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the-avengers-ate-my-tongue · 4 years

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Prae Dolore

Summary: As Will returns home to Y/n after being almost guttered to death by Hannibal Lecter, he finds out that some things are not overcame so easily.

Pairing: Will Graham x reader

Warnings: angst, mental and eating disorders, suffering

Word count: 1726

A/N: Yes, I am still obsessed with Will Graham. Is that a surprise? Anyways, I wrote a oneshot where the s/o was tough and was eager to fight Hannibal if he ever came after her (I'll Be Ready), so I thought about writing as well a oneshot where the s/o wouldn't get over the events so quickly and would struggle very hard. That's pretty much it, hope you enjoy. Friendly reminder that English is not my first language, so… You know the drill.

Will drove fast. He wanted to get to Wolf Trap as soon as possible. He was deeply worried about Y/n, it's been a month since she last visited him at the hospital after the events of that night he hated remembering about. He blinked hard, picking up his phone eagerly, typing Jack Crawford's number. He'd spoken with Alana earlier, she was a close friend of Y/n, and she was also concerned with the lack of communication. She went by Will's house the day before, knocked, but no one answered. The dogs barked a lot, her car was there, but Y/n never showed up. Alana said the curtains were shut, the doors were locked and she heard some noise inside, but since she was still recovering herself and using a wheelchair to move around, that was all she could do at the moment. Y/n wasn't answering her phone, as well. The last person who'd seen her was Jack, and even so, it had been almost a month ago as well.

He tried calling her phone, calling his house. He left thousands of messages she'd never replied. Will was desperate. All he could think about was Hannibal, if Hannibal got her… He could do that now, he knew that. So, as soon as he felt a little better, he checked himself out of the hospital and rented a car, driving as fast as he could to Wolf Trap.

"Will." Jack finally answered the phone, making Will sigh hard. "You shouldn't be driving. Are you there yet?"

"No. I'm close. Did she answer any of your messages?" Will asked with concern in his voice, feeling his forehead starting to sweat. "Alana stopped by yesterday, but she didn't come out. She's there, I know it. What I fear is…"

Will couldn't even put it into words, but Jack knew what he meant. The feeling of expectation. Hannibal had become a ghost in their lives, an imminent threat. He was close, now. Almost arriving. Everything would be alright. He had the key, he could open the door. He'd find her. She would be just fine.

"Call me when you get there, okay? I'll be waiting." Jack hesitated as if he seemed to wish Will good luck, but he just hung out, and Will threw the phone on the passenger's seat. He was close. Almost there.

Finally, after a few minutes, he parked the car in front of his house. Alana was right; Y/n's car was really there. A feeling of unease twisted Will's stomach and, for a moment, he felt a sharp pain on his guts, right where Hannibal stabbed him. He growled lightly, pressing the almost healed wound as he walked in quick steps to the door. He took the keys outta his pocket, hesitating before he could open it. Would he be ready for what he was going to find? Please, don't allow it to be a corpse. Not her. He wouldn't bear to lose anybody else.

He turned the key in the lock, pushing the door, but it stopped harshly half way through, showing more locks were added from inside. Door chains. That made him worry a little bit more.

"Y/n? It's me" He called, trying to squeeze his hand through the small space left. "Please, open. I'm worried about you. I need to see you."

The dogs were barking like crazy, and he hoped she could hear him. He waited a few seconds that felt like hours, until he could see an indistinguishable figure inside. The house was dark due the closed curtains. He felt a shiver go down his spine. Something was off. Terribly off.

"Y/n?" He called one more time. The figure seemed to move. "It's okay, it's Will. Open up."

Will tried to force the door, but it was hopeless. It only made his wound sting a little. He muttered a curse under his breath, his face contorted with the pain.

Noise. She unlocked the door. Will, taken by surprise, hesitated to enter, and by the time he could open the door, the dark figure fled to his bedroom. He petted the dogs to try to make them calm down. Despite of the nervousness, they seemed physically fine, which gave Will hope. The Y/n he knew would never let the dogs get neglected. He walked cautiously to the bedroom, finally being able to spot the figure. He still couldn't see her straight, but could distinguish her hair, her body.

"Y/n?" Will called in a soft voice. He didn't want to fright her more, she looked like a cornered feral animal.

He raised his hand to flip the switch of the bedside lamp so he could see her better. As soon as the light showed him her conditions, however, he wished he didn't.

The first thing he noticed was how skinny she was. Several bones were appearing in her fragile body. Her eyes were very wide, as if they had been like this for some time, and looked very dry. A lot of white hair filled the top of her head, as if fear made them turn that way. Her hair was a mess, dirty, like she'd spent some days without brushing it. She looked so fragile. So broken. That made Will's heart break, his eyes watering up. He couldn't avoid to think it was partially his fault. He dragged her to his world. It was his responsibility.

"Y/n… what's going on?" He tried to come closer, but she receded, almost hitting her back on the wall. Will stopped, raising his hands in a sign of surrender. He couldn't bear it.

"Please don't touch me. I don't feel well when people touch me." She nearly begged, a frightened voice tone. "Did you lock the door? Did you? We have to lock the door. If we don't lock the door…"

She held her body to feel instinctively protected, hugging her knees and hiding her face on them. Will was devastated. He tried to see the Y/n he knew on that broken figure, but he found no traces of her. Will hid his face on his hands, trying not to cry. He had to be strong. Strong for both of them.

Something that sounded like a branch hitting the top of the roof made her raise her head abruptly, her eyes so wide, her pupils dilated.

"What was that? That's him? That's him!" She moved so fast Will couldn't stop her, and her body slid under the bed, darkness engulfing her.

"Y/n." Will called, lying on the floor with his chest down. "It's not him. Hannibal's long gone. He won't come back."

He didn't know that, but he would say anything to make her feel better. Safe. He needed to bring her back.

Will held out his hand, not touching her, but being near her.

"I won't let him hurt you. I would never allow Hannibal to harm you. You need to know that. You need to trust me. I need you." He tried to come close to her, but his wound stung dangerously, and he moaned low in pain.

Y/n seemed to snap out of it as she saw him hurting. She sobbed a little, covering her mouth with one bony hand.

"You shouldn't be here yet, Will. You need to heal. You should be at the hospital." She hesitated, but touched his hand lightly. He kept still, afraid that any kind of movement would fright her away again. "There's no salvation waiting for me. My damage has reached the core. I'm a broken thing waiting to be discarded."

"We've been through a lot the past few months. I brought this to you. I allowed all of that to happen. I'm to blame. You're suffering, Y/n. You've been suffering for a long time. I should've seen that. Forgive me. Let me take care of you. We'll be fine. You'll be fine." She was sobbing freely now, her body trembling with the effort, but she was still touching his hand. He tried to stretch his body to fit under the bed with her, but a sharp pain made him stop. He could feel his shirt getting slightly wet. Shit.

"Stop! Please, stop. You're hurting yourself!" His face was filled with sweat, he breathed heavily. The physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional one. He felt like he was shattered in a million pieces.

Y/n left the space under the bed through the other side, rushing to Will and turning his body upwards. She lifted his shirt. The cut had barely opened, a few drops of blood staining the tissue and his abdomen.

"We were exactly like this. That night. I found you bleeding out, Abigail was standing right next to you, her eyes wide open. You were struggling to breathe. Before that, I had to leave Alana alone outside, not even being sure she would survive, because I had to see if… if you had gone. With him. But I don't know, maybe I wish you had, if it would mean you wouldn't be hurting like this." Somehow, he knew she didn't mean only physically, and not only because of that moment. She meant his darkness. His urge to go with Hannibal, even if it meant leaving her. It has never been out of the table. "I see his face every time I close my eyes. He came here a few days after that night when you were at the hospital. The way he spoke… he's out of his shell now. His words felt like daggers. He didn't do anything to me, he only meant to terrify me. And he succeeded. He got inside my head. He's still here. I can feel him like a parasite. Modifying my brain."

Y/n was speaking faster, starting to hold her head, and Will knew another panic attack was coming. He sat her on the bed, trying to touch her as gently as he could so he wouldn't make things worst for her. He held her tenderly, kissing the top of her head as she nested on his chest, holding his shirt while she cried, and cried. And Will cried with her, knowing the pain wouldn't go away as the tears that wet their faces and dropped on the floor, disappearing from sight.

#Hannibal #Will Graham #Mads Mikkelsen #Hugh Dancy #Will Graham x Reader #Will Graham Imagine #Will Graham Headcanon #Hannibal One-Shot #Hannibal headcanon #Alana Bloom #Jack Crawford

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aion-rsa · 4 years

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The Silence of the Lambs and Clarice’s Lifelong Battle Against the Male Gaze

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Special agent Clarice Starling is breathing heavily as she forces herself to turn the next tight corner. Between deep breaths, she knows somewhere in the back of her mind that she’s being watched. And she can assume those invisible, cold male eyes are making a judgement of her five-foot and three-inch frame: She’s in over her head. Yet she pushes past any condescending skepticism, and she perseveres through the proverbial dark.

At a glance, this could apply to the climax of The Silence of the Lambs, Jonathan Demme’s masterful psychological thriller which finishes with a cat and mouse game of Starling (a peerless Jodie Foster) crawling through the dungeon created by Ted Levine’s Buffalo Bill. In that blackness, serial killer Bill most certainly watches her, playfully (mis)judging her aptitude for handling his house of horrors. Yet all of these elements are also evident in Silence of the Lambs’ very first scene.

On a sleepy late wintry morning in Virginia, we’re introduced to Starling already overcoming another manmade trap meant to exclude her. At the FBI’s Quantico obstacle course, we witness the quiet and earnest determination which defines Clarice as she ascends up a rope line and when she flips over a cargo net. She’s acutely aware that the deck is probably being stacked against her behind her back, but she remains unfatigued and undaunted. She doesn’t even wince when the FBI instructor who emerges from the shadows to summon her down to the office mispronounces her name: He calls her “Sterling.”

It’s only a few minutes at the top of Silence of the Lambs, but it’s shot with Demme’s signature attentiveness and subtlety. While the director never draws direct attention to his filmmaking and blocking techniques, his visual language is pristine and unmistakable.

From the jump, Clarice is in a maze, a labyrinth of manmade systems and challenges that appear to reject her very presence. And she never once steps away from their course. They’re with her at the finale in Buffalo Bill’s portal to hell, but they also manifest in the bureaucratic cages and then literal holding pens Dr. Frederick Chilton (Anthony Heard) ushers Clarice through as a power move—a brusque display of authority and arrogance after Clarice rebuffed Chilton’s sleazy pick-up line a moment earlier in the film. “See what an important man you missed the chance of getting to know?” he projects through a curdled sneer.

Chilton is, of course, taking Clarice to meet the man he calls “the Monster:” Dr. Hannibal Lecter (a mighty Anthony Hopkins who demonstrates the eviscerating power of stillness). And one doubts Dr. Lecter would disagree with that title. It’s easy to imagine the disgraced cannibal psychiatrist musing that if Clarice’s life is a series of mazes and evaded dead ends, then her lifetime amounts to a single, titanic struggle against a minotaur—the ultimate monster of Greek mythology who devoured young men and women fed into his maze.

Yet in Silence of the Lambs, the all-consuming Dr. Lecter is hardly the only monster in Clarice’s life, even if he is the creature at the center of Chilton’s labyrinth. Rather the real Monster (with a capital “M”) pursuing Clarice is just about every man she meets. Among them, Dr. Lecter is but an urbane drop in the ocean.

This is again foreshadowed during the film’s opening moments when, after coming down from the obstacle course, Clarice loads onto an elevator with a half-dozen other FBI trainees, each towering over her by at least a foot. Once more, Demme’s simple but eloquent framing of Clarice’s universe is devastating. In a snapshot, we can understand the white bread, buttoned up skepticism of the patriarchal institutions she’s attempting to join and improve. After all, in the next scene, her new boss Jack Crawford (Scott Glenn) admits she caught his attention when she grilled him in a classroom over the FBI’s sordid history in the civil rights era.

Crawford welcomes Clarice’s earnestness and repudiation of the good ol’ boys’ club in law enforcement. Still, he only picks her for this assignment because he sees her as a proverbial honey pot meant to entice Dr. Lecter—a pretty face meant to appeal to the lonely and incarcerated cannibal. Hannibal takes it a step farther too when he asks if Clarice has considered that the kindly Jack Crawford is attracted to her? Dr. Lecter relishes planting the idea of Clarice’s boss fantasizing about her in the young agent’s mind. How else would Crawford think to pick her to interview the monster?

But these taunts, which are intended to embarrass, are rooted in Lecter’s two most powerful weapons: acute observational skills and the ability to speak uncomfortable truths. He uses them again during their final encounter before his escape, when Hannibal asks Clarice, “Don’t you feel eyes moving over your body?” Don’t you feel the male gaze objectifying and defiling?

One of the most remarkable things about Silence of the Lambs 30 years later is its intelligent and (much like Clarice) frank way of addressing the overt sexism and misogyny in society. This is not done in the sometimes ham-handed way of modern media, with didactic speeches and easily defeated abusers who get their deserved comeuppance. Instead this problem is shown to be the uncomfortable truth of our reality, and a truth that’s sadly changed little in three decades.

Even before Dr. Lecter verbalizes the oppressiveness of the male gaze, Clarice and the audience know it’s there in the elevator, and perhaps also with Crawford’s more smiling friendliness. It’s sometimes not even unwelcome, as when Clarice flirts with the gawky bug specialist at the Smithsonian (he even gets to attend her Quantico graduation later); but it’s constant, and mostly insulting if not outright predatory. Whether in the gaze of all those criminally insane patients whom Hannibal shares a cell block with or in a dozen hard stares from a West Virginian sheriff’s department, it is always menacing Clarice.

It’s fair to wonder whether it was harder for special agent Starling to draw a gun on Buffalo Bill or for Clarice to tell all those country bumpkin deputies to take a hike earlier in the movie so she and Crawford can examine the body of one of Bill’s victims. When she entered the funeral home with her boss, once again all these other law enforcement types had a foot above her in height, and their eyes closed that distance to cover her body. No one says an outwardly sexist or sleazy remark; they don’t have to. In fact, the only cruel word comes from her own boss when Crawford preemptively bends to the local prejudices by marking Starling as soft and lesser by virtue of her gender while chatting up the sheriff.

Later Crawford offers a halfhearted apology, saying he only did that to ingratiate himself with the regressive rube he needed information from. But Clarice is never one to let the right thing go unsaid.

“Cops look at you to learn how to act,” Clarice respectfully but assertively pushes back. “It matters.” Crawford smiles and shrugs, “Point taken,” before dozing off. But obviously the point is not taken, and the patronizing tone of even a decent man like Crawford belies his kindness. It demonstrates why the insidiousness of patriarchal double standards persists. Hence how at the end of the movie Crawford gets to go on the ill-fated raid of where the FBI thinks Buffalo Bill is living—leaving Clarice behind to actually crack the case on her own.

Even from his cage, Dr. Lecter can see this perpetual struggle within the moment Clarice steps before his plexiglass. She is, after all, a woman trying to advance in the FBI. Not that Hannibal is immune from this nastiness or is some kind of “ally.” In the same scene that Lecter asks about men’s eyes, his own stare attempts to consume Clarice whole. Long before Demme’s camera puts Foster in an extreme close-up, Hopkins’ baby blues are dominating the whole screen as Hannibal demands to know about the screaming of the lambs. Unblinking, they’re like the eyes of a deity. Or a devil.

And yet, Clarice can at least appreciate Hannibal’s bluntness and honesty about it, as well as the fact he always shoots straight with her, even when he lies or obscures the truth beneath word games. He’s the only man who admits to the double standards, and he points her in the right direction to capture Bill, albeit by leaving Clarice to put the clues together herself.

At the end of the day, Silence of the Lambs is Clarice’s story. Sure, Hopkins is spectacular as Hannibal, but even with her Oscar win for the role, Foster is often overlooked for her contributions as Starling. It’s a role that’s been imitated a thousand times since 1991—including with several other actresses playing Clarice—but it’s never been duplicated. There is a steadfast resilience here, sure, but also a quiet awareness that’s just as observant as Hopkins’ supervillain. She sees everything, including her own insecurities. Dr. Lecter brings them to the surface when he extracts the story of the screaming lambs from her memory, but she already knows what the crying lamb sounds like. She hears it almost every night.

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It’s all there in Foster’s own eyes, which is what gives her steely determination to overcome staying power in our minds. By the movie’s end, subtexts become text inside Buffalo Bill’s dungeon. For here is a basement that a man retrofitted into a torture chamber for women, members of the gender he covets and despises. As with the obstacle course, Clarice enters this space brazenly and defiantly, finding its labyrinthine center where Bill has turned off the lights.

Hidden behind his night vision goggles, the killer thinks he’s master, and Clarice is his next victim. One more sacrifice to feed upon. Finally, the male gaze we’ve spent the whole movie dreading from Clarice’s vantage is flipped, and we watch her through Bill’s green tinted voyeurism. This is the metaphor taken to its most extreme, with the camera sharing headspace with a serial killer. Yet it’s not too far removed from the Monster that’s stalked Clarice all her life. The grossness of Bill’s hesitant attempt to touch her hair, to take possession of Clarice’s body and personal space, is a reach every male in the film, save for Clarice’s father (the only other male the camera shares eyes with in a flashback), has made.

When Clarice once again turns the tables on this assumed authority and shoots Bill dead, she’s slayed one version of the minotaur and earned her perch in a system that’s resisted her. We see her triumph via the graduation at Quantico. Now she is a celebrity among the FBI. We also see it in Crawford’s genuine affection and admiration for the young woman.

Nevertheless, the maze he helped maintain persists, and the Monster takes another form. Thus even in her success, Clarice ends the film still framed in tight shadows, hanging onto the words of Dr. Lecter, who’s just put down the phone. She has the respectability and authority Hannibal lost long ago, but he can still move through this world in a way more liberated than any path Clarice has ever known.

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twohornycannibals · 4 years

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Okay the thing about the season 2 finale that really like, idk, hits? Is the fact that Will not only calls Hannibal to tell him to leave, but goes to his house. He is greeted with his friend, Alana, lying in the rain bleeding, and once inside there is blood and disaster. This man sees Abigail, the closest thing he's had to a daughter, alive. And he asks her where Hannibal is, seemingly so he can hurt/kill the man who has hurt the people he loves. But when he turns to look at Hannibal, he doesn't do anything. He just says, "You were supposed to leave." Then of course he gets stabbed, and watches Hannibal cut his daughters throat, but he still has to remind Hannibal that he did change him. He needs Hannibal to be safe, and he needs him to know that he is different because of Will.

And then from Hannibal's perspective, he's accepted this reality where he has to flee and hid. The reality that they know his crimes and his secrets. So his only option is to kill the people he cares about. He realizes he cannot take Will with him, so he guts him in an act of love and sacrifice. He has to give up the dream of having Will, someone who has broken his heart.

I simply don't have the right words to express how well written this show is but holy shit. Like. The layers and the feelings and the actions from these deeply fucked up and broken men. They need to be seen and heard and loved, and in the finale we see these desperate, heartbroken, devastated choices that they make.

Yes, it's wildly fucked up. These are two people who think killing someone is justified in the eyes of god, and they simply want to be loved and cherished for their horrible thoughts and crimes. But there's this level of, how badly hurt and loved they can feel. What they are willing to do for/to each other so that the other understands what he's feeling.

They need to be seen and heard and loved and respected, and yet also they need to love someone else. Their version of love is broken and imperfect and so Self Oriented. But they still are willing to give up so much for each other.

Hannibal hurts Will over and over mentally, and of course physically, simply so he can keep his secrets safe and have someone praise him. And while that's selfish, you also have to see the fact that he sacrifices his dreams and desires for Will. By stabbing Will, he's giving up a fantasty, a fleeting hope at this gay murder lifestyle, maybe so Hannibal can escape. But also maybe because he wants to protect Will from his dirty horrid mistakes.

(I got very rambly and off topic with this rant but I just have feelings AHHSHS wig)

#hannibal rant #hannibal #i have feelings

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kathrynethegreat · 5 years

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@random-emerald-thoughts asked: Hello, hope you are doing well. I have to say I am beyond fascinated with your Hannibal Au and was wondering if you might divulge some extra info about what you imagine season 1 would entail...Basically, anything you’ve got.

Oh boy, do I have more info.

While I did not write full episodes, I do have a lot of details for them – some more than others. Season 1, and actually this whole series direction came about when I read Hannibal Rising for the second time. I wanted to see if I could use flashbacks from Hannibal Rising to run alongside the story I was telling. Since Rising has so much Japanese influence, I set the majority of season 1 in Japan to further bring that theme forward.

Below the cut is the following information:

Additional Information about each episode and the real crimes that inspired some of the stories

Artwork featured in each episode

A couple pieces of Fan Art that didn’t make the cut for the Season Rundowns.

Flashbacks featured in each episode

General Season Arcs / Information / Themes

General Clannibal info (Will they kill each other or kiss each other? Who knows?)

A full summary of the absolutely bonkers season 1 finale (scroooolll to the bottom)

These notes in some instances assume you have read the four novels. If you have questions pertaining to anything you’ve not read, let me know. The notes also sometimes specify how a scene may be viewed – because this is envisioned as a TV show and not a standard fan fic.

If anyone has questions about any of the below, want more info on season 1 or the other three seasons, just let me know and I’d be happy to provide. I’ve had all of this information sitting in my head for the last eight months, and I am glad to get it off my plate, as it were.

OVERVIEW

SEASON 1 SUMMARY | SEASON 1 DETAILS

SEASON 2 SUMMARY | SEASON 2 DETAILS

SEASON 3 SUMMARY | SEASON 3 DETAILS

SEASON 4 SUMMARY | SEASON 4 DETAILS

Season 1 General Notes / Arcs / Themes:

The main case Clarice is working on is the Gardner case, which spans all four seasons. However, in each individual episode, she is usually solving other cases along the way.

Hannibal Lecter's background will unfold to help us better understand his attachment to Clarice Starling. Over time we come to understand how they are the same.

Flashbacks with regard to Hannibal and his esteem for Lady Murasaki will run parallel to the episode’s events and hopefully mirror Hannibal’s feelings for Clarice Starling. All flashbacks in general try to mirror some element of the present-day story.

This season focuses heavily on Hannibal Lecter's background, with heavy flashbacks from Hannibal Rising, with the big reveal essentially being that Mischa was eaten. There are a few Silence of the Lambs flashbacks as well.

This season also focuses on the growing relationship between Hannibal Lecter and Clarice Starling. Precarious, with an undeniable attraction at its core.

Hannibal Lecter's affection for Hiroshi Soah's youngest child mirrors his affection for Mischa

Emphasis will be put on the effects of WWII, specifically on Japanese art and culture.

Please note this season takes place in 1990. No internet, no cell phones. Clarice Starling knows Lecter because she’s recently met him several times for the Buffalo Bill case – but our other characters have never seen him. American characters may have seen a photo in a newspaper, but would someone really remember? Characters in Japan would have heard of his name, but almost certainly would not have seen a photo. He would not have been front page news in Japan. For this reason, we must suspend our disbelief and assume even the F.B.I team (except for Clarice and Ardelia (who is not yet on Clarice’s team)) is pretty clueless that Dr.Fell is Hannibal Lecter. Plus, they simply aren’t looking for him…he’s not on their radar.

SEASON 1, EPISODE 1: The One-Eyed Dragon of Ōshu

DATE: April 1990 FLASHBACKS:

Hannibal - Short bursts of young Hannibal sheathing Date's sword

Hannibal - Short bursts of young Hannibal painting with his uncle

Hannibal - Short burst of young Hannibal seeing Murasaki in her bath

Clarice - Speaking with Hannibal Lecter at the Baltimore Asylum about The Flaying of Marsyas painting (broken into several different flashbacks)

ARTWORK FEATURED:

The Concert by Vermeer - Gardner Museum

The Rape of Europa by Titian - Gardner Museum

Storm of the Sea of Galilee by Rembrandt - Gardner Museum

Sheba by Robert Lecter - Murasaki's Estate Sale, Hiroshima, Japan

Starling on a Branch in the Japanese Style, Signed with Infinity in Eight Strokes, Hiroshima, Japan, Painted by Hannibal Lecter, but attributed to Robert Lecter - Murasaki's Estate Sale, Hiroshima, Japan

Armor of Date Masamune, and 3 of its 4 pieces of weaponry - Murasaki's Estate Sale, Hiroshima, Japan

Flaying of Marsyas by Titian - National Gallery, Washington D.C., USA

NOTES:

The title refers to Date Masamune’s nick name.

The episode opens with the Gardner Heist in Boston. We do not know the robbers. From their conversation, it is clear they have been hired by someone. We will not find out by whom until season four. They work quickly. One of the two men stops in the dining room to admire Titian's The Rape of Europa. "No." says the other robber, "He said he didn't want that one."

In Japan two men bid against one another for the armor of Date Masamune at the estate sale of the recently deceased Lady Murasaki. We are introduced to Dr.John Fell and Hiroshi Soah. Those who have not read the book will not yet know that Dr.Fell is Hannibal Lecter. Clarice’s The Silence of the Lambs flashbacks throughout the episode will show Clarice talking to Lecter, but the viewer will be standing inside of Lecter’s cell, looking at Clarice. We will only see Lecter’s shoulder. During Clarice’s last Silence of the Lambs flashback at the end of the episode, we finally switch views to see what she sees. We see inside Hannibal Lecter’s cell, and we realize that Dr.Fell and Dr.Lecter are the same person.

Both Dr.Fell and Hiroshi Soah bid on a piece by Robert Lecter. They both lose to someone over the phone. The viewer, Soah, nor Lecter knows who the anonymous bidder is. This will be revealed later in season four.

The Samurai armor comes complete with 3 of its 4 original weapons. Soah and Fell begin talking about the lost Tanto sword, and when Dr.Fell mentions he may be able to track it down, Soah is intrigued and understands that Fell means this may not be through entirely legal means. They quickly build a rapport, and ultimately Fell is hired by Soah to curate a new museum Soah is opening in Hiroshima.

Hiroshi was young when the bomb went off in the city, but he is still haunted by the war, and wants to create a world-class museum to showcase the culture of Japan, which Dr.Fell will help him with. In addition, Dr.Fell will work to track down the Tanto sword, as well as help to acquire pieces for Soah’s own private art collection – sometimes through legal means…sometimes not. Soah is aware Dr.Fell is a criminal with a decent background in art – but he has no clue he has hired Hannibal Lecter.

Clarice has a somewhat embarrassing meeting with Noble Pilcher's family. They are wealthy and educated and it is obvious that they look down on her. She is mortified. While she is more determined than ever to show that she has class, it is for her own self, not to fit in with his family, as she does not see her relationship with Pilcher as going anywhere. The incident is none the less formative.

Miranda Pilcher, Noble Pilcher's mother is the Curator at the National Gallery. While Clarice and Miranda are frosty at first, ultimately Clarice trusts her judgment in art and will begin going to her for art-related advice in the future. In Miranda, she sees the kind of well dressed, well educated, classy woman that she wants to be.

Miranda mentions over dinner that she helped negotiate the sale of The Fall of Phaeton by Rubens for the Gallery in January of 1990

Clarice is devastated when she is put onto the Gardner case instead of being able to join Behavioral Science. Paul Krendler is shown to clearly not be a member of her fan club. None the less, she starts to do what she can, going over old evidence and trying to look deeper into the situation than those on the case before her. They are expensive pieces of artwork - they were stolen by someone who appreciates them, and understands them. She knows in order to find the culprit, she too will need to learn to understand and appreciate these pieces too.

Clarice goes to visit the National Gallery to speak to Miranda and to see The Flaying of Marsyas. Miranda tells Clarice it is headed back to Czechoslovakia soon, but she is worried about the painting - she doesn't know if there will even be a Chzechosolovaia for it to return to. This begins a deeper conversation about art that will carry through all four seasons. Yes, museums are filled with stolen art from pillaged civilizations – but what about instances where art is put into museums for its safety? Where is the moral line? The show doesn’t aim to give answers – as there are no easy answers – but it will aim to show that the questions are complicated.

Miranda asks Clarice how she heard about the painting, and Clarice merely says "He told me to come to see it." Miranda understands that "he" means Lecter. Miranda does not ask further questions. She does, however, mention she was also trying to purchase a piece by Robert Lecter from Murasaki's estate over the phone several days before but was outbid. Clarice asks if there is any relation to Robert Lecter and Hannibal Lecter. Miranda says she is not sure, but this gives Clarice an idea of where Lecter might be, and she is the first to understand that he is not in South America, but perhaps in Asia.

An event happening in the background is the fact that Lithuanian independence was restored in March of 1990. A recent development that Hannibal Lecter would be following closely, and would be bringing up very strong feelings.

SEASON 1, EPISODE 2: A.A.Aaron

DATE: May 1990 FLASHBACKS:

Hannibal – Young Hannibal meeting Robert, Murasaki and Chiyoh

Hannibal – Young Hannibal awakes at night in the Chateau screaming. We know something terrible has happened to him, but we don’t yet know what.

Clarice - Hannibal in his cell in Baltimore, talking to Clarice about wanting to give her what she craves most - advancement.

ARTWORK FEATURED:

An Experiment on a Bird In An Air Pump, by Joseph Wright - Hanging behind Paul Krendler's desk

Ancient Chinese Gu, unknown artist - Gardner Museum

SUMMARY:

Hannibal Lecter leaves a clue for Clarice in the China Mail. He has seen that she is looking for the Gardner pieces, and he lets her know some information about the Chinese Gu that was stolen. He addresses Hannah, but does not sign his name, though Clarice pretty much figures it's him. She realizes her hunch that he is in Asia and not South America must have some merit to it.

Paul Krendler has never forgiven Clarice Starling for catching Buffalo Bill. Krendler made sure Clarice was put onto the Garnder case, knowing all evidence that could be found, had already been found. Clarice takes this opportunity to create the F.B.I.'s Art Crime Team, which can not only work on the Gardner case, but other important art cases as well. Clarice trying to make the best of a dead-end case, and actually make progress further enrages Krendler.

Clarice assembles her team – herself, plus four other agents. Clarice asks Miranda to help educate her and her team about the ins and outs of Art and Art History.

Hiroshi Soah is recently widowed with three daughters. He is a patron of the arts, and very generous - but also suspected to be very dangerous, and a possible Yakuza (Spoiler, he is). He owns a very successful motorcycle business that he started just after the war with his brothers. Both brothers died of mysterious causes. His sister-in-law, Chiyoh also recently windowed, has moved into his home to care for her nieces. She is suspicious of the sudden death of her husband and is fairly certain that Hiroshi had something to do with it. Chiyoh's husband was head of the Yakuza in Hiroshima, as well as the head of the board of the Motorcycle company. With his death, Hiroshi's position as head of the Yakuza and head of the company was assured. She meets Hannibal when Hiroshi hires him on as curator. She has not seen him in years - not since Hannibal and Murasaki put her onto a train in France years ago. She is vaguely aware of Hannibal's past, but since she has lived for years amongst the Yakuza, his crimes don't really phase her. Turning him in does nothing for her either - she chooses to wait and see if he might be of any use to her at some point. They were good friends once - so she confesses to him her suspicions about the death of her husband. He shares with her how things ended with Murasaki and she confesses that she knows and that she and Murasaki met again after she moved back to Hiroshima.

SEASON 1, EPISODE 3: Eternity in Eight Strokes

DATE: June 1990 FLASHBACKS:

Hannibal - Robert teaching Hannibal to paint

Hannibal - Murasaki teaching Hannibal Calligraphy, specifically Eternity in Eight Strokes

Hannibal - Mischa laughing in the garden in her bathtub

Clarice - Clarice's sitting on her father's lap, looking at his badge

Clarice - Clarice and Mapp discuss Johnny's tattoo

ARTWORK FEATURED:

Eternity in Eight Strokes - Symbol

Three Beauties of the Kansei Era by Kitagawa Utamaro

The Chrysanthemum and the Sword: Patterns of Japanese Culture by Ruth Benedict, being read by Clarice

NOTES:

Since Hiroshi is recently widowed, his sister in law Chiyoh has been teaching the girls, but he asks Dr.Fell to augment their education in art and culture. Natsu, the eldest daughter, is about 18 years old and very impressionable. She very quickly falls in love with the charming and mysterious Dr.Fell. The middle daughter, Aneka, is about 10 and she is a complete smart ass and tends to not have a filter. She’s the comic relief. Emiko, the youngest is about 6 years old, and very sweet, and reminds Hannibal Lecter very much of his sister, Mischa.

When confronted with the Symbol Eternity in Eight Strokes, Clarice consults Jack Crawford’s extensive library on symbology. She finds that many past works by Hannibal Lecter were signed with this symbol.

Very quickly finding that the art theft rings she is dealing with are often dark covers for far dirtier crimes, with art often being used to help with the laundering of money, Jack Crawford decides to send Johnny Brigham to join Clarice and her team of agents. Johnny is tasked specifically by Crawford to watch out for Clarice’s safety.

Johnny has always liked Clarice and she has always liked him. His presence constantly alongside her begins the whole “will they or won’t they?” situation between them. He very quickly becomes smitten.

SEASON 1, EPISODE 4: The Provenance of Dr.Fell

DATE: June 1990 FLASHBACKS:

Clarice - "Clarice, your case file." The touch in Memphis before Lecter’s escape. The crackle in Hannibal's eyes. A shock runs through Clarice's body.

Clarice - Watching the news just after Hannibal Lecter's escape

Clarice - Ardelia asking Clarice if she fears Hannibal will come after her

ARTWORK FEATURED:

Jade burial suit of Liu Sui

NOTES:

Clarice uses her alter ego, Elizabeth Chase for the first time. Elizabeth Chase was the name of an art student and the wife of Robert Hecht, a man who dealt in smuggling antiquities illegally, and the name is an intentional selection on Clarice's part. Her whimsy is showing, and Hannibal Lecter would take notice.

A discussion of art provenance and its importance in authenticating art leads to the idea that people also have their own provenance that gives them their value. This is a major theme that is unfolding, as we essentially see flashbacks from Hannibal and Clarice showing us their own “Provenance”

Clarice does not yet know Hannibal Lecter is in Hiroshi Soah's employ, though she suspects he is somewhere in Asia. She goes undercover as Elizabeth Chase - an art dealer - at a private party at Soah's house celebrating the purchase of the Jade Burial Suit of Liu Sui. When she is dancing with Hiroshi Soah, he tells her about his new curator for the museum he is building, and that he would like to introduce her. He takes her over to Dr.Fell, whose back is turned to her. When Dr.Fell turns around, Clarice is shocked. "Do you two know one another?" Soah asks. "Do we madame?" Dr.Fell asks, taking Clarice's hand and kissing it. She touch sparks again for both of them, and they are aware of it. "I feel if we had, I should not forget.” Clarice is not amused, but cannot cause a scene, as there are several hundred people present, and doing so would endanger them, as well as ruin her cover and her mission. "Not to my knowledge, Dr.Fell." She finally says reluctantly. Dr.Fell asks Clarice to dance, and again she is hesitant to do so. When he sweeps her out onto the floor, they both begin to negotiate, talking quickly through gritted teeth as they both try very hard to smile and not let on that anything is wrong. There is a very real tension between them - both sexual, as well as a heightened feeling of danger. Lecter reveals that he has a good deal of insider information and that he can help her with her case, if only she will not reveal his identity. She agrees – for the time being.

Hiroshi and Johnny both watch Dr.Fell and Elizabeth Chase - Hiroshi is unaware of either Clarice’s and Dr.Fell’s identity, while Johnny also has no idea that Dr.Fell is Hannibal Lecter. What they do notice, however, is that there is clearly undeniable chemistry between the two. Natsu also witnesses the clear chemistry between Elizabeth Chase and Dr.Fell. Both Natsu and Johnny Brigham find themselves feeling jelous.

SEASON 1, EPISODE 5: Sadako and the Thousand Cranes

DATE: July 1990 FLASHBACKS:

Hannibal - Murasaki, Young Hannibal and Chiyoh fold paper Cranes for Chiyoh's cousin, Sadako

Hannibal - Murasaki mentions her home, Hiroshima, being destroyed

Hannibal - Deserters approach the lodge, killing Jakov and Hannibal's parents

Hannibal - Authorities yell at Lecter in his cell, he folds an origami chicken

Clarice - Clarice speaks with Lecter and pulls the origami chicken out of her purse

ARTWORK FEATURED:

The Children's Peace Monument by Kazuo Kikuchi and Kiyoshi Ikebe - Hiroshima, Japan at the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Park

Traditional Origami

NOTES:

One of the major art pieces in Heroshima is the Children's Peace Monument, which memorializes Sadako, said to be Chiyo’s cousin. The monument helps to emphasize the absolute horrors of war.

Though many of our characters are rather villainous – they have all been impacted by an actual war or a terrible hardship in their life. Soah had his home destroyed, Lecter lost his family, Johnny finds being back in Asia brings back memories of his time in Vietnam, something he doesn’t like to think about. Clarice, though not affected by war, has had terrible hardships and is also learning about the horrors of war via the art she is studying.

Traditional Origami is used to link Sadako, Hannibal Lecter's past, and Clarice's experience with meeting Hannibal Lecter for the second time (When she rescued his origami chicken from a trashcan) - A clue to the Chinese Gu is uncovered in the Yakuza crime ring, and Clarice believes it may be in China

Chiyoh and Hannibal come to an agreement - Chiyoh will not reveal who he is to authorities, and in exchange, Hannibal will kill her brother-in-law, Hiroshi Soah in retaliation for her husband's death. He agrees to do this in his own time.

SEASON 1, EPISODE 6: Kyū Bon

DATE: July 15, 1990 FLASHBACKS:

Hannibal - Murasaki mending young Hannibal's finger and asking him to arrange flowers

Hannibal - Hannibal defending Murasaki from the butcher

Hannibal - Robert's death and funeral

Clarice - Hannibal asking her worst memory of childhood

Clarice - In the hospital with her dying father as a visitor recites Thanatopsis

Clarice - Cleaning hotel rooms, Clarice's mother tells her she must move to Montana

ARTWORK FEATURED:

Thanatopsis, a poem by William Cullen Bryant read as a v.o. in the last scene

The Tale of Genji, a novel by Murasaki Shikibu

Kokin Wakashū by Court Poets Ki no Tsurayuki, Ki no Tomonori, Oshikochi no Mitsune and Mibu no Tadamine

NOTES:

This episode deals heavily in family and their impact on us

Clarice disregards the festival, but ultimately changes her mind in the end, and winds up going back to the U.S. to visit her father’s grave.

Hannibal Lecter gives Clarice Starling Chinese Lantern flowers

SEASON 1, EPISODE 7: Honjō Masamune

DATE: August, 1990 FLASHBACKS:

Clarice - Hannibal asking if she thinks he is evil, Typhoid and Swans discussion

Clarice - Hannibal telling her they are going to be partners

Hannibal - Butcher being killed with a sword

Clarice - The Screaming Lambs Confession in Memphis / Clarice escapes in the night as a child

Hannibal - Very quick, flashes of Mischa screaming, an axe, Hannibal's hand reaching for Mischa. We still can’t see what happened.

ARTWORK FEATURED:

Honjō Masamune, a famous sword

Homicide Investigation: Practical Information for Coroners, Police Officers, and Other Investigators by LeMoyne Snyder, being read by Clarice

David with the Head of Goliath, Caravaggio

NOTES:

August 26–28 – In Gainesville, Florida, police find five murdered college students, apparently killed by a serial killer. Clarice is pretty gutted to not be able to work on this case.

This episode is inspired by the real life sword. When Japanese weapons had to be surrendered in 1945, it was given over to a Sgt. Coldy Bimore. Unfortunately, no record of such a Sgt. has ever existed. This has never been solved, but this story tells a bit more about how Hannibal and Clarice uncover the sword at the hands of a man who falsified his name. The American Sgt.’s family had been killed by the Japanese during the war, and thus he took their sword from them.

This adventure takes place over a series of several days, and both Hannibal and Clarice must keep up their identities of Elizabeth Chase and John Fell. They speak a lot during this time. Lecter wakes Clarice from her nightmare during this time.

Clarice experiences her nightmare during this time and heavily begins to question if what she is doing is enough - she’s rescuing art - not people (The Florida serial killer weighs heavily on her). Hannibal Lecter holds her in the dark and tells her that what she is doing is very important and noble. She says, "I was in the barn" she says, to which he replies, "I know." "I was so cold and afraid." she says, and he says "I know." again. He closes his eyes and we understand he is speaking of more than just her dream - that he knows from his own experiences. She is disturbed to realize that she feels very safe with him.

Season 1, Episode 8: The Hall of Two Truths

When eighteen carefully chosen treasures are stolen from the Cairo Museum, the Minister of Antiquities enlists Clarice’s team to help find the culprit. Clarice suspects that a wealthy private collector may be responsible, but soon finds that the truth is far more complicated than she could have imagined.

DATE: September 1990 FLASHBACKS:

Hannibal - Inspector Popil arrives and says that organs of the butcher were removed

Hannibal - Murasaki tells Popil she and Hannibal are moving to Paris and that Hannibal is to enter medical school

Hannibal - Hannibal helps a doctor sketch dead bodies in order to remake De humani corporis fabrica libri septem, which was lost during the war

ARTWORK FEATURED:

Bust of Neferititi

Book of the Dead: The Weighing of the Heart Ceremony

Canopic Jars

De humani corporis fabrica libri septem,

NOTES:

The title references the Egyptian "Hall of Two Truths" where the human heart is weighed against a feather in the Egyptian afterlife. For our purposes, of course, the feather represents Clarice (bird imagery) and the heart represents Lecter (burning heart imagery, organs, etc)

The scales also represent the changing feelings and conflicting emotions going on with Clarice Starling.

Inspired by a 2011 Cairo Museum heist, which was never solved, but likely the pieces were stolen by a wealthy businessman who picked out specific pieces that he wanted.

The removal of organs in Egyptian mummification will be compared against Hannibal Lecter removing the organs of his victims.

SEASON 1, EPISODE 9: Kintsugi

DATE: September 1990 FLASHBACKS:

Hannibal - Flashes of Dog tags hanging around the necks of the men in the lodge

Hannibal - Flashes of Mischa screaming

Hannibal - Flashes of Hannibal and Mischa with the deserters

Hannibal - Mischa is taken away “to play”

ARTWORK FEATURED:

- The Terracotta Warriors of Emperor Qin

- Japanese art of Kintsugi

NOTES:

Kintsugi refers to the art of mending broken vases / pottery with gold

September 12 – Cold War: The two German states and the Four Powers sign the Treaty on the Final Settlement With Respect to Germany in Moscow, paving the way for German reunification.

- A major theme is brokenness. Hannibal's brokenness, Clarice's Brokenness, but her scars ultimately making her more beautiful in Lecter's eyes. He also seems to be intrigued that her brokenness has not managed to destroy her. When Soah's daughter breaks a priceless vase, Lecter discusses with her the art of Kintsugi and discusses with her how one's damage is important to their overall history. Together they repair the vase, as Lecter thinks of Clarice and of his own scars.

On the other, much darker end, it is the shattering of one of the terracotta warrior sculptures reveals that they are fake, and their insides are filled with drugs. The art world is using them as a cover for a much larger drug smuggling operation. Inspired by the movie True Lies, as well as multiple drug busts - hiding drugs in sculptures is fairly common.

There should be a discussion that each Terracotta warrior represented an actual person should tie in to Hannibal thinking about the dog tags, and that they are also tied to an individual. We don't know if this is actually true or not - I've read articles that confirm and deny this, but for our purposes the statues are indeed individuals.

The youngest of Soah's daughters likes the Ninja Turtles (popular in the 90s). Dr.Fell is confused as to why these cartoons are named after painters from the Italian Renaissance.

The episode would either open or close with the quote by Rumi, "The Wound is Where the Light Enters You."

SEASON 1, EPISODE 10: The Three Sacred Treasures of Japan

DATE: October 1990 FLASHBACKS:

Hannibal - Hannibal tries to remember the faces of the men who killed his sister and draws their faces in medical school

Hannibal - Uncovering the Dog tags in the lodge

Hannibal - Hannibal kills Dortlitch and puts the tag around his neck

Hannibal - Murasaki asks Hannibal to stop. He refuses.

ARTWORK FEATURED:

Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi, a sword

Yata-no-Kagami, a mirror

Yasakani no Magatama, a jewel

NOTES:

October 3 – Cold War: East Germany and West Germany reunify into a single Germany.

The three Sacred Treasures do exist, though very few people know where they are kept, and even fewer people have seen them. Clarice and her team must figure out how to find something without even knowing what it looks like. This is paralleled with Flashbacks of Hannibal Lecter not knowing what his sister’s killers look like...

Not knowing what the 3 Treasures look like, and the search for them can bring flashbacks to Hannibal Lecter not knowing the killers that he seeks revenge upon for Mischa's death.

SEASON 1, EPISODE 11: The Last Emperor

DATE: October 1990 FLASHBACKS:

Hannibal - Hannibal sees Kolnas daughter's bracelet and flashes back to Mischa

Hannibal - Kolnas daughter puts his dog tag in the offering plate

Hannibal - Hannibal kills Kolnas with a Tanto after he is given information on Grutas

ARTWORK FEATURED:

Ancient Chinese Gu, unknown artist - Found in China, to be returned to the Gardner Museum

The Forbidden City

NOTES:

When looking for a stolen Chinese Puzzle box, long lost, Clarice ultimately finds herself in search of a theif who it turns out has purchased the Chnese Gu from the Gardner museum. At first she thinks he may be the original theif, but she realizes the piece has changed hands several times.

The Chinese Gu has yet to actually be found.

SEASON 1, EPISODE 12: The Idol Thief

DATE: October 1990

ARTWORK FEATURED:

Natarajan Idols

NOTES:

This episode is based off of Subhash Kapoor is a New York-based art dealer on trial in Chennai for allegedly running a $100 million international smuggling racket.[2] He was previously the owner of the Art of the Past gallery in Manhattan. His sister business, Nimbus Import/Exports, specialised in selling antiquities from across the Indian Subcontinent and Southeast Asia to major museums around the world.

Natsu looks into Dr.Fell’s past and manages to uncover who he is. When she does, she also sees a picture of Clarice Starling and realizes that she is the same woman she knows as Elizabeth Chase.

SEASON 1, EPISODE 13: Yuanming Yuan

DATE: November 1990 FLASHBACKS:

Hannibal - Murasaki and Hannibal put Chiyoh on a train and discuss her fiancé, a man with two brothers who is starting a motorcycle business

ARTWORK FEATURED:

A variety of Chinese vases and bowls around the world

NOTES:

This episode is inspired by several thefts of Chinese pieces that were stolen around the same time. The case has never been solved, but it is most likely a Government inside job. Clarice - if she finds it’s a Government job - can’t really do anything when up against a Government.

There is a discussion about theft. If the pieces were stolen from China...and China steals them back - is it stealing?

SEASON 1, EPISODE 14: Teacups and Time

DATE: November 1990 FLASHBACKS:

Hannibal - Hannibal searches for Grutas

Hannibal - Grutas confirms Mischa's fate

ARTWORK FEATURED:

Japanese Tea Ceremony

Chinese Yixing Teapot

A Brief History of Time, a book by Stephen Hawking

NOTES:

November 19–21 – The leaders of Canada, the United States, and 32 European states meet in Paris to formally mark the end of the Cold War.

Lecter reads A Brief History of Time. The broken teacup is mentioned. When he is at the Japanese tea ceremony, a teacup is broken, and his calm exterior falls away for a very brief moment. Clarice seems to be the only one to notice.

Clarice has found the Chinese Gu in a previous episode. This is a huge break in the Gardner case. However, since it appears all of the items that were stolen were dispersed to different people, the other items have not yet been found. Still, she has decided that though it is a great break in the case, they will keep its discovery a secret so that it does not compromise the rest of the case or her secret identity as Elizabeth Chase.

SEASON 1, EPISODE 15:The Tantō Sword of Date Masamune

DATE: December 1990 FLASHBACKS:

Hannibal - Grutas tries to shoot young Hannibal. He is shot in the back. He appears to be dead, but he pulls the Tanto sword out from the back of his shirt. It has deflected the bullet.

Hannibal – Young Hannibal asks where Grentz is and is told he is in Canada. Hannibal then kills Grutas and puts his dog tag around his neck. Murosaki has been witness to all of this.

Hannibal - Hannibal confesses his love for Murasaki. She rejects him.

ARTWORK FEATURED:

The Dream of the Fisherman's Wife by Hokusai, on loan to the Hiroshima Museum of Art from the British Museum, in conjunction with an exhibition called "Sex and Pleasure in Japanese Art"

Starling on a Branch in the Japanese Style, Signed with Infinity in Eight Strokes, Hiroshima, Japan, Painted by Hannibal Lecter, but attributed to Robert Lecter - found in Dr.Fell's studio

Clarice with a Lamb by Hannibal Lecter, found in Dr.Fell's studio

Armor of Date Masamune, and 3 of its 4 pieces of weaponry - Hiroshi Soah's private collection.

Tanto Sword of Date Masamune, 4th piece of weaponry - on Hannibal Lecter's person

Tessen, Japanese War Fan - on Clarice's person

FULL EPISODE SUMMARY:

We open the episode in the newly opened Hiroshima Museum of Art, opened and funded by Hiroshi Soah in an attempt to help replace heritage lost to the Hiroshima bomb, as well as an attempt to make Hiroshima a center of culture for the nation – a Phoenix from the Ashes, as it were.

Clarice stands in the Hiroshima Museum of Art’s newest exhibition on Sex and Pleasure in Japanese Art, which was Curated by Dr.Fell (this is a real exhibit that would not happen until 2013/2014 at the British Museum). She stands before The Dream of the Fisherman’s Wife and considers it, waiting. Johnny appears and stands beside her. He too considers the painting. He wrinkles his nose - he does not care for it. After a few moments of silence, Johnny hands Clarice some paperwork and tells her that they have enough information, and they now officially have permission from both the American and Japanese government to raid Hiroshi Soah’s private collection and arrest him. They have to be smart about it, as they do not think Soah will go quietly. His home is highly guarded, and even with a warrant, his thugs are likely to put up a fight.

Due to the museum opening, as well as some new private acquisitions, Soah’s private collection has been in constant movement. His renovation on his own personal gallery means there is lots of construction in the home, and it’s agreed that the FBI will disguise themselves as workers. Clarice will need to go in first and assess the situation to make sure to determine the important pieces currently are so that nothing is damaged during the raid, as that would defeat the purpose of the entire mission, which is ultimately to keep the artwork safe and back where it belongs. They agree that Elizabeth Chase will go during the day to assess the situation, giving some other art related reason for being there – offering up a painting she has recently acquired in the hopes that she could walk with Soah through his gallery and tell him exactly where she thinks it should go, meanwhile noting specific placement of everything.

Clarice Starling is mildy concerned and plagued with guilt, however. Several months before she had sent warning to Behavioral Science that she had found Hannibal Lecter. However, Lecter has not betrayed her identity, and has not only been helpful in uncovering information for her, they’ve also begun to confide in one another. She worries that if he discovers her betrayal that no one will be safe from his wrath.

Clarice Starling arrives for her appointment with Hiroshi Soah and is asked to wait in the garden. She sits and drinks tea and hears laughter in the background. She looks to see on the far side of the garden, Dr.Fell teaching the three girls about Japanese Weaponry. He has a long sword, and he two eldest Natsu and Aneka have shorter swords, while Emiko being very young has a fan. She is rather put out that she is not allowed to play with big knives.

Clarice goes closer to watch and she and Lecter acknowledge one another with a nod and a smile, but say nothing. Natsu, who has a big crush on Dr.Fell notices this, and her jealousy flares again – for she has found drawings of Elizabeth Chase in Dr.Fell’s studio.

Dr.Fell assures Emiko that the fan she has is just as important as a sword, and he reveals to her that the spokes of her fan - a tessen - are pointed and indeed very dangerous.

We see a short flash of young Hannibal Lecter fighting with Grutas. Dr.Fell, mildly disturbed by his thoughts, steadies himself back in the present and then teaches Emiko how to deflect a sword using the fan. She is placated.

Clarice playfully mentions “When you taught me how to use a sword, you never mentioned the fan to me.” She then tells him that she has seen the new exhibit he curated at the museum, and she is not entirely sure what to think. Dr.Fell covers Emiko's ears, and seductively begins to talk to Elizabeth about how the West tends to find pleasure and sex sinful, but the east has no such reservations, etc.

Natsu is further angered that Dr.Fell is very clearly entranced by Elizabeth. A servant comes for Elizabeth Chase and leads her into Hiroshi Soah’s study. Clarice and Hiroshi speak for a long time, and then walk down his gallery. Elizabeth mentions the piece she has just acquired from one of her customers who has passed away and pulls out photos from her purse. Soah isn’t sure, but they continue their walk, and she tells him she has a few other pieces that she thinks he might like. She also asks him how the restoration on the sword that she and Dr.Fell managed to find several months ago is going. He takes her over to a new portion of his gallery where he has many pieces of Japanese Weaponry on display – several swords, fans (Tessen) and of course the Samurai suit is the centerpiece.. He mentions that Dr.Fell did the restoration on the sword himself. He also mentions Dr.Fell is close to finding the lost Tanto sword – might Elizabeth be able to help with that as well and she and Fell worked together so well on finding the other sword?

She mentions she will keep her ear to the ground about it. As Hiroshi, very polite and charming, escorts Elizabeth from the house, says goodbye and goes back into the house.

Chiyoh and the three girls are on the terrace folding origami as Elizabeth heads to her car. When Elizabeth asks where Dr.Fell has gone, Chiyoh mentions that he had been called to the museum to consult on the layout and hanging of several paintings.

Emiko goes to Elizabeth and hands her a paper crane before she can descend from the terrace. “Doctor Fell asked me to give this to you.” She says. Elizabeth thanks her and moves put it into her purse when she hears Hiroshi Soah calling her name. He walks out onto the terrace and says he’s re-considered – would she be willing to leave those photographs of that painting with him for a couple of days? She says, of course and digs into her purse and sets them down beside the paper crane. He thanks her, and she turns again to leave, forgetting the crane.

When Elizabeth is gone and the others have all gone inside, Natsu takes the paper crane and unfolds it to reveal a note written on it. It is addressed to Clarice and it indicates that he knows what she is up to, and that he does not advise a raid tonight, as security has just been doubled. It is signed “H.”

Clarice assembles her team and discussed the layout, the plan, and where certain pieces of art are. Some they will take, some they will not, some have been illegally aquired, some have not. She also mentions where Soah will most likely be able to be found in the home. She alerts the men to the bedrooms of the three daughters as well as their aunt Chiyoh and makes sure that everyone is well aware to be very careful around the women, not to scare them, harm them, etc.

Her team asks if Dr.Fell will go along with the law, and she confirms that she has made sure there will be an “urgent call” from the museum an hour before they enter in order to get him off the premises in case he comes back to the house.

Later, Lecter returns only to be called back to the museum on an emergency. Clarice’s team watch and confirm that Dr.Fell has left. Dr.Fell, of course, knows it is a ruse, and later sneaks back in disguised as one of the construction workers, alongside the FBI.

Clarice goes in the back way to secure the inside of the gallery before the raid begins. The men outside await her go ahead via an earpiece, but it is dropped when she is grabbed by one of Soah’s security men who drags her into the newest part of the gallery containing the Japanese weapons, where Soah and Dr.Fell stand. Dr.Fell remains calm and betrays nothing until it looks like Clarice really is going to be killed by one of Soah's men who has a knife to her throat and is just waiting for Soah's command.

Finally, Dr.Fell lets in a sharp intake of breath, which causes Soah to make his men pause while he turns to Dr.Fell and asks if he likes Elizabeth?

“I do believe my daughter is rather jealous of the two of you.” Soah confesses. “It was her jealousy that caused me to find out about you, miss Clarice Starling.”

Fell admits Clarice Starling is very lovely. Perhaps they could make it look like she has gone missing? Soah considers. Fell has given him 100s of millions in stolen goods and has done a great job over the past year. It is clear that though Soah knows Clarice’s identity, he does not know about Fell’s… He agrees to let Dr.Fell have the girl.

Clarice spits at both their feet and says she'd rather die.

Soah says that can be arranged and gives the order for his men to kill Clarice. Just before the knife slits her throat, another knife is thrown through the air and strikes into the henchman’s neck.

It is clearly a match for the Tanto sword of Masamune.

We see a quick flash of young Hannibal Lecter getting up from the floor of the boat after having just been shot and pulling the Tanto sword out from the back of his shirt. We realize suddenly – he’s had the knife all along. We learn Mischa was eaten.

Hiroshi Soah’s eyes grow wide at the realization that it is the knife he’s been looking for. He turns to confront Dr.Fell, but Lecter has grabbed a sword from the armor and takes Soah’s head clean off. He then throws Soah's sword to Clarice, who catches it, midair, while he goes over to the wall and removes the sword he and Clarice tracked down together several months before.

Together they are surrounded on all sides by member’s of Hiroshi’s Yakuza, and they must fight together to kill them. At one point Hannibal Lecter is almost taken down - there is a knife to his throat and he has no weapon. Clarice shouts out his real name to him as she tosses him a weapon that he uses to kill the man holding him back.

All the henchman pause at hearing Lecter's real name - they only knew him as Dr.Fell. There is a new level of fear now that these men know they are fighting Hannibal Lecter.

There is a quick flashback of Hannibal Lecter killing Grutas in front of Murasaki, and then confessing his love for her. She tells him there is nothing left of him to love and leaves him.

Back to reality, the man standing closest to him is now frozen in fear, and Hannibal grabs him and rips out his throat with his teeth. Blood dripping from his mouth, he spits the contents onto the floor, reaches out, and grabs Clarice, kissing her fiercely before they go back to taking down the remaining men.

While fighting, Lecter tells Clarice he didn't betray her. Clarice does not mention that she, several months earlier, had betrayed him. Clarice grabs a Tessen fan from the wall and uses it to deflect a sword and spike another henchman in the heart. Lecter makes a crack about fighting in her good shoes, at which point Clarice takes off her shoe and spikes the heel through one henchman’s eyes.

Lecter is delighted with both her resourcefulness and ferocity. Once all the men are dead, they are surrounded by bodies and covered in blood, breathing heavily. Standing inches apart, they grab one another and kiss hungrily, angrily. When they part he asks her to come away with him. She is upset by this and asks that he turn himself in. Again he asks for her to come with him and promises that he will give her everything she ever wanted. Again she begs for him to turn himself in.

He says he won’t – and that she doesn’t want to turn him in either or she would not have tried to make sure he was off the property during the raid. She hesitates.

Suddenly there is the sound of crashing glass as the FBI come in from the long side of the gallery, and Soah’s backup from the other side. Clarice rushes towards her men, while Lecter heads in the opposite direction.

On his way out of the house he encounters Natsu, who has heard the commotion and come running. She is crying and tells Hannibal Lecter that she did not betray his true identity to her father – only the identity of Clarice Starling. Chiyoh comes up from behind Natsu and takes her arm, calls her a foolish girl and says that she would have been wiser to betray them both.

Hannibal Lecter tells Chiyoh that their agreement has been settled, and she knows that Hannibal Lecter has killed her brother in law for her in retribution for Soah having her husband killed.

Chiyoh lets Hannibal Lecter go, and later is seen speaking with the police. She is shown ascending to the head of the board of Soah's company - as well as becomes the head of Soah's Yakuza clan.

Ultimately the FBI is successful and manages to secure the pieces that they need, and arrest several of Soah’s men.

Dr.Fell cannot be found, but all of his paperwork checks out beautifully...Chiyoh makes an agreement with the Japanese government, and Dr.Fell is not persued.

When Dr.Fell’s studio is found in the attic of the house, the FBI is surprised to find several drawings and paintings of Clarice Starling. Nobody yet realizes that Dr.Fell was Hannibal Lecter.

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #clarice starling #hannibal rising #silence of the lambs #the rape of europa #hannibal au #fan fic #my edits

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slashyrogue · 5 years

Text

There was something to be said about an omega in distress.

The scent was a mix of intoxication and devastation to Hannibal’s senses. He breathed it in, wanted to both prolong and curtail, and then when he calmed the poor thing down he got an even better reward.

Trust.

Omegas were notoriously skittish around alphas despite their need for one, and as the years went by and he calmed hundreds of them in different locations: stores, restaurants, and even his own office, he developed an almost affection for them.

Which was why it hit him so very hard when he found one whose distressed scent was so horrible. Will Graham’s upset was not at all to his liking, not one bit, but his calmness and acceptance was the ambrosia like scent of the gods. Hannibal craved the perfect scent of calm after his first taste, nursed it, and even after only a short time of knowing each other felt oddly upset when he was not the one to cause his happiness.

Was this what they called true mates? He wasn’t sure.

But Will had other means of support, many of them, and so he decided he would cut him off from said friends quickly so he was the only one in Will’s life.

He was the one to diagnose his encephalitis, to sit by his bedside and watch him heal.

He was the one who looked after Will’s dogs when he was away.

Will began to trust him, to need him, and strangely enough Hannibal enjoyed being needed.

Which was where he was now.

Alone with an omega who trusted him, felt calmed by his mere presence, so he did something odd.

He told the truth.

“I am the Chesapeake Ripper.”

Will blinked at him, confused. “What?”

“I....”

“I heard you,” Will said, standing, “I just...I can’t...you...you....”

Hannibal reached for his arm and Will pushed him away. The pain in his eyes was awful, his distressed scent an agonizing stench that Hannibal needed gone as soon as possible. He could not keep Will like this.

“I did nothing but try to help you see the beauty in your becoming, Will,” he said, his voice wavering, “I did...I had thoughts of attempting to frame you but I...didn’t.”

Will scoffed. “Thanks, Ripper. What a swell guy you are.”

He watched as Will headed for the door of his office, the angry set of his shoulder and distressed scent so very hard to see.

“It pains me to see you hurt.”

Will turned around so fast Hannibal stepped back in response.

“But it’s okay to torture people? To...god the things you’ve done...you...”

He quickly made his way for the door to stop him but Will shook his head. “Will...”

“I thought maybe you were my alpha,” Will whispered, tears filling his eyes, “If you are...I may as well not have one at all.”

Hannibal reached for his arm and Will did not push him away. “No, Will. Listen to me.”

“I think I’ve had enough of listening to you prattle on about how good it feels to kill people. I was so blind. So stupidly in l...”

“In what, Will?”

He looked away from Hannibal but did not move. “In love with you,” he mumbled, “Stupid me, huh? Idiot omega who...”

Hannibal pulled him into his arms and pressed their mouths together. Will moaned, pulled him closer, and turned so Hannibal’s back was to the door. He felt Will’s touch in the very depths of his bones, in his blood, and when they parted he was barely able to catch his breath.

“I am, and always have been, your monster,” he whispered, reaching up and touching Will’s face.

Will shook his head. “I can’t.”

Hannibal felt the rejection in his entire being, falling to his knees, and when the click of the door marked Will’s disappearance from his life he felt for the first time his own distress.

#alpha beta omega #summertimeslick #hannigram au #sad but I might write more #my writing

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dreamofcentipedes · 5 years

Text

Red Lotus Blooms: 7 - Blood and Water

Summary: A monster is forged in flame. As light burns out, red leaves unfurl. Under the new lights of Tokyo, Tatara's feral existence is disturbed by the appearance of a girl calling herself a god.

Characters: Tatara, Eto, Noro

Rating: Teen Words: 5, 749 Link to AO3

Link to Table of Contents

The Japanese air suited Tatara well. An unfamiliar air to an unfamiliar place, hostile and unwelcoming, where he was unknown and undesired. A bad place to live, a good place to die.

That was Tatara’s life here – an extended death. A quest for death, inspired by death, suffused with death, seen through the eyes of the dead man walking, who had no home to return to and nothing left to defend. He was the agent now rather than the victim. He had encountered the reaper and left with the scythe.

This was the tale the devastated bodies of countless Tokyo ghouls testified. A year and a half had passed since the refugee conned his way aboard an aeroplane and came to the Japanese metropolis, where the futuristic sheen of neon lights and towering concrete was juxtaposed against remnant wooden shrines and their ghosts of gods and nature. It was a modernity forever in the shadow of the ancient, a living past well suited for his zombie-like existence. In those eighteen months he had set about cannibalising every ghoul he could get his hands on. He did not know the rules of territory, and they did not matter to him. The big fish ate the little, and Tatara had yet to encounter any fish bigger.

Nor did the birds pose any threat. Excessive eating habits like those Tatara was exhibiting typically attract the attention of the local doves, but the years he spent in Chi She Lian had taught him the art of stealth. He made sure to leave nothing left of his prey – if he was interrupted, the intruding element would join his meal. When a ghoul syndicate of the size of Lian had floated past the CCG like ships in the night for years, masking the presence of one ghoul using their techniques was child’s play. He still did not understand how the Chinese CCG ever managed to find Yan. They could not find him, though – no-one knew Tatara Huo was in Japan.

His days were spent sleeping in alleyways and his nights prowling the dark. He had none of the comforts he was used to in his old home, but comfort, or home, was not what he was looking for. This was atonement. He would master his kakuja and kill Kousuke Houji. That was all.

It was the kind of lifestyle that made little in the way of allies and much in the way of enemies. It was on one night in a brisk winter, within which even the ascetic Tatara could not abide sleeping outside, that he came across a dilapidated hideout and discovered it was occupied. This was not much of a deterrent as he slaughtered every ghoul inside. They were stronger than he was used to, but it was hardly an even match. After sleeping there for two nights, he heard a knock on his door in the morning.

His white cloak, now stained with dirt and blood and sewer water, dragged along the ground as he moved to the shattered window and peered out with tired eyes. The ancient house was detached in an old industrial area that was mostly abandoned but had become a common haunt for ghouls. He knew what kind of visitors they would be.

A short girl who looked around his age stood out front in a burgundy robe and a green-haired bob cut with some kind of accessory. She was flanked by a tall and sinister figure wearing a similar robe and sporting a black ponytail that stuck straight out of the top of his head. Most notable, however, was his mask. It was pale, with the emblem of a toothy mouth and no discernible eye holes. Tatara felt as though he should be careful of this one. Shortly, he lumbered down the stairs and swung open the door.

“What?” He asked charmlessly. Japanese had been one of the languages Chi She Lian had taught him. The Huo family had been big figures in the Chinese business world, so knowing the language of their closest trading partner, together with English, was necessary to retain their influence in the sphere of human politics.

He could see now that the accessory on the girl’s head was a red lotus flower, not unlike the kind that had floated among the fish in the old pond at Yangshuo. It soured his already grim mood to see a stranger so casually appropriate his memories. He could also pick up their scent at this range. The masked man smelled as ghoulish as he looked, but the girl had a curious scent he could not quite place. Her big eyes beamed with a salesman-like enthusiasm.

“Hello sir, we’re here to talk to you about Our Lord and Saviour -”

Tatara swung the door shut. He made to leave, but he saw the door open again. The girl had caught it just in time.

“Ah…you’re definitely going to hell for that one.” He heard her grumble cheerily.

“I’ll send you to hell if you don’t leave now.” Tatara threatened, looming over the dwarfish woman with a glower. He had always been tall for his age, but he had come to equal Yan’s stature in the past year. Her silent companion matched him for height, however, dampening the threat.

“Mmm, I doubt that.” She retorted with a wink.

Tatara’s patience ran out and his kagune raced out. As soon as his eyes reddened, so did one of hers – just one - and she instantly blocked the blow with a bizarre-looking kagune of her own. It stretched out from her upper back and was swollen and bloated with an array of tiny arms and fully-fingered hands growing out of it. The masked man did not seem to react at all beyond leisurely moving back a few steps to give the girl some room.

After Tatara glared at her some more and she responded with a smug grin of her own, he swung his kagune back to his side and she lowered hers.

“So you are a ghoul. Or some kind of mongrel.”

“How rude, a lady has feelings!”

Tatara narrowed his eyes.

“Okay, okay, Mr Grinch.” The girl complained, and lightly rapped her knuckles against the man standing next to her. “Couldn’t you tell from my buddy here? He sticks out a bit. Kind of like you, with your chin-mask and your period dress.”

“I knew about him.” Tatara snapped. “It’s you who I was unsure of. You stink.”

The girl clutched her imaginary pearls again in affected wide-mouthed shock. She had a major talent for getting on his nerves.

“And I made an effort to look nice and everything. Here, do you like it?”

She tugged on the flower perched on her head. There was no denying that the girl was pretty, but her personality quickly poisoned any appeal she might have. Not that Tatara had any interest in such frivolous matters in the first place.

“Why are you here?” He growled. “To fight? You want the building?”

“Well, that’s one way this could go down.” She mused with a knowing smirk. “We want the building back. You’re squatting in my territory.”

Her territory? So the masked man wasn’t the leader? It was this runt? Tatara could not help but scoff. Well, he was here to eat ghouls anyway. He was hardly going to complain if they presented themselves at his doorstep. No matter how strong they might be, Tokyo had no ghoul organisation anything like Chi She Lian. He was a big fish in a small pond.

“You’re not getting it back.” Tatara asserted menacingly as he poised his kagune above his head in striking position.

“Oh, you can keep it, I just want it back.”

…What on earth was this woman saying?

“This is the other way of going about things.” She touched her nose in confirmation of secret knowledge.

“And what’s that?” Tatara asked warily.

“We talk about our Lord and Saviour.”

Tatara swung the door shut.

“Wait, seriously!”

She caught it again.

“I’m serious. I think we could all do with a bit of God in our lives. Without a God to look up to, we’re lost, confused. We might as well just be stumbling around in the dark.”

The girl was sounding frustratingly earnest now. He preferred it when she was mocking him, instead of saying such ridiculous things to him in all seriousness. He was torn between killing her and just walking away.

“After all, if there’s no God…hmm. What was it Shakespeare said? ‘Humanity must perforce prey on itself like monsters of the deep’.”

Tatara froze. How much did she know…?

“You’ve been eating a lot of ghouls, haven’t you? Those hits, the reason it’s so dangerous for ghouls to go out at night now – it’s you, isn’t it?”

“And what if it is?” His returning whisper was sharp as a dagger.

“Well, some of those people are my people. You’ve been making things veeery difficult for me. But, if I can avoid fighting someone as scary as you, that would be swell. Especially if that rumour is true.”

The rumour that cannibalisation makes ghouls stronger, he assumed. Tatara knew this to be a fact, but it was not common knowledge.

“It is. So go home, and stay out of my way.”

“But here’s the thing,” The girl yammered on, “I think this can all be settled peaceably. I can’t let a ghoul like you keep making trouble for my baby organisation. However, a great threat could also make a great asset.”

Tatara watched her expectantly. She stretched out her hand.

“Be happy, Hannibal Lecter. I’m offering you a job.”

He met her with stony silence.

“You’d get to keep the pad, of course, as company accommodation. Besides, aren’t you tired of living like a wild animal? Aogiri Tree can give you roots. Stability. Purpose.” She looked up at him with a wicked and unstable smile that made her suddenly seem much more dangerous than she had initially appeared. “Let me be your God.”

The cold wind whistled down the early morning alleyway. Their cloaks fluttered in the breeze.

“I have a God.” Tatara answered icily. The severed head of Kousuke Houji. “Do you want to fight here?”

The girl looked down in disappointment, and then heaved out a sigh with a shrug of her shoulders. “Ah, I really thought you would agree. What a pain. Well, no, we’ll probably kill you in your sleep or something. Until then, think about my offer! The name’s Eto, this guy’s Noro. Don’t call us – we’ll call you.”

She turned and began walking away with the tall man following behind her. Tatara was hardly going to let a threat like that slide by. He shot his kagune silently through the air towards the girl’s back.

In an instant, an eldritch, carmine kagune with a maw of enormous jagged teeth burst out of from the lower back of her companion. It smashed back Tatara’s bikaku and slipped right back into his body. Neither of them missed a step.

What a strange pair, Tatara thought. He did not mean it fondly.

He knew he would have to be all the more on his guard henceforth. But perhaps, if he grew strong enough to defeat that silent spectre, he would be strong enough to defeat Houji, too.

It was not long before the Aogiri assaults began.

It started with minor assassins that Tatara made short work of. He was no heavy sleeper, alert from his feral lifestyle and plagued as he was by nightmares of burning buildings. He knew he could be free of his unwanted guests if he just left the old shack. The nights had not gotten any warmer, but if necessary he could always get hold of a place occupied by less persistent ghouls. However, he had no intention of giving that brat the satisfaction of victory, and besides, he was grateful for the free meals and prey he could play with like the catfish in that pond he was feeling nostalgic for. He had kept a collection of heads now that he had somewhere to hide them, mostly just to keep count.

The more time passed, the more assailants came. Clearly this Eto did not like that her drones were not coming back. As the waves kept coming, Tatara began to notice some disturbing features. One set of heads he collected had their mouths completely stitched up. Others, their eyes, groping about entirely by smell. If she was hoping to win the battle of psychological warfare, she had picked the wrong target. Horror was his habitat now, and burnt bodies all looked the same.

He could feel his power growing with every discoloured limb he forced down his throat. On the rare occasions he needed to activate his kakuja, he noticed it had grown taller, wider, stronger. His firepower was now hot enough to rage in blue. It was not enough to simply become like Yan: he must surpass him if he ever hoped to defeat his killer. So he welcomed the nightmare more than ever when it came to his doorstep in full force.

A light snow was falling that night, but the heavy snow from the night before had already swamped the ground in velvety frost. Trudging through the snowfield, the small army knew they could not approach quietly, so they compensated by making themselves horrifically visible. Monstrous masks replaced their faces and their kagune stretched out on full ghastly display. They yelled war chants and beat their chests and stamped their feet with ferocious intensity until they came to a halt outside Tatara’s self-made abode.

He examined them from the window. Something like a hundred ghouls were amassed beyond his walls. Not bad for a fledgling organisation, though he had certainly never heard of Aogiri Tree before. He noted with caution the presence of the masked man, Noro, among them. His kagune was freakish, like nothing Tatara had seen before. Perhaps it would be wisest to take him out first.

As for Eto, he could not see a green head of hair among them. Leaving it to the grunts. How insulting. Or so he thought, when he heard a familiar voice pierce the dark.

“Tatara? Tatara Huo?”

He backed away from his vantage point in shock before hurriedly pressing himself up against the aperture. He could see a small figure wrapped head to toe in bandages, wearing a short burgundy cloak with a colourful neckerchief and a hood with protrusions like rabbit ears. What a grotesque appearance. Was this Eto in full ghoul flare? More importantly, Tatara thought, grinding his teeth, how does she know my name?

“I see you, Tatara, come on down!”

Tatara placed his hands on the windowsill and looked down disdainfully.

“Come in, I insist. I’ll make it nice and warm for you.”

“Somehow that doesn’t sound too inviting.” Eto objected from below. “It still doesn’t have to be this way, Tatara. You can make up for all my people you’ve killed. Join us, and we’ll give you a blank slate.”

“There are no blank slates.” Tatara shot back cynically.

Eto giggled. “No, maybe not. We’re never really free from our pasts, are we? Not until the wrongs are righted.”

A brief silence fell upon them amid the tension and snowfall.

“You know,” Tatara told Eto through hostile eyes, “I’m getting tired of your indirectness.”

“I’m telling you that I can take you to Kousuke Houji.”

A longer silence passed as Tatara gripped the rotten wooden windowsill like a liferaft. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears as blood pulsated through his brain. Houji. She can take me to Houji.

“I told a friend of mine about you, and apparently he knows you. He knew about China and Chi She Lian. He knew about the Huo family and their extermination, and the operation’s shining star: First Class Kousuke Houji. Ah, or that should be Special Class now. He did so well they bumped him up two ranks when he got back home.”

He’s here. In Japan. In Tokyo? If Eto could take him to him, then he could not be too far away. Tatara’s head was flooded with a rush of memories like acid. Fei’s stupid nicknames for him. The pride on Yan’s face when Tatara told him about his first kill. A burning building, an interloping whale, and, out of the corner of his eye, the cold professional face of Death. A solemn admission and an agonised howl.

“I also heard a story about a half-kakuja escaping their grasp. Apparently, they never found the middle child either.” Her bandages crinkled in an impish grin. “So how about it, Tatara Huo? Join us, and he’s yours.”

“No.” Tatara responded immediately.

“…No?” Came Eto’s confused reaction.

“No.” Tatara asserted in a firm voice coloured by the anger surging through him. “Here’s what we’re going to do instead. You’re going to tell me where he is or I’m going to kill every last one of you.”

Eto stood silently as snowflakes settled on her cloak.

“You’re alone against a hundred of my best ghouls. Do you really think you’re in the position to make an ultimatum like that?” Her face, expressionless behind her bandages, rose. A single red kakugan gleamed in the black hollows of her eyes. “Do you know who I am?”

“No. And by the time I’m done with you, no-one will.”

Tatara reached into a storage space and threw something out onto the snow. The ghouls instinctively leapt back, but when they saw it was not explosive they inched closer and turned it over. The head of a would-be assassin graced the midwinter floor elegantly, the blood long too black and congealed to stain.

As soon as they looked back up at him, Tatara left the windowside and retreated inside to prepare. No more negotiation. This would be no Xuhangli, he affirmed to himself: Eto would follow the Longxia into the graveyard of over-reachers.

It was a matter of seconds before the first wave of Aogiri ghouls had broken down the door. It was a matter of seconds before their bloody carcasses decorated the desolated apartment.

They had instantly began running up the stairs, knowing that Tatara would not have had the time to descend, only to find strange burning balls tumbling down the stairway. On impact, the long red cloaks of the ghouls were set alight, and they immediately turned around to quench the flames in the moistness of the snow. A turned back made an easy target for Tatara’s kagune, snaking down from the top of the stairs to zip in and out of head after head like a fine scalpel, sparing no time stuck in the flesh but seizing prey after prey after prey.

All the while, in his hands Tatara began to hurl the flaming balls directly at the backs of his victims, knocking them to the ground and catching them in between the fire on their back and the fire on the floor: as the balls from before were still rolling about, spreading fire in their wake. To burn alive caught between two walls of flame while looking at the stitched eyes of your fallen comrade staring up at you sightlessly, the flames melting their face and yours alike…

How’s that for psychological warfare?

The warriors in the first wave who survived the initial onslaught left screaming in a mad panic, deserting into the darkness and ruining the Aogiri formation as other ghouls broke off to stop them. There was a brief pause before Eto sent in a second pack of wolves, but it was a hesitant, demoralised bunch. As they inched into the kitchen just through the entrance, their heads swung round at a flaming object sent hurtling towards the old gas cooker.

Those heads were jerked back at lethal angles in the force of the explosion that resounded throughout the ground floor. It was left blackened and smoking without a single survivor from that second wave. Tatara had sprinted back up the stairs just in time to avoid the blast himself and rolled to the floor to avoid being spotted through the window. Peeking up outside, he could see more desertions ensuing. Suddenly, a kagune smashed down right in front of his face.

He leapt back as a ghoul pulled itself up onto the window frame. Eto must have sent out two waves at once, he realised with irritation, one for the door and one for the windows. Before the ghoul could break its kagune free from the house’s brick exterior, Tatara rammed it outside again with his own kagune. He realised that now, however, Eto would have an accurate read on his location.

Several other ghouls quickly followed, clambering up the windows into multiple different rooms. As soon as Tatara knocked one off he would find another entering through a different window, and while he managed to keep the windows in his immediate range clear, he could not defend windows in separate rooms at the same time: which meant that an increasingly large numbers of ghouls did manage to get into the house, posing a much larger threat and taking much longer to kill. And the longer it took to kill those ghouls, the less time he could spend defending the windows, until he found himself becoming overwhelmed.

The space was too small. It had worked to his advantage before, but this time he needed open space. Charging towards an invading enemy, he kicked her out of the window and jumped.

Cracking out his kagune, he anchored himself to the wall of the house and scampered vertically towards the roof. As he ran he noticed that the assembly of the main force below was completely gone, while clamberers were everywhere. He even had to kick a few off just to make it to the roof. Eto had clearly recognised which strategy was superior. Somewhere, she must be among them.

He climbed up on top of the roof in little time and saw that, for now, thankfully, it was clear. It was flat and tiled, making it ideal as a non-flammable battleground – it would be no good if the roof collapsed beneath him. As clamberers made their way up to him, he activated his kakuja.

It had reached colossal proportions. A scaled silver beast, nigh identical to Yan’s. The old anger coursed through him now, savage, relentless. With a sweep of its gigantic arm, the clamberers fell right back down into the snow; the cushioned fall meant nothing when their bones were shattered instantaneously.

The titan peered over the ledge. The scalers were struck with terror, one so badly he fell off immediately. The others joined him when their lives were scorched out of them by the firestorm erupting from Tatara’s throat. He kept the blast going like a red waterfall, moving along one side of the building, then another, roasting every climber who dared advance. They plummeted to the ground like ashen comets. Tatara had lost track of how many scores of people he had killed now, but he knew there was only one side of the building left.

Before he could turn around, he was knocked severely off balance by an intrusive wormish kagune. His flames puttered out as he skidded along the rooftop, but managed to remain upright. The kagune bit into the tiles and, propelled by its forward motion, a man burst into the sky like a rocket, before landing on the rooftop with perfect form. The eyeless mask stared at him. It was a confrontation Tatara had been waiting for. He was ready to incinerate him on sight, before something emerged from his back. Relinquishing her clutch on Noro’s robe, Eto hopped down to join them.

“If you were going to destroy the house, you might as well have just left.” She complained.

Her words were just meaningless noise to Tatara in his kakuja’s mental state. It lived to kill, not to talk. With a roar like a hurricane, Tatara barrelled forward.

Noro’s kagune with its rows of shark teeth bit at Tatara’s legs, but his armour sustained the blow. Hauling his great weight into the air over the ankle-biter, he slammed his chest into the empty space where Noro and Eto were standing just a second before. They had split in opposite directions, Eto perched on a corner of the roof, enjoying the show, while Noro stood directly behind Tatara, his kagune already poising, rising, striking.

Just in time, Tatara managed to block the great serpent with his appendage. The tension between the two forces continued for some time before Tatara flung off the kagune to the side, but it wasn’t long before it was circling back around towards him. He unleashed a jet of flame that sent the kagune rearing back to its owner with its blind head singed and seeming to scream. Tatara continued to defend himself with the blaze of protective blue fire as he pummelled his pillars into the rooftop to right himself. When he was standing and blew the fire out, Noro was gone.

Immediately the kagune smashed into his back, and Tatara thrust his appendage forward to prevent his weight from being used against him again. The kagune was fast, hitting his back like a machine gun, first here, then there, constantly moving and leaving nothing unscathed. Tatara could feel his armour weakening and his pain rising, but while he was under assault from behind, he could not turn to face his foe, rendering his firepower useless. Each hit made his anger burn more furiously. Eventually, Noro’s teeth cracked through the armour and sunk into the kakuja’s exposed flesh.

It was the opening Tatara needed. Now that Noro’s kagune was firmly attached to him, he hauled his bulk around with all his strength, and dragged Noro with him. As the kagune’s teeth clung onto Tatara’s flesh, Noro was flung upwards into the sky and twisted around by Tatara’s circling movements. The stress of the motion made the kagune finally give way and broke off with a chunk of kakuja flesh, and Noro went flying off the side of the building and plunged into the snow beneath.

Tatara lumbered towards the edge, stinging from the sheet of missing skin. Through the spiderlike eyes beneath his helmet he could see that Noro had landed on a bricky outcrop in the snow from which a small leafless tree stood up limply. Or rather, his head had. Blood stained the bricks as his cranium was twisted at an unnatural angle. This battle was over. He made to turn to Eto and crush her next.

But before he could, he saw a strange spasm out of the corner of his eye, and turned back to the body. There was no way he could be alive. And yet, with sudden recoil like an elastic band, the head spun rapidly back into place. The vacancy of its white plaster face stared up at him, expectantly.

What kind of monster was this?

The body begun bleeding, but not blood. His body was bubbling with a boiling red tar that oozed and squelched around him in a mad cthonic dance. As the crimson mass grew and grew, more and more mouths grew out of it, littering the tendrils racing at Tatara with tongues and teeth. Tatara swung out his appendages to defend himself, but the teeth of the chattering, moaning wall of crimson midnight bit into them and tugged, throwing Tatara off his balance and towards the snow, toward the nightmare abominable.

A rocket of flame lit up the bloodlike darkness and set the creature curving backwards as its many mouths shrieked and gnashed their teeth in hatred of the light. The snow melted beneath Tatara’s feet as he stomped forward and vomited fire, pouring out of his helmet in an incessant stream of incendiary viscosity. The alien entity loathed the heat, and its tentacles surrounded Tatara and assaulted his back relentlessly as its main body desperately retreated further from the flames with each step Tatara took.

The force of the assaults were far worse with Noro in kakuja form, and his many arms flooded into the hole his kagune made earlier, ramming and tearing at the exposed skin of Tatara’s kakuja. Yet Tatara persisted, even while his legs stumbled and his body grew weary, and his earholes ached with the cacophony of screeching sound and pain multiplied in him like a virus. The vaccine of hatred soothed whatever torments hell could unleash upon him. This thing was getting in his way, just like the Whale had back at Xuhangli. Standing between him and Houji. Between vengeance. Between salvation.

He would not forgive that.

As chunks of Tatara’s armour were torn off and shattered on the ground, as blood poured from his wounds and his legs gave way, Tatara dragged himself across the floor, inching closer and closer to the noctal horror until he could grab it by its fleshy, slimy surface and hold it still so its central, largest, mouth, tongue lashing out like mad dog, could face the judgement of fire.

It screamed at a pitch that rent the human ears before disappearing into the supersonic as the moisture was drained, sucked, stolen from the once-slobbering tongue. The flames burned right through the protective wall of teeth, exposing the creature’s innards to the full agony of the scorching of the flames that warped the tongue and shrivelled it to a cinder. Its tendrils writhed around uselessly as its mind was subsumed by torture. Before the judgement could conclude and Tatara rule death on the hellspawn, another interfering voice cut through the silent noise.

“Stop it, Tatara. That’s enough. You win.”

The flames guttered out and the aberration lay dazed, its many visionless heads paused mid-motion, jaws wide or clenched or thrown back. Tatara tore himself out of his ruined kakuja and dropped into the snow, battered, bruised and bloody, but far from broken.

Eto was standing in front of the house not far from them, her small form smaller in defeat. To make sure, Tatara blasted his hulkish kagune towards her. She had no time to react and was quickly caught with a yelp inside its stranglehold, crushing and squeezing her like a boa constrictor. Tatara walked closer as he hoisted her into the air.

“You’re going to take me to Kousuke Houji. Understand?” He informed her in a voice colder than the night now warmed by the inferno.

She eked out a response like “Yes” as she battered at the kagune with her small arms, struggling to breathe.

“I will have full control over you and your organisation until such a time that he lies dead at my feet. Do you understand?”

She hacked out an affirmation like a wheezing cough. He had not been opposed to working with Aogiri, but merely working for them. The last scion of Chi She Lian was not going to follow a petty gang leader around like a lapdog. They might make for convenient puppets, however, so long as he pulled the strings.

Tatara relaxed his grip for a moment so he could get a clear answer out of her for his next question. She gulped down air like an oasis in the desert.

“Where is he?”

Eto was still focused on her heavy breathing. He made his point in a sudden constriction, and she screeched out an answer at the night sky as her back was jolted up again.

“Cochlea! He’s in Cochlea!”

Cochlea, huh…Tatara had heard via eavesdropped conversations from ghouls and doves alike about the maximum security ghoul prison in the 23rd Ward. What, had he become a glorified guard dog? It was about the worst, most difficult to access place he could be. But with Aogiri at Tatara’s disposal, assuming he had not already killed all the ghouls they had enlisted, it might just be possible to squeeze open a breach and find his way inside. Making his way out again was not important. All that mattered was that Houji dies.

He cast his gaze over the smoking husk of the Noro kakuja. Its owner was just now tearing himself free, come back to his senses, with his cloak tattered and singed and looking much worse for wear. If he could defeat a monster like that, win a battle of a hundred to one, and bring the head of a sizeable ghoul organisation to heel within the same half-hour, then he was ready to face Houji. He could feel it in his heated blood. After a year and a half of this bestial existence, he could finally fulfil the promise he made to those ghosts so dear to him.

He pulled the barely breathing mummy closer to him so his glare singed her bandaged face.

“You’re going to break into Cochlea for me. No objections.”

Before her solitary red eye could make any response, he released her from the hold of his kagune the hard way. She was flung into the snow and rolled along its dunes, until she finally came to a halt and shakily began to lift herself up. Noro strode over to help her with a quickened pace.

A second, ethereal sunset fell in the sky as the night was illuminated by the glow of the red and blue flames coating the house which had led to all this chaos. Just as the roof caved in, ten or so survivor ghouls crawled hurriedly out of the ruin to freeze before the triumphant Tatara. They dropped to their knees when they read the situation, as did the eight ghouls who had left earlier to unsuccessfully round up deserters.

The remainder of the ghouls that had come there that night lay out in a litany of charred corpses. Together with the remains of the great black kakuja, they stood out in sharp contrast against the septic whiteness of the snow. They had made quite the spectacle here, and a great deal of noise too. It would be good to leave before the doves caught wind of it.

As the reluctant ghouls led Tatara to the Aogiri base under the menace of his kagune, he looked back on the scene with a pride like elation. Here was one burning building that burned for him. Nothing was taken from him in these flames - only from his enemies.

Cochlea would be next. He was so close now. So close.

#tg fanfic #tokyo ghoul #tatara #eto yoshimura #noro #red lotus blooms #rlb

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fireandgloryrpg · 7 years

Text

Elephant Love Medley || Annabeth, Callum, Z, Percy, Sebastian, Benjy, Kolby, & Otis ft. Hannibal

Just for one day, We could be heroes, forever and ever —

Our courageous heroes fight off the flames of the Senate House fire on one side of the roaring flames. Will they emerge victorious?

!! tw: injury !!

As the smoke rose from an indistinguishable place in the forum, a familiar feeling began to set in for Annabeth. It was the emotions that rose before a battle, the classic fight or flight response that all humans hold. And for Annabeth the answer had always been fight. So she had rushed towards the black smudge on the horizon, watching the curious faces of those she passed. Perhaps they didn't recognize tragedy when it struck for it had been some long, peaceful years since anything truly tragic had occurred, but the past was something Annabeth hadn't learned to completely leave behind. As she came up on the Senate building, she was greeted by a nearly blinding wave of heat, and for a moment she was thrust back into memories of Tartarus with her heart rate rising even further. But as she grit her teeth and planted her feet, she raised her eyes to the enormous and blazing building. The fire had already spiraled further than one might have wished, and suddenly she was taking in her surroundings, figuring out exactly who and what she had to work with to fix this chaos.

Callum had been returning to his Cohort when he heard shocked gasps from those around him. He stopped to turn, not knowing what to expect. As he saw the plume of black smoke rise above the skyline of New Rome, his heart rate speed up, and his instincts kicked in. He sprinted towards the unknown origin of the fire, using the smoke as his only compass. He shouted orders out to every legionnaire he passed, regardless of their Cohort. This was a matter of protecting New Rome in which everyone had the same responsibility to protect, regardless of your position. As he took the corner that lead to the senate house, he was greeted by a wall of heat, so hot, that he almost felt his eyebrows begin to singe. He saw Annabeth, the girl who had made a decent donation at his booth earlier today, close to the foot of the fire. He ran past her, putting his personal endeavors aside, and headed towards an emergency water supply, that had been installed due to the last devastation known to New Rome. He picked up a bucket and filled it with water, and without hesitation, tossed it onto the flames. The water partially turned to steam before it had the chance to douse the flames, but what other option did he have at that moment? He know that the Daughter of Athena would be constructing a plan in her head, but for now, this is all he could do.

In crisis situations, it was far easier to be a bystander than to take any initiative, especially if one could completely detach themselves by bothering those who were involved. The compartmentalization of this particular ideal had always appealed best to Z. He thought it better to shower money over disaster relief efforts than to ever get in and sully his hands; there were far more capable hands willing and able to fill the spot where his solid white leather brogue shoes would have been. At the mere sight of the smoke, these pristine colored footwear carried the small man toward the fray, something that seemed both unreasonable and uncharacteristic. The massive shirt he'd been given that day flowed loosely as his body rocketed in the direction of the forum. He cleared the distance in mere moments and wide hazel eyes were shut when a strong wave of heat rocked him on his feet. His forearms immediately went to cover his face and he coughed through the thickness of the air, a gasp following soon after. Z ripped his limbs away from obstructing his view and, in his moment of clarity, caught the sight of a familiar man of muscle and a blonde girl standing pensively. "That's not good," he called, voice growing slightly hoarse just from the heat alone. He stood on the edge, already looking around for any sort of object that could hold a decent amount of water. He locked sights on a cooler. Without another breath, he rushed toward it and began to pull it toward the flames, tossing bottles of tacky wines and beer as he moved.

The problem was never that Annabeth didn't have any ideas, it was that there were always too many. She was rifling through them fast, but there was only so much time to come up with something. If Percy had been here, the answer would have been obvious. Just throw him and his water abilities at the fire. What did fires need? Oxygen. But Jason wasn't here to suffocate the fire with his wind abilities. What she had was...a man who had been running a love advice booth earlier on, and one who seemed to think that stating the obvious not goodness of the fire would help. If you want something done right, you've got to do it yourself. So she sprinted towards the emergency water supply, already looking for handholds that might be able to help her to the top of it. "Do either of you have something sharp?" They were currently in the heart of New Rome, meaning that her weapon hadn't been allowed inside the perimeter. But if her plan was going to work, she needed something to pierce the top of the water supply. But she also needed something to apply pressure into the spigot. That would have to come second.

Callum's hands instinctively went into his pockets, feeling around for something sharp. If he had an enchanted bow and arrow, like some of his siblings, he could have summoned them, but unfortunately he never thought he would need them. 'Note to self, I need them.' He thought to himself before looking around. His eyes finally settled on the golden statues that were scattered around for decoration. "Hang on." He said before dropping the bucket and running over to one of the statues. He jumped up, grabbing onto one of the spears that was held at an angle towards the sky. He then shuffled along the spear towards it's tip. He began to fear that the statue would not break as it felt firm and steady under his weight, but with a little swinging and shifting his weight, the tip of the spear broke off. He dropped down to the floor, bending his knees to avoid hurting himself. "Would this work?"

Thank the gods someone here had a brain. "Perfect," was all Annabeth said as she reached to take the spear from Callum's hand. "Now find me something that can apply enough pressure into the spigot of the water tank. We're gonna shoot it all out the top onto the fire." Then she turned to the other man who she'd seen trying to spring into action. They needed something more than the emergency water tank if they wanted to put out this inferno. That would most likely only serve as a temporary solution. If worst came to worst, they could simply let the fire burn itself out. But they'd still need dirt mounds on each side or something to keep it from spreading while it did that.Too many ideas, and not enough hands. She let out a frustrated growl. There was one thing though that a single person could do. Her voice was firm as she spoke to the young man. "Hannibal. Go get the elephant, Hannibal, and bring him here. If you put a few of the treats in his stall in front of him, he'll follow you. Now do it fast and bring him back here." Then she was turning back towards the emergency water tank, and wasting no time, she began to climb to its top.

Pulling the large cooler to the fire hadn't taken much time, but it was slightly taxing on Z's arms. It had been filled with enough ice to make a miniature hail storm, which, for one small man, was physically exhausting. Once it was close enough, he tipped it over and cowered away from the ensuing billow of smoke and steaming water. Still, it was only a small portion of the overall problem. Just as he thought about determining what would be the best course of action from there, the girl had called out for him to find an elephant. There wasn't enough time to consider the absurdity of anyone having or needing an elephant on standby. He merely looked to her and nodded, then asked the nearest person where Hannibal could be found. With this information, he took off into a sprint. With his agility, he'd arrive there in less than a few minutes.

Callum watched as Annabeth scaled the water tank. Where was he supposed to find something heavy enough to apply enough pressure? He hesitated before calling out to her, "Like what!?" He looked around hoping to answer the question himself. There were a few shops down the road that should have some tables in them, but how would they get the table to the top of the tank to apply the pressure? "Could we not push the tank over?" He called out to her, moving his hand to the side of his face in an attempt to protect his face from the heat. He was so stuck into putting out the fire that he hadn't really noticed the other man that had just run off to fetch Hannibal.

Annabeth was nearing the top of the tank, having tucked the spear under one arm so she could use both hands to climb. Her hands were turning white from gripping it so tightly when she heard Callum call out to her from below. "Anything!" Looking around from her bird's eye view, she tried to find something that would work. Then, not too far away from them— she spotted the bouncy house that had been put out for the festival. Calling back down to Callum, she made sure to yell loud enough so her voice would carry. "The bouncy house! Bring it's engine here along with the tube that inflates it!" Finally she'd gotten to the top. For a moment she hesitated, spear now poised in hand. This needed to be perfect. If she didn't hit the tank just right, the water would spew uselessly in another direction. After taking a deep breath, she plunged the spear in an at angle she was certain was right, after doing some quick physics estimates in her head. Her attempt was rewarded by a fountain of water erupting from the tank and falling over a portion of the fire, helping to douse some of the flames there. But the sooner they had the engine the better. There would only be enough water pressure in the tank for so long.

Callum now understood what Annabeth was trying to achieve. He thought that they would try to to crush the tank to force the water out, but if they used the air pump to create pressure in the tank, the water would be forced out. He ran over to where the bouncy house was situated. He ripped out the tube used for inflation and watched as the house began to shrink, folding in on itself. He then raveled the tube up , slung it over his shoulder and lifted the engine with both hands. He then proceeded to awkwardly run towards the tank, the engine being held to his side, bouncing against his leg with every stride. By the time he had reached the tank, he was out of breath, and the hot air around them didn't make it any easier to breath. "Now what? Should I set it up and bring the tube to you?"

Percy had taken a little longer than he would've liked to get to the site of the fire. It was hardly a deliberate effort, but as everyone had made for the fire he had realised that there would never be enough water for him to really fight it effectively. So, whistling for Mrs O'Leary he had dashed down to the lake with her and carved a trench into the side of the lake using his powers. Turning, he had guided the water from the lake through the city, riding on the back of Mrs O'Leary and dodging through crowds of Legionnaires. Several times he had to urge his hellhound to leap over the crowds so that they'd get there quicker. All the while he dragged the trench of water after him, a thick sharp plough of ice that he had deliberately formed carved the way. He knew that Annabeth would've beaten him there, so he hoped she'd have the situation under control. So seeing Callum, Z and Annabeth was a small relief. Though he was still some distance off.

"Throw me the tube!" Annabeth shouted down to Callum. "And hook up the pump up into the spigot and turn it on full power!" Hopefully Callum would have enough sense to open the spigot as well, to allow the air to push the water up. Then, out of the corner of her eye she saw something that made her heart lift with relief. Percy. And it looked as if he'd brought half the lake with him. She was fairly certain he wouldn't be able to hear her from her perch at the top of the water tank, but she couldn't resist yelling out. "It's about time!"

Hannibal had the kindest eyes. It was the first thing many looked for when considering the autonomy or personalities of animals they were not familiar with, but even with Z now a sweating, soot covered mess, the elephant had responded only with the calmest of gazes. The psychologist began to breathe in the calm and allowed his own aura to disperse into the surrounding air. His hairs stood on end and a wave of force pushed at the lower hem of his shirt as he channeled as much of his charm into just his lips. When he opened his eyes after blinking through the energy coursing through his veins, he locked the now bubblegum colored saucers with Hannibals. One message played on repeat in his mind. "Douse the flames." After a few moments of this, he moved to lift the elephant's personal water buckets up and attach them to his armor, then clambered atop him and rode off toward the fire. He'd managed to get there faster than the rushing waters and the famed hero, but it was a tight margin. Hannibal's trunk took several dips into his buckets and sprayed it over the ever burning embers, though each snort was forceful enough to make Z clutch onto the animal for dear life. What a wild ride today had shaped up to be.

Callum was unraveling the tube as fast as he could when he felt the ground ruble more than the fire was causing it to. He looked over to his side not only to see Z riding Hannibal, but Percy just behind him on a hell hound. He then turned his attention back to the task at hand. He tossed the now unraveled tube up to Annabeth, then attached the pump to the tanks spigot and opened it to its fullest. With a thumbs up signal to his teammate on top of the tank, he flip the engine on, the whir of it's mechanisms blending into the roar of the fire.

Realising what Annabeth was doing, Percy couldn't help the rush of pride that over took him. Then Mrs O'Leary yelped in pleasure at the sight of her best friend, Hannibal the elephant. "I guess its a play date," Percy muttered before urging her onwards. As the lake dragged behind him, sweat dripped down the side of his face but he paid it no attention. As Mrs O'Leary screeched to a halt, Percy sprung onto the balls of his feet, before launching himself headfirst into the fire. Summoning the water, he wrapped it tightly around him, and for a second all he could see was the blaze. It engulfed him and tore at his shield, but he dragged more and more water through until he was sure he was safe. Then, he forced the water to expand and douse the fire around him, gaining them ten meters. "You doing ok babe?" he shouted to Annabeth, nodding to Z and Callum, "The calvary's here. What is the plan?"

Sebastian ran to meet the others fighting the fire as quickly as he could. Sebastian had skipped putting all of his armor on when he left his cohort. His top half was fitted with a breast plate and gauntlets on his arms, but the bottom half was, well, it was almost funny. Socks and boxers were his only protection from the flames. "Centurion!" He ran up behind Callum, spotting two large masses pass them by. Hannibal the Elephant and - he wasn't sure what the other was. "Are you okay?" He tried to inspect Callum for injuries and then looked around. "Are there any injured, sir?!"

Benjy clearly wasn't on his lucky day as he confusedly blinked and sat up. Most of the festival had been uneventful as nice as he could tell, and then on the very last day, going out with a bang. He'd been working, the fire started and then he was caught on the crowd, thrown to a sideline and hit his head against a wall. Oh yes, hit in the head the guy who already doesn't know who or where he is. The problem of where he was, was that he couldn't, for the life of him, remember the way out now. There was fire and smoke and his body was colder than most people's but even that wasn't helping to keep them at bay. Benjy stumbled around. He'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time and now he was way too lost inside the fire and smog, and shouting to do anything mildly helpful. Benjy stumbled around as he hit a dead end of two pillars that had collapsed, he could hear people from the outside. "HEY, I'M HERE, I COULD USE SOME HELP." He shouted from where he stood, pulling his shirt collar up to his nose as he coughed miserably.

It wasn't in Kol's nature to run towards danger, he had spent more of his life running away from it down dark alleys or traipsing halfway across the country to avoid a scary mob boss who hadn't liked his phone upgrade. So Kolby had to stop and orientate himself with his sudden desire to run towards the roaring flames that were trying to consume the town. Maybe it was something about the fire – he had always like fire, probably something to do with his dad, but seeing it so uncontained had caused him to step back. Which is when a falling piece of timber had hit him on the head and knocked him down. When he woke up again, head pounding, eyes blurring and throat aching from smoke, the first thing he heard was people shouting. Coughing through the smoke he shouted back, "Where is here? I can't see anything!"

Callum watched as the air pushed the water from the tank and doused a portion of the flames and then his attention turned to Percy as he dived straight into the fire. Callum's heart seemed to stop as he watched the man above the flames, but before a flame had even touched him, the water engulfed Percy, protecting him and cutting the fire back. Callum's attention was then turned to his Legionnaire, who had just arrived in his boxers. "Sebastian, top priority, clear civilians." He ordered, trying to take in everything that was happening around him.

Sebastian nodded and started to move. "Yes, sir!" He started towards the fire, a satchel around his waist kept bouncing against his thigh while he jogged. In the time it would have taken him to actually put on pants, shoes and more armor, Sebastian had instead opted to equipped himself with gauze, ambrosia and nectar. The first person he noticed around the Senate House who wasn't a legionnaire was Otis, the man he'd met just this week at the festival. "Otis! You okay?!"

Finally, Annabeth had gotten the tube positioned where she wanted it at the top of the tank. Now, with the pressure from the engine, she could effectively make a hose that would shoot the water through the tube from the tank wherever she directed it. Percy's voice called out to her over the din of the chaos, and she couldn't smile in the slightest while giving him a single nod. Just like old times with the two of them facing peril. But at least the fire seemed to be starting to become more contained. From her high advantage, she could see Kol, and quickly— she called out instructions to the son of Hephaestus to guid him out of the flames. "Right! Go, right! And then an immediate left!" Thank god that demigod had found Hannibal. Already his work was helping to dent the fire. She yelled down to him as well. "Take Hannibal opposite the tank! We'll move the fire in until there's only some left in the middle to douse!" Annabeth had that look about her, the determined gaze that tended to turn her eyes to slate gray, though right now they were reflecting the light of the fire.

Percy hadn’t fought for his life like this for a while. Normally enemies died and didn’t keep coming after you, but the fire was a different breed of opponent. It was unpredictable and ferocious. He knew that it would be unforgiving if he made a mistake and he was burning through water like mad. Dragging more water down the trench, he fired off jets of water at the base of any inferno that he noticed, the water dousing the flames with a hiss. Mrs O’Leary bounded away, Percy knew she would stay safe and help if she could. She was a good dog, very clever. The fire however was unforgiving and he hoped that they managed to save everyone. He couldn’t imagine being burned alive. Following Annabeth’s instructions was easy, they’d worked together for such a long time that he knew better than to question her. She knew exactly what she was doing.

Atop the elephant, Z had continued to command the creature to do its best jetting away the embers that surrounded them. Plumes of smoke floated up into the atmosphere. Tears prickled at the edges of his wide pink eyes whenever they were opened due to the close proximity to the flames. The duo had successfully cleared out areas where Percy and Annabeth's respective streams of water did not, helping to bring the overall fire into a more contained area. As they drew it in, Annabeth had called out to the son of Hypnos and he shot her a sparing glance. "Roger!" He leaned forward over the floppy, leathery ear of Hannibal and whispered the command to him in his calmest voice. They were moving then after, working double time to get rid of the outer edges of the flame on the other side of the tank in an attempt to corral it toward the middle. Hannibal appeared very overzealous about the matter, something he'd come to realize was associated with the Hellhound with whom he'd share brief noises of communication.

Otis ran toward Sebastian. “I’m fine, I saw all the smoke and came down.” Otis looked at the satchel Sebastian brought. “First aid? I can help, my dad was a doctor and he taught me a lot. I’ll follow your lead.”

Sebastian nodded. "Good, thank you for coming." He looked around and hummed in agreement. "There's some people over there who need to be patched up, let's go." He handed the demigod a roll of gauze and a packet filled with cubes of ambrosia, all from his satchel. "Alright, you know about the nectar and ambrosia, yeah? Only give each person one cube of it, no more. Same with nectar." He passed the man a small bottle. "Just a few sips, that's all."

Callum noticed that he was no longer needed at that exact moment as Annabeth had not given him an order. Realizing that there was not much more he could do to put out the fire, he ran over to where Sebastian was aiding the wounded. Trying to catch his breath, he placed his hands on his head, lifting his arms and creating more space for his lungs to expand in his chest. During this brief moment or clarity, he heard a voice from inside a nearby building. Without hesitation, he rushed towards the buildings door and kicked it open, unintentionally feeding the flames that were trapped behind the door, oxygen. "Sebastian, 5 minutes, If I'm not out by then, come look for me." He then leaped over the timber beam that was on fire and entered the building. "Where are you?!" He called out.

Sebastian looked back when he heard Callum call out for him. "Got it!" he screamed back. The son of Apollo watched his centurion move into the building and when he disappeared behind fire and wood, Sebastian's conscious began to work against him. Conscious and also the concern for a fellow legionnaire. He kept an eye of the time using his watch while he and Otis aided to the civilians. When five minutes had passed, he looked back - still no Callum. "Otis, wait here for me okay? Keep helping whoever you can, but go if the fire spreads, alright? Thank you, so much!" Sebastian took off his chest plate and gauntlets as he ran towards the entrance that Cal had used. His armor would do him no good here. "Callum!" Before even entering the building, Sebastian had started calling for him.

Otis ran to aid two people as they carried a young woman from the fire. They set her down on the sidewalk, where she lay motionless. Otis knelt beside her and examined her body. She appeared to be severely burnt across the left side of her body. Her eyes were open and moving, so she was clearly alive and in shock. “You’re gonna be okay.” He said to her, and then opened her mouth and poured in a few sips of nectar. She visibly struggled to swallow it. Sebastian then left to go find the centurion in the burning building, leaving Otis to care for the victims. He rounded up a few bystanders. “We need to start moving the wounded to a safer location until rescue arrives. We can’t risk them being so close if the fire spreads.” The bystanders nodded and started bustling into action alongside Otis.

Benjy 's body was now covered in sweat that had been previously ice, which meant he still had a fighting chance but soon enough, when he wasn't sweating anymore, he'd be screwed. Benjy trying to find his way out of the shop he'd been entrapped started to lose hope. He was absolutely useless against being trapped in a fire. He laid down, beneath the smoke height and curled into himself, maybe he was lucky, maybe he wasn't going to get burned alive - and then there was shouting outside. "Here! In the---" The nasty smog made it's way through the plaid shirt he had wrapped around his mouth. "--in the bar." Benjy realized his words as he snapped his head around. It seemed to be a particularly bad place to be in a fire, if anyone asked him. He neared the door that had been blocked by probably fallen pieces of the ceiling and walls. "I'm in the bar, the door's blocked and the windows have locks!"

Callum worked his way to where he heard the shouting from. It seemed to be coming from behind a door that was blocked by fallen beams. He cursed and started making his way round, looking for another entrance. He had no idea on how to get into the bar, and he knew that they both were running out of time. He used his hands to navigate through the thick smoke, when he felt a follow piece of wall. His mind rushed, thinking why it would be this way and he came to the conclusion that the structure must have been a newly added dry wall to block off the bar from the rest of the shop. He picked up a piece of timber, which he then immediately dropped as it hurt his hands. He ripped off his shirt and tried again, this time being able to hold it. His body worked over time as he rammed the piece of wood, along with his shoulder, into the wall. He had managed to get through half the wall before he heard someone else approaching. "I need help here!"

Percy had been ferociously battling the fires. For the most part he had managed to keep things contained. If they weren't in a city he'd have used his hurricane-esque abilities but he was too scared of causing it to spread anymore. As he lanced water away from him and into the base of the fires he heard someone cry for help. Dragging more water from the lake down his trench, he sprayed it around him and the call for help, and fought through the flames until he found Callum calling for someone to come and help him. "Move," he commanded, not deliberately being blunt but they simply didn't have time for the niceties. Blasting water through the wall, Percy nodded for Callum. "I've got your back," he said with a grim look of determination. As they fought their way across the room, Percy kept Callum behind him as best he could. This wasn't the time for a centurion to get injured. They'd need as many of them as they could. Spotting Benjy, Percy called his position over to Callum.

It seemed that the majority of the fire was beginning to subside thanks to the demigods efforts, which was fortunate because Annabeth's makeshift hose had officially run out of water. Perhaps the Romans wouldn't be happy she had punctured a hole into the top of their new and shiny emergency supply, but wasn't it there to help? She made her way back to the ground carefully, but swiftly. There were still people in those flames, and after being able to see exactly where they'd been from her earlier vantage point, she was fairly certain she'd be able to find one, if not a few of them. The twisting maze of the fire had nothing on the Labyrinth. And she'd made it out of there, hadn't she? It was a few long moments before she found Callum, and immediately she lifted the beam Callum has holding in her hands, trying to ignore the burning that was searing along them from touching the hot piece of debris. And then she began to push. Soon enough the wall had finally given way with Percy’s help, and Annabeth glanced inside to see Benjy there. She hadn't realize it was her old friend stuck inside, and her eyes widened with a relief she hadn't even know she'd needed. "Benjy? Are you alright?" It was a few moments later before she was next to him, trying to help him up.

Percy kept with Annabeth, Benjy and Callum. There was no telling what more they could actually do to help the situation, so Percy kept battling the flames. They roared to their left, threatening to cut them off and Percy did his best to douse them with spouts of water from his trench, "Benjy, we're all gonna have a catch up later, but for now you guys need to get out of here." He gritted his teeth against the exhaustion that he could feel setting into his bones. Despite the fact that he was a child of the Big Three, even he had his limits and he was really starting to test them right now. Gritting his teeth, he kept dousing the flames, they were really starting to gain ground now, despite the loss of Annabeth's makeshift hose.

Callum was grateful for Percy's aid, although it did spark jealousy inside of him that he was not capable of doing such powerful things like Percy could. He quickly pushed this thought aside and made sure nobody else was in the room whilst Annabeth attended to Benjy. "Percy is right, we need to go." He motioned for everyone to head back out the way that they had come in and Callum took the lead. Luckily, no more structural damage had occurred and the same way in was still clear. On his way out, Callum bumped into Sebastian. "Thanks for coming in after me, but we need to leave now. I think Annabeth might need help with Benjy." Callum hesitated before backtracking and offering Percy support, he knew how draining using one's powers could be.

Benjy sighed in relief when two more or less familiar faces showed up and one he did not know but recognized as a legionnaire. A blast of water had tore apart the blockage and if his legs weren't hurting as bad as they were, he'd be absolutely rejoiced. "Annabeth!" He recognized the Greek girl from UNR and smiled broadly, despite being almost burned alive, he accepted her help and in wobbly legs he stood up, he had been standing for too long and his legs were starting to get numb now. "I'm alright thanks to all of you but uh--" He waved towards the place. "We should get out of here right now, there's way too much alcohol, and I don't think we can salvage." There was urgency in his voice and he reached forward to Percy. "This includes you, you're not Prometheus yet." Benjy smiled lightly at Jackson and nodded to their exiting way, while still holding on to Annabeth.

Percy nodded. "Don't worry," he said manipulating the water so that it created a barrier between them and the flames, "I don't plan on being in here any longer than I have to, but it makes the most sense for me to be the last one out. I stand the best chance of survival, so go!" He watched as Annabeth and Sebastian helped Benjy to his feet and began moving him out, leaving Callum and him behind. "After you Centurion," he smiled politely and nodded for Callum to head out. They didn't have long and he was already drained enough as it was. There was only so much more that he'd be able to do.

Maneuvering through the ashen madness in the aftermath of the fire was far easier than attempting to traverse through the flames themselves, a feat Z was thankful for. He rested his torso on Hannibal's back as he continued to force away as much of the fire as he could, but their supply was running low and the others had moved into the burning building. Carefully, he whispered to the elephant to focus, then, on only pushing away fires that were obstructing the psychologist's ability to move by foot. He hopped down onto wobbly legs and took a moment to right himself. "Off we go," he cheered, voice taut from the inhalation of so much smoke. Z wandered about, locating those he'd seen under wreckage and getting them to stand. A gentle aura wafted off of him as he smiled at each person he helped, taking in their fear and releasing a hypnotic sense of assured safety as a way to get them to stand. He helped each capable person on top of Hannibal. Others, he had to ask the elephant for assistance in getting them up there as his physical strength was once again put to a test and failed to pass. Once they'd collected around fifteen people, they headed toward the relief area and set to work on getting them down for the makeshift medics to tend to their wounds. Z then turned to rub his hand along the skin between Hannibal's eyes. "What a day, hm?"

Callum was normally not stubborn, but at that moment, he refused to leave Percy's side. Which logically, he found irrational as the son of Poseidon would probably just survive and dive out the building just before it explodes, but his heart told him to stay and help. "No, we go together." He slid his shoulder under Percy's arm and placed his arm around his back, preparing to ignore any resistance.

Percy heard the house creek and groan and decided that now was most certainly not the time to be having a heroic pissing contest with Callum. Grunting, he nodded and allowed the centurion to help him out of the burning building. They exited just in time as with an almighty crash the ceiling collapsed inwards and Percy knew they'd have likely died if they had stayed. Gasping for air, Percy staggered against a wall and held himself there for a second. It wasn't long after that the ballista's opened fire from across the lake, he wasn't sure who'd organised that but all he wanted to do was hug them. With a sigh of relief he watched as all of the fires were doused with efficient precision. Percy had to hand it to the Romans, they really knew what they were doing when it came to things like this.

#chatzy #Elephant Love Medley #injury tw #tw injury

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