right knee. He twisted the blade a little as he pressed more of his weight into the other man’s ruined leg, bringing him to the floor with him. Just as the Praetorian went for his sidearm, Krueger briskly pulled the knife back out, slashing at his neck as he fell into him and putting him down for good.

Simon waited below, trying to make sense of whose pained groan and gurgling expiration he heard. After a while he raised the .44 and turned the corner, looking up the stairs at the banister—in the darkness he could identify a trickle of blood dripping from between two of the posts. He tried his best to maintain a steady hand and move in silence toward the stairs to get a better look at who it was that was bleeding on is floor, but was forced to stop when a closed fist rested on his shoulder and a handgun’s muzzle pressed against his head behind his ear.

“Checkmate, Mr. Wells,” Krueger said.

 ~~

From the driver’s seat of Krueger’s car, Khai could see a pair of headlamps illuminate the road ahead of her, followed closely by another one. She leaned to her right to hide behind the dashboard and stay out of the oncoming drivers’ sight once they inevitably passed her by.

Her cell phone rang shortly afterward. She answered it.

“It’s clear,” Krueger said. “Come up to the house and join us in the first-floor office. There’s something I think you should hear.”

Khai understood now. Krueger never intended to take on all of the Praetorians, his plan was to get Simon to cancel the kill order he placed on them. Now that they were gone and in the clear, it was safe for her to join them again. “I’ll be right there,” she replied.

She brought the sedan back to life and let the engine purr a little before putting the car into Drive and heading up the road, from where the other vehicles came. After about a minute she pulled into Simon’s driveway and shut the engine off, then stepped out of the car and pushed on the door with her hip to shut it. She rested her left hand in her coat pocket as she walked up to the front door and pushed down on the latch to open it, then quietly shut it behind her once she entered the house.

Her sneakers quieted her steps as she made her way through Simon’s foyer and reached into her coat to draw her semi-auto .357. She let it hang by her side as she entered Simon’s home office and walked up to him, stopping a few yards away.

“Hello, Miss Khai,” Simon deadpanned upon seeing her. He sat behind his desk, his hand by a glass of whiskey, with Krueger behind him to his left; in Krueger’s hand was Simon’s loaded .44.

“Where are your wife and son?” she asked him.

“They’re spending the weekend at her sister’s out of town.” He took from his whiskey glass. “Figured they didn’t need to see what’s about to happen to me.”

“No,” she murmured, “I suppose they don’t…” She raised her gun and held him in the sights. “Simon Wells. For your past and recent actions against the Marlow Partners, and your failed attempts on the life of one of their agents, you are disavowed from the fold. Your membership with the organization as well as the privileges included with that membership are, by your own hand, revoked.” She thumbed back the hammer. “We’ve been ordered to kill you. I’m told there’s something you’d like to share with me before we carry out that order?”

“I figured you’d like to know why,” he said. “Why I turned my back on everything I had.”

Khai blinked. “Go on.”

Simon exhaled. “In 2005,” he began, “my mother was killed when she lost control of her car and sped into oncoming traffic. The coroner ruled it an accident, but my father and I both knew it was murder.”

“That was never proven,” Khai said.

“Not by the partners,” he continued. “But he and I dug deeper than they did, and found out the Company bought the mechanics who worked on her car, and sabotaged it… and then there was dad.”

“I remember,” she answered. “Massive heart attack, 2010. I was in the room when it happened.”

“Yeah,” Simon said. “You were. You and Isaac and Karl, you were there every step of the way, right up ‘till the day he died.”

Khai lowered the gun and took a step toward him. “How dare you blame us for that?” she challenged. “I looked up to your father; Karl and Isaac, they adored him! The three of us, we did everything in our power to help that man after he lost your mother.”

“You didn’t let him grieve,” Simon said. “Not properly.” He took another sip from his glass. “The stress, the broken heart, whatever it was that gave him that un-survivable heart attack, he got from you three.”

Khai exhaled and shook her head. “So, what then? Was all of this to avenge William?”

“The life,” he declared, “The Marlow Partners, they destroyed my family, Elizabeth. I did what I did not just for them, but for all the other families you and your club tore apart. You ever stop to wonder how many widows and orphans we’ve made over the last year?” He finished his drink and set the glass down on the desk, leaning back in his chair a little. “And now here they are again ripping up another family—one more widow, one more fatherless boy. Just another notch on the belt for the high-and-mighty Partners.”

Khai shut her eyes and let her head hang while she inhaled. She let it out, then looked back up to reestablish eye contact. “I suppose there’s no convincing you otherwise,” she conceded.

“Maybe there is,” Krueger noted. “I can’t speak for the Partners’ past deeds,” he began as he opened up the cylinder of Simon’s revolver, “and because I still have a job to do, I can’t allow you to live. But I can offer you a choice.” He emptied the six bullets into his left hand and put one back into the cylinder, rotating it so it would fire next time the trigger was pulled. “Die by my hand,” he elaborated as he placed the weapon on the desk. “Or die by your own.”

Simon looked at the hand cannon that once belonged to his father, then back up at Krueger. “What difference does it make to you?”

“None,” he said plainly. “But I’m guessing it might make one to you. If I or Miss Khai were to shot you here and now, you would die a traitor. Your name and legacy would be stricken from every record they’re in and the world you unenthusiastically helped shape would forget you. But if you took your own life before I could, the world may yet remember you differently.”

“Is that so?” Simon ventured. His hand rested on the revolver. “And what’s to stop me from turning this gun on either of you?”

“If you did the other one of us would shoot you, even if you weren’t dead before squeezing the trigger. So ask yourself—would you like to be forgotten as just another in the sea of nameless faces of men and women I’ve killed, or would you rather be remembered as a man who had the conviction to challenge his assassin and deny him his target?”

Simon broke eye contact as he mused to himself a while, running his fingertips over the engraving in the gun’s barrel. Then he reached over to pick it up with his right hand, thumbing back the hammer. He looked back up at Krueger, locking eyes with him for a few seconds before he looked over at Khai. He offered her a downward nod before breaking eye contact and looking straight ahead and straightening his posture in the chair. And then Simon pressed the muzzle of the revolver under his chin and pulled the trigger.

“Wise decision,” Krueger stated.

Krueger turned away from Simon’s nearly-headless body and started walking toward Khai. She handed him her cell phone to call Hayden as she reset the hammer of her gun and put it back into her coat. She turned away to follow Krueger, taking a few steps in the direction before stopping to look over her shoulder at what was left of Simon Wells. After a moment she turned away to continue following Krueger toward the exit.

“It’s done,” Krueger said as soon as Isaac Hayden answered the phone. “Simon took his own life before I could get to him.”

Hayden was quiet for a while after Krueger spoke. “Noted,” he finally said. “I’ll ensure that his wife and son will be provided for.”

“Understood, Mr. Hayden.” Krueger ended the call and opened the front door for Khai behind him. She traded his car key for her phone when they made it to the sedan, then entered and drove away from the Wells residence.

 ~~~~

They returned to Khai’s home in Westchester half an hour later to find the lights restored and a new nondescript sedan sitting in her driveway. She fished her house key one handed out of her coat pocket and opened the front door, letting Krueger follow her into the foyer. The bodies that they left behind were gone, along with the blood on the floor and walls.

Khai paused a few steps into the foyer, and let out a tired sigh. Krueger watched her shoulders slump as she exhaled, and he walked up to wrap a supportive arm around her and walk her to the living area. He set her down onto the couch opposite the wall-mounted television, and she absentmindedly peeled her coat off one shoulder at a time. She maintained a blank stare at the far wall, her elbows resting on her knees.

Krueger watched her closely. “Are you okay?” he asked. “After all of what’s happened.”

Khai blinked slowly. “I just watched my business partner kill himself,” she said. “He did try to have me killed twice today, and he did betray my family, but still… he was my brother by trade.”

“You’ll make it through this, Liz,” Krueger reassured her. “You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. Whatever you’re feeling right now, I promise you’ll get past it.”

“I’m mostly just feeling hollow,” she admitted. “Alone… scared.” Her last word was a barely audible whimper.

Krueger had seen it before. Khai’s adrenaline was running high for most of the day. Now that it was finally filtering out of her system, all the emotions kept in check by her prolonged fight-or-flight state began to surface and hit her all at once. She was tired, overwhelmed, and terrified. It was a small miracle she managed to keep herself together in all of this.

She looked up at him, fear in her eyes. “Can you stay with me?” she appealed.

Krueger took his coat and body armor off and laid them down onto an ottoman along with his handgun and holster. He walked over to Khai, placing himself onto the couch immediately to her right, between her and a neatly folded Berkshire blanket. He looked over at her and turned his left palm upward, offering it to her.

Khai took his hand, weaving her fingers between his and curling up on the couch next to him. She reached across herself with her other hand and held onto his arm, leaning her head against his shoulder.

And there they sat, in shared silence, looking at the black television screen.

 ~~~~

Krueger opened his eyes later than night, and looked at Khai snuggled up under the Berkshire blanket with him, fast asleep with her head on his chest. He shut his eyes only for a moment; when he opened them again it was morning, and Khai was in the kitchen looking through her cabinets for what she could salvage, still in her tank top and flare-bottom pants.

He sat up, letting the blanket fall off of him as he rubbed the back of his neck to massage the muscle a little. “Guten morgen,” he said, loud enough for her to hear in the other room.

She looked over her shoulder at him. “Hey..!” she extolled. “How’d you sleep?”

“Not bad,” he answered. He sat up fully, reaching across his chest and pinning his arm to it with the other one to stretch. “A little stiff, but no complaints otherwise.”

“That’s probably the couch... or age,” she jested. She found an intact Moka pot and two undamaged coffee cups.

“Very funny,” he retorted, smiling. He switched to stretch his other arm. “Thirty-six was only nine years ago.” He was very happy to see her sense of humor was back, and that whatever she was feeling after yesterday night was gone. She was back to herself.

“Whatever you say, old man,” she chuckled. “You’re welcome to use the bathroom upstairs. Go ahead and take a toothbrush from of the pack under the sink.”

“Danke.” Krueger stood up, folding the Berkshire blanket back up and placing where he first found it, and headed up the spiral stairs to the bathroom.

After brushing his teeth, Krueger cupped his hands under the faucet and splashed cool water over his face, then ran his still-wet hands through his hair before shutting the water off and burying his face in a hanging towel to dry off. He looked away from the towel to see Khai leaning against the doorway, her black hair down and her arms wrapped around herself. She smiled warmly at him.

Khai chuckled to herself, coyly looking toward the floor as she uncrossed her arms and took a slow, exaggerated step backwards. She reestablished eye contact for a brief moment before disappearing behind the corner.

Krueger watched her turn the corner, and followed her out of the bathroom. He found her leaning against the wall with a not-so innocent closed-lipped grin on her face. He reciprocated her expression, placing his hands on the walls to either side of her to corral her in.

Khai reached up to rest her forearms on his shoulders and pull herself up to him. She felt his hands rest on her hips and bring her closer. Fabric was all that separated them now. “No interruptions this time,” she purred.

Krueger brought their mouths together to share a tender kiss, and then a second one which they held for several seconds. Khai wrapped her arms around the back of his neck to pull herself in and physically deepen their kiss as Krueger’s arms snaked around her back.

They briefly broke contact to look in each other’s eyes and kissed again, even harder and deeper this time. Khai trembled a little as Krueger stepped back, letting him lift her tank top up and raising her arms so he could more easily free her from it. She felt goosebumps spread up her forearms as his fingertips returned to her, running up her stomach and chest. She returned in kind, pulling his t-shirt up from his waist and paring it off of him before reaching back up to reclaim his lips. They shared several heated kisses before breaking contact again, and she took his hand to lead him to her bed onto which she fell backward and pulled him on top of her.

 ~~

“Where did this come from?” Krueger asked, tracing a fine scar on the inside of her wrist with his thumb. His head and shoulders were up against the headboard, and Khai lay tucked beside him under the bed sheets.

“That?” Khai held her left arm out in front of the two of them, her head lying on his bare chest. “Went over the handlebars of a quad. Spring Break, junior year.” She returned her hand to his stomach. “Far from my finest moment,” she chuckled. “Major lapse in good judgement there.”

“Good judgement comes from experience,” he said. “And a lot of that experience leaves marks.”

“Is that how you see it?” She turned her head to look up at his face. “What lesson came from this one, then?” She traced the U-shaped scar under his left cheekbone with her finger.

Krueger recalled that day. “If you’re close enough to land an elbow, you’re close enough to take an elbow.”

“Oh? And what set of circumstances could you possibly have created to learn such a lesson?”

“An underground boxing ring in Muscat,” he said plainly. “We were chasing a war criminal, it was as good a place as any to catch a lead.”

“Did you at least find him there?”

“No, it turned out he was in Abu Dhabi.” He looked at her and smirked. “Not everybody gives good intel like you do.”

“Only the best,” she jested. Her eyes moved further down his lean athletic frame and settled on a trio of bumpy lines under his left pectoral. She recognized them as old stab wounds. “And these?” she inquired, tracing them with her fingers again.

Krueger looked down at them. “Marrakesh. We were in pursuit of sex traffickers operating there… if not for Seza I might have died on a bazaar floor that day.”

“Well,” Khai said, “that’s two things I’ll have to thank her for next time I see her... and that?”

Krueger looked to where she pointed—a small slightly discolored crater in his waist, near his right hip. “Shootout at a club in Crown Heights… and these I got in Hoboken,” he noted, indicating the off-yellow splotches on his chest and stomach.

“Right,” she said. “I was there for those..!” She rested her head on him again, letting her hand fall onto his chest. “They say whatever doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. By that logic, you ought to be immortal now.”

“Maybe,” he said, cradling her and looking her in the eye. “Or maybe I’ve just gotten very lucky.” He placed a gentle kiss on her lips. “Are you hungry?”

“God, famished,” she said. She got herself off of him to let him up off the bed, and watched him sit at its edge and stand to recover his pants from whatever corner of the room they were flung to. She studied the numerous discolorations, scars, and marks on his back—old injuries that never got a chance to properly heal—and wondered to herself how many of them his ex-wives helped treat.

How many more would show up over the next few years? How many wounds would she have to suture up? How much more of this could his body handle?

Krueger found his clothes and dressed himself again before heading down the hallway toward the stairs and eventually the kitchen. Khai followed suit, getting out of the bed to reclaim her pants and tank top from wherever they ended up. She briefly stopped in her walk-in closet to grab a pullover hoodie which she threw on over her shirt and joined Krueger downstairs.

 ~~

Krueger diced a whole apple and banana atop a thin cutting board while the egg whites simmered in another pan on the stove. He added the fruit to the oats he had cooking in a saucepan and topped the mixture with cinnamon. He stirred it a few times to mash the banana and let it melt into the oats, then turned his attention to the egg whites to ensure they didn’t burn too badly. He shook enough salt into his hand to cover the middle of his palm and ground an equal amount of fresh black pepper into the salt, then spread it over the eggs.

When it was done he set one bowl of oats aside for Khai and another for himself, placing them next to the plates of egg whites he prepared. Then he set the saucepan in the sink and filled it with water before joining her at the center island with the coffee she prepared for them. He spooned half a teaspoon of raw sugar into it as she sampled his oats.

“That’s delicious!” she said. “Where did you find that recipe?”

“Ah, that one I found while touring an obscure corner of the world called YouTube.” He smirked as she chuckled. “They say you can add honey if you like, but I prefer it this way.”

“This is actually perfect,” she commented. “The fruit adds all the sugar it needs. It’s sweet, but not saccharine.”

“Speaking of which,” he raised the coffee cup, “this is superb.”

“Café Bustelo,” she said. “Only the best for you..!”

They shared their breakfast for a while before Khai slowed down, her brow furrowed as she chewed.

“What’s wrong?” Krueger asked.

Khai swallowed a mouthful of egg whites. “I just keep going back to what Simon said. About creating widows and orphans.”

“Don’t let his words get under your skin Liz,” Krueger said.

“Oh, they’re not,” she clarified. “I made my peace with that years ago, it’s just… I can’t shake the feeling we’ll be doing this again in ten years with his son, you know?”

“Maybe… or maybe young Mr. Wells will learn from Simon’s example and follow a better path,” he mused. He took up his coffee cup again. “Whatever that might be in this life.”

 ~~

Krueger crossed the front door’s threshold and turned back to Khai leaning against the doorway.

“So will I see you Monday?” she asked him.

“That depends,” he said. “Will you have a job for me?”

“Well, I’m sure I can find something we’ll need your help with,” she added with a smile. Then she tiptoed up to plant a long kiss on his lips which he returned, holding her close to himself as he did. “See you later, Milo,” she finally said.

“Auf wiedersehen, Liz.”

And then Krueger went over to his sedan parked in her driveway, entered through the driver’s side door, started the engine, and backed into the street to head home.

It was just before noon when he arrived in front of his home. As he shut the engine off and stepped out of the car, another man stepped out of the passenger-side door of a dark blue Rolls-Royce Phantom parked up the street and slowly approached him. “Milo Krueger?” the man asked. 

Krueger arched his brow in response. He recognized the fruity, sonorous baritone voice of the other man speaking to him. “Yes.”

The tall, broad-shouldered dark-skinned man who stepped out of the Rolls-Royce wore a masterfully tailored navy blue suit and crisp white shirt with dark brown lace-up shoes under his pale gray coat. On his left wrist was a gold-and-silver watch with a minimalist blue face, and he wore a navy blue tie accented with a gold and silver paisley design. 

“Do not be alarmed by my presence here,” the well-dressed man continued. He had his hands up in front of him in a non-threatening gesture as he slowly closed the distance between them and stopped a few yards from Krueger. “Your home address is a classified piece of information accessible only by my colleagues. The Branch doesn’t know where you live,” he reassured. His short hair and trimmed beard were accented with sparsely placed gray hairs. “I’m sorry for the, theatrics, but I felt this was a conversation best had in-person. I’m Isaac Hayden,” he finally introduced himself. “I’d like your debrief on these recent events.” He gestured the idling Rolls-Royce a few yards from them. “This way, please.”

Krueger followed him to the car, where Hayden opened the rear passenger-side door to let him in. He shut it and entered through the rear driver-side door, signaling the driver to take off and begin circling the block.

“The loss of Simon Wells at the head of the Lower New York Branch is… devastating,” Hayden began, looking out the window. “But, I do find some elation in the fact that the damage done is limited to his passing. And I owe a large part of that to your efforts.” He turned to face Krueger. “You’ve demonstrated your value and resourcefulness to me and my partners many times over, and for that I thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“However, the resolution of the aforementioned problem has presented me with two, unforeseen, complications.” Hayden leaned forward a little before he continued. “My flagship branch is without its captain, and I have very little time to find a suitable candidate to lead it.”

“Well,” Krueger said. “If I may make a suggestion, Mr. Hayden, why not let Elizabeth Khai direct the Branch? I’ve watched her work for some time now, and from what I understand she has more experience in a leadership role than anyone else there. I can’t imagine somebody better suited to fill the void Mr. Wells left behind.”

“Yes,” Hayden mused to himself, “she is the obvious choice… I agree with everything you’ve said,” he continued for Krueger to hear him. “I’ll forward your recommendation to the other four, but it must pass a vote before any decisions are finalized. Still, I see no reason they wouldn’t endorse her for the position.” He looked back out the window. “Frankly I’d be shocked if they didn’t…”

“So we’ve addressed your first complication,” Krueger said. “And I’m guessing I’m the second.”

“Yes, Mr. Krueger,” Hayden confirmed. “You are. You’re a contractor without ties to any one organization—I can’t allow my rivals access to your talents and expertise.”

“So is this the part where you kill me?”

“Of course not,” Hayden said, reclaiming his eyes. “I can’t afford to have you killed, you’re much too valuable to us alive... I want to fold you in.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hayden,” Krueger said. “But as I explained to Mr. Wells, I’m not one of you. I’m just an old soldier turned independent gun. I lack the ambition to learn a new trade and am quite happy doing what I know.”

“But, you’re very good at what you do,” Hayden noted. “A clever, resourceful, morally ambiguous man with a unique set of skills.” He chuckled a little at his next thought. “So there may be a way… I think we can work together and resolve this complication in a way that benefits us both.”

“You may be right, Mr. Hayden,” Krueger said. “Although my services are typically offered á-la-carte, I’m certainly open to a longer-term arrangement with a retainer.”

“That’s all I needed to hear, Mr. Krueger.” The Rolls-Royce came to a stop in front of Krueger’s home. “Return to the branch Monday morning and we’ll discuss the numbers.” Hayden handed Krueger a keycard. “This will give you access to the office.”

Krueger accepted the card. “I’ll be there.” Krueger opened the door to let himself out.

“Thank you again for everything you’ve done, Mr. Krueger,” Hayden said from inside the car. “And for your time.”

“Of course Mr. Hayden. I’ll speak to you Monday.”

Krueger shut the rear passenger-side door and stepped away from the car as it pulled into the street and away from him, heading off to its destination. He watched it for as long as he could, and when it disappeared from his sight he turned to head toward his house.

He paused when he felt his phone buzz in his coat pocket. He fished it out and answered the call. “Hello?”

“Dad,” spoke a younger man’s voice on the other end. “It’s Alex. Sorry I didn’t return your call earlier, but I finally have a chance to breathe.” He spoke in German.

“Don’t worry about it, Alex,” Krueger answered in German as well. “I understand you’re busy.” He continued toward his home.

“How have you been?”

“About the same. I actually landed some stable work here in America, for a Manhattan-based operation. I’m set to negotiate a salary Monday morning.” He opened his front door and stepped into the house.

“That’s great! Mom and I were worried about you for a while when you bounced from job to job.”

“You two don’t have to worry about me anymore. I’m doing fine here.” He took a moment before sharing his next thought. “It’s good to hear your voice again, son.”

“Yours too, dad.”

 ~~~~~~

Krueger tapped the keycard he got from Isaac Hayden onto a reader beside the glass doors Monday morning, dressed in a dark turtle neck sweater and slacks with a medium gray jacket, and pulled one open to cross into the office space. There was nobody else there yet at this hour, so he took his time walking through the space as he made his way to the conference room waiting area.

The receptionist’s desk was empty, and the conference room doors were open. He walked through the hallway to the open space and found Khai looking out the window at Sixth Avenue below her. She wore a dark blazer and lavender blouse with round-toe pumps, and was standing at the perfect angle for him to admire her profile, curves, and the short slit in the pencil skirt she wore over her black tights.

Krueger knocked on the wall to get her attention.

She turned to face him. “Oh!” she nearly gasped. “Sorry, I didn’t know anyone else was here..!”

“It’s just us,” he said, taking a few steps toward her with his hands in his pockets. “You’re in early.”

“Yeah.” She went towards the desk. “A lot of affairs to get in order before the transition of command. Simon left a mess behind for me to clean up.” She leaned against the corner of the desk to face him.

“So will I be calling this the Khai Branch from now on?”

Khai laughed a little at the thought. “Not yet, at least,” she noted. “I mostly think they’re just letting me direct the operation until they find somebody better.”

“I don’t think so,” Krueger noted. He stopped about two feet from her. “I spoke to Mr. Hayden the other day, he’s about ready to hand you the keys to this place. I feel this, transition, is more of a practice run than something temporary… and if you’ll allow me to be honest,” he disclosed, coming in a little closer, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Khai tucked her hair behind her ear and offered him a sly smile. “Did you come all the way out here dressed like that just to shower me with compliments this morning?” she purred. “Because it is doing something for me.”

“That’s just one reason I’m here this morning,” Krueger added with a similar tone. “Mr. Hayden offered me a position,” he continued. “Service as-needed for a retainer.”

“Does that mean I’ll be seeing you more often?” Khai proposed, holding onto his open jacket.

“I rather hope it does.”

Danielle’s voice in the hallway pulled them from their moment. “Mr. Wells?” she called out. “Sorry I’m late, I—oh.” She paused at the sight of Krueger and Khai in the conference room, having been given just enough time to reestablish some distance. “Good morning, Miss Khai. Mr. Krueger.”

Krueger gave her a respectful nod hello.

“Hey, Danielle,” Khai said, adjusting her glasses. “How was your weekend?”

“It was good, thanks… where’s Mr. Wells?”

“Simon had to address a family emergency,” Khai said. “It doesn’t look like he’ll be back... He’s having me keep things in order during the interim.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that…”

“Yeah, I was too.” Her tone told Krueger she meant it.

“Well, I’m up front if either of you need me.”

“Thanks, Danielle.”

Krueger waited for Danielle to leave before he spoke again. “Well done,” he said.

“I don’t even know where that came from,” Khai replied. “I suppose I picked up a thing or two from you.”

“It would appear so…” Krueger went back for the door. “Aren’t you going to wish me luck on my interview?”

“You don’t need luck,” Khai said, sitting down behind the desk. “I think you’ll be just fine.”

Krueger shot her a warm smile before exiting the conference room, leaving Khai alone in the big empty space. As many times as she’s been in the room with other people over the years, she never had this view of the area. It was new and far from comfortable.

She exhaled and laced her fingers together atop the desk. “Yeah,” she said to herself. “You got this, Liz. I think you’ll be just fine….”

(Masterlist | Season 2)

[queenofcats17]

Theme Park Chaos

So, I kind of wanted to write Bertrum meeting the cast of @ask-joeydrewstudios , so I’m going to do it. Bertrum has mellowed with age. 

Augustus is an oc I came up with to explain who took over Bertrum’s business after he disappeared in the main story. In this, he’s just Bertrum’s nephew who took over after Bertrum “retired”. Or was forced to retire by his sister. 

Gears112 has done a lot of his development.

“Uncle Bertie, you really didn’t have to come with me,” Augustus said as he pulled into the parking lot of Joey Drew Studios. 

“Nonsense!” Bertrum scoffed, thumping his cane for emphasis. “This is an important contract and as the founder of this firm, I want to thank them properly for allowing us to be the ones who will be designing their park.” 

Augustus sighed to himself. His mother had been right. Bertrum really was going to work until he died. Technically speaking, his uncle had retired a few years back. Well, he’d been forced to by Augustus’ mother Charlotte. Charlotte had been adamant that Bertrum needed to step down. 

“You’re almost 90!” She’d said. “For God’s sake, let someone else be in charge!” Despite being nearly a foot shorter than her elder brother, and at least 100 lbs lighter, Charlotte had won this battle. Bertrum had officially stepped down, making Augustus the legal head of the firm. Of course, Bertrum continued to show up at the office despite not technically working there anymore. He’d stopped doing it as much as of late, but when he’d heard the latest client of the firm was Joey Drew Studios, he’d insisted upon coming with Augustus to discuss the plans. Bertrum would never admit it, but he rather admired Joey Drew. He talked often of the other man’s drive and dedication to his craft. If there was one thing that Bertrum Piedmont respected, it was determination and hard work. 

Both men got out of the car and walked to the studio door. Augustus had a folder with some initial sketches he’d done of possible attractions and what the whole park might look like. Bertrum had been looking over his shoulder the entire time, offering “help”. Augustus was pretty much used to it by now. He opened the door, standing aside so his uncle could go in. The inside of the studio was organized pandemonium, which made Augustus smile a little. The studio felt...like home. He wasn’t sure why he felt that way, but it was a good feeling.

“Who’re you?” Augustus looked down to find Bendy the Dancing Demon standing at his feet. For a moment, he just stared at the little demon, unsure how to react to this. 

“I am the great Bertrum Piedmont,” Bertrum announced, clearly irritated with his nephew’s silence. “And this is my nephew, Augustus.”

“Augustus DeLume.” Augustus stuck his hand out, more out of habit than anything else. “Mr. Drew hired me to build a park for him.” Bendy’s face immediately lit up. 

“You’re the park guys!” He grabbed Augustus and Bertrum’s hands. “C’mon! Papa Drew’s office is this way!”

“Papa Drew?” Bertrum echoed, squinting in curiosity. “Did Drew...make you?”

“Mm-hm.” Bendy nodded. Bertrum looked at Augustus, who just shrugged. Bendy dragged the two of men to a door bearing Joey Drew’s name. The little demon knocked on the door, bouncing up and down excitedly.

“Come in.” A voice came from inside. Bendy threw the door open, dragging Augustus and Bertrum inside. Joey Drew looked up from the paperwork he’d been going over with Henry and smiled. 

“Ah, Mr. DeLume! And Mr. Piedmont too! I didn’t expect you to come along as well. I heard you’d retired.”

“He’s supposed to be retired,” Augustus said, smiling long-sufferingly at his uncle. 

“I couldn’t very well let Augustus come here alone.” Bertrum gave Augustus a withering glare. “This is a very important contract and I wished to thank you properly for this opportunity.” Bendy was vibrating by Joey’s desk, grinning so wide his face seemed as though it was going to split. 

“You really are excited for this, aren’t you?” Henry laughed, patting Bendy’s head. 

“Papa Drew said we can all walk around if the park gets off the ground!” Bendy nodded excitedly. Henry looked over at Joey, who smiled sheepishly. 

“I...May have mentioned something like that.” He put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “They’re getting restless.” Henry sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Well, we’ll see.” He finally conceded. “We need to think this through properly.”

“Yes yes, I know.” 

Suddenly, Bendy stopped. 

“If we get a theme park...Do we have to use those mascot costumes in the basement?” He whispered. There was real terror in his eyes. 

“Mascot costumes?” Augustus looked to Henry and Joey. “You already had mascot costumes made?”

“They were for a meet and greet event a few years ago,” Joey explained, grimacing. “Children...did not respond well to them.”

“They can see into my soul,” Bendy whispered, clinging to Joey’s pant leg. 

“All mascot costumes are a little bit unsettling.” Bertrum shrugged. 

“Yes, but they shouldn’t have to be.” Augustus waved a hand and set his folders on the desk. “In any case, I drew up some plans for the park if you’d like to see them.” 

“Oh! Yes! Of course!” Joey’s face lit up. Augustus relaxed a bit. This was the first normal thing that had happened since he’d arrived at the studio. 

And so he detailed the plans to Joey and Henry, outlining possible attractions, expense reports, and possible locations. Bertrum, of course, jumped in every so often. Henry and Joey listened intently, both noting things in notepads they’d both brought along. Bendy got bored a few minutes in and ran off. 

“So, what do you think?” Augustus asked once he was finished. 

“We’ll have to discuss the expenses with Grant, and there will need to be more discussion about the rides and the layout, but I think this could work. I must say, I’m rather impressed,” Joey said, smiling wide. “Thank you so much, Mr. DeLume, Mr. Piedmont. You both certainly came prepared.”

“Thank you, sir.” Augustus began gathering his papers. “Our company does try to be prepared for everything. You wouldn’t believe how many of our clients don’t understand just what goes into making a theme park.”

“We all made sure we knew exactly what we were getting into with this.” Henry nodded sagely. 

“Very wise,” Bertrum said.

“I should probably get back to work.” Henry checked his watch. “I’ll be back later, alright?”

“Don’t work too hard!” Joey called after him. “And remember! Your coffee privileges have been revoked!” Henry made a noise that might have qualified as irritation before leaving the room. Augustus noted that his uncle was trying to, very discretely, look around Joey’s office. Bertrum’s gaze settled on the picture frame on Joey’s desk. 

“That’s a lovely picture.” His voice went soft as he examined the picture. It was of Joey with the toons, almost like a family portrait. Right next to it was a picture of Henry and Joey, and beside that a picture of Henry, a woman he assumed to be Henry’s wife, and a young boy. 

“Ah, well, yes.” Joey smiled, looking down at the pictures as well. “I like to remind myself of the important things in my life.” 

“Uncle Bertie used to have a lot of pictures like this on his desk,” Augustus said without thinking.

“Augustus!” Bertrum said.

“Do you have a family, Mr. Piedmont?” Joey asked, leaning on his desk. 

“...Of a sort.” Bertrum answered hesitantly. “I have no wife nor child if that’s what you’re asking. I never really felt the urge to get married.” 

“I can understand that.” Joey nodded. “Who were your photographs of, if I may ask?”

“My sister and her family.” Bertrum glanced towards Augustus, who had moved over to the side to go through his papers once more. An almost tender expression passed across his face, something that was most definitely not missed by Joey. 

“You know, I think I’m going to like working with you, Mr. Piedmont.” 

.

They spent a little more time in Joey’s office, which was mostly filled by Bertrum and Joey talking about their respective families while Augustus not so subtly watched them. He couldn’t wait to tell his mother about this. Charlotte would be so proud of Bertrum for making a friend. 

“Ah, look at the time!” Joey glanced at the clock. “You’d both best be going. I imagine you have other clients to attend to.”

“Of course, of course.” Bertrum rose from where he’d been sitting. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Drew.”

“And you as well, Mr. Piedmont.” Joey shook Bertrum’s hand warmly. Augustus and Bertrum made their way out of the office and back toward the entrance. About halfway there, the voice of a woman interrupted them. 

“Bertrum Piedmont. I should’ve known you’d still be kicking, you old bastard.” Augustus frowned as he and his uncle turned to face the woman who had spoken. 

“Lacie Benton.” Bertrum smiled slyly. “So this is where you disappeared to.”

“Do you two know each other?” Augustus asked. He’d heard his uncle talk about a woman named Lacie before. Usually followed by a longwinded tangent about how he would have liked to have her as a daughter. 

“I did some work for him years back,” Lacie said. “Before I got offered the job here. You must be the nephew.”

“Yes, that would be me.” Augustus smiled slightly nervously.

“You’re one of the best mechanics I ever had the pleasure of working with. I was sorry to see you go.” Bertrum sighed. “I trust Drew is treating you well?”

“Eh, he’s alright.” Lacie shrugged. “Got his head up in the clouds half the time, but he means well.”

“Good good.” Bertrum thumped his cane thoughtfully. 

“I guess I’ll be seeing you both around,” Lacie said, eyes going to the folder in Augustus’ arms. “You’re building Drew’s theme park, right?”

“That we are.” Augustus nodded. “Although I’m not sure how often Uncle Bertie will be coming with me.” He shot his uncle a warning glare, which Bertrum utterly ignored. 

“I’m not dead yet!” He said. “I will be coming here as often as I am able for this project!” Augustus sighed, which made Lacie start to laugh. 

“Good to see you haven’t changed a bit.” She said. “Have a nice night, you two.” Then she turned and left, leaving Augustus to usher his uncle out to the car. He had a feeling this was going to be an interesting contract.

[objectdreams]

film noir scene

written using a predictive text interface

source: screenplays for ‘the maltese falcon’ and ‘the big sleep’

method: 12 word options for the user at each step. stage directions used to write the stage directions. dialogue for the dialogue. arranged and formatted in final draft.

page 1 here: http://objectdreams.tumblr.com/image/157223468594

transcript:

INT. HALLWAY - OFFICE BUILDING The sound of running feet comes from behind Marlowe’s eyes. He does a few scattered steps into the street as NORRIS appears with eyes that glitter between narrow shoulders which he found at the rear of a garage.

NORRIS You see that privilege is now youth, sir. Yes, sir, this morning I thought it. I thought that privilege is now youth.

He walks toward Marlowe and the front of his mouth smiles faintly. Marlowe looks up at his watch with eyes that are both tired and drained of sight. Hatred of paper matches with his eyes. Marlowe is something sullen and hot.

MARLOWE Take a look at me. Get out of here with your car driving and all your breath. Just get rid of your mind.

He opens the envelope and slips down into it with a long contented exhalation. The sofa groans. The desk drawer looks around her, holding a luger pistol from her book which is about a car door opening and closing itself quietly. Spade gets out of his pocket. In his mouth twitch a cigarette and a ticket for an instant beyond the pale. Bookshelves of paper and tobacco smoke the room to a husky whisper.

EFFIE The widow is here in danger. I phoned her all night and now she’s in surprise danger.

Camera dollies ahead of Spade and makes a careless gesture that Spade grunts at. The sound of bed-springs creaking is still audible in his throat.

SPADE You are dangerous to know. Your story of money and nothing else could have got them to revoke your woman’s intuition.

Against the wall beside the door behind the partition in the middle of an adjoining room is a dark ambulance, bloodshot and mad, a car which has been turned into a grim moment of impact.

[maryeemeeh]

Wolves of Manhattan

Originally posted on fanfiction.net

Summary: He is the rich kid from the Upper East Side with a troubled past and a dysfunctional family. She is from Greenwich Village who is pulled into the world of the rich and famous when her parents receive promotions. When their paths cross, a spark is ignited and the tables are turned when they learn they are far more connected than they thought. AU. 

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

CHAPTER ONE

"Luke, don't do this!"

His eyes snapped open as he clenched his bruised fist and stormed out the room, ignoring his friends' pleas to stop. He stumbled outside and watched one of the guys from their high school football team scurried to his red Ford Mustang as quickly as he was able to. With his adrenaline on high, he ran to his car and jumped inside his white BMW i8 sports car and took off chasing after him.

His mind was racing and anger flooded his veins, threatening to cloud his better judgment and making it difficult to concentrate on what he was seeing. He hadn't felt such rage in a very long time, but he was determined he would pay for this; he would make him pay.

He sped down the half empty streets, getting in and out of the freeway, passing cars left and right and inching closer to the Ford Mustang. Anxiety pooled in the pit of his stomach as he pressed his foot harder against the accelerator to make it go a bit faster.

And then suddenly his instincts kicked in at once as he noticed a dog running in the middle of his lane. He gasped in shock, immediately slamming on the brakes and making a sharp turn, avoiding the dog by a thread as he was hurtling towards the fire hydrant, which burst into a stream of water.

And then there was nothing.

No noise.

No feeling.

Only darkness as his consciousness slowly ebbed away.

He moaned as he slowly woke up and found himself squinting under the harsh lighting. His throat was dry and his eyes were thick with sleep. He recognized the smells and the sounds of an IV machine beeping in his ear. When his eyes fluttered, he realized that he wasn't in his room. Instead, he was in the last place he wanted to be.

The hospital.

"Lucas?" He heard a soft feminine voice beside him, "Can you hear me?"

He slowly turned to look at his female companion and weakly smiled, relieved to see a familiar face. "Hey, Maya." He greeted, half-wincing when he became aware of the migraine and the pain in his chest. "What happened?" His voice came out small as every breath he took hurt like hell.

"Well, you crashed into a fire hydrant and the paramedics found you unconscious."

There was a moment of brief silence as his eyes trained on the ceiling in deep thought, trying to recollect everything that happened. "So he managed to get away…again." He shook his head in disbelief. "That jerk." Maya tried not to frown under the disappointment and anger in his voice. "Are you okay though?" He asked, concern feigning in his soft emerald gaze when he looked back at her.

"Yea," she said with a reassuring smile. "I'll be fine."

"He should have not said all those nasty rumors about you." He replied, looking increasingly annoyed. "I promise you, Maya I'll make him pay."

She sighed, brushing her long blonde hair out of her eyes. "Okay, Huckleberry. This needs to stop. You can't fight our battles all the time and have these angry outbursts. It doesn't do you or any of us any good." Lucas averted from her gaze with a slight roll to his eyes. He heard it all before. He's heard it several times for the past year or two and stopped listening at some point. "You could have hurt someone and gotten yourself killed tonight."

"She's right, yah know." Came another worried voice that he recognized to be his best friend's. "You were lucky. No broken bones. Just a few minor cuts and bruises."

Lucas smiled up at him by the time he reached his bedside. "Hey, Zay."

"Hey, man." Zay managed a smile as he placed a hand on his shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

Lucas shrugged and let out a light groan, feeling the pain radiate from his back and down to his legs. "I've been better, bro."

"Well you might feel even worse." Lucas turned to another male voice in the room as he appeared next to Maya.

"Why is that, Farkle?"

"Your mom is on her way."

A heavy sigh escaped from his lips as Lucas closed his eyes, wishing he could just disappear altogether. "Great."

A few days later…

Lucas toyed anxiously with a stray thread of his uniform khaki slacks while he waited outside the Dean's office. After being summoned out of his last class for the day, he had spent ten minutes waiting in the reception with only the constant clacking of computer keys and the ticking of the wall clock to keep him company.

The door opened with a creak, causing Lucas' head to snap up. He furrowed his eyebrows in bewilderment, expecting to be approach by a plump, short middle-aged man with balding grey hair and oversized glasses. But instead he looked up to see someone he never seen before; a slender man who appeared to be in his mid-to-late thirties with short, curly dark brown hair wearing a dark blue plaid shirt underneath a dark grey suit jacket and black pants.

"Ahh, Mr. Friar. Sorry to keep you waiting." He greeted him warmly. "My name is Cory Matthews and I am the new Dean."

Lucas nodded and took the hand offered, shaking it kindly with a greeting. "Hello, Sir."

"Please come inside."

Mr. Matthews led him inside the office, which was in the middle of being refurbished. The walls were empty of portraits, certificates and personal items. The only thing present in the room was a computer and laptop that sits on the mahogany desk with three swivel chairs. By the time he closed the door, Lucas noticed his mother sitting on one of them.

"Mom?"

She looked over her shoulder and gave him a small smile. "Come sit down, sweetheart." She said, gesturing to the empty seat beside her. Lucas reluctantly sat down, his eyes curiously following the Dean as he makes his way over to the desk to sit across from them.

"So what are you doing here, Mom?" He asked, annoyance creeping on the forefront of his tone. "Don't you have a debutante ball to organize or a gala to attend to or something?"

"Don't be rude, Lucas. Mr. Matthews called me over here to discuss your punishment after the stunt you pulled last weekend." She said calmly, earning himself a glare from his mother.

"You know, Mr. Friar I've been going through your files and I'm quite impressed." He said, taking Lucas completely off guard. "You're a 3.5 student athlete, who hasn't missed or was ever late to class. And yet, a good kid like yourself has a history of getting into fights." Mr. Matthews paused, shaking his head. "You're sixteen, Lucas. You have your whole life ahead of you and you're out there getting in trouble. Can't say I'm not disappointed."

Lucas regarded him carefully with an intense stare. "So what is it going to be, sir? Are you going to suspend me?" He challenged. "Expel me? Send me to juvie?"

"Is that what you want, Mr. Friar?"

Lucas shook his head sharply, and for the first time in a long time, he felt vulnerable. Not because he was in trouble, but because he saw something in Mr. Matthews' eyes he never seen before. Instead of the usual look of disappointment and shame Lucas seem to earn from staff that held administrative positions, he saw hope and unwavering faith in his. "No," he finally answered after a long minute of silence.

Mr. Matthews studied him carefully as he leaned back against the chair, absently twirling a pen between his fingers. "I don't know how your previous Dean do things around here, son but I'm taking a rather different approach. Luckily for you the city hasn't press any charges, and I happen to know the chief of police who has agreed to the terms I will present to you for your punishment."

"Alright." Lucas drew in a nervous breath. "Let's hear it."

"Your driver's licensed has been suspended for a year."

"What?!"

"Which means your driving privileges has been temporarily withdrawn until the duration of your suspension is over. If you violate the law and rules of driving again, your license will be revoked." Lucas grumbled something incoherent as Mr. Matthews continued on. "You are banned from participating in any team sports for the rest of the school year, and instead you will be an assistant coach to a local little league baseball team after school."

"Anything else?" Lucas asked. He couldn't decide whether he should be happy or not. He's not getting suspended or going to jail but he has to watch over little kids, let alone teach them how to play.

"Yes, as part of your community service, you will be working four hours a day during the weekends at Topanga's."

Lucas groaned despondently, burying his face in his hands and resting them on his knees. "It's better than jail, sweetie." He heard his mother say as he looked at her and quietly nodded.

"When do I start, sir?"

He had been dreading this moment since he stepped out of the Dean's office yesterday. And so when the day finally arrived, Lucas couldn't believe he was enjoying his time as an assistant coach. Never mind the cold in mid-April or the fact that he was coaching boys who were barely four feet tall. He loved baseball, and there was something about teaching the fundamentals of the sport to the next generation of athletes that he found comforting and rewarding.

He spent the majority of the afternoon shadowing the head coach, observing and taking a mental note of the daily routine that goes on in every practice. At one point, Lucas volunteered to demonstrate the proper way to hold a baseball bat and pitch a baseball using different grips, earning praises and approval from the kids as well as the head couch.

"So do you play a lot?" The head coach asked, joining Lucas on the first row of the bleachers as soon as he had the kids pair up for a round of throw and catch.

"Yea, I'm on the high school baseball team over at Thomas Jefferson Prep." Lucas smiled, but then frowned slightly and looked down. "Well…I was anyway. What about you, Coach?"

"Please, call me Josh. And yes, I play for NYU."

"Nice."

"Last guy I had knew nothing about baseball. Thank God my brother sent you."

"Brother?"

He nodded, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips as he began leaving his place on the bottom bleachers to return to his kids. "Yep. I believe you know him as Mr. Cory Matthews."

Lucas raised a brow with a thoughtful look on his face. "Huh. You don't say..."

The whistle blew as all the kids surrounded Josh, most of them relieved to have practice come to an end. He talked for a minute when Lucas noticed a crowd of parents waiting behind the fence to pick up their child. "Good practice, boys. I'll see you all here same time tomorrow." He said as the team started to head out. Lucas was about to grab his things from the dugout when he felt someone tug at his blue long-sleeve shirt. He turned around and lowered his gaze at the curly, brown haired boy staring up at him.

"Thanks for the tip, Coach. I had fun."

Lucas smiled. "Anytime."

"Come on, Auggie. Let's go!"

"I'm coming!" The boy exclaimed as Lucas followed the sound of a feminine voice yelling for him. And sure enough, he saw a pretty brunette looking in their direction, waiting from outside the fence. Their eyes met briefly from a distance and he smiled, the smallest smile he could muster, just enough to make sure that she knew he noticed her.

Tumblr: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

Fanfiction: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6