#and he's investigating this high-profile missing person case that ends up being related to this whole conspiracy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

homoose · 4 years ago

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Winning is a Habit

Hi y’all! Okay sooooooooo this is my first time writing fic??????? Like omg please be nice lmao. I don’t have a beta reader, so if you catch any mistakes pls lmk! I saw this challenge and the world is total garbage, so why not write our own realities????? Ok here goes!!!!!!!!!! Written for @veraiconcos fic challenge

Summary: The BAU gets called to investigate two high-profile murders in a college town, only to find that they are part of a much bigger, more complicated picture. No real pairings, although you could make it happen if you want lol ;) This is an idea I’ve seen floating around the fandom for a little while now, and I really wanted to see it fleshed out. Set around season 4 or 5.

Category: some angst, sort of fluff? I wouldn’t say it necessarily qualifies as an AU, but it’s outside of canon.

Warnings/Includes: some brief descriptions of violence/CM type stuff; mentions of rape (no details)

Word count: 6.1k

———

“Stillwater, Oklahoma,” JJ said, navigating the map off screen and pulling up the crime scene photos. “Two college seniors— Tyler Allen and Leon Williams, star football players for Oklahoma State University— both found dead the day before the playoff qualifier.”

“Do we know the cause of death?” Spencer asked, thumbing through the case file.

“The ME report concluded that both boys died of acute alcohol poisoning,” JJ informed them.

Emily looked up from the file. “And the locals don’t think this could just be a case of college kids having a little too much fun?”

“Before a major playoff game? I doubt it.” Derek leaned back in his chair. “Especially considering OSU’s having a record-breaking season. I’d guess the coach had players on a pretty strict lockdown.” He raised his hands and joined them in a steeple over his chest. “Showing up to a game hung-over— particularly one as important as this— would be a major conduct issue.”

“That, and there was a pretty specific message left on both victims,” JJ added, arms crossed and eyebrows lifting into her hairline.

“On them?” Rossi questioned.

JJ motioned with her hand back to the screen. Six sets of eyes moved over the photo; the words “U LOSE” scrawled in ink across the foreheads of the two men.

“Resorting to murder to win a football game?” Emily asked, eyes narrowed.

“And why use the forensic countermeasure of staged alcohol poisoning, only to backtrack and assert it as a murder?” Spencer pondered, pursing his lips.

“Whatever the reason, we’ve got two dead college students and a definite signature. Wheels up in 30,” Hotch told them, closing his case file.

��⧭⧭

“No sign of forced entry.” Derek walked through the entry hallway and into the living space. “Doesn’t look like there was any struggle, either.”

Rossi thumbed through the mail on the kitchen counter and peered around the small space. “Everything you’d expect in a boys’ college dorm room: dishes in the sink, generic decor, general mess. Nothing that stands out.”

“Agents, thank you so much for coming.” A tall man in a dark suit stepped across the threshold of the apartment. He stuck out his hand for Rossi to shake. “Steven Barrett, Dean of Students.”

“I’m Supervisory Special Agent David Rossi. This is SSA Derek Morgan.” Derek nodded from his place in the living room.

“I apologize for not meeting you when you arrived. We’re dealing with a grieving campus,” Barrett said, running a hand over his face. “I’m actually on my way to speak to the Board, but I wanted to check in with you before. I’m not sure I can be of much help, but I can try to answer any questions you might have.”

“These boys were seniors, but they still lived on campus. Is that typical?” Rossi asked, gesturing around the apartment.

“Uh, yes, it is for student athletes,” Barrett confirmed with a nod. “OSU teams have demanding, sometimes grueling practice schedules. Being on campus simplifies things, allows students to get to classes and practices, as well as utilize the dining halls.”

“Does this building have security cameras?” Derek raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. All of our buildings do. I’ll let Campus PD know you’ll need access to the footage.” Barrett’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He reached for it and punched the button to answer the call. “Yes. Yes, I—I’m finishing up with the FBI now. I understand. I’m on my way.” He ended the call and pocketed the phone. “I’m sorry to leave you, gentlemen. Our top priority right now is supporting our students and community through this tragedy. Part of that healing process is finding out who did this to Tyler and Leon. So anything else you need, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to let me know.” He turned on his heel and disappeared down the hall.

Derek shook his head. “I’m glad I don’t have to do that job right about now.”

Rossi gave another glance around the nondescript apartment and sighed. “Call Garcia and ask her if she’s found any other cases that could be related. And let’s hope there’s something useful on that security footage.”

⧭⧭⧭

“Based on lividity and rigor mortis, I was able to put the time of death between 8:00 and 10:00pm on Wednesday evening. The blood alcohol content for both boys was over five times the legal limit. I’ve never seen anything like it,” the medical examiner mused.

Emily looked over the bodies, her arms crossed. “Dr. Saraj, about how much would they have to drink for the level to be that high?”

“When drinking, the level of alcohol in our blood reaches a peak before it drops off after the last drink ingested,” Spencer supplied. “In a typical night of drinking, spread over the course of several hours, the average man can have 8-12 drinks without ever reaching lethal levels. But considering each victim weighed around 230 pounds, they’d have had to ingest approximately 180 ounces of beer or 18.75 ounces of liquor to reach a lethal blood alcohol content.”

Dr. Saraj glanced at Spencer before adding, “Look, this is a college town. Kids drink. But... to have had this much alcohol still detectable in their system post-mortem indicates that these boys drank at least the equivalent of a 30 rack, by themselves, in less than an hour.” She flipped up the first page of the report in her hands, eyes scanning the second. “And the toxicology screen also found trace amounts of ketamine.”

Spencer bent over the examining table and adjusted the wrist of one of the boys with a gloved hand. “Doctor, are these ligature marks?”

“Oh, yes,” Dr. Saraj agreed, nodding. “They’re relatively faint, so I almost missed them. But I found similar marks on both boys on the wrists and ankles.”

“So,” Emily said, gesturing with her hands, “the unsub doses them with ketamine to gain control, ties them up, forces them to drink lethal amounts of alcohol, and then— what?” She looked to Spencer. “Waits for them to pass out before removing the restraints and leaving the message?”

Spencer examined the marker scrawls. “Were you able to determine what the message was written with and if it was left pre- or post-mortem?”

“My guess would be it was written with some type of permanent marker, but I can’t say for sure,” Dr. Saraj said. “We’re analyzing the residue now, and I can send the report your way as soon as I have it. As for when it was written, I couldn't tell you.” She shook her head. “The one simple mercy is that these boys would have been out cold for a while before they died.”

⧭⧭⧭

“I’m so sorry. I know how difficult this is. Anything that you can tell us will be helpful in finding the person who did this,” JJ encouraged softly. “Anyone that Tyler might have had an argument with recently or who he mentioned having problems with?”

“No, no. He was—he was just your typical boy,” Mrs. Allen sniffled. “Playing football and hanging out with his friends,” she said, voice hitching. “Oh my god.” She dropped her head into her hands.

“He didn’t have time to have problems,” Mr. Allen asserted. “He spent all his free time on the field. Coach had them out there for two-a-days until classes started. He’s the quarterback. He was leading that team to the first national title since 1945.” He stood to his feet, hands clenched at his sides. “Some lunatic murdered my boy and you’re sitting around talking to us while they’re out there, walking free.”

“Sir, I promise you that we have some of the best agents in the country working on your son’s case,” JJ assured. “But in order to help them do their job, we need to know as much as we can about who Tyler was.”

Across the bullpen, Hotch sat across from Mr. and Mrs. Williams. “Leon was a good boy. Football was his life. He loved being a part of this team. It was the season of a lifetime,” Mr. Williams said.

“We taught him better than to be drinking and carrying on,” Mrs. Williams added.

“Can you think of anything or anyone he might have mentioned recently that was out of the ordinary? Anything that was bothering him or causing him distress?” Hotch questioned.

“He was feeling pressure about the season, but he’s been handling that kind of thing since he was twelve years old.” Mr. Williams shared an almost indiscernible look with his wife. “He got into—into the same kinds of trouble any college kid gets in. Nothing that could have gotten him murdered.”

⧭⧭⧭

“Yeah, baby girl, what d’ya got for me?” Derek held the phone out so that Rossi could listen in as they waited in the OSU security office.

“Well, my handsome knight, I wish I could tell you more but so far, I’m coming up empty with similar cases,” Penelope sighed. “Nothing that matches our alcohol poisoning M.O. or the signature. I just expanded the search to surrounding states, and I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

“Anything on our two victims?” Rossi asked.

“Now that’s where it gets interesting,” Penelope mused, tapping the fluffy end of her pen into the palm of her hand. “There’s nothing. Zilch, nada.”

Rossi narrowed his eyes. “And that’s interesting because...?”

“Come on, sir,” Penelope scoffed. “Two young, athletic, good-looking college football stars and there’s nothing at all? Nothing scandalous on social media. No run-ins with campus PD. Not even a write up from an RA.”

Derek tilted his head in thought. “Hotch and JJ said their conversations with the parents told a similar story.”

“Okay, but no one is this squeaky clean, particularly not at a Big 12 college. Everyone has some dirt,” Penelope insisted. “I haven’t found it yet, but there’s gotta be something out there. When I have it, you’ll know it!”

“Thanks, Garcia,” Derek drawled.

“Over and out!” Penelope jabbed the button to end the call.

The OSU officer waved them over with his hand. “I’ve got it queued up to 6:24pm. You can see the boys here,” he pointed on the screen at the two victims, “entering the north entrance of the dining hall.”

Derek leaned toward the monitor. “So they leave practice, come through the dining hall for dinner. When do they leave?”

The footage sped up on the screen, then stopped. “Here. 7:01.”

“Rossi, you seeing this?” Derek slid his eyes over.

Rossi nodded. “Is there any way to enhance these frames?”

The officer shrugged his shoulders. “Not on this system. Honestly, the camera quality isn’t great. I’ve been trying to get them to invest in an upgraded OS, but you know—budget woes. Your analyst might be able to do more.”

“It’s not going to matter.” Derek sighed and straightened up. “She’s careful of her angles.”

“I couldn’t find them on any grounds cameras, but they pop back up entering the dorm. Here, at 7:12.”

“All three of them,” Rossi noted. He looked at Derek. “And like you said, she’s discreet.”

“They all go upstairs to the apartment,” the officer continued, “but only the girl leaves. At 8:43.”

⧭⧭⧭

“We have a witness from the cafeteria that confirms that the boys ate with a dark-haired young woman in a red coat,” Hotch said, arms crossed. “But other than those two details, the witness couldn’t recall anything else and said they’d never seen her before.”

“So we’ve got the two victims entering their apartment with an unknown woman. They’re upstairs for an hour and a half before she leaves,” Emily recounted.

Derek stood with his hands on his hips. “And in that time, she manages to dose and gain control of two boys that are more than double her size and funnel a lethal amount of alcohol into them. Now the question is why?”

As the team converged around the conference room table, a uniformed officer entered into the doorway. “Agent Jareau? There’s a possible witness—says she might have some new information.”

JJ nodded to the team and moved to the doorway. A petite young woman stood in the center of the bullpen, wringing her hands. When her eyes landed on JJ, she let her arms fall to her side. As JJ approached, she motioned with her hand for the girl to sit at the closest desk. “Hi, I’m Jennifer. I heard you wanted to speak to someone about this case. Can I have your name?”

The girl nodded. “Um, I’m Cassie. I saw the announcement you made. About the woman in the red coat. I heard you say that she had brown hair. Is that true?”

JJ cocked her head slightly. “Yeah, the witness and security footage we have shows a woman with dark hair walking with Tyler and Leon. Why do you ask?”

Cassie’s eyes darted around the bullpen, and she drew her arms tightly over her chest. “I just— um—well, I—”

“Would it help if we moved somewhere a little quieter?” JJ suggested. When Cassie nodded and stood, JJ placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and directed her toward an empty interview room. Cassie sat in the chair farthest from the door, and JJ sat opposite her. “Is there something you wanted to tell me about the woman? Or is it something else that’s on your mind?”

Cassie let out a long breath. “When I heard that they were dead, I— I was relieved. That sounds awful, but it’s true.”

JJ tread lightly over her next question. “You felt relieved. Why was that?”

Cassie looked directly at JJ. “I’ve been looking over my shoulder everywhere I go for the last seven months. I won’t have to do that anymore.”

“Can you tell me more about what you mean?”

Cassie took a breath and closed her eyes for a long second, before opening them and continuing. “There was a huge party in the spring. I mean, there were, like, hundreds of people there.” Cassie’s eyes went wide. “I never go to parties like that. But it was the end of the year, and my friend—well, I went with my friend. She got invited.”

“Were Tyler and Leon at this party?” JJ asked.

“Everybody was. I mean, everybody who’s somebody at OSU was there. We saw them right away. The whole team was there, but people treated those two like kings.” Cassie looked down at her hands. “We were drinking... a lot. At some point, Laney and I got separated. I tried calling her phone a bunch of times, but the party was really loud. I—I didn’t want to leave without her, but I was getting really messed up. I had a guy friend from one of my classes walk me home.” She swiped at her eye with the back of her hand. “Laney didn’t get back until the morning. Her clothes were all torn up, her hair had... blood in it, and she—she had a bruise under her eye.” She looked up at JJ, eyes shining with tears. “They raped her. I left her behind, and they raped her,” she whispered.

JJ reached across the table for Cassie’s hand. “Cassie, I’m so sorry. What happened to Laney was not your fault, or hers. Do you understand me?” JJ paused before continuing. Cassie looked down. “Do you know if she reported it?”

Cassie nodded. “I’m the one who went with her to the infirmary. They did a kit and confirmed it. When we went to Campus PD, they did nothing. Said Laney was wasted, and there was no one that could back up her story.”

JJ squeezed her hand. “So there was no official report filed?”

Cassie laughed coldly. “Oh, they wrote a report. I think if we ask them to, they have to. But they wouldn’t name Tyler or Leon in it. Said they didn’t want to ‘give legs to any gossip.’”

JJ’s mouth stretched into a thin line. “Where’s Laney now?”

“I don’t know.” Cassie shook her head. “She didn’t come back to OSU this fall. I haven’t really talked to her since—” She looked at JJ. “I can’t get the image of her out of my head. How she looked when she came through the door that morning. What they did to her… I’m not sorry that they’re dead.” Her eyes were shining with rage. “People knew what happened… and no one did anything. And those two were still the kings of campus.”

⧭⧭⧭

The team absorbed the new information quietly. “So Garcia was right. They did have something to hide.” Derek’s phone buzzed. “Speaking of. Hey mama, you’re on speaker.”

“I hope you’re all sitting down,” Penelope warned. “I expanded the parameters of my original VICAP search to include the surrounding states. No hits on suspicious deaths by alcohol poisoning. However, the U LOSE signature? Seven hits across Texas, Arkansas, Missouri, and Kansas.”

“So our unsub’s been traveling across the South—” Emily started.

“Oh, I’m not done,” Penelope continued. “Just to double check, I expanded the search area to the continental US. Our unsub has been busy. Over 30 murders with this signature, all across the country, dating back to March 2007. All different M.O.s: gunshot, stabbing, strangulation, you name it. But all with U LOSE scrawled across their forehead in—get this—liquid eyeliner.”

“Anything tying the victims together, Garcia?” Hotch asked.

“All men, mostly white, but all across different ages, occupations, and marital statuses. At first glance, there’s no real connection,” Penelope answered.

“What about on second glance?” Hotch prompted.

“Way ahead of you, sir. I did a little digging.” Penelope shrugged. “Okay, a lot of digging—most of it legal. Every single one of these victims had at least one sexual assault allegation. Some are official police reports, some are HR complaints, some are sealed court records. But in every case, the victim’s cause of death is directly related to the details of the assault records. Women that were held at knifepoint, their attacker was stabbed to death. If they were choked, he was strangled. If they were held at gunpoint, he died of a gunshot wound. Et cetera, et cetera.” Penelope twirled her pen. “The differing M.O.s combined with the fact that the unsub kept crossing state lines kept local PDs and field offices from making the connection.”

“Garcia, can you search OSU PD records for an incident report?” JJ asked.

Garcia tapped rapidly across her keyboard. “Absolutely, sugar, when would it have been filed?”

“It would’ve been this year, sometime at the end of April or beginning of May,” JJ answered. “The victim would be named as Laney Collins.”

After a few moments, Garcia peered through her green cat-eye glasses at the report. “Mmm, I’ve got one incident report, filed on May 7th. And woof, this report is not much to go on. The responding officer wrote a whopping three sentences. According to him, Laney was incapacitated and thus was not a credible witness.” Garcia twirled her pen. “The alleged attackers, who are not named, denied Laney’s account of what happened. Because there were no other witnesses, Officer Thorough deemed that no further action was necessary.” She jabbed her pen in the direction of the screen. “And this, my friends, is why women don’t bother reporting.”

“Good work, Garcia,” said Hotch.

“There’s one more interesting detail from the report,” Garcia continued. “The dean of students signed off on it.”

“So Barrett knew about this the whole time,” Derek fumed.

“And again, people wonder why women don’t report,” Garcia repeated, ending the call.

“So our unsub is seeking justice for women she believes have been failed by the system. We’re looking for a vigilante, carrying out revenge killings,” Rossi concluded.

Derek nodded. “And she’s organized and efficient; she finished with Tyler and Leon in less than two hours.”

“She’s smart and she blends in, doesn’t draw too much attention to herself,” JJ added.

“She’s meticulous and has at least some knowledge of forensic countermeasures, considering there’s no physical evidence tying her to any of the scenes,” Spencer remarked.

“And she knew enough to keep her face off the security footage,” Emily finished.

“Rossi, Emily, and I will stay here and deliver the profile,” Hotch directed. “JJ, I’d like you to speak to the families again, see if they knew about the rape. Reid, Morgan, talk to Barrett and see what else he might be trying to keep quiet.”

⧭⧭⧭

“Makes you wonder just how many people knew what happened,” Derek considered, closing the car door.

“It’s estimated that twenty percent of student victims of sexual assault report it to their university, but less than one percent of assailants receive any type of disciplinary action,” Spencer cited, making his way toward the sidewalk.

Derek shook his head. “And so the victims don’t see the point in reporting it. Your attacker gets to walk around like nothing even happened. Cassie told JJ that she felt like she had a target on her back once they reported Laney’s assault.”

As they walked up the blacktop driveway to the entrance of Barrett’s home, Spencer slowed his steps as he noticed the front door. “Morgan.” He nodded at the door, slightly ajar.

Derek drew his gun and moved ahead of Spencer. He pushed the door slowly open and called out, “Mr. Barrett?” In the foyer were the remnants of a broken vase and a small trail of blood. “Call Hotch, let him know we’ve got trouble here.”

Derek and Spencer worked to quietly clear the rooms, one by one. Derek stopped at the bottom of the stairs and motioned to Spencer. As they started up the stairs, a woman’s voice called out, “Shut up! You had nothing to say before. So now, you’re just going to listen.”

Derek reached the top of the stairs and started down the hallway. He reached the open door where a woman stood, her back to the door. Behind her, Derek could see Barrett, sitting on the floor, blood dripping from a gash on his head. His hands were raised in front of his chest, palms facing out. Derek stopped, his gun trained on the woman, and murmured, “Laney?”

The woman pivoted her body, her short blonde hair whipping around. Derek saw tears in her eyes and a revolver in her hand. “Don’t,” she warned.

“Laney, my name is Derek. I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to talk. I need you to put the gun down.”

“No!” Laney screamed. “You don’t know what he’s done.” She shook the gun in Barrett’s direction, and Barrett closed his eyes.

Derek spoke softly. “I do, Laney. I do know. I know what happened to you. I know that he kept Tyler and Leon’s names off the report. I know that he didn’t help you when you needed it most. I know that he let them get away with--”

“Rape. He let them get away with rape. Because he cares more about reputation and football than what happens to women on his campus. They ruined my life.” Laney turned away from Derek and put both hands on the gun. “They ruined my life, and you did nothing. And then they walked around campus like they were invincible, because you taught them they were.”

Derek moved further into the room, into Laney’s eyesight. Spencer moved into the doorway, covering Derek. “Laney, look at me. I’m putting my gun away.” Derek held his hands up and then moved to holster his gun. “Doing this won’t make the pain go away.”

“How many others? How many other women did he do this to?” Laney let out a painful sob. “If I don’t stop him, it never ends.”

“Listen to me.” Derek took a step closer to her. “Killing him won’t change what happened, Laney. It won’t. Believe me. I know how you feel.”

“People love to say that when they’re trying to shut you up. How could you possibly know how I feel?” Laney spit out.

“Someone hurt me, just like they hurt you. And nobody was there to help me. No one was there to listen.” Laney froze, eyes shifting to meet Derek’s. “I wanted to hurt him, Laney. Wanted to make him feel the same pain I felt. I wanted him to suffer.” He moved another step closer. “I know that those men hurt you, and I know that he let them get away with it. And I am so, so sorry. But you’re stronger than anyone knows, Laney. You are the only person who has the power to help others who didn’t get justice. I have a friend who’s spent her whole life helping survivors, and I know she’d love to talk with you.” He took another step. “You are the only person who can stop it from happening to someone else. You can make sure he’s held accountable for what he’s done. But if you pull that trigger, you can never go back,” Derek warned.

Laney looked at Derek, his hand outstretched, wordlessly asking her to give him the gun. She looked at Barrett, crying and silently begging her to show him the mercy she never got. “I wish I’d been the one to kill them,” she whispered.

The gun dropped out of her hand as Derek stepped forward to catch her. He kicked the gun into the doorway, and Spencer recovered it. “I’ve got you,” Derek said, helping Laney out of the room. “Shh, it’s ok, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Spencer moved to lift Barrett off the ground and helped him into a chair by the window. Out of the corner of his eye, Spencer caught a flash of red below the window. He stumbled over Barrett, nose almost pressed to the glass as he stared out. The woman froze, eyes locked on Spencer’s. His mouth opened slightly as he stared at her, bewildered. By the time his brain caught up, she had already disappeared from view.

Spencer turned and raced down the stairs, clinging to the railing as he nearly missed a step. He burst out the front door into the driveway, sprinting around the side of the house. He heard Derek call his name, saw the other SUVs pulling up, but he kept running. He skidded to a stop at the edge of the backyard, and then spun in a full circle, eyes frantically scanning the perimeter.

Hotch approached from the side of the house, gun drawn. “Reid! Are you all right?”

Spencer took a last look, scanned from east to west. “Yeah, yeah. I just—I thought I saw—I thought I saw something.” He shook his head. “Barrett’s inside. He’s got a head laceration, but he’ll be fine.”

Hotch lowered his gun and nodded. “And Laney’s not our unsub. So we’re back to the beginning.”

⧭⧭⧭

“Strauss is asking us to head back to Quantico.” Hotch pocketed his phone and looked at the team. “We’ll move the cases to our watch list and flag the signature for hits in VICAP. From what we know about the unsub’s behavior, we know she’s no longer in the area.” He gestured to the evidence board. “Our best course of action is to keep the profile in our periphery for now. We can do that from the BAU. It’s late. Go to the hotel, get some rest. We’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

“I’m absolutely starving.” Emily slipped into her jacket and headed for the door. “Anybody want to hit up that 24 hour diner?”

Derek and JJ quickly agreed, following Emily from the conference room. JJ turned back, eyeing Spencer. “You coming, Spence?”

“I’m just really tired.” His voice lilted up, almost a question. “Next time, though.”

JJ gave him a look but didn’t press him. “Have a good night, Spence.”

“Yeah, thanks.” He gathered up the case files, not quite ready to put them away.

⧭⧭⧭

Spencer’s eyelids felt heavy as he walked through the lobby of the hotel. He really was tired. He blamed the exhaustion for what he thought he saw through the window at Barrett’s. His fatigued mind was seeing things that weren’t there. He practically floated into the elevator and up to his room. Sliding the room key through the slot, the door beeped open and Spencer stepped inside. He flicked on the light and dropped his bag on the floor, loosening his tie as he walked toward one of the sling back chairs sat by the window. He paused just before he reached the chair, his gaze lingering over something on the desk. A note hastily scrawled on hotel stationary.

623.

Spencer lifted the note with two careful fingers. “623?” He turned it over, looking for the rest of the message, but the paper was blank other than the number. He lowered the note, and his eyes landed on a small plastic card where the paper had rested on the table. Not just a card. A room key.

⧭⧭⧭

Spencer stared at the door of the room. Room 623. He turned his head and slowly looked up and then down the hallway. He took a breath and raised his hand to the door. He knocked in the familiar rhythm: five knocks, pause, two knocks. He pressed his ear close to the door, listening for any movement inside. When he heard nothing, he knocked again; the same pattern, but a little louder. He listened again. Nothing. Spencer felt a bead of sweat creep down the nape of his neck. He thought about turning around, about walking back down the two flights of stairs to his room and getting into bed.

Instead, he pulled the keycard from his pocket. As he lifted the card with one hand, he used his other to raise the strap on his holster. He held his breath as he swiped the card through the slot and heard the beep of the lock. Drawing his gun from the holster, Spencer slowly turned the handle of the door.

The room was mostly dark. Only the yellow glow of one of the bedside lamps illuminated the space. Spencer stepped into the room and quietly closed the door behind him. Again, his mind said to turn around. Yet his feet carried him further into the room. He could see now that the sling backs were facing toward the window. There were two glasses from the mini bar on the table between them.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” a familiar voice mused.

Spencer startled and then swallowed audibly, a cartoon character realizing he’s in serious trouble. He opened his mouth but nothing came out.

“You can put the gun away,” she continued. “Really. Come sit down, Reid.”

Hearing her say his name sucked all the air out of his lungs. He closed the remaining distance between them, staring dumbly at her perched in the armchair. She gave him a small smile, warm despite the nervous energy in the air. “Hey, Reid.”

“Elle.” Spencer sunk into the chair across from her. “I—I thought I was seeing things. Earlier. At Barrett’s.”

She studied him quietly. “This hair is a good look for you.”

“Thanks,” Spencer blushed, smoothing down the hair at the nape of his neck. He quickly dropped his hand. “It was you then.”

“What was me?” Elle asked innocuously.

“You were at Steven Barrett’s house today. In the yard.” Spencer folded his hands to keep from wringing them. “You were wearing a red coat.”

Elle lifted one of the glasses to her lips, taking a sip of the clear liquor, ice cubes rattling. She swallowed and gestured to the other glass. “Have a drink.”

“I, um, I don’t drink anymore.” Elle raised an eyebrow. “A lot has happened since… the last time I saw you.” Spencer smoothed his hands down the tops of his thighs. “You were there today. Elle, did you—are you…” He wasn’t even sure what question to ask.

Elle ran her fingertip around the rim of her glass. She was quiet for a long time. Spencer fidgeted in his seat, but stayed quiet, waiting. Elle set the glass down.

“Do you remember that night in Dayton? In the hotel room?” Spencer looked at her pointedly. Elle let out a laugh. “Sorry, I forgot who I’m talking to; of course you remember.” Their eyes met. Spencer felt she was looking right through him. “You told me that I’d won. That because Garner was dead, and I was alive, I won.”

“Elle—” Spencer started.

“You asked, Reid. This is my answer.” She screwed the cap off the bottle of gin. Pouring the remainder of the bottle into her glass, she continued, “It took time, but I started to feel safe in my own home again. I could close my eyes without seeing his face. I could take a shower without bringing my gun.” She downed the rest of her glass. “When I killed Lee, I gave that same freedom back to the women he’d raped. They could exist in the world knowing that he would never hurt them, ever again.” She smiled ruefully. “And it felt… good. It felt right. And after years of having watched people be destroyed by monsters… I don’t know. It was just something I had to do. To bring that freedom and that safety back to other women who had been hurt and broken and alone. To destroy their monsters.” Elle looked at him then, eyes shining with unshed tears. “I don’t expect you to understand or approve. But the answer to your question is yes.”

Spencer took a breath and asked, “Why’d you put the key in my room? You could have just… disappeared.”

Elle shook her head. “I chose this. I knew what I was doing and what it would mean. Most of the time, I’m fine, great even. Because being able to give these women justice is the greatest gift. But with this work, you can’t really keep anybody close. No holidays or birthdays. No dates or girls nights.” She shrugged. “I guess I just wanted to see what would happen. What the boy genius would do.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Spencer admitted.

“Well, that’s a first.” Elle smiled, but Spencer could see apprehension in the rigidness of her shoulders, in the slight bouncing of her leg.

“I should probably arrest you,” he considered.

Her leg stopped. “You probably should.”

Spencer looked down at his hands. He ran his fingers up to the crook of his elbow, ghosting over the scars there. His mind raced from memory to memory: Elle on the train car; Tobias Hankle standing over him; Elle in the hospital bed; the needle in his arm; Elle in the hotel in Dayton; the click of an empty chamber.

“Elle, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for telling you that you’d won.” She was motionless, staring at him. He continued, “I didn’t know. I didn’t know what it was like. To be consumed and overcome by a memory.” Now it was Spencer’s eyes that shone with tears. “I didn’t know that the trauma could… fester in your brain like an infection that you can’t get rid of. I don’t know if winning is even possible after something like that.” He rubbed his hand under his eye and cleared his throat. “It was an awful thing to say. And I’m sorry.”

Elle tipped her head back, trying to keep the tears from spilling over. “All’s forgiven.”

Spencer reached out and gently grabbed Elle’s hand. “I’ve been so tired recently. I thought I saw something through the window at Steven Barrett’s house. But when I did a perimeter check, I didn’t find anything.” Elle dropped her head back down and turned to look at him. “We’re headed back to Quantico in the morning. We’ll, um, be keeping tabs on VICAP hits on the signature.” Spencer gave her hand one soft squeeze before standing. He let a small, bittersweet smile move over his face.

He made it to the door before he heard her voice again.

“If I asked you to stay, would you say yes?”

Spencer swiveled back to look at her, the door just barely open. Elle’s arms were crossed over her chest. Her eyes were dark and wide and full of storms. “Just for a little while longer?”

Spencer turned and moved his eyes up the length of the doorway, considering. He heard Elle let out a breath. His own breath stuttered. He closed the door softly. He put his hands in his pockets and turned back to her. “I’ve got a little while.”

#vicficwriterchallenge #criminal minds #tw rape #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #david rossi #derek morgan #spencer reid #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #elle greenaway #homoose writes

170 notes · View notes

consumeconstantly · 4 years ago

Text

SBGS ch 6

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | ao3

2:00AM | CoffeeVamp: marinette dupain cheng could step on me and i would thank her

CoffeeVamp: did you all see how bad ass that girl was

CoffeeVamp: she was just like demon spawn is robin? Well fuck you for being in paris

CoffeeVamp: and her file oml this girl does so much for paris and he classmates treat her like CRAP

Daddy: How do you know her Damian? Clearly you guys have met before. Can you really trust her with your identity?

Jesus: this girl has been keeping her own secret identitieS under wraps for years I doubt she’ll rat

CoffeeVamp: DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON MDC

CoffeeVamp: all i ever wanted was for MDC to design smth for me but u ruined ALL my chances demon spawn !!!!

2:15 AM | TheOG: I think we can trust her

TheOG: Don’t think she trusts us tho

CoffeeVamp: yea what was with the zip ties

CoffeeVamp: do you have smth to tell us ;)))

CoffeeVamp: have u been getting spicy in paris ;)))

CoffeeVamp: remember to use protection we don’t need any mini yous around

LadyLady: she’s good. I can see why Ladybug trusts her

DemonSpawn: She’s a friend I met in Paris. She can keep a secret.

2:20 AM | DemonSpawn: I regret not trusting her.

CoffeeVamp: i cant believe that u thought someone who was nice enough to spend time wu willingly could be a supervillain

Jesus: that’s pretty fucked up man

Jesus: Surprised she didn’t rail on you more for that. I would’ve given you a beat down

LadyLady: u need a game plan to get her on your side. She doesn’t have a good reason to trust u anymore and id like it if we were on good terms with the one person that can contact lb

The OG: ^^ babs is always right

TheOG: you only have two weeks

DemonSpawn: How do I get on her good side?

Jesus: you better hope and pray because girls like that do not forgive easy

TheOG: try being her friend again

Jesus: like she wants to be his friend anymore

LadyLady: Apologize to her.

Jason is right.

It’s clear that Marinette does not want to be involved with him any longer. Marinette comes in right as the bell rings, then faces firmly ahead and doesn’t spare him a single glance. Notes that he slips to her are ignored. She doesn’t check her phone for his texts except for once, when she texts him: anything related to last night will be discussed out of school.

Instead of going home for lunch, she willingly sits with Lila, just so she can avoid him cornering her in the bakery. Damian watches them from a distance, but he’s close enough to hear most of the conversations. Most of their other classmates are taken in by some video on Alya’s. There’s a quick exclamation from the Ladyblogger, saying something about being able to meet some American celebrity, and she and the rest of the class run off to somewhere else, though not before inviting Lila and Adrien. They’re turned down, and Marinette continues to sit with the two of them.

“We’ve got a photo shoot together later today.” Adrien sounds tired. Like he’s giving up, almost.

“Would you like to come, Marinette?”

Damian can’t make out Marinette’s reply, but she must say yes, because Lila’s calculated facade slips away to reveal shock and interest. Lila entwines her fingers with Adrien’s, an act Adrien clearly isn’t expecting, as he flinches.

Marinette levels a glance at Lila, who looks surprised at Adrien’s reaction, not that Damian can blame her; she practically hangs off Adrien every day, playing up their couple relationship for the media, and Adrien never reacts like this. He inches closer. Lila reaches out to touch Adrien on the shoulder, in a gesture of soothing, but Adrien flinches again, this time gaining a distant look in his eyes and starting to breath hard. Lila goes to kneel--it’s clear that Adrien is on the verge of a full blown panic attack-- but Marinette holds Lila by her arm and shakes her head, gesturing for her to wait off to the side.

Adrien’s reactions are trademarks of an abuse victim. His reactions are rather dramatic in comparison to the clenched jaw and distant eyes that he normally sees in kids in Gotham, which leads Damian to the conclusion that this is either a more recent thing, or when he is abused, he emphasizes his weakness in attempt to get the attacker to stop. The question of who seems rather redundant; everyone knows that Adrien Agreste is the sheltered, sunshine boy who never stepped a foot out of his mansion before turning twelve. Though he models, his actions are still highly restricted. There’s not really much of a chance for Adrien’s abuser to be anyone other than the people within his immediate vicinity, so the suspects were his father, the personal assistant, his drive, or someone he works with.

He’ll have to keep this information in mind moving forward. Though Damian ordered extensive background checks on each and every student at Francois Dupont, he only read the profiles of the people in his class, and only keeps tabs on the people that are of interest.nIn Mlle. Bustier’s class, the only people who Damian is interested in are Marinette, for obvious reasons, Lila Rossi, for the sheer number of times she was akumatized during year two of Hawkmoth’s presence, Chloe Bourgeois, who may not be Francois Dupont student, let alone in France at the moment, but has a parent who currently sits at the top of his family’s Hawkmoth suspect list and has gotten countless people akumatized, and Adrien Agreste, the only person other than Marinette who hasn’t been akumatized in the akuma class. If Adrien really is being abused-- and he doesn’t really see any reason for Adrien to fake the symptoms, given that there’s really nothing for him to gain out of this situation-- that knocks him up a space on the list of Hawkmoth suspects. Victims of abuse, especially in a high profile situation, are often likely to either lash out or coop themselves up. Since he isn’t purposely excluding himself from activities, given that he converses with Marinette, Lila, and two other classmates named Nino and Alya, it’s possible that he has adopted Hawkmoth as an alter ego to pursue revenge.

All this, of course, is mere speculation. Before making any abrupt jumps in his logic, like he did with Marinette-- though he defends himself with the fact that his thoughts on her being Hawkmoth were mere speculation, and that it was merely coincidence or a case of extremely bad luck that Marinette… what, thought he was Hawkmoth as well and then passed the information onto Ladybug? Now that he thinks about it, the whole situation seems ridiculous, and he finds that Ladybug’s lack of tact when coming face to face with her supposed arch-nemesis doesn’t befit a hero of her caliber. She seemed oddly emotional about the whole thing, like his existence as Hawkmoth was a personal betrayal. But Ladybug and Damian never met before that. Why did Ladybug take Marinette’s personal vendetta upon herself? His head hurts.

Damian finds himself walking over to their table, where Marinette is speaking in soothing tones, careful not to touch Adrien at all. He calms down enough to start breathing regularly. Even though his eyes are still watery, he looks up at Marinette with a tentative smile. Marinette looks back at him with such pure, unadulterated love, that Damian blinks slowly to make sure he’s not seeing things. There aren’t many people who show emotions that don’t have some hidden barb underneath, or an undercurrent of a different emotion alongside it.

Then, Marinette sends a calculating look at Damian, and a briefer one at Lila and Adrien.

“Lila, can I talk to you in private for a moment?” Although Marinette’s tone keeps to a pleasant range, Damian finds it rather familiar. Like when Alfred pulls him or one of his brothers to the side to politely tell them what they’re doing wrong and how to remedy it. But there’s a bit of genuine ferocity in Marinette’s tone, and the Italian girl steps back.

“Adrien, I’m going to leave you here with Damian just for a second, okay? I’ll be right back, and if you need me for anything, just call.” She gives Damian a look that says if you hurt this boy, I will end you and heads off with Lila.

“Damian,” Adrien says. He’s trying to come off as calm and cheery. He misses the mark terribly. Somehow, Damian gets the feeling that the boy isn’t very good at bottling up his emotions, odd, considering that he’s grown up partially in the limelight. “I see you’re well acquainted with our everyday Ladybug. She really is amazing.”

There’s a touch of awe, and it makes Damian uncomfortable for no good reason.

He’s not sure how to deal with people who look like they’re about to cry. Damian doesn’t have to deal with that. Dick’s in charge of any emotional clean up that’s necessary in the public; Alfred helps his family manage their emotions in the manor. He decides that going with the flow is the best option in this situation. An everyday Ladybug. What an interesting piece of terminology.

“She is.” Damian admits, “We’re not currently on the best of terms.”

Damian will be surprised if Marinette even manages to civilly work with him for the rest of the week. He wasn’t expecting their subsequent interactions after last night to be the same as they were prior to her finding out that he was Robin and thinking that she was Hawkmoth, but he thought she would just interact coolly with him. Not this silent treatment. She refuses to talk to him and only looks at him with some combination of disdain and ill intent.

He can’t manage to give her the same treatment, both because he is on a mission and because he can’t fault her for thinking that he was Hawkmoth. The situation is really, rather comical, but he spent enough time ruminating on his actions the previous night to pick up on all of the red flags that made her come to that conclusion, and even is she was a hero for a short period of time, he can’t expect someone who is, by and large, a civilian to have the same investigative capabilities his family does. If anything, he is ashamed of himself for jumping to the conclusion that she was Hawkmoth, when instead, it turned out she is working for Ladybug.

However, the Marinette he’s seen so far doesn’t seem the type to hold grudges, especially not when it comes to any pressing issue, and he finds that all of the decisions she makes are heavily logic-based and influenced by Sabine’s values, who is definitely an upright woman if he’s ever seen one. Marinette has too strong of a work ethic to actually ignore Damian when it comes down to it, but he has to wonder why she acted so blatantly hostile to him. Her character combined with her actions just don’t match up, which means there's another reason why she’s acting this way.

While Damian excels at extracting raw data and testimonies from people due to brute force, and is decent enough at getting people to do what he desires, determining the source of a person’s frustration, what drives a person-- he needs more work with that. He’s much better at getting people mad. And Damian doesn’t think he’s seen Marinette mad at anyone except for Celia DeVries. She has nerves made of steel and patience carved from diamond.

“I hope you figure it out.” Adrien says with such sincerity that it’s frightening. He’s surprisingly pure-hearted for a model entrenched in a mega corporation like Gabriel. The entertainment industry, particularly the fashion side of business, is a very cut throat world. Adrien doesn’t seem like a person who’s been in the public eyes for years. “Please be a better friend to her than I am. I really wanted to do more for her, but my hands are... tied.”

Lila is subdued when she and Marinette return. Her eyes dart to Adrien, and she frowns and bites her bottom lip. Then she looks away and crosses her arms.

“Let’s get back to class. I’m excited to go to the photoshoot after school! I haven’t spent any time with you in so long, Adrien.” Marinette doesn’t sound like she’s faking it. She sounds so genuinely happy, and Damian wonders if he can make her sound like that again. If he ever made her sound like that.

Adrien looks at Marinette, then asks Damian, “Would you like to come too?”

The look that Adrien gives him tells him to say yes, even though he can feel the cold that radiates off Marinette. Damian agrees; it’s time to try Barbara’s suggestion and apologize, and since he doubts that he’ll get a word in edgewise when they’re working together at night, he has to try apologizing sooner.

The rest of the school day slips by in a blur.

Then, the four of them are out on the streets, and Damian finds their combination unnerving, to say the least. He’s still on bad terms with Marinette, and Marinette has never been on the best terms with Lila. She’s going to this shoot solely for the opportunity to be with Adrien, and something about that unsettles Damian. Still, regardless of how Damian feels, the photographer on the set of Adrien and Lila’s shoot loves all four of them.

“Fantastico! Adrien’s friends are rare finds. It’s true about what they say; beautiful people, they associate with beautiful people.” The photographer flits around Damian and Marinette, getting uncomfortably close. Damian shoots him a glare, but the photographer simply takes it in stride.

“Yes, yes, the most beautiful eyes, so passionate. The perfect measurements, too! Lara,” he calls to one of his assistants, “Get them all to makeup. These four are who I’ve been waiting for to fulfil my vision of envy. Gabriel will have to wait on his magazine spread. I’ve been inspired!” The photographer circles the four of them, like a hunter and his prey.

Out of nowhere, the photographer grasps Marinette’s chin, and despite the initial flinch she gives-- he’s not sure whether she was going to kick or punch him, but the sudden spitfire in her eyes said she was going to do something-- she settles into a locked jaw and curled fingers. Damian sees a slight jump from Adrien as well, which seems unusual; on the way over, he talked about how he worked with this photographer before and was very comfortable with him. He regaled them with funny stories of how he tended to reference spaghetti in shoots that were less pleasant to make the models laugh.

“Ah, Adrien, you have truly delivered the favor of Fortuna upon me. I cannot believe I never saw this earlier. You have brought this girl to shoots before, have you not? I never forget a beautiful face, even when I am focused on other things.”

Marinette calmly displaces Vincent’s hand from her face. “Thank you for the kind words, Monsieur, but I think it best that we just watch the originally planned shoot. I am no model and have no interest in being one.”

Vincent gives Marinette a once over, like he’s not used to people disagreeing with whatever vision he has for the day. “From one artist to the next-- this project is important to me. I’ve had the idea for years, but have yet to come across the perfect models to portray it. What will it take to convince you? ”

At this, nearly all the tension that Marinette has coiled up in her shoulders dissipates. Vincent has said the right thing. “I see. Really, Vincent, I think it’s best that you continue with the Gabriel shoot. M. Agreste wouldn’t be happy if he found out that his spread was delayed.”

“But the Muse, Mademoiselle! She runs away so quickly. And the four of you are perfect.” Vincent turns to the other three.

“Surely, you understand. Mlle. Rossi, M. Agreste, you must have felt an urge to do something so strongly that it pulls you in. And you,” he looks more closely at Damian. “You are an artist as well, aren’t you Monsieur? I can tell. It’s in the hands and eyes. Art, she comes, but she is fickle. If I don’t do this now, it will be gone forever. And the pursuit of true art means more than any Gabriel spread.”

Surprisingly, it is Adrien who responds first. “I might not understand art, Vincent, but I know what you’re talking about. The feeling of wanting to do something badly, to set yourself free…”

He twists his ring. Marinette looks at him sadly again, hands twitching like she wants to hold him to provide comfort.

“Besides, I don’t really want to do a Gabriel spread today. I haven’t spent time with friends in a long time, and I don’t think anything could make me happier than doing a photoshoot with you three right now.”

This makes Lila look at Adrien in a curious sort of way. Not the sad look that Marinette is giving him, but one of a slowly dawning realization. When Adrien references her as a friend, she looks happy. Proud, almost. Then, she looks like she’s connecting dots in her head, and she doesn’t look happy with the conclusion that she’s drawn. As soon as the frown touches her lips, Lila shifts back to an impeccably crafted mask.

Damian doesn’t agree with the sentiment that they are friends. He has barely had a full conversation with the blond, though he will admit that Adrien does have more of a brain than the rest of his classmates. He looks at the ill-concealed shadows beneath Adrien’s eyes and sees Tim.

Lila agrees almost immediately after Adrien finishes speaking. “Inspiration is fleeting. Art waits for no one.”

Marinette purses her lips. She asks Vincent, “You won’t get in any trouble for this?”

“I can handle any backlash Gabriel throws at me. Heaven knows that man has pissed off one too many photographers before.”

“You can, but what about everybody else involved?” She looks at Adrien, specifically. He fidgets with his ring again, and sends Marinette a look so pleading that she sighs. “Fine. I don’t mind doing the shoot.”

“Fantastico!” He turns his gaze to Damian.

“I’ll do it.” He’s never been particularly fond of photographers, given that the invasiveness of the media has led his family to various unpleasant situations, but Cass went through a photography phase, and out of all of his ‘sibling’ relationships, he is the most willing to indulge her.

“Will you tell us what the subject of the shoot is?” Marinette has inched closer to Adrien. Adrien pauses, stops fidgeting with his ring, and looks at Marinette. A world weary smile creeps onto his face, and his hand reaches out for Marinette’s like he wasn’t expecting himself to do that. He looks surprised when he finds his hand in hers, tenses for a moment. But Marinette doesn’t say anything, and rubs soothing circles on the back of his hand with her thumb. This seems to relax him more than fidgeting with his ring. He sags, and Damian can’t bring himself to feel anything but pity for Adrien. Lila looks curious, but not jealous.

Vincent surveys the four of them again, a growing smile on his face. “No, I think the four of you are already perfetto. A little direction here and there, but yes, yes, this is very good.”

“Lara, bring them to makeup. You know what to do. I must set up! Don’t call Gabriel; we will most likely be taking this to a second location at sunset.” Then, Vincent is off, muttering something in Italian under his breath.

“Thank you so much for agreeing to do this shoot,” Adrien rambles as soon as they get into makeup. “Vincent is such a great photographer and he’s taken really good care of me over the years. He’ll take good care of all of you as well.”

He continues, a little softer. “I really wanted to spend time with the three of you, together. I--I think it would be really nice if we could all be friends.”

Damian has his eyes closed because eyeshadow is being applied, but he can practically feel the surprise rolling off Marinette.

“Adrien, we are friends already.”

“We are, but we’re not really close. The only person I talked to often was Nino, and recently, father has-- ” he breaks off, looking exceedingly uncomfortable, before speaking quickly in an attempt to speak up before losing his nerve. “But I don’t just mean friends with me, I mean the four of us. I want the four of us to be friends.”

The makeup artist who is working on Adrien shushes him, but Damian gets to open his eyes. Adrien is clearly nervous. He’s not shaking-- he is bred far too well for that-- but he has reverted back to fidgeting with his ring. He tries to bite his lip, but the makeup artist shakes her head and tuts.

The girls are both silent, and Adrien looks so nervous that he has to do something. He doesn’t think he’s interacted like this with anyone as nervous as Adrien before; his brothers were all big personalities, as were the Teen Titans. He may have come across nervous or anxious civilians as Robin, but those situations were more straight and cut, involving little to no talking. Damian decides to that a cross between how he interacts with Dick and how he interacts with the people he saves is the best bet for this situation, though his tone comes out more condescending than he planned.

“Why the four of us?” Damian can’t really see why Adrien has singled out the four of them. As far as he can tell, there’s no good blood between them. Adrien, Marinette, and Damian all harbor varying levels of dislike or discomfort towards Lila; Adrien, Lila, and Damian have all fucked over Marinette in various ways (or so he Damian assumes on Adrien’s part-- he is sure they would have been closer, otherwise); Lila, Marinette and Damian haven't talked to Adrien in any capacity that implies that they're more than mere acquaintances; Damian has done nothing that would put himself in the favor of the three.

Adrien fidgets even more, and the makeup artist smacks him and says that she doesn’t want to have to redo his eyeliner. “I think we all have a lot in common. And, I might not be good at showing it, but I like the three of you.”

Marinette makes some noise in disbelief and Lila narrows her eyes.

“Hear me out on this, guys. All of us try to help people when we can,”

“That’s basic human decency, Adrien,” Marinette says.

“Me, helping people?” Lila scoffs.

“We help people out more than most people do-- and Lila, you really do help people. Sure, you might not have been telling the truth about all of the celebrities or all of the charities you worked with, but you’ve helped a lot of charities throughout the years.”

Damian quirks an eyebrow. “And me?”

“I’ve heard about Silverstein and Company.” Adrien says, then continues on with his list of Reasons Why They Should Be Friends.

“None of us like telling people about our problems.”

This is met with no resistance.

“And we’re also all lonely.”

Silence.

Marinette’s makeup artist breaks up the oppressive silence, “And all good looking to boot!”

“It’s true what they say about the most beautiful,” Lila’s makeup artist says, “They’re always so troubled.”

Marinette laughs, but it’s strained. “Don’t worry Mademoiselle. We’re just being teens.”

“Loneliness isn’t a good reason to form relationships.” Lila says. Her voice is quiet. She looks off to some fixed point in the distance.

“It’s not the worst reason there ever was,” Adrien shrugs, satisfied now that he’s said his piece. His shoulders are back a little more now. Whatever happens next is up to them, not him. “And I like all of you. I think we all have very unique personalities that could work well together.”

Marinette shrugs her shoulders. “If there’s one thing that I’ve learned about relationships, it’s that initial compatibility means very little in the grand scheme of things. Relationships can work as long as you work for them. They might not be the fairy tale storyline that people chase after, but relationships that are worked on last longer. Adrien could be right. We might be able to all be good friends.”

Lila fixes Marinette with a stare. “You’re willing to be my friend? After what I did to you?”

Marinette shouldn’t be willing to be friends with Lila after what she did. In fact, after reading multiple books on healthy relationships when trying to cope with Chloe way back when, she shouldn’t be willing to be friends with any of them. It feels fucked up, but Marinette realizes that Damian, who believed she was a super villain, has the least strikes against a healthy relationship currently.

Even though Marinette knows that circumstance doesn’t excuse any of them-- Marinette doesn’t excuse her stalkerish tendencies back when she first met Adrien, either-- she knows that the three of them are just teens who have too many responsibilities and problems on their shoulders. They’re capable of change, and as both Ladybug and Marinette, she wants to believe that someone’s past actions doesn’t mean they can’t move forward. Perhaps their current actions should be taken with a healthy dose of cynicism, and perhaps their past colors how much Marinette will be able to trust them in certain areas, but throughout her years of existence she’s seen that there is no person who has only done good in their life.

“You’ve been better lately. I respect someone who changes themselves for the better.” What Marinette doesn’t say; she’s mostly willing to try this tentative friendship out for Adrien’s sake, because Lila seems to be the only one who can get Gabriel Agreste on her side and Marinette needs her help if she and Adrien’s trust if she can ever dream of emancipating Adrien.

Marinette is also confident that Lila is currently coming into her own, and knows that Lila didn’t have any good example to model herself after during her formative years. The fact that she’s changing now? It’s honestly pretty impressive, and even more so considering the people that are in Mme. Bustier’s class aren’t exactly cut from the most inspirational cloth. Why Lila is trying to change is something Marinette is curious about, but they’re definitely not close enough for Marinette to ask Lila that. There is also the very important fact that Lila has not been akumatized this entire year, nor has she gone out of her way to encourage someone else’s akumatization.

A small smile settles on Lila’s face. “Thank you. For what it’s worth, I am … sorry for what I did to you back then.”

Marinette hums with her eyes closed as a light layer of shadows placed on her crease. “I accept your apology. While we’re on this topic, I’d like to apologize to Adrien. I’m sorry that I haven’t been a very good friend to you. You’re an amazing person, and I want you to know that. Your self-worth should never be degraded by other people, and I really hope that you can come to rely on me.”

A watery, affectionate smile from Adrien. “Marinette, you’ve always been one of my best friends.”

“I regret what I said to you yesterday,” Damian cannot muster an apology-- he does not apologize, certainly not for doing his job, but Marinette is… useful. He needs her to accomplish her mission, and she’s kind.

There is no verbal response from Marinette, but she’s looking at him, at least. She hasn’t looked at him all day besides the one glare she gave him that told him to take care of Adrien.

Lila looks between the two of them. “What are you sorry for? I was under the impression that the two of you were great friends.”

He is sorry, if only slightly, but it takes a lot for him to get an apology. If anything, Marinette should be apologizing to him, for mistaking him as Hawkmoth, right? “Last night was--”

Marinette cuts him off with a sharp laugh. “Damian here thought I was Hawkmoth.”

Adrien bursts out laughing. “Oh my god, you thought Marinette was Hawkmoth? Out of all the Parisians you could choose! You know she goes around the city saving random people, right? She’s our everyday Ladybug. Doesn’t sound very supervillainy to me.”

Lila laughs too, and the tension in the preparation room finally breaks. “Please, if Marinette were Hawkmoth, she would have gotten Ladybug and Chat Noir’s Miraculous already. Have you seen what a planner she is?”

This gets Adrien to fake shudder. “It’s true. If Marinette really were Hawkmoth, she’d be so powerful. She knows everybody’s deepest fears, can kick ass and take names, and can come up with the weirdest plans that solve everybody’s problems in an instant. Imagine if she went to the dark side.”

“She would make an awful akuma.” Lila agrees. “How powerful you are as an akuma is linked to how strong you are mentally and how strong your emotions are when the butterfly lands on you. Whatever makes Marinette upset enough to have an akuma after her would probably be the result of some very strong emotions.”

“She’d be strong enough to level the entire city.”

Marinette is bright red, and if it were not for the fact that mascara is being applied to her lashes, she’d probably have her face buried in her hands. “Okay, okay, I would be an awful akuma. But I won’t ever be akumatized, so it’s fine.”

Adrien thinks of Marinette being an akuma more, and his face goes pale. “She really would be able to steal Ladybug and Chat Noir’s Miraculouses successfully.”

“No, she’s too morally righteous to do that. She’d probably go after Hawkmoth and win while she was akumatized.” Lila looks pensive. “All akumas retain most of their original personality traits, just exaggerated. Some even have some semblance of control over their actions.”

“If that wouldn’t be one of Anime’s top 10 betrayals, I don’t know what is. Hawkmoth akumatizes Marinette and then she rightfully kicks his ass.”

“Guys,” Marinette hisses. “I won’t ever become an akuma. Never.”

“You say that like you can refuse Hawkmoth,” Lila laughs. “You can certainly go after akumas, but refuse them? No way.”

Adrien zeroes in on Marinette’s hesitance. “Have you?”

Marinette shifts in her seat, her mouth set into a grim line.

“You have,” Adrien says with a touch of awe. Damian is impressed too; no reports of people being able to refuse an akuma have passed through the many hours of research he’s spent scouring the internet. He understands why Ladybug put so much trust in Marinette. “When?”

This sets Marinette on edge. Her back straightens into a board.

Lila picks at her fingernails in shame. “Did I?”

Marinette doesn’t respond, but the tremble of her mouth and her silence answers the question well enough.

Damian doubts he’ll ever get the full story of what happened that first year when Lila arrived. Marinette isn’t one to snitch, and Lila is both unwilling and tentatively ashamed of the past. Adrien won’t answer out of courtesy. Damian will never go to any of the other classmates to hear a bastardized version of what went down. He supposes he’ll never find out the whole truth.

Marinette’s stylist claps her hand. “Okay, enough teenage angst for today. All of your makeup is done, so it’s time to get into your outfits. Let’s go, kids.”

They’re silent as they dress.

The shoot is a flurry of excitement. There are many whispered conversations, but Marinette can’t keep track of half of them. Whenever she isn’t in a shot-- which is fairly rare as she seems to be the main subject of whatever Vincent is shooting for-- Marinette focuses on what needs to happen next. Though she’s still not currently the biggest fan of Damian or the Justice League, she will give them a fair chance, because as much as she hates to admit it, she needs the help. Batman is right. Even though she wasn’t actively working on the case for the first year, she still had plenty of time to gather evidence to back up her main suspects. Her lack of expertise in technology hinders progress greatly.

Not to mention that because Marinette was so wary about hurting Adrien and so swamped trying to keep a balanced schedule, she wasn’t able to find enough evidence to feel safe in her convictions. Master Fu warned her of incorrectly accusing Gabriel in the eye of the public, and he hasn’t come out to fight since the Scarlet Moth incident. She’s tried to investigate Gabriel in his own house, but any evidence slips through her fingers. He’s a very careful man.

Now that the promise of college is coming up, Marinette needs to take Hawkmoth down. Marinette doesn’t want to continue her schooling in France. Not anymore. She wants to go to a foreign college, where dreams of akumas won’t plague her at every step. Half the reason she finds herself on the streets as a civilian constantly is to erase the gory imagery of death and blood that linger in her mind eye from akuma battles. Seeing happy and alive citizens in all of the areas where Hawkmoth attacked make her feel better, but aren’t enough to chase away her nightmares entirely.

Marinette moves through the rest of the photoshoot in a haze. When she is in shot, she focuses on whoever she’s shooting with. Lila, with sharp green eyes, barely begins to lower her guard when Marinette directs the conversation towards past modelling shoots she’s been involved with. They interact unnaturally at first, but after starting to talk about Dior’s Spring/Summer ready to wear line, they find that they have similar tastes in silhouettes, though not in color.

She forces herself to ignore the fiasco that was last night, and talks to Damian about small nothings that don’t touch on anything important. When she runs out of topics, she begins to talk about Renee, and his gaze shifts to something resembling regret and some other emotion she can’t read. Dealing with whatever issues Damian has is not ideal. He’ll have to sort out his feelings on his own.

Adrien’s expressions are the easiest to read. Whenever he’s in a shot with Marinette, he is happy, plain and simple. There is less weight on his shoulders, and as Marinette attempts to cheer him up with poorly thought out puns, he looks like a kid again. He even starts punning back, and Marinette can’t believe how much she missed that. Chat Noir stopped punning a while ago, and it hurt in unexpected ways.

Really, Marinette just wants Adrien to be happy. Adrien is Chat Noir. Her best friend. Her partner. Marinette thinks Adrien deserves the world. She wants to pave a path for him so that his entrance into the adult world is easier, because the facade Gabriel has built of a picture perfect family attempting to cope with the loss of a mother and wife isn’t what Adrien needs.

Maybe Marinette wants him to have the childhood he wasn’t afforded. Marinette clings to warm memories of her own childhood, where Maman trained her in self defense and Papa taught her how to bake when things get particularly hard nowadays. Her heart warms when she sees Adrien give shy smiles to Damian and Lila. She’s proud when he strikes up conversations with them.

In all honesty, the only part of the shoot Marinette remembers is the last section of group photos they take when they move to a second location. It’s a cold day in Spring, which means Parisian tourists are more likely to be found inside an art museum, rather than on the beach. Adrien convinces them all that they should run around the beach, and somehow, they end up playing some extremely difficult version of capture the flag, but without the flags.

Somehow, Marinette ends up on a team of her own, for the sole reason that she’s the only one wearing white, and the person who holds the opposing team’s flag is Damian. She tackles him onto the sand, but not before both Lila and Adrien are hot on her tail. They end up in a pile, and Adrien’s laughter rings so sweet and true, that Marinette’s heart fills with love. She shifts, so her body is facing skywards instead of into Damian’s arm, and she reaches one arm across Damian’s body to grab Lila’s hand, who flinches at first touch, but relaxes. Marinette’s other hand finds itself tangled in Adrien’s hair, and despite the cold weather, Marinette is content.

She looks towards the horizon, where the sun is setting in a million different colors, and finds herself longing for a time where every day can be just like this moment.Where there is nothing filling her head except thoughts of the people who make her happy. Her eyes shift straight up.

Where morning fades into night, the sky is so very, very, blue.

Marinette’s room turns into an organized warzone at night.

The area of her room that was previously used to hold up various sketches and mood boards for designs in progress turns out not to be an upholstered wall, but a curtain that hides two whiteboards and a small library of books on the psychology of emotional manipulation, manuals of martial arts, and various books on strategy. The shelf above her desk space holds a projector that Marinette uses to project images from her computer onto the left white board.

“I’ll catch you up on my previous attempts and what you have to know in order for this partnership to work.” She takes her tablet out, flips through several screens, then uses her fingerprint to unlock a folder of notes. “This is a chronological list of things that Ladybug and I have attempted in order to find Hawkmoth’s location. There is a separate folder with suspects for identity that’s alphabetized. If you’re interested in more in depth analyses of past akumas, I can send that to you and your team’s emails now, as most of the information is readily available online. I’m assuming that you have a team, correct?”

“Yes, I can send their email addresses to your number.”

“No, for any information regarding Hawkmoth or superheroes in Paris, you can contact me through this number and email address. Ladybug and I both check it regularly; it’s a safer, more encrypted way of communication.” Marinettte taps her Miraculous communicator and connects it to her computer, so she can work on a bigger screen. “Which person is your main point of contact?”

“Oracle.”

Marinette contacts Oracle through video call. She doesn’t want to have to explain everything twice even if their partnership turns out to be nonviable. It takes a few moments to get through, but a woman’s face pops up on the screen. She’s a redhead and doesn’t wear a mask. Her coloring is obviously different from the rest of Batman’s affiliates, and despite her initial grievances with the white films over the vigilante’s eyes, she understand why it’s necessary; their suits aren’t magic, and there’s nothing stopping people from running facial recognition software and matching them up to people who reside in Gotham.

“How did you get this number?” Oracle asks warily.

Marinette moves her chair slightly so that Oracle can see Damian, who's currently looking at her tablet on her chaise. “I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng, your point of contact in Paris and the one who will be working with you for the next week. As you can see, Damian’s already viewing some information that Ladybug and I have compiled over the years. Please get the rest of your team on this call. I’d like to get all of the basic information out of the way now.”

“Damian?” The girl on her screen is a dead ringer for the girl they compiled multiple files on yesterday, but she can’t get a trace on where they’re calling from, which makes her suspicious.

Damian shoots her a text, confirming that it is actually him in the room, then goes back to scrolling through the tablet.

Nightwing, Red Robin, Red Hood, and Batman all appear on the screen shortly.

“Great, the gang's all here,” Marinette says unenthusiastically. “I’ll say it one more time. I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng and I will be your primary point of contact during your two weeks trial period here in Paris. I’m assuming that your team has been brought up on the events that occurred last night. In order for this attempted partnership to go more smoothly, I will provide you lists of suspects, past attempts at revealing Hawkmoth’s location, and more detailed information about all of the past akumas that have appeared. These files will only be available to you for the week unless the collaboration goes successfully. Damian has already given me your contact information.”

As an afterthought, Marinette adds, “Don’t bother trying to copy any of the files. You won’t be able to. You also won’t be able to pick up on my location through this video call; I’m using a Miraculous Communicator. The magic makes it so that any technology other than another Miraculous will be unable to find any identifying location.”

Marinette knows about this thanks to Max’s brief stint as Pegasus. Though Marinette had not yet learned spells that would allow her to materialize her communicator outside of the time that she was suited up, she had Max try to find Ladybug’s location after sending him a text. He and Markov were both unable to.

“Since the Justice League insists on sticking their nose where it does not belong,” Marinette can’t help but be bitter about this whole situation, despite the fact that her frustration with Damian has decreased. “Ladybug and I have created a plan to make full use of your resources while you’re still butting in. I’ve sent a list of which organizations need monetary support. Most are affiliated with mental health.”

“Let’s move onto how you guys as a team can help us. As far as I understand, Batman’s team is proficient in technology and investigation. For the past two years that we’ve actively been on the case, nobody has had those skill sets and been in the long term possession of a Miraculous. The police attempted investigation for the first year, but their evidence and information was largely unhelpful. I will give Damian the Miraculous Communicator that I am in possession of to use his skills with so long as he tells me what he’s doing with it and he uses it while I’m in his immediate vicinity. He can try to find out Hawkmoth’s location on it, perhaps with a greater degree of success that we have been able to.”

She goes through the checklist she made one more time, just to make sure that she didn’t miss anything. She doesn’t really expect anything much to come out of this collaboration, except for the reassurance that the Justice League won’t interfere at the end of the week. Speaking of: “One more thing. I want a notarized agreement that the Justice League will not interfere in Paris, nor will any of their agents of affiliates be sent here if this collaboration doesn’t yield information that is already known.”

“Got a lotta spark in you, don’t you, little mouse?” The vigilante called Red Hood-- the one with a helmet instead of a stupid domino mask-- laughs.

Marinette scowls. So far, the Justice League-- particularly the vigilantes of Gotham-- have not left her with a stunning first impression. Maybe she’s a little biased, but they certainly don’t seem to have any respect for her. Still, she only has to work with them for two weeks. “My name is Marinette, but clearly your helmet hasn’t shielded you from the memory loss that frequent concussions have clearly given you.”

“She got you there, dumb ass,” says Red Robin, a grin a mile wide on his face.

“Hood,” sighs Oracle, sounding highly stressed. Marinette decides that she is the most likeable. “Like I said earlier, we want to be on good terms with Marinette.”

“I’ll get you the documents and funds by tomorrow.” Batman’s voice is just as gravelly as the first time she contacted him. She finds that the more she hears him speak, the more pleasant she finds his voice. An acquired taste. “Even if this week is unsuccessful, the Justice League will be more than happy to continue to fund these organizations. Is there anything that Ladybug, Chat Noir, or you need personally?”

“None of us are going to use the Justice League’s funds for personal gain, Batman.” The accusations grates on her.

“Batman means,” Nightwing shoots a look to the side of his screen. Interesting, Marinette thinks. All of Gotham’s vigilantes are in one location, judging by their backgrounds and the location tags that her communicator provides her. Perhaps they have a headquarters of some sort. Back when there were extra heroes on the Miraculous team, Marinette sometimes wished that they had a location that they could all reliably gather at without revealing someone’s identity. It certainly would have made strategy easier. “That being a hero without any support is difficult. It must have taken a toll on your personal lives. If we can aid in any way, we will. We can excuse absences or hire tutors as necessary.”

“I’m no hero.” But Nightwing’s proposal may actually be helpful. Even though Marinette is making the grades necessary to go to the colleges that she wants, her continual absence and tardies aren’t very flattering.

Then her mind flashes to Adrien. Can she use this offer to get him out from underneath Gabriel’s thumb? Marinette doesn’t know if she can do that. He’s already in a delicate position-- and already at risk, thanks to the photoshoot earlier today-- and she’s not sure that Gabriel won’t move towards drastic measures if anything changes on Adrien’s end. If she wants to get him away from Gabriel, she may have to reveal his secret identity.

“Ladybug will make the decision for herself; she has access to everything that is said during our meetings. Chat Noir isn’t in the loop about our communications or any of the investigations that Ladybug and I have done. Ladybug says that he’s stressed in his civilian life, which is why his appearances have been decreasing,” Marinette admits. “I’ll leave it up to Ladybug to give your offer to Chat Noir. If I can get a reliable excuse to get out of class or get to class late, that would be greatly appreciated.”

“Chat Noir doesn’t know?” Red Robin sounds horrified.

“He’s currently a high risk for being akumatized. Ladybug didn’t want to risk it.”

Red Hood crosses his arms. “So you have more of a job than Chat Noir does in all of these Paris heroics, huh?”

Even if Chat Noir did know, Marinette would have her hand in the pie at least twice as much as him.

“I wouldn’t say that. I’m just more available than he is.”

“And more trusted than he is,” Red Hood insists.

It’s not that Ladybug trusts Marinette more than she trusts Chat Noir, it’s that Ladybug is Marinette. But she’s not going to admit that. Not to them, and certainly not until Hawkmoth is taken down. Maybe not even then. She can only imagine the looks of devastation that she’ll get if she does admit that she’s been Ladybug all these years. Her parents will freak out, Adrien will probably feel heart broken and betrayed, and Alya and the rest of her classmates will inevitably rail on either her or Lila or both of them. It just doesn’t sound appealing to her anymore, though she can certainly remember a time not so long ago where she so desperately wanted to expose her identity.

“You’d have to ask Ladybug that,” Marinette settles on. She copies and pastes one of the many messages that she has pre drafted and schedules it to send a few minutes later, so Batman’s team receives a communication from Ladybug while Marinette is at the white board. She spent all of last night preparing for this meeting, imagining so many scenarios that she barely slept. The email she’s sending will suggest what Damian should attempt to do with the Miraculous communicator that Marinette has. She adds in an extra comment that she trusts Chat Noir with her life, and that she’ll talk to him about offering him help in his civilian life, but won’t mention anything about the Justice League.

“Why doesn’t Ladybug just use her own communicator to join in on these calls?” Red Robin asks after receiving her email.

Marinette turns from the white board, where she is listing the past three akuma attacks and where her top three suspects were at each of the times. “There may be magic surrounding her identity, but that doesn’t mean Ladybug wants more time for all of you to try to figure out her identity.”

“Sounds irresponsible of her,” says Red Hood. “Leaving a civilian to do all of the dirty work. Who are those people you have listed on the board?”

Marinette decides to let the comment about Ladybug slide. Red Hood is currently her least favorite out of all of Gotham’s vigilantes, but she has to remind herself that respect is mutual, and Ladybug hasn’t really given them much to go on.

“The top three suspects for Hawkmoth. Gabriel Agreste, the CEO and head designer of Gabriel. Nathalie Sancouer, Gabriel Agreste’s personal assistant of over twenty years. Mikael Bordeaux, CFO of Silverstein and Company's French holdings.”

Oracle takes off her glasses and wipes them. “Sounds like your top candidates are all people in pretty high positions.”

“Agreste,” repeats Nightwing. “Agreste, as in Adrien Agreste? The boy that’s in Damian’s class?”

“The same,” Marinette says, not sure she likes where he’s taking this conversation.

“Hold up,” Red Robin says after a few moments. “Why is it that Gabriel Agreste and Nathalie Sancouer are on your list? Both Gabriel and Nathalie have been akumatized before. That should automatically take them out of the running.”

Marinette shakes her head. “That’s what I thought in the beginning, while the police were still in charge of the case. But based on my understanding of akumas, it’s very possible that Hawkmoth can transform, send out an akuma, then detransform and let themself be akumatized.”

The whole Collector incident was a deliberate ploy to throw her off. She spent at least half a year convinced that Gabriel and Hawkmoth couldn’t possibly be one in the same, despite the fact that he had the Miraculous Tome.

“What about Adrien, then? He’s the only one in your class that hasn’t been akumatized, sans yourselves, he hangs out with the people most likely to cause and become akumas, and has caused a fair number of akumas himself. Besides, he must know it if his dad’s Hawkmoth, which means he could be Mayura or even Hawkmoth himself.” Even if Red Robin presented her this theory before Marinette knew Adrien was Chat Noir, she wouldn’t have believed it.

“Adrien is not Hawkmoth.” Marinette isn’t sure how to explain how she knows without revealing his alter ego. She can’t tell them that he wielded the snake Miraculous either, because that contradicts her earlier statement that she didn’t know any of the other holders.

“Demon Spawn,” Red Hood says. “What do you think about Adrien? You’ve been in a class with him for the past month.”

Damian finally looks up from Marinette’s tablet, blinking to bring himself back into the situation at hand. “What?”

Marinette scoffs, remembering that he thought that she was Hawkmoth. She’s not upset about it, but she doesn’t trust his ability to discern alter egos-- at least not magical alter egos. “I wouldn’t trust Damian’s ability to read people as reliable evidence to tell whether someone is Hawkmoth or not.

This causes a myriad of reactions from Batman’s team and most of them are surprisingly loud. Red Hood whoops, “Roasted,” while Red Robin laughs and pounds the desk in front of them. Oracle smiles wide, her eyes crinkling. Even Batman manages to draw a smile to his face.

This makes Damian put down her tablet on the chaise and flush slightly. “I said I was sorry for that.”

Marinette thinks about brushing him off in annoyance but decides against it. Just based on the evidence that he gathered, it wasn't an awful assumption, and the Miraculous magic probably prevented him from even thinking about the possibility that she could be Ladybug, leading him to the next most possible conclusion. “It’s fine.”

In fact, even if Marinette can’t trust Batman and his affiliates with Chat Noir’s civilian identity, she should still try to maneuver Adrien away from his current situation. She can call it in as a personal favor to Marinette, and as long as they have human decency, they should agree to her request. She’s been gathering receipts that detail Gabriel’s systemic abuse of Adrien for years. This is a good opportunity to begin Adrien’s emancipation process. She’s currently on her way to a better friendship with Adrien, and since Batman insists the Justice League has all the resources that she wants, there’s no reason not to take advantage of them. She turns back to the camera.

“Adrien is not Hawkmoth and wouldn’t know whether his father or personal assistant are. In fact, it would be preferable to remove Adrien from Gabriel’s care; Adrien is in danger of being akumatized because of how awfully Gabriel treats him, and I have the evidence necessary to take him to court. I just need a legal team that’s good enough to go against a billion dollar company.” And time to convince Adrien that he needs to leave. That may be a more difficult task, considering the unending love and forgiveness he’s displayed for matters concerning his father so far. Honestly, sometimes Marinette thinks that he never learned how to hold a grudge.

“Noted. Let’s come back to that later, though. I want to talk about some other suspects you have on this list you gave us.” Oracle readjusts her headpiece and shoots a glare over her shoulder, presumably to tell the rest of her team to quiet down and get back on task. They certainly have an interesting team dynamic. They’re much warmer to each other than Marinette first expected them to be. They’re certainly closer than she and the Miraculous Team had been, when there still was a team, at least.

Oracle shares her screen. On it is a picture of Andre Bourgeois. “If Hawkmoth is able to be akumatized, then Mayor Bourgeois is one of our top suspects. The Justice League has compiled multiple lists of suspects before we sent Damian to Paris. He stopped a lot of international press for akuma attacks and has caused multiple akumas.”

Marinette frowns. Mayor Bourgeois being Hawkmoth crossed her mind a few times, but she always decided that he was largely incapable and had little motivation. “What are your criteria for deciding who might be Hawkmoth? I highly doubt Mayor Bourgeois is Hawkmoth, despite him stopping the press.”

“We determine how many akumas a person has caused, how much damage the akuma caused to the person’s primary residence and workplace, and how well they’re connected to the people being akumatized. Andre Bourgeois has been involved in the akumatization of slightly more than half of all the akumas that have occurred, so long as we include his relation to his daughter and wife and there has been extraordinary little damage done to the arrondissements that he frequents.”

“Interesting. Share the list with the contact information I sent you earlier. You share some of the same criteria as we have come up with, but you’re drawing the wrong information from what you have. Akumas caused is also one of our criteria, as well as the damage that has been done to the person’s residence. I don’t think that a person’s personal relations play much into who ends up being akumatized, however, there’s good reason to believe that Hawkmoth is in a position of power, or at least well connected. They seem to know what’s happening in the city before it ever hits the news.” Marinette opens a program on her computer, then turns on the projector to display a map with pins.

“We’ve been interested in the location of primary suspects at the time of akumatization; Ladybug believes that Hawkmoth’s Miraculous power is restricted to Paris. Which means that Hawkmoth needs to be in or close to Paris at the times of all akumas, which crossed Mayor Bourgeois of my list a while ago. He’s been absent for multiple akumas when he needed to go to conferences outside of Paris. The purple dots are Gabriel, the red ones are Nathalie, and the blue ones are Michael. You can see that they’ve all been in Paris every time an akuma occurred and within a ten mile radius of where the akuma was first spotted. That’s quite unusual, considering they’re all in high positions of companies that should typically have them travelling.”

There is also the little detail that Marinette found the Miraculous Tome in the hands of Gabriel Agreste, but Marinette doesn’t feel safe indulging them with that information yet. If she tells them, they will want to see pictures of the book.

“How haven’t you cracked this case wide open yet?” Red Robin looks at the screen appreciatively. It’s clear that Marinette spent a lot of time on this.

Marinette bristles. She may have a good amount of information, but her proficiency with technology leaves much to be desired. It took her an unnecessarily long time in order to get the map up and running. “Well, Red Robin, that might have something to do with the fact that neither Ladybug nor I knew anything about how to use technology in the way that was necessary to track him once the police handed over the case in the second year. Or maybe it has something to do with the fact that falsely accusing someone as Hawkmoth could ruin their entire life.”

Master Fu warned her against direct actions against anyone on her suspect list. In fact, he outright forbade her from doing anything, and although she no longer takes his words at face value after the many bumps in their relationship, she’s not going to try to ruin any of these people without evidence. Especially not Gabriel, not when he’s Adrien’s father.

Red Robin frowns.

Marinette takes a deep breath. She’s too tense. She’s been taking every word that these vigilantes say as something they don’t actually mean. Marinette needs to relax. Jumping to conclusions helps no one.

Damian’s eyes are on her, and she’s sure he’s passing judgment. She needs to get out of this situation, get out of this headspace. It’s not productive or healthy.

“I think we should end this meeting now,” Damian says, and Marinette begrudgingly agrees with him. She knows this is his olive branch.

“You were the one who was upset at the lack of time,” Oracle points out. “We don’t have much time. We need every minute we can get.”

“Marinette has given us plenty of information to digest for one night. We’ll regroup tomorrow and start on coding the programs to determine Hawkmoth’s location.” Damian reaches over Marinette to end the call.

Obstinately, Marinette refuses to look him in the eyes. She’s been flip-flopping this entire day, and it’s not doing any great wonders for her mental health. Everything’s been coming to a head in these past few days, and it isn’t a good feeling. She can feel the pressure on her shoulders, the expectant gazes of all of Paris to do her duty and expose Hawkmoth, but she feels the weight of the inevitable backlash Adrien will face if her theories are true.

The past few days feel like three years compressed. People she’s never interacted with have inserted themselves into the fray, and the big leagues have pulled out all the stops. She just talked to Batman and his team. He’s been in the hero game for decades, and she’s in the room with his son, Robin.

Everything is just too much.

Marinette feels like she’s been a bad Ladybug. Like she hasn’t done enough to find concrete evidence of her primary suspects because she is afraid of what will happen after. She’s half surprised she hasn’t gone into hysterics yet, but then again, she’s gotten very good at holding herself together when everything around her falls apart. The added touch of an outsider makes the fragile balance she’s achieved teeter.

Damian takes her distressed appearance personally and heaves a sigh. “Look, I --I didn’t think that you were Hawkmoth all along, only for a day before everything went down. I don’t know what I wanted out of you, but your friendship was nice. I did genuinely want to be friends with you, and I still do.”

This makes Marinette feel even worse. She’s trying so hard to find fault with Damian-- which is surprisingly easy-- in order to distance herself. She can’t afford to get attached to someone who can hurt her and is likely to hurt her, because an akumatized Ladybug is the last thing Paris needs. But hearing him apologize so genuinely means that Marinette can’t summon up a negative response. She may not be able to say that she truly knows Damian, but she knows that he is a very prideful person. It can’t have been easy for him to apologize to her so openly. An acidic response rests on her tongue for a moment before she pushes it back.

“You were just trying to follow up on a lead. I shouldn't blame you.”

“But you do.”

He hit the nail on the head. Marinette grimaces, letting her eyes flick over Damian’s hunched shoulders and set jaw. She doesn’t blame him for thinking that she’s Hawkmoth, but she does blame him for getting the Justice League more involved, which makes exactly zero sense if she evaluates the situation logically. Her heart feels like Damian is the element of change; if he never arrived in Paris, Marinette would still have everything under a better semblance of control. It doesn’t matter that Batman said the JLA had been looking into Paris for half a year, and that even if Damian weren’t sent, there would have been someone else.

It’s fitting that in order to move forward, they must break down whatever security that Marinette has built into her life, because life is just cruel enough to mess her up like that. Right now, she’s a wreck mentally, emotionally, and even physically. Marinette can feel her throat closing up.

“It’s not your fault,” she offers. “And maybe if we get out of our current situation, we can try being friends again. But right now? I-- there’s just too much stress on me, right now.”

Damian understands this, but as he descends the steps of her ladder, Damian can’t help but wish that she felt otherwise.

Omake

“How is it that Mayor Bourgeois is not in your top three suspects for Hawkmoth? He’s stopped a lot of international press about the akuma for the first year!”

Marintte deadpans. “Honestly? The man is way too stupid to ever be Hawkmoth.”

“Haven’t we come to the conclusion that Hawkmoth is stupid though? He couldn’t steal jewelry from two untrained teenagers for years!”

Marinette decides not to take offense at that, and concedes. “Fine, maybe he should be on the list. I’d certainly akumatize Chloe and Audrey Bourgeois if I had to interact with them on a daily basis.”

_______________________________________________________

will these be regularly scheduled? absolutely not, even though i have the whole thing finished because i get the feeling that i am going to Change Things sooner or later (somebody please smack some sense into me everything in this story goes awfully very soon and the plot goes wonky and AHHHH)

#maribat #sbgs #miraculous ladybug #dc #daminette #original content #adrien agreste #lila rossi #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne

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mwolf0epsilon · 5 years ago

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DBH Human AU - Info

After days of trying to organize this massive AU, I've finally done it. Ladies and gentleman, I give you my DBH Human AU which is perhaps the angstiest and heaviest of my AUs!

I'll advise caution as the themes are...Pretty fucking dark and revolve around a ton of different kinds of abuse, including domestic violence, sexual abuse, trans-erasure, rape and more. With that in mind, read at your own peril!

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--Plot--

Over the last couple of years the rate of missing teenagers has increased dramatically in Detroit. These teenagers are mostly abuse victims coming from very difficult family situations, failure of the adoption system, a botched educational system, and quite a few instances of racial and religious tension that lead to exposure to violence of varying degrees.

The story follows a group of 5 teens and 1 child who've banded together as they escape this sort of abuse, following signs and clues left behind by other previous victims who've joined forces and formed a nomadic group called Jericho. A group composed of runaway teens and children, who live completely on the move and never settle for too long in the same place (with the exception of a few members of the group).

Their main traveling system?

Freighter trains.

Nothing is as it seems however, and three members of the group have attracted the attention of not only the police, but if a very shady company as well...

Things might take quite the turn for the worse, but for now all the group can do is pray and follow the train tracks.

--Cast--

DPD: The precinct has archived all of the missing persons cases related to Jericho, it's the disappearences of three young boys however, that calls into action a proper investigation.

Captain Jeoffrey Fowler - The captain of the DPD, Fowler is in charge of not only everyone in the precinct, but also has to make difficult decisions when certain high profile cases show up. He has faith in his officers, and especially Hank who he hopes can solve the current case he was assigned, and get back to his former glory. There seems to be an ongoing despute between him and the captain of the SWAT team, Allen, over a particular officer's work ethic, as well as the nature of all of the missing person case files.

Lieutenant Hank Anderson - A bitter old cop whose career has been practically cast aside after his son Cole's death. Armed with an acute intuition, a somewhat jaded perception of the world around him, and a massive saint bernard named Sumo, Hank has taken on the case to end all cases: Find three missing brothers who've recently run away from an orphanage overseen by the ever watchful Amanda Stern. Something tells him, however, that he's bitten off more than he can chew, and that this case is much more than it seems.

Detective Gavin Reed - A newly graduated rookie from the academy, Gavin is an ornery young man with an aggressive streak and a few self-esteem issues. He's been looking into Hank's case without permission, in the hopes that he might be able to find something the older cop hasn't already. Despite his hardened shell and angry disposition, the missing persons cases seem to mean something to him, and Gavin is as stubborn as he is dedicated to figuring out what the pattern is that links all of the missing teenagers and children together.

Officer Tina Chen - Gavin's partner and another newly graduated rookie, Tina is a lady of very few words but a great listener and perceptive to boot. She's been helping Gavin look into Hank's case clandestinely. While this would seem like something unfitting of her standards and morals, she has her reasons to help her partner, particularly to find someone she knew who went missing two years prior to her graduation.

Detective Ben Collins - One of the more experienced detectives in the DPD, Ben is an old friend of Hank's and Is currently working on a case relating to shady black market sales. He has joined forces with Hank on a few instances, due to the sensitive nature of both of their cases. Ben is one of many officers who despises Perkins, and he has been keeping tabs due to some very worrying complaints coming in recently.

Officer Chris Miller - Ben's partner and a new father, Chris is a kind man and the previous officer to work on missing persons cases. He had to ask Fowler to be removed from said cases after the number of children and teenagers going missing began to grow. He has given all of the info he had collected to Hank, and has proven himself to be a great help with the case.

Captain Allen - The captain of the SWAT team, Allen has been in the force long enough to know when certain cases seem dodgy. Hank's case, as well as the multiple missing children and teenagers cases, seem to concern him greatly as he has a feeling there might be more to the three missing orphans than what anyone currently knows. He seems to be highly suspicious of Perkins,but many of his warnings over these concerns have gone unheard.

Officer Richard Perkins - A corrupt, mysoginistic and racist cop that cares more about furthering his career than to serve and protect the civilians of Detroit. With little to no remorse, and capable of holding a mighty grudge, Perkins has set his sights on grade-A student Markus Manfred and has done everything in his power to put the mixed-race teenager behind bars for no particular reason other than thinking "his kind" are nothing but thugs, drug addicts and thieves. His constant harassment has led to Markus running away and Leo requesting multiple restraining orders to keep the man well away from the Manfred household. He's currently under evaluation by the DPD, Which of course has turned his unwarranted grudge against Markus into a blood feud. He will stop at nothing until he has the youngest Manfred boy in his grimy clutches.

Stern's House of Second Chances: A high profile orphanage that takes in and reabilitates difficult cases within the adoption system. The orphanage is run and owned by Amanda Stern and seems to be allied to Cypherlife, a shady company that has more than mental healing in mind...

Amanda Stern - The owner and overseer of Stern's House of Second Chances, Amanda Stern was Elijah Kamski's mentor before she quit her job as a professor and set her sights on a personal project that she claimed to be for the bettering of the human condition, but that proved to be too immoral even for someone as ambitious and enigmatic as Kamski. Obsessed with mental disorders, traumas, behavioral patterns and how they affected a person Amanda hoped that, in allowing Cypherlife to study and perform experimental treatments on the children residing at the orphanage, that she would be helping enhance both the medical field and the science behind psychology studies. This ultimately failed as Cypherlife had more than medicine in mind when they began to subject the children and teenagers to cruel tests and social experiments. She was the one who requested the DPD to look for the missing Dechart boys, but she did not predict Hank would look too deep into the case. All she knows is that she needs to get those three boys and get rid of the evidence before the happenings at the orphanage are exposed.

Connor "Eights" Dechart - The oldest of three brothers, Connor is a traumatized young man who's lived in Stern's House of Second Chances for most of his childhood. Having witnessed the violent death of his parents, and been subjected to experimental hypnotherapy treatment by specialists at the orphanage to deal with his trauma, Connor's memories are a confusing mess and not always reliable, but he knows for sure not all is as it seems and that something nefarious is going on behind closed doors. Having only just turned 18, Connor decides to trust his instincts and runs away with his siblings in the hopes of escaping whatever it is that's going on at the orphanage. Connor is a clever young man who's very perceptive but who's trauma has led to him becoming emotionally unattached to the world around him. His main priority is his and his younger siblings's safety. He doesn't trust Kara and Markus when he first joins forces with them, but grows to appreciate them and even consider them friends as they all search for Jericho.

Shawn "Sixes" Dechart - Connor's twin. The more emotional of the brothers, Shawn is an angry young man who has a lot of insecurity that lead to him living a very sheltered life at the orphanage. Unwilling to take risks, and often searching for guidance through Amanda, Shawn immediately dismissed Connor's concerns as being delusions and paranoia but, after witnessing something odd one night, he began to doubt his initial judgement of his brother's perception of the world and even went along with the escape plan. Equally as clever as Connor, but sensitive and over-emotional, Shawn is often considered the troublemaker of the three brothers.

Newton "Nines" Dechart - The twins's younger brother, Newton is a highly functioning autistic 16 year old boy. Often keeping his nose buried in a book, Newton loses track of time very easily, but can't help notice the littlest of things that just seem off-putting to him. He has a vague idea that something just isn't right with Stern's House of Second Chances, despite it being his home for a tremendous portion of his life, but he can't quite put into words what bothers him… He thinks highly of his older brothers and trusts their judgement wholeheartedly, although he'll more often side with Connor due to Shawn letting his volatile emotions get the better of him.

The Manfred Household: Home to Carl Manfred and his two boys, as well as Carl's caretaker, the Manfred household is faced with a lot of drama after a corrupt officer becomes hell-bent in ruining their lives.

Carl Manfred - Once a successful artist, painter, and figurehead of the Neo-Symbolism movement, Carl is a wise and patient man who's eccentricities have led to an interesting and awe-inspiring life. Before his accident Carl never really thought about settling down and starting a family, as he didn't consider himself to be father material. While he did acknowledge his firstborn, Leo, Carl never met him until he was 16, opting for paying child-support while the mother raised him instead. This was not the case for his second born, Markus, who was thrust into his care unexpectedly. Having just suffered his accident, Carl was initially very reluctant to care for a young child, as he did not feel like he was capable of supporting a growing child while trying to adjust to his newly acquired disability. With a little bit of encouragement from his closest friends, Carl reluctantly took charge and became a full time father to the young boy whose mother he couldn't even recall. As the years went by and Markus grew, Carl became quite fond of the boy and felt more confident around children. When Leo's mother passed away, however, Carl welcomed his eldest son into his home and realized that the distance he'd put between himself and his firstborn had led to an extremely shaky and strained relationship. Unsure how to mend the gap, Carl acted more strict around the 20 year old, while he treated Markus more lovingly. This only worsened their bond and even turned his sons against each other for three years. It took a lot of work to gain Leo's trust and for Carl to finally open himself up to his estranged son. This all changes when Markus got into trouble with the police for no other reason than the color of his skin. The three grew closer in adversity but, after a terrible car crash caused by sabotage, Carl ended up hospitalized in a coma. He's currently under the care of his caretaker and nurse, Matthew, and is regularly visited by Leo who talks to him in an effort to try to get his father to wake up.

Matthew the Caretaker - Matthew is a young man who has always aspired to do good in the world. As someone who doesn't let life get him down, Matthew is a patient and level headed person with a mix of interests such as chess, art, ballet, opera and more. This greatly helped him connect with Carl when he was first assigned as his caretaker and nurse after the accident. Having been around for a good portion of Markus's life and Leo's integration into the family dynamic, Matthew is quite accustomed to the Manfred family drama by now, and will often get involved with the Manfred boys when he knows they could use a little extra help. The day of the car crash was his one day off, and Matthew feels immensely guilt for not being there to help when it happened. He tried to do his best with tending to Markus while he was getting used to his prosthetic legs, and kept a closer eye on Leo, who was also doing poorly at the time, but his attention remains focused primarily on Carl's needs, so it's no surprise he couldn't stop Markus from running away.

Leo Manfred - Carl's eldest son and a product of a brief fling with a younger fan, Leo is a troubled young man with a lot of internalized issues that have followed him throughout his entire life. Between trying to prove himself to the world, and trying to balance what little money he made on his own to afford his T treatment, Leo never wanted to accept the child-support money his father gave him out of pride. When his mother fell ill, however, Leo stopped using it to fund his education and instead began using it to try to help his mom recover. The worse she got, the more he'd spend, until eventually the money just wasn't enough to combat the amounting medical bills. When his mother died, a 16 year old Leo had no other option but to go live with the father he'd never met. He initially resented both Carl and Markus for living in the lap of luxury while he and his mother were left to rot, but eventually he acclimated to life with his remaining family and grew closer to them. When the accident happened, a 27 year old Leo was incredibly distraught by what befell both his father and younger brother, and he once again tried to do his best to help. A little after he turned 28, he began to work a few odd jobs, but a month after Markus's 19th birthday he had to go to the hospital after he got jumped in an alleyway and stabbed. When Markus ran away, Leo began to fall into a downward spiral, but he's tried to remain strong for Carl's sake. He has no idea where Markus has gone but he hopes his brother has at least managed to escape the cop that started all of their problems.

Markus Manfred - Carl's youngest son and product of a one night stand with an unnamed woman, Markus is an athletic and highly talented young man with a lot of ambition and heart. Having never met his mother and been raised entirely by Carl, Markus is his father's son and shares multiple interests with Carl. Having come from a background of privilege, however, has left Markus somewhat naive and sheltered, which has always concerned his father to no end. Markus himself only realized things weren't exactly golden when his older brother came to live at the mansion. Initially despising one another, Leo and Markus's relationship was downright hostile for a good part of three years, up until some very difficult events brought them together. When Markus turned 18, he was a victim of racial profiling and harassed by a police officer for weeks on end until things took a turn for the worse. One afternoon while returning home from classes, he was chased down by the same cop, and was badly beaten for "resisting arrest". When Markus later tried to take action against the unfair treatment, he began receiving death threats. He didn't think anything would happen, until one afternoon he went out for a drive with Carl. The two were rushed to the hospital after their car crashed, due to the breaks having been cut, and while Carl ended up falling into a coma, Markus was seriously injured. Even during recovery (in which Markus had to adjust to having both legs amputated, losing sight and hearing on his right side, and painful and disfiguring scarring all over his body) the death threats kept coming. On his 19th birthday, when he'd fully adjusted to his prosthetics, another incident occurred where Leo was attacked, and a guilt ridden Markus decided he needed to disappear so as to keep his family safe. He's been on the run ever since, and his search for Jericho has led him to meet quite the interesting cast of characters, including the Dechart brothers and the Williams girls, who he's joined forces with to find Jericho.

The Williams Household: Home of Todd Williams and the disguised prison of Kara and Alice Williams. Nothing is as good as it seems.

Todd Williams - A deadbeat taxi-driver with a grudge against his ex-wife and an addiction to several different stimulants, Todd is an ill-tempered individual with a violent streak. After his sister passed away, Todd took in his young niece Kara who he initially treated well. Eventually, as he got himself tangled up with the wrong kind of people, Todd became unemployed and ended up doing odd jobs around the neighborhood to pay the bills and sustain his many addictions. He began to abuse Kara soon after, and ended up impregnating her in the process. To save face, he hid all evidence of their familial ties and forcefully married his niece to make it appear as though everything was normal. As the years went by, Todd's abuse only got worse and Kara's life of forced servitude and motherhood only made her crave freedom more and more.

Kara Williams - After her mother passed away from cancer, a young 13 year old Kara ended up in her uncle Todd's custody as her sole living relative. Initially treated lovingly, Kara was completely caught off guard when her uncle began to change due to his downward spiral into a life of drug-dealing and dependency. Experiencing Todd's abuse and hateful nature soon shaped the once boisterous and cheery Kara into a shy and submissive girl, which only made things worse after she eventually became pregnant with his child. Powerless against her uncle, Kara was forced to become his wife and have the baby as a way to feign normalcy as well as substitute the family Todd had previously driven away due to his bad habits. While she resented Todd and all he had done to her, including pulling her out of school and forever tainting her idea of a family, Kara was always a loving mother to her daughter. When she turned 19 and Alice turned 6, she managed to run away while Todd suffered an overdose. She has since been on the run in search of a better place to restart her life from the ground up. She meets Connor's tiny group and Markus completely by accident while searching for Jericho. She's the one to suggest they band together to find the elusive group.

Alice Williams - Kara's 6 year old daughter, Alice may be a result of sexual abuse but her mother loves her more than anything in the world. A very quiet, shy, and intelligent little girl, Alice has only ever known a broken home but, with Kara's quick thinking and wits, both girls have managed to get out of their disguised prison and have been living on the run. Life is uncertain, but Alice tries to keep a brave face, if only to help reassure her mother in the face of adversity.

The Chapman Household: A known ally of Jericho's situated in Canada, this small family is known for helping those in dire need.

Rose Chapman - A kind-hearted and family oriented woman who has helped many runaway kids along their journey. A firm believer that everyone deserves a second chance, especially if they came from very difficult and dangerous situations. A lot of the youngsters she has helped in the past have gone to live at her brother's farm, while others have gone under the radar. Some maintain contact with her. She is Josh's and Lucy's aunty from their mother's side and has been trying to win custody over them ever since her sister passed away, since she knew their father was an unstable individual. She's been searching for them ever since she found out they ran away, and hopes they'll make it to Canada without much issue.

Adam Chapman - Rose's son and Josh and Lucy's younger cousin, Adam is a young boy with a very nervous disposition. He means well, but his fear that his mother might get in trouble by helping hide runaway kids usually causes him to be outwardly hostile towards their temporary guests. He was distraught when he found out his cousins went missing, and has been helping his mother search for them.

The Phillips Household: The humble beginnings of a family destined for disaster.

John Phillips - A workaholic and often absent father, John is a man who worked his entire life to get where he is and who's become a bit of an idealist and show-off as a result. In his youth he and Caroline had been high school sweethearts before both parted ways to pursue the life they had always wanted for themselves. Years later, the two reunited and got married, with John accepting the twins as if they were his own kids. After Emma was born, John became less present in the kids' lives, which left them completely under Caroline's care. Obsessed with climbing up the social ladder and with furthering his career, John supported Caroline's old fashioned ways as a means to create the idyllic and perfect picket fence family dynamic he wanted to convey to the world. This ultimately ended in failure when a tormented and disconsolate Simon ran away, and when Daniel attempted suicide. John has since taken a step back from work to recollect his thoughts and try to fix the mess he'd let happen.

Caroline Phillips - An old fashioned and a recovering alcoholic, Caroline is a woman who was pushed around all her life and shaped to be the perfect american housewife. When she was younger, Caroline had dreams of becoming more than a stay-at-home wife. She'd wanted to be a teacher, or even a doctor at one point. These dreams were thoroughly beaten out of her by her ex-husband, a belligerent asshole who'd married her after she'd gotten pregnant. Shaped into a bitter and angry woman by her abusive relationship, Caroline eventually divorced the man who'd ruined her life but did not come out of the marriage unscathed. She married her highschool sweetheart and started her life anew, but began to put a lot of pressure on the twins so they wouldn't be anything like their biological father. When her eldest daughter came out as trans, however, Caroline was furious. She couldn't accept Simon for who he was, having wanted him to be the perfect daughter and role model for her youngest daughter, and did everything in her power to force Simon to remain a perfect young girl. After Simon was assaulted at school by a bully, Caroline blamed him for "instigating the attack with all of the nonsensical spheal of being a boy". This argument encouraged Simon to run away, and inevitably caused Daniel to deteriorate and attempt to take his own life. Caroline has since been forced to seek help, while John tries to fix the lasting damage she caused their children.

Emma Phillips - The sweet and loving younger sister, Emma had to stand and watch as her family was ripped apart by the lasting effects of abuse and from prolonged absence and ignorance. She was the apple of her mother's eye and as such often used as an excuse for the twins to behave, least their behaviour affect Emma in anyway. This ultimately became an excuse for Caroline to continuously reject and force Simon into a role he did not want and, subsequently, created a distance between Simon and Emma. She was much closer to Daniel as a result. After Simon ran away, Emma could see Daniel wasn't ok despite his best attempts to hide his depression from his littlest sister. Emma was the one who found Daniel when he attempted to take his own life. The event has left her traumatized and fearful.

Daniel Phillips - The older of the Phillips twins, Daniel is a tragic example of someone who couldn't choose between his own morals and his familial obligations until it was too late. Once upon a time, Daniel and Simon had been close as any set of twins is bound to be. They had been the result of another relationship of their mother's before she married John and, as a result, there was always a lot of pressure put upon them to be good despite their biological father having been a deadbeat asshole. Daniel, having been the protective older brother, had taken it upon himself to shoulder that pressure because he knew Simon already had a lot on his plate. Doing as his mother always told him, and doing his best to please his workaholic and show off of a father, Daniel's relationship with his twin deteriorated as the years went by, his parent's old fashioned views taking their toll on his moral compass. Unable to understand Simon's plight, and being too scared to go against his parents' wishes, Daniel rejected his twin whenever Simon plead for help. It was his job as the oldest to be the example, a role model for their little sister Emma. He had to make his parents happy, and taking Simon's side wouldn't make them happy. As he watched his twin deteriorated, however, Daniel was left guilt ridden and depressed. He knew he'd failed as a brother, but he didn't want to crack under the pressure and make things worse. So, despite knowing his parents were wrong, Daniel did nothing to ease his brother's heavy heart. It was when Simon ran away that Daniel finally lost control of everything in his life. In the span of a few days, the eldest Phillips twin's life became a complete train wreck which led him to attempt suicide as an escape. He's currently hospitalized and under watch while in a catatonic state.

Jericho: A group of runaway teenagers and children that live a nomadic life. They follow the train tracks wherever they may take them, and sometimes get on freighter trains clandestinely, where they seek shelter and a few supplies stolen from crates.

Silvia Phillips/"Simon of Jericho" - The younger of the Phillips twins, Simon was one of Jericho's founding members and has always been the go to person when runaway children are involved. Like most of the teenagers in Jericho, Simon's story is filled with tragedy and abuse. Ever since he was a young child, Simon knew he'd been born in the wrong body. No matter how much his mother tried to bring out the perfect daughter she'd always wanted, Simon just didn't feel like he fit in that role, nor that he could ever feel comfortable in his own skin as long as she tried to shape him into something he clearly wasn't. As he and Daniel grew older and apart, Simon tried to open up about his concerns with his family. This failed tremendously however. Rejected by his mother's old fashioned views, his father's overall dismissal of anything non-work related, and his brother's compliance to his parents' demands, Simon felt lost and alone even at home. The laughing stock of his community, Simon lived a life of pure misery due to being treated like a freak by his peers, and was basically left to fend for himself as his brother got more absorbed into the family life and his growing depression. Simon felt like there wasn't anything he could ever do to change his life for the better, and his tormentors fed off that negativity. After he was sexually assaulted at school by the class bully, and subsequently discovered he was pregnant due to the attack, he tried to once again reach out to his family in a desperate attempt to get the help he needed. The following argument with his mother is what drove him to run away, after cutting his hair, binding his chest and stealing some of his brother's clothes. He abandoned his old life and name, and is now only known as Simon of Jericho. The protector and caretaker of children.

Riley "North" Kelly - There are a lot of stories about pretty girls, all looks and no brain, getting pulled from college earlier to pursue careers as models. Then there are stories like Riley Kelly's. Riley was a young girl born in poverty and who never had anything yet gave a lot to those around her. Forced to prostitute herself to earn money for her family, she was always bitter that she'd never accomplished any of her life goals, such as getting a degree or living stable. When the money wasn't enough, Riley ended up on the streets, abandoned and unwanted due to just being "another mouth to feed". Ever the resourceful and clever 18 year old girl, however, Riley took what she could by pickpocketing and doing some dodgy work here and there, before leaving the city entirely to search for Jericho. Her old name was all but forgotten as she headed North, and eventually she became a sort of legend within the group that readily took her in. She is one of the best hunters and fighters in Jericho, and has taken on several apprentices.

Josh Sawyers - The son of a highly religious and traditionalist priest, Josh's early childhood had been nothing if not a nightmare. He lost his mother after his younger sister was born, and practically raised her himself despite their age gap being very minute. Josh was always known to be a very clever and curious boy, as well as a pacifist at heart, three traits that his father didn't seem to like too much considering his old fashioned views of manhood. Often punished for the smallest of inconveniences, or beaten for being too wimpy, Josh had only ever known abuse and hate despite the hypocrite preaching of love and tolerance that his father spewed every Sunday to the rest of the community. When his sister Lucy turned 17, and Josh himself turned 20, the two ran away from their abusive household to escape their father. Their final goal is to reach their aunt Rose's house that is all the way in Canada, but until they get there they remain with Jericho who took them in when no one else would. Josh serves as a teacher to the children of Jericho, as well as the head of inventory due to his meticulous organization skills. His attentive nature and overall knowledge is very useful for the group.

Lucy Sawyers - Josh's younger sister and the daughter of a belligerent preacher, Lucy is a brilliant young woman that, despite her blindness, has the most accurate perception out of everyone in Jericho. She has a talent for tending to other's medical needs, and her calm disposition is rather soothing. She is the primary "doctor" in Jericho, alongside Simon, Shaolin Being and Rupert.

Cornelius Ortiz/"The Shaolin Being" - A young man with a knack for mysticism, spiritual healing as well as physical healing, the Shaolin Being is a heavily scarred victim of domestic abuse, as well as one of the longest standing missing child case in the DPD's records. While his real name is confidential, the one his kidnapper gave him was all but discarded after Shaolin couldn't take much more of the abuse he received daily. After murdering the thief and drug addict, Carlos Ortiz, who took him from his biological family several years ago, Shaolin renamed himself and left in search of safe haven where he could pray to the divine deities he'd come to worship as a means of escaping the suffering he'd been put through under Ortiz. He has a vast knowledge of healing herbs, home remedies and meditation rituals which, while unusual, are actually quite beneficial to Jericho. Shaolin Being is seen as a kind older brother and healer, but one shouldn't underestimate someone who is very skilled with a knife.

Tracy "Echo" Rose - A victim of sex trafficking, Echo was once a young girl named Tracy Rose who was kidnapped from her hometown and sold to a sex club alongside many other young girls like herself. Once a naive and complacent victim, she began to hope for a better life after meeting and befriending another girl that worked at the club. At 17, she killed and strangled a patron of the club after she witnessed him beat another girl to death, and then she found the courage to flee with her lover. She's been with Jericho ever since, under the protection of North.

Stacy "Ripple" Blaire - Like Echo, Ripple is also a victim of sex trafficking. However, unlike her lover, Ripple was unfortunately forced to work at the club by her own father. She had lived her entire life under his control, degraded and incapable of standing up for herself after years of conditioning. This all changes when she met Echo, who slowly brought out the fight she'd hidden within her all along. After the two fled, they joined Jericho and became North's apprentices.

Rupert Travis - The orphaned son of a farmer, Rupert was always considered to be a little off by the rest of the community he lived in. He didn't like people too much, preferring to be in the company of the farm animals he helped his father tend to, and he had a rather odd fixation with birds. Often shunned by his peers, Rupert didn't have any friends during his childhood and seemed to grow accustomed to the loneliness that followed him everywhere he went. After a fire claimed the life of his father and the property they lived in, Rupert ended up on the streets. Homeless and unwanted, Rupert opted with isolating himself from the world, living on his lonesome in the woods. As the years went by, he became a sort of urban legend: A crazy young man who trains pigeons to do his bidding. The stories aren't entirely wrong, except the part about cults and blood sacrifices. He has no idea where those came from. He's one of Jericho's suppliers, since living independently from the rest of the world has given him plenty of time to hone his hunting, gathering and farming skills. He also serves as an emergency medic for more seriously injured group members.

Ralph Vladimary - Ralph is a mystery all on his own. Having been found living alone in an abandoned cabin in the woods, it's obvious from the scars and his overall behaviour and unpredictable mood swings that something absolutely horrible happened to him in the past, but Ralph has never opened up about it. A very reserved and easily frightened young man, Ralph doesn't do well in crowds and doesn't join Jericho in their travels because he's easy to overwhelm. Instead he continues to reside in the woods in his little cabin, receiving help from Rupert when he sets off on his own away from the group to check on his many camps and crops. Suffering from several mental disorders makes it hard for Ralph to get by on his own, but there are very few people he trusts so he manages out of sheer willpower and perhaps a little bit of spite towards those who think he's bound to fail. As reserved and difficult as he may be, Ralph would do anything for his friends, and is actually quite good at growing food and medicinal herbs. He's another one of Jericho's top suppliers as a result, although it's advised to send someone he likes to get the supplies.

The Jerrys/The Bosch Quintuplets - The sons of an old Canadian Navy Captain, Jeremiah, Jerome, Jeremy, Jerard and Jeronim, otherwise known as the Jerrys, are a set of happy-go-lucky quintuplets who are considered outliers of Jericho, as they wound up missing by pure accident. The unfortunate series of events that lead them to where they are now, are rather ironic, as the nautical theme loving Jerrys fell overboard and ended up getting washed away. How they survived is beyond anyone, considering the harsh temperatures of Detroit in winter, but they somehow managed to only sustain a few injuries from frostbite and still march on with a smile on their face. They hope to get back to Canada to their father one day, but for now they remain with Jericho, adamant to help the group members find a place to call home.

Luther - The first person to befriend Kara and Alice on their travels, after both ended up at Zlatko's mansion by mistake. Luther is a rather tall and intimidating young man, but at heart he is a gentle giant who means well. An amnesiac, he was forced to be Zlatko's slave and main enforcer from a young age, and has no memory of who he was before he was purchased. He is also the co-leader of the Creatures gang, whom he calls his found family. Luther helped Kara and Alice escape, and later rejoined her with his group after she joined forces with Connor and Markus.

The Creatures/Luther's Gang - Former slaves of Zlatko Andromikov, Luther's gang is comprised by a series of teenagers who grew up bound to servitude and a life of cruelty. Many bare terrible scars, others were born with birth defects, but they are all bound to each other by loyalty and one commonality: They were unwanted by their kin before they found a family in each other. Their spokesperson/leader is a very tall and muscular young woman who is covered in multiple scars, and who only speaks Russian. Despite her terrifying appearance she's a teddy bear at heart and is considered the older sister of Luther's group.

The Founder: The DPD and Amanda aren't the only ones following the Dechart missing case. Someone else in a higher place is watching...

Elijah Kamski - An enigmatic man and the original founder of Cypherlife, Elijah Kamski is a man of many secrets. When he originally founded Cypherlife his goal was to enhance human lives through specialized and experimental treatment of neural and psychological disorders. It's unknown why he left, but rumours say that he was betrayed by a group of very ambitious staff members in the company.

"Chloe" - Elijah Kamski's equally enigmatic secretary, not much is really known about Chloe, not even her real name. A highly intelligent and resourceful woman, she seems to have a lot of contacts within the city limits. Some question how such a beautiful recognizable young lady can get around unnoticed when she can captivate everyone whenever she's on screen with her boss.

Zlatko's trafficking ring: Jericho has many enemies that mean them harm. The worst of the bunch are those who wish to prey on them and turn them into merchandising.

Zlatko Andromikov - The leader of a child trafficking circuit, Zlatko is a cruel man who has ruined the lives of countless youths that have mistakenly gone to him for help in their times of dire need. Known well in the black market for his "quality merchandising" and many "services", Zlatko has multiple eyes and ears around Detroit who spread his lies of promised safety and new beginnings. He, like Amanda and Perkins, has loose ends to tie with two particular members of Jericho.

#detroit: become human #detroit become human #detroit: bh #dbh #Human AU #WARNING: EXTREMELY SENSITIVE TOPICS #CAUTION IS ADVISED

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kivaember · 6 years ago

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Mor Dhona 99 Ch. 5

So, since tumblr is doing the whole ‘not showing links in the tab’ i’ll be posting my fic chapters wholesale on here. If you want to read on AO3 to leave a kudos or comment there, just follow the link to my AO3 profile on my tumblr, and you’ll find the fic updated there!

But anyways, enjoy the fic!

Title: Mor Dhona 99 Fic Summary: A series of oneshots following a new arrival to Eorzea's Public Relations and Animal Control Unit: Aza Lynel, renowned for outstanding service on keeping the peace on the Azim Steppes. He's dealt with monster nests, squabbling tribes and sharing the same house as his sister. Now, he's been transferred to the big city in Mor Dhona - with the realisation that werewolves have it a little more difficult here, than out on the Steppes back home... Chapter Title: The Wolfsbane Case Part 1 Chapter Summary: Aza and Estinien get called up to a farm called the Fogfens on a missing person case that just so happens to be a werewolf who didn’t come home after the full moon. It results in a whole can of dirty worms being dug up...

Estinien being visibly excited was the creepiest thing Aza had ever witnessed.

It didn’t help that they were both crammed in a police car, bouncing and bumping along a narrow, neglected country road towards one of the farms lay on the outskirts of the Gridanian border. Aza actually had to wear his uniform, rather than his biking leathers, and it made him feel deeply uncomfortable and exposed. It was nothing but cheap synthetic cotton, not thick, sturdy leather. A massive oversight on the uniform of a unit that regularly apprehended or fought dangerous monsters and magical creatures.

“I hate that you’re smiling,” Aza said when their vehicle squeaked through a near ninety-degree bend, the scratching of low hanging branches scraping across the roof making him cringe, “It’s freaking me out.”

“We’re finally doing something fun,” Estinien said, checking his sat nav to make sure they were still on the right route, “An actual investigation with promise of an arrest at the end.”

“You arrested someone two days ago,” Aza grumbled, “A shoplifter.”

“Yes, because that was incredibly exciting,” Estinien scoffed, “A bewildered Sylph that didn’t understand the concept of money. Technically, they traded vegetables for their items anyway, so it wasn’t even thieving.”

Right. The ‘Beast Tribes’, as they were derogatorily known as, still lived separate from Eorzean society. Occasionally you had a handful that lived in places like Limsa Lominsa, or Mor Dhona, but in the rest of the city states they were very unwelcome. Aza thought it a shame. They were interesting and knew very obscure and odd magics that most modern mages and witches had forgotten.

“What happened with that anyways?” Aza asked curiously. It was one of the rare times their role as Animal Control/Public Relations overlapped with the Constabulary, and the law tended to get very fuzzy and complicated when misunderstandings with Beast Tribes happened.

“The Adders stuck their noses into it, and I let them have it,” Estinien said, “What do I care about some Sylph? They didn’t harm anyone, so the Adders bailed them.”

Aza leaned back in his seat with a wry huff. He could always count of Estinien being equally dismissive of everyone, no matter their race, species or magical creature status. He didn’t know if that was a good or a bad thing, considering Estinien’s job, but it was pleasantly refreshing at times.

“This might not have an arrest,” Aza warned, grunting when their car drove into a ford – there was a concrete bridge, but the waters had swelled enough to come rushing over the surface by a few ilms. White, foamy water splashed everywhere, “It might just be a waste of time.”

“Missing Persons are never a waste of time.”

Aza sighed, but slouched further in his seat. Truth be told, he wasn’t looking forward to this assignment for multiple reasons.

It was a simple one on the surface: it was two days after the last full moon of this month – something Aza was still feeling in his aching joints and stiff muscles – and the owner of Fogfens Farm, Blysslona Doesraelwyn, had filed a Missing Persons report for her son, Alyrloef, who was also a werewolf. Her son was reasonably mild-mannered during full moon, albeit not in full grasp of his mental faculties, but he was registered as a low threat to livestock and people if stumbled across in wolf-form, meaning he wasn’t required to be sedated or restrained. Blysslona, therefore, allowed Alyrloef to roam about her private lands, helping keep lookout for any feral werewolves that might try to steal livestock. He was normally gone for the full three days but came crawling back after the last full moon… except this time.

Aza, personally, had a bad feeling about it. Werewolves were unfailingly loyal, especially with those they deemed family, so it wasn’t as if Alyrloef would just fuck off for no good reason. The monster populations out in the sticks like this were dangerously high too, so it was highly likely that Alyrloef was dead. Killed by a monster, or a feral werewolf, a hunter or even another farmer by accident. It made his stomach knot up painfully at thinking of finding a corpse and having to present it to the poor boy’s mother.

“You’ve been in a right snit since Aymeric gave us this job,” Estinien finally asked when the silence turned a bit awkward between them, “What’s wrong?”

“Do you actually care?”

“I care if you’re going to be sulky for the whole bloody day.”

Aza groaned, but muttered, “He’s probably gonna be dead.”

“Rather pessimistic,” Estinien drawled, but he didn’t disagree, “Then we’ll offer closure to her. Either way, some sort of foul play has happened, and someone is at fault for it. It’s more exciting than chasing off ogres from Saint Coinach’s Find for the thirtieth fucking time.”

“Exciting’s not the word I’d use…” Aza sighed, but he said no more on the matter. This was why he preferred simple animal control than dealing with people. In fact, this wasn’t even his gig, but Aymeric thought Aza’s werewolf nature would make finding another werewolf easier – which was true, but still.

The bad feeling persisted.

---

Blysslona was a tall, stocky Roegadyn woman in her late forties. Her skin was a pale blue, dusted with navy freckles, and her hair was a thick, dark brown that she had scraped into a tight, no-nonsense bun. She looked rather weathered for her age, probably from working under the sun for hours on end, but her face was warm and welcoming enough when they turned up on her doorstep just before noon.

“You found the place alright, then,” Blysslona said, letting them inside her modest homestead. It was an old building, probably listed, with stone walls and a still thatched roof, held with a very thin metal mesh. It was warm inside though, a wood burner installed in the open fireplace of the living room practically spewing heat throughout the small cottage. Aza and Estinien were bustled onto the squashy sofa, and Blysslona excused herself to grab some tea for them, despite their protests. She was like a tornado of aggressive politeness, and all they could do was be helplessly swept up in it.

“Alyrloef is in a lot of these photos,” Estinien commented as they heard Blysslona bustle loudly in presumably the kitchen. He tilted his head to one large photograph, framed and fitted above the fireplace – a large, strapping Roegadyn lad with a strong resemblance to Blysslona in a Maelstrom uniform, with his name and date of service etched at the bottom. Five years in the Limsan Lominsan navy, left sometime last year.

“His scent is everywhere,” Aza agreed. The lingering smell of a foreign werewolf itched his senses, but he easily ignored it. Clearly, on the surface at least, Alyrloef lived here comfortably with his mother, though he was curious why he had left the Maelstrom to move in with his mother on a farm in the middle of nowhere. Vylbrand was far from here too, so odd…

“Here we are,” Blysslona said, marching in with a tray of teacups and a plate of biscuits. She set them on the coffee table before them and eased into an armchair opposite them. She was smiling, but Aza could see a tightness about her mouth, dark smudges under her eyes that spoke of restless sleep. She smelled stressed too, even though she put up a brave face about it.

“Thank you,” Aza said, because Estinien couldn’t be trusted to be polite. There a brief pause where they took their respective tea cups and tried to figure out a tactful way to begin the not-interrogation. Blysslona was the last person to see Alyrloef, so…

“So,” Blysslona broke the silence, “I guess you’ll be wanting to ask questions?”

Aza felt deeply relieved at her breaking the ice, and Estinien took lead in the conversation from here.

“We’ve read the details in the missing person report you submitted,” Estinien said, “But it’s best we go over the information with you, to ensure everything is correct, or if you have remembered something since then…”

Aza leaned back in his seat, observing as Estinien mildly grilled Blysslona. When did you last see your son? How was he during that time? Has he ever expressed interest in travelling? Was he happy here? Did he have any known enemies? Any disputes or disagreements with anyone? Anyone threaten him recently? Neighbouring farmers knew to recognise him in wolf form? Etcetera, etcetera.

Nothing new was shed. Blysslona said she last saw him before the first full moon and knew she wouldn’t see him until the end of the last one so hadn’t been worried about his disappearance initially. She didn’t know where he went during the days, but over the past year he always came back, so she never thought much about it. Alyrloef was friendly, well known to her fellow farmers and appreciated, as he guarded the livestock here from monsters and feral werewolves during the full moon. He was happy here, ever since quitting the Limsan navy, and had expressed interest in inheriting the farm when Blysslona got too old to mange it herself.

Aza mulled over this.

“Did he ever say why he quit the navy?” he asked curiously, something about that nagging him.

Blysslona looked surprised at the question, “Oh, well, he said it weren’t for him. They’re very accepting of werewolves in Vylbrand, but even then, they don’t have many career options because of the full moon, you see. So, he quit and came back here.”

Interesting. The Limsan Navy was very progressive and open to working around the lunar cycle for werewolves, provided they were controllable and mild like Alyrloef were. He might not have had a clear shot at, say, an admiralty like a normal person would have, but he still had a good chance of at least commanding a ship if he excelled in his job – with some limitations to ensure safety, of course.

“One more thing,” he continued, “The three days he’s gone for the full moon, you genuinely don’t know where he goes?”

“No clue,” Blysslona insisted, “I thought he just went and slept in the woods somewhere, like wolves do.”

Unlikely. Any werewolf during the days of their full moon wouldn’t pass up a chance to crawl into a warm, comfortable bed and be fussed over by family. You felt ill, achy and rotten when you shifted back during the day, the body strained and burnt out from the effort of shifting forms in such an unnatural way. Alyrloef had to go somewhere to wait out the days, because lying out in the woods in a weakened state would just make him monster food.

But that begged the question: why did he go elsewhere, and why didn’t he tell his mother? It was a mystery that piqued his interest.

“We’ll look at his room – if you don’t mind,” Estinien added belatedly, “See if we can turn up any clues there. We will then examine the immediate surroundings. Depending on what we find, we might have to bring up a full search team up here.”

“Knock yourself out,” Blysslona said, “So long as you find my boy, I don’t care if you rip up the floorboards and turn everything out of my house for clues.”

So, with that strong approval, Estinien and Aza took their tea and wandered over to Alyrloef’s room. It was small, large enough for a bed, wardrobe and two dressers. The curtains were open, letting them see the small garden brimming with all kinds of herbs and flowers. There were Limsan Navy paraphernalia hanging on walls, odd, foreign knickknacks on his shelves and dresser tops… it smelled very lived in, even if the man hadn’t visited it in almost a week. Nothing stood out as suspicious, and if anything, looked as if Alyrloef had fully intended to come back.

“What’re you thinking?” Estinien asked him where they stared at his room for a good, long moment, as if expecting Alyrloef to leap out from under the bed.

Aza didn’t immediately reply, because he could smell… something sharp. It almost stung his nose, and he turned, slowly, towards the bedside dresser with a frown. Setting his tea aside on the dresser, and ignoring Estinien’s inquiring noise, he pulled the drawer open – sitting at the bottom of it, wrapped up in thing clingfilm, were the purple flowers of aconitum.

Or, better known as wolfsbane.

“Oh, hello…” Aza mumbled, studying the plant for a long moment before gingerly picking it up by the clingfilm, taking care not to touch it. He’d rather not be rushed to hospital today, “Why does he have this?”

“Wolfsbane?” Estinien loomed over his shoulder to get a good look, “Self-medicating, perhaps?”

“Hmm…” Aza set the plant down on the dresser and dug into the drawer again. He found two more clingfilmed bunches of wolfsbane, as well as a large pot of activated charcoal. Aza wasn’t confused as to how he got these – farmers used activated charcoal as pesticides and disinfectant, and wolfsbane grew thick and fast around the Fogfens due to its proximity to the Tangle, a wet marshland where most of the moisture drained into. It would be easy enough for Alyrloef to gather these, but why?

Wolfsbane was poisonous to everyone, full stop. Normal people would die without medical intervention if they ingested it, but the effect was a little different with werewolves. If applied correctly, wolfsbane could actually delay the transformation, or ensure the wolf was so sluggish and weak that they weren’t a threat to anyone. The sedatives the government issued contained wolfsbane, for example. It was like, a medically approved poisoning that left you with a thumping headache and weeklong diarrhoea but was reasonably safe.

However, you had to fit a specific criterion to be freely given those sedatives and purchasing them outright was obscenely expensive – more expensive than a farmer can afford anyways. So, you ended up with some who wanted the safety of a sedative, but too poor to pay for pills, self-medicating instead. Sometimes it worked, sometimes the werewolf died, but also…

“He doesn’t need to self-medicate,” Aza said slowly, “His file says his wolf form is calm enough without needing sedatives.”

“But maybe he thinks he needs them.”

Aza bit his thumbnail, thinking. Yeah, probably. Something could have happened that made him doubt his control, but surely Blysslona would have mentioned it? Or… maybe not. Eorzea was very strict on werewolves that ‘acted out’, which was… understandable, considering they were superhumanly strong and could easily kill or infect a man with a single bite. Any sign of a violent temperament in wolf form would have their freedoms restricted in a heartbeat to ensure public safety.

It was chafing, but Aza understood such caution. It didn’t mean he liked it.

“Let’s take a look outside,” Estinien said, nudging his shoulder, “Come on, K-9.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Aza huffed, but he obediently followed him out of the bedroom, leaving the wolfsbane behind.

---

Outside was thick with the stink of farm, and it took Aza a good hour before he found Alyrloef’s scent on the very outskirt of a pasture, on an animal trail leading into one of the thick woods that surrounded Fogfens Farm.

“We can follow it for a bit now,” Aza said as they dithered on the edge of the woods, “The scent is a few days old, so I don’t want to leave it any longer before it vanishes completely. It’s meant to rain tonight, after all.”

Estinien said nothing for a moment, clearly thinking it over. The Fogfens had a high density of dangerous monsters – wildlife kept at bay only by the electric fences and ‘anti-monster crystals’ that marked out the inhabited boundaries of the farms. Aza was confident he could deal with anything out here, even in Miqo’te form, but Estinien was a little squishier and lightly armed.

“We’ll follow it for a bit,” Estinien decided, patting his hip to ensure his firearm was there, “I’m not geared up for a proper fight, though, so we’ll… ugh, be cautious.”

Aza coughed over a laugh at Estinien’s open disdain, and they trudged into the wood along the animal path. Alyrloef’s scent was faint, masked by rotting vegetation and blooming flowers, but Aza kept on it, noting that the woods got quieter and quieter the deeper they went, until it became ominously still and silent.

So, Aza stopped.

“Something wrong?” Estinien immediately asked, looking a bit tense himself. He must have picked up on the unnatural silence too.

“Yes,” Aza said slowly, staring at a fallen long lying next to the narrow path. The trees crowded in thick, its dark green canopy sheltering them from the afternoon sun, as stinging nettles and stubborn ferns overgrew the animal trail at their feet. The overhead leaves cast everything into a dark shadow, making it difficult to see more than ten fulms into the woods – which was fine, Aza wasn’t afraid of dark woods, but the silence…

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, and a primal instinct reared its head and growled.

“It’s very quiet,” Aza murmured, turning his head this way and that, his nostrils flaring as he took in the surrounding smells. Wet, earthy, rotting… a very faint undercurrent of decay. He assumed it was vegetation, but- no, there was something wrong with it. The silence was downright oppressive now – blanketing everything until his ears almost rang with it. No birdsong, no chattering animal calls, no distant howls of monsters. Nothing.

Alyrloef’s scent was still here, though. Faint.

Aza turned away.

“Let’s go back,” he said in a no-nonsense tone, “Now.”

For once, Estinien decided not to be contrary. He took one look at whatever expression Aza was making and nodded sharply, one hand lingering on his firearm as they quickly backtracked. As they walked, life returned to the woods the further away they went from that dead spot, tentative at first, then more natural. It was warmer too, and Aza belatedly realised that it had been freezing in that too quiet place, biting cold and intensely pressured.

Neither of them spoke until they were on the outskirts of the wood, able to see Blysslona’s cottage with smoke coming out of its chimney, and then lingered on the boundary, warily eyeing the woods behind them with open caution now.

“That was fucked up,” Estinien said mildly, his mouth pinched as he stared back into the trees with his shoulders tensed, “What the hell was that?”

“No idea, but I didn’t like it,” Aza muttered, rubbing his cold hands together, “Alyrloef’s scent led there, though, to… whatever that dead spot was.”

“Okay,” Estinien pinched the bridge of his nose, took in a breath, and let it out, “Shit. This is going to involve Voidsent, isn’t it?”

Aza didn’t say anything. The hairs on the back of his neck were still prickling, like they brought back whatever had been in the dead spot with them. He looked about them, keenly feeling the aether about him, but it was brimming with life and was untouched and pristine. They must’ve caught the attention of what was whatever in those woods though.

“Are there any stories about the Fogfens?” Aza finally asked, “Horror stories or anything?”

“Just the usual rubbish,” Estinien replied, “There are one or two horror films based on the Fogfens, about some crazed slasher running around terrorising university students camping in there, or something.”

Aza gave Estinien an odd look, wondering why the hell students would go camping in a monster-infested wood. Eorzeans were so weird.

“Are they based on true stories?”

“They’re based on some idiot getting eaten by a roaming Behemoth or feral werewolves because they thought it’d be a brilliant idea to hike through the woods without even a firearm,” Estinien said shortly, “Happens every year.”

“I see,” Aza frowned, wondering if it really was death by wildlife, or death by Voidsent that made it look like wildlife, “I’m gonna call Aym, see what he has to say about this.”

“Oh, it’s Aym now, is it?” Estinien mocked lightly, but he trudged after Aza as they made their way back to Blysslona’s cottage.

As they walked, Aza mulled over everything. First was Alyrloef and his suspicious circumstances. A werewolf that was low-threat, self-medicating himself with wolfsbane in a dangerous manner, and who also vanished for the entirety of the full moon without telling anyone where he’d be. Then there was the dead spot in the woods, that just made his skin crawl remembering it, and Alyrloef’s scent leading straight to it. If he was in werewolf form, he couldn’t have just bumbled into it. Instincts were sharp then, overwhelming, and everything about that dead spot screamed wrong. No self-respecting werewolf would willingly walk into it.

…

Unless that wolf was very sick, poisoned in fact, and their senses dulled and sluggish…

It was as if Aza had the pieces in his hands, but they wouldn’t fully connect as he tried to understand this whole situation. There were too many questions – why was Alyrloef self-medicating? Where the fuck did he go on full moons? What the hell was that dead spot? Had it always been there? And if it was a Voidsent…

Fuck. He really hoped it wasn’t a Voidsent.

They both piled into their car parked outside Blysslona’s cottage when they reached it, and Estinien turned the heater on full blast when they got in. It helped banish the unnatural chill that lingered over them from their, in retrospect, ill-advised romp through the clearly haunted woods.

“I bet the farm woman knows about it,” Estinien said abruptly as Aza activated his linkpearl.

“What, the haunted woods?” Aza muttered, half-listening as he connected a call to Aymeric.

“If this was a horror film,” Estinien said, “She would be involved in some way. The killer, or the Voidsent herself, or something.”

Aza rolled his eyes and didn’t bother dignifying that with a response.

“… Aymeric de Borel speaking.”

“Hey, Aym, it’s me,” Aza greeted, “You got a free moment?”

“Not really, but I’ll take any excuse to procrastinate from my castle of paperwork,” Aymeric said dryly, “Do you need something?”

“Kinda. Some spooky shit is happening up here, and…”

Aza relayed everything he and Estinien had learned and experienced, with Estinien occasionally interjecting a comment here and there. By then the car had became sweltering, so Aza flicked off the heater and cranked the window, the noise of livestock filtering through the gap. Overhead, dark, greyish clouds started to gather.

“I see…” Aymeric sounded troubled, “Voidsent require a specialist to deal with. They don’t fall under Public Relations or Animal Control for a lot of reasons.”

“We’ll have to call in the Thaumaturges,” Estinien grumbled, sounding beyond sour about this, “To examine the dead spot, at least. We can’t fully investigate Alyrloef’s disappearance until we’re sure that a Voidsent won’t try to crawl up our asses during it.”

“Thaumaturges?” Aza parroted, “Who’re they?”

“The creepy Lalafels on floor five that take Goth way too far.”

Oh. Them.

“I’ll lodge a request for Cocobuki to go up to Fogfens at the earliest opportunity,” Aymeric said, “Though, that might take a few days to process…”

Which didn’t bode well for Alyrloef’s already dangerously slim chances of being found alive or sound of mind, “Isn’t there an emergency Voidsent response team or something?”

“The Thaumaturges are already stretched thin themselves,” Aymeric sighed, “Considering this Voidsent is dwelling deep in the woods that has no civilian foot traffic, they would deem it low priority.”

“And the missing person?” Estinien asked mildly.

“Has been missing for several days already,” Aymeric sounded almost apologetic now, “You know how they would view it.”

Aza frowned but said nothing, an almost tense silence falling between them. Yeah, no doubt the Thaumaturges would go in under the assumption that they would be searching for a corpse, rather than a living person, and bodies could keep for a bit. It was a very bitter pill to swallow, and despite Aza understanding the reasoning of it all… he wasn’t happy with it.

“Guess it’s back to base,” Estinien said, sounding very put-out that the day had ended on an anti-climactic note, “Can’t do anything until Cocobuki gets his ass out here to take a look.”

“Right,” Aza mumbled.

“I’ll try to inject some urgency into the request,” Aymeric said quietly, “Cocobuki owes me a favour, so we’ll see how it goes.”

“Thanks, Aym,” Aza said, and after a round of goodbyes disconnected the call. He slumped in his seat, pinching the bridge of his nose. That bad feeling was still lingering but, there was nothing he could do now, was there? If this was back home, on the Steppe, a whole bunch of him and his mates would already be charging into the woods to beat the shit out of the Voidsent, but Eorzea was so tangled up in procedure and red tape that it throttled any attempt to do good.

If Aza hadn’t been a werewolf, he might’ve tried to be a loose cannon, do his own thing like Estinien did from time to time. But he was a werewolf, and that meant try as he might, he had to stick with procedure no matter how stifling. Aymeric and Estinien could only protect him so much, and that was when he stayed in his lane.

“I’ll tell the farm woman we have to bring in a specialised team,” Estinien cut into the silence. His voice was gruff, but the offer was oddly kind, “You can drive back.”

“Oh, yay,” Aza said dully, but was internally relieved. He didn’t want to go to Blysslona and break the news that her son might potentially most definitely be dead or in the thrall of a Voidsent. He was a bit of a coward like that, “Fine. Hurry back.”

Estinien grunted but shoved his way out of the vehicle. Aza clambered over the gearbox to sit in the driver’s side, and muttered as he had to adjust the seat so his feet could even reach the pedals. He technically knew how to drive a vehicle, but last time he did was for his driving test last year, in preparation for this job in Eorzea, but, eh, it’ll be fine, he’s sure.

He glanced out of the window, his ear twitching when a few fat drops of water started hitting the windscreen. Here came the rain, and with it, the disappearance of Alyrloef’s scent.

Aza could still vaguely see the treeline of the woods from the car – nothing more than a dark, looming shape beyond the farm’s fence. It looked innocuous, but now that his instincts were attuned to it, there was a pulse of threat emanating from it, something that made him tighten his fingers on the steering wheel and his inner wolf bare its fangs.

Yet, for a moment – his gaze sharpened when he saw sudden movement at the treeline, too big to be a deer. It looked like, was that a werewol-

He almost leapt right out of his seat when the passenger door was wrenched open, and Estinien tumbled back in cussing and blinding. Aza looked away, to see his co-worker get hilariously stuck when he tried to wedge his legs under the dashboard but couldn’t because Aza had the seat draw up close to it.

“What the- you damn midget,” Estinien hissed, contorting into a weird posture as he tried to grab the seat adjuster.

“Heh,” Aza shamelessly sniggered at him, not moving to help in the slightest, “Looking a bit uncomfortable there, Esty.”

“Fuck you.”

Leaving Estinien be as the man finally managed to wrench his seat back enough to properly sit in it, and finally close the door against the wind, Aza glanced back over towards the treeline. The thing he thought he saw was no longer there, and it was just a simple, dark woods once more.

Aza shook it off and turned the engine on.

“Back to base?” he asked lightly.

“Back home, more like,” Estinien grumbled, buckling his seatbelt and leaning back, “Wake me up when we get there.”

“Aye, aye,” Aza muttered, but he put the car in reverse and started the slow, shaky journey back home.

---

And from the dark treeline, nestling in the cold shadows of its low hanging leaves, a large wolf watched them go.

#ffxiv #fanfic #warrior of light #estinien wyrmblood #aymeric de borel #original characters #mystery fic #modern fantasy au #ao3 link on my tumblr profile if you wanna read on there

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expatimes · 4 years ago

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In Myanmar’s Rakhine, families of the disappeared seek answers | Conflict News

One evening, as Ma Nway* and her family were having dinner, soldiers from Myanmar’s armed forces, known as the Tatmadaw, came to her house and asked for her husband. According to her account, they blindfolded him, took out their guns and beat him in front of her.

“At the time, I could only cry,” said Ma Nway, an ethnic Arakanese from Myanmar’s westernmost Rakhine State, who prefers not to reveal her identity for fear of reprisals. “I feared they would shoot me, so I held my tongue … I felt like they were the most brutal people in the world.”

It was March 16 2020 and the last time she saw her husband. He is among 18 people from the neighbouring villages of Tinma Thit and Tinma Gyi in Rakhine State’s northern Kyauktaw township who were arrested in March and have not been seen since. Their families’ relentless search for information has been met with silence, rejection and threats. Ten months later, they are still looking for answers – and justice.

Three witnesses, whose testimonies align with those published by other media, told Al Jazeera that on March 13 and 16, uniformed soldiers wearing the badge of the Tatmadaw’s Light Infantry Division No. 55 went door to door arresting dozens of men it suspected of having ties to the Arakan Army, an ethnic armed group seeking autonomy.

Most of those arrested were released the same day, but 18 were not. The missing include a 16 year old, three people over the age of 65 and one person who is deaf. Al Jazeera has used pseudonyms for the three witnesses to protect them from possible reprisals.

On March 18, four bodies were seen floating in the Kaladan River near the villages. One of the bodies was identified by family members as among the missing villagers. The family told local media that soldiers shot at them when they approached the body, which the US-government funded broadcaster Radio Free Asia reported was riddled with bullet holes. The three other bodies were never identified.

The villages of Tinma Gyi and Tinma Thit are along the Kaladan River. Four bodies were found floating down the river last March

All of the missing are Arakanese, also called Rakhine, a predominantly Buddhist ethnic group thought to make up the majority in the state. Frustrated with political marginalisation and perceived domination under Myanmar’s ethnic Bamar majority, increasing numbers of Arakanese have in recent years joined the Arakan Army (AA). Since conflict escalated in late 2018, nearly 1,000 civilians have been killed or seriously injured in violence including indiscriminate air raids, gunfire, and landmines and more than 230,000 have fled their homes.

‘House to house’

The arrests in Tinma Gyi and Tinma Thit occurred following two weeks of intense clashes near the villages. “Tatmadaw soldiers went house to house, calling the men,” said Tun Hla,* who was among those arrested and released. “I don’t know why we were arrested by the Tatmadaw. At the time, the soldiers didn’t give any reason … 10 people were tied and beaten with guns in front of me.”

Days later, the villagers fled.

Zaw Win, a local advocate helping the families of the missing to seek justice, told Al Jazeera that three elderly men stayed in Tinma Gyi to watch over the monastery and have also not been seen since. Shortly after the villages were deserted, the houses were razed. Villagers blame the Tatmadaw, which has denied responsibility.

Myanmar’s police forces sit under the Ministry of Home Affairs, which is under the jurisdiction of the Tatmadaw. On March 23, a group of family members of the missing, now scattered in different displacement camps, filed a case regarding the disappearances with township police. Letters were also sent to the Myanmar National Human Rights Commission and the offices of the commander-in-chief, president, and state counsellor, calling for an investigation.

No updates came until June, when a Tatmadaw spokesperson denied anyone had been arrested in the two villages. Five more months of silence followed. On November 27, the Tatmadaw spokesperson announced that the families could open a case at the relevant police station and that if the police reported any suspicious information, the Tatmadaw would decide whether to conduct its own investigation.

The families returned to the township police station on December 8, but Ma Nway told Al Jazeera the officers on duty warned them against opening a case. “Regarding the initial case, the police told us their paperwork disappeared,” she said. “Then, they threatened us several times that we could be detained and sent to jail.”

“They said this case doesn’t concern them, and we should go to the Tatmadaw station to inquire,” added Zaw Win, who accompanied the villagers to the police station. “When we replied that the police had a responsibility to seek justice, they said they could immediately detain and send us to jail.”

A woman whose husband and two family members have been missing since they were arrested in March. She now lives in a displacement camp on a monastery compound in the Rakhine State capital

The Myanmar National Human Rights Commission, which has faced criticism for not intervening in other high-profile cases, has also done little to support the Tinma villagers.

Kyauktaw township legislator Tun Win, who submitted the request to investigate the case, told Al Jazeera the commission responded in November that the Tinma villagers were not detained by the Tatmadaw. Its chairperson told local media on December 30 that the pandemic prevented an on-site investigation and that the commission had closed the case after inquiring with the defence ministry, which denied the Tatmadaw’s involvement.

A police investigation finally began on December 29, when district police in the nearby town of Mrauk-U called the villagers in for questioning. Ma Nway stayed behind out of fear. “I feel like my children and I are not safe since my husband disappeared. I am really worried we could be attacked because we filed charges,” she said. According to Radio Free Asia, the police took statements from 15 people.

The next day, the Tatmadaw spokesperson stated that concerned persons could file reports and present credible evidence with the local military division office or regional military commanders.

Al Jazeera’s calls to the Tatmadaw spokesperson, township and district police stations, Myanmar National Human Rights Commission and Rakhine State government spokesperson went unanswered. Media are only allowed to report from Rakhine with permission and official escorts and the government has restricted mobile internet services across conflict-affected townships including Kyauktaw since June 2019.

Local lawyer Zaw Win told Al Jazeera he was frustrated by an apparent lack of political will to address the case. “All authorities have to take responsibility,” he said. “Those in power need to know the situation, follow human rights standards and seek justice.”

History of impunity

The Tatmadaw is notorious for committing rights abuses with impunity, most notably following a brutal 2017 crackdown on Rakhine State’s mostly Muslim Rohingya that sent 740,000 fleeing to Bangladesh. A UN Independent International Fact-Finding Mission stated in a September 2019 report that Myanmar was failing in its obligation to prevent, investigate or enact effective legislation criminalising and punishing genocide in relation to its treatment of the Rohingya.

The Fact-Finding mission also, in an August 2018 report, identified enforced disappearances among crimes against humanity committed in Kachin, Rakhine and Shan States for which Myanmar’s top military generals must be investigated and prosecuted.

Yanghee Lee detailed a pattern of military abuses including crimes against humanity and enforced disappearances during her tenure as the UN special rapporteur on Myanmar

The Tinma villagers’ cases are not the only enforced disappearances to have occurred in Rakhine State since the report was released. Between January and June 2020, at least 30 civilians disappeared in the state after being arrested by the Tatmadaw, according to a tally by the Rakhine-based Development Media Group. As of October, Radio Free Asia counted 32 more who died after being taken into Tatmadaw custody from the start of 2019 to October 12.

In April 2020, UN human rights expert Yanghee Lee said accountability was critical to ending the conflict between the AA and Tatmadaw. “Having faced no accountability, the Tatmadaw continues to operate with impunity,” she said in a statement. “They are now targeting all civilians in the conflict area …Their alleged crimes must be investigated in accordance with international standards, with perpetrators being held accountable.”

Myo Myat Hein, the chair of the Arakan Lawyers Council which is providing legal aid to the families of the missing Tinma villagers, also emphasised the importance of accountability. “It isn’t acceptable just to say the villagers are missing, because several people saw the Tatmadaw detain them,” he told Al Jazeera. “Conflict actors need to build trust beyond just talking about the national peace process.”

Since mid-November, fighting between the AA and Tatmadaw has eased and an informal ceasefire is in place.

Women who were forced from their homes by fighting in Tinma have taken shelter in the railway station at Kyauktaw

Dialogue is now taking place for the first time since December 2019. Tun Win, the Kyauktaw township legislator, emphasises the urgency of achieving justice for the Tinma villagers and others affected by human rights abuses in the state. “I welcome peace negotiations,” he said. “But if the perpetrators have impunity, it will be difficult to achieve sustainable peace.”

For the families of the missing, the current absence of clashes offers little solace. “Although the AA and Tatmadaw have stopped fighting for two months, we haven’t heard anything about our villagers’ case,” said Bo Aung,* whose son is among the missing.

Ma Nway said she lies sleepless at night, worrying about her husband and fearing for her and her children’s safety and survival. They were unable to harvest their paddy fields this season, and are living on 15,000 kyats ($11) a month in food aid. Ma Nway wants to go home but still fears the soldiers stationed near her village. “As long as they are staying there, we won’t be safe,” she said.

*Pseudonyms have been used to protect the security of witnesses.

#humanrights Read full article: https://expatimes.com/?p=17067&feed_id=29754 #asiapacific #conflict #features #humanrights #myanmar #news

#AsiaPacific #Conflict #Features #HumanRights #Myanmar #News

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hybridequalist · 7 years ago

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Another Day on the Job

Fandom: Batman

Characters: Jonathan Crane, Jervis Tetch, Edward Nigma

Words: 3400

Notes: This is based on a buddy cop AU @askarkham came up with about a month ago.

If you like what you read, let me know and feel free to reblog!

What was it about police stations and the sound of typing? The two were inseparable. On most mornings, Jonathan would have found it charming but after the late night he'd had, he was more inclined to find the constant sound infuriating.

Reaching his desk, the lanky brunette shrugged off his jacket and removed a few case files from his bag, stacking them next to his desktop computer. When he finished the short prep of his workspace, he turned around and--right on time--his partner walked up with a fresh mug of tea in his hand.

"G'morin' Jon," Jervis greeted him, the weariness in his tone letting the taller man know he hadn't been the only one burning the midnight oil. "Brought you your usual."

Jonathan took the offered drink and sipped at it. The faintly bitter taste of dandelion root hit his tongue, softened by just a touch of honey, and he sighed in contentment. The short blonde truly had a gift for making herbal blends for any and every situation. When he'd first come on the force, many of the officers had been skeptical but after a few short months they were all singing his praises. It was common knowledge now that if Jervis came up to you with a mug of tea in his hands, it was in your best interest to drink it before questioning it.

"Do you know if forensics has come up with anything relevant regarding the crime scene?" Jonathan asked, taking his seat and booting up the computer.

"They hadn't when I arrived, but that was almost twenty minutes ago," Jervis shrugged. "They might have messaged since. Edward was also taunting me again earlier, claiming to have another 'hint' as he calls it."

"That freelancer knows exactly where he can put that attitude, lest I be forced to do it for him," Jonathan growled, taking another gulp of tea as he logged on and opened the department email. Scrolling through the messages left there overnight, his scowl deepened when he couldn't find what he was looking for.

"Doesn’t anyone do their jobs?!" he spat irritably. "The scene is over twenty-four hours old and still nothing out of forensics! What are they doing to make it take so long?!"

"You're ranting, Jonathan," Jervis sighed, catching sight of the nervous glances the other nearby officers and detectives were giving his partner. "Did you forget to eat breakfast again? You become a complete bandersnatch when you're hungry."

Seemingly from nowhere, the blonde produced a small tupperware containing a bagel sandwich and gave it to his tall counterpart, who took it and all but ripped it open as he began to compose a message to the forensics team.

This was not a typical morning in the Criminal Investigation Division--not anymore--but it was not uncommon either: before Tetch's assignment, the foul attitude from his partner had been a daily pattern that ended in a lot of people getting shouted at and tensions running high. Jonathan Crane had a brilliant mind and undoubtedly the best profiler and investigator in the CID, but he wasn't much of a team player. Combined with how often he lost himself in his work--frequently to the point of forgetting to take care of himself--his work life was mostly solitary and no one wanted to stay partners with him for long. Jervis Tetch had been heaven-sent in that regard: his much more optimistic attitude and surprising grit made him perfectly suited to endure Crane's cynicism and he was a genius in his own right--despite his odd quirks involving hats, the works of Lewis Carroll and his teas. He had first been something of a curiosity to Jonathan and had been tolerated merely to learn more. However, the lanky investigator soon found himself quite attached to the newcomer, a phenomenon he was still at a loss to explain. They also worked well together despite the occasional clash of opinions which was much better than trading partners every few weeks when a problem arose.

The rest of the morning passed largely without incident, forensics finally sending in their findings near 11. Jonathan and Jervis went over the paper together and, much to their frustration, were unable to determine much as there was little substance in the evidence to start with.

"This is absolutely ridiculous!" the taller of the pair grumbled, fingers drumming on the desk as he reread the details for the fifth time. "Fingerprints all over the scene but 'no indication of any patterns'? 'The unidentified hair sample disintegrated when exposed to testing fluid'? 'Blood sample matched nothing in Gotham's database'?! You'd think we were hunting a ghost instead of some joker dressing as a clown!"

"Maybe he fell into a vat of chemicals or something?" Jervis suggested with a shrug. "Had his fingerprints burned off and his hair damaged?"

"I wouldn't put that beyond the realm of possibility, especially in this city," Jonathan admitted. "Still, the odds of that being the case are slim at best. More likely he was wearing gloves and lost that hair in one of the explosions he set off to account for the fragility."

"Bother," the englishman sighed. "So I assume we're to go over the case reports from the scene again?"

"It's our only lead on his patterns as of now," the brunette replied shortly. "Unless he attacks again or one of his thugs can be identified--

It was at this moment that both investigators' phones went off, the ringing startling them into silence. After a moment, Jervis went to answer his device as Jonathan rolled his eyes. There was only one person who would go to such dramatic lengths to get their shared attention. Still, he pulled out his own and answered the call.

"Still having trouble, boys?" The voice from the phone was rich and teasing. "Looks like I'll be winning my bet with miss Kyle after all. She truly thought you two would have a better lead by now."

"If you're here to gloat, I will end this call and never respond to your messages again," Jonathan threatened with a growl. "Your only contact with us should be to pass along information."

There was a heavy sigh on the other end that made the brunette roll his eyes. Edward Nigma was one of the most infuriating people on the planet, but being an underworld informant was a hard career path in Gotham and he did an excellent job of it--things that meant he was likely to remain on Police payroll for as long as he remained uncompromised.

"Fine, fine. Take all the fun out of it why don't you?" the criminal grumbled. "I figured you two would be very interested to learn that one of the goons you've been trying to track down is currently relaxing in a club and bragging about his new job working for that clown. A fantastically easy catch after so much hard work. It's probably a setup...or maybe he really is that stupid. Hard to tell with Gotham's masses."

"Address and name," Jonathan ordered shortly.

"I'll get the radio," Jervis offered, darting off with surprising speed.

"Guy who you're looking for is Tommy Payaso. Used to be a nurse but quit for mysterious reasons," Edward was saying. "He's currently getting himself a drink at a club called the Luna. Nice place. Bit pricy considering their mediocre menu. I advise not charging in with guns blazing--he’s armed."

"If this is truly a lead, I will withdraw your arrest warrant," the slim investigator replied. "If not--"

"No need to sour the air with your threats, Jonny-boy," the freelancing informant drawled. "I know what you want to do with me already--it's the same thing every time. Change it up, why don't you?"

The call ended with a faint click and Jonathan bit back a violent curse. One of these days, Edward was going to push his luck a little too far and he would be more than happy to be the one delivering the consequences.

As it happened, Edward's tip had been a solid one--which had been good for everybody involved. The thug hadn't come in easy, but he was now securely cuffed in one of the interrogation rooms. Jonathan and Jervis both stood behind the one-way glass. The blonde was rifling through the man's file while his partner eyed the criminal appraisingly. "Matches Edward's description perfectly," Jervis commented. "Used to be a nurse before he suddenly resigned. No prior criminal record...but he has a history of mood swings and aggression in both the workplace and among his peers." "No doubt caused by family-related trauma," the taller man remarked. "Probably his father's doing; it often is." "So far, he's remained silent to all interrogation, but he hasn't asked for an attorney either. I doubt he'll open up to us unless we...push..." Jonathan glanced sideways at his partner. Jervis' brow was furrowed and he was staring off into space. He knew that look: the englishman was very expressive and this particular one was common when their work took an often necessary but unpleasant turn; he was trying to visualize some alternate way to go about the next phase of their investigation--one that might prevent anyone involved from suffering harm.

“See if he responds to you,” the brunette stated abruptly. “If the clown prepared him with misinformation in case of capture, I’d prefer to know sooner than later. As head investigator on this case, you’re a more valuable place to set up the red herring than the other officers.”

“But I’m still the junior partner,” Jervis protested. “I--”

“Mister Payaso doesn’t know that,” Jonathan interjected. “And as admirable as it is for you to try spare him a session with me, it is our only effective option left should he not give you anything at all.”

“There are other ways, Jonathan,” the shorter man mumbled. “You know that.”

“Better it remains on my conscience than weighing on yours,” the analyst replied, resting a hand on Jervis’ shoulder. “My mind is made up. If you finish early, I will be downstairs in the lab.”

Jonathan strode away, the door closing almost silently behind him. His partner sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair and then rubbing the back of his neck.

“Can’t you see it’s you I’m trying to spare from this?” he asked the empty room. “I can’t stand watching what that concoction does to you…”

Tommy Payaso had known he was going to be interrogated from the very beginning when the cops had gotten their meaty hands on him. While he had no idea who had tipped them off he was working with Gotham’s newest criminal mastermind, he had been successful in remaining silent and frustrating the police’s efforts. Their latest tactic to send in the investigator heading the case had also been useless--Tommy was a lot of things, but he was not a snitch.

“There are protections we can offer you, potentially reduced or nulled prison sentences as well,” the short blonde was saying to the henchman. “You’ve never been to prison before, Mr. Payaso; I can assure you that if you are incarcerated in Gotham, it will be a dangerous and potentially fatal venture.”

“Look, investigator tea and crumpets or whatever,” Tommy grumbled, leaning back in his chair and “I’m not saying anything, so how about you scurry back off to your office and let the officers process my paperwork and I’ll get out of your hair. You have no evidence to say I did anything and I have nothing to confess.”

The door suddenly swung open, making both men in the interrogation room jolt at the sound of it. The first thing Tommy registered about the man who entered was his intimidating height followed almost immediately at how distant and cold those hazel eyes were.

“We will see if you truly have nothing to confess, Mr. Payaso,” the newcomer said in an eerily calm voice.

“Jonathan, I’m still working here,” the english investigator said, rising (which did little to improve his height compared to the brunette beanpole)

“I have been observing your efforts and made the call that you were not making sufficient progress,” the other investigator replied firmly. “It is crucial we get something useful from the suspect and your methods are not going to get results in a timely manner.”

“I still don’t think this is necessary,” the blonde grumbled.

“While I value your opinion, Tetch, I already told you my mind was made up on this matter. Now, if you would excuse yourself, I need to be alone with Mr. Payaso.”

Mr. Tetch still seemed unhappy with the arrangement, but he nevertheless obeyed the politely implied command. He strode to the still-open door, paused on the threshold.

“‘Beware the Jabberwock, my son’,” he said in a low voice. “‘The jaws that bite, the claws that catch. Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun the frumious Bandersnatch’.”

And then the door closed, leaving Tommy with the new interrogator.

As “Jonathan” took a seat, the henchman looked the lanky man over. He didn’t seem to be in very good fighting shape due to his slim frame--more of an intellectual than someone who was active in the field. However, there was a strong aura of intimidation that surrounded him, making even the small motions of moving his chair forward seem threatening.

Settle down, Tommy, he told himself. It’s just a good cop versus bad cop scenario. Besides, I could knock him over even with my hands in these cuffs no problem. This guy isn’t so bad.

“Do you believe in God, Mr. Payaso?”

The question was so abrupt that it caught Tommy off guard. “What?”

“Do you believe in a God?” the investigator repeated.

“What does it matter if I do?” the suspect spat back.

“Well,” Jonathan said slowly, a small smirk forming on his face, “I was going to give you the opportunity to pray before we get started here. Because you see, Mr. Payaso, once I begin my interrogation, only two things will stop your torment: your confession or divine intervention.”

The smirk was still slowly growing, edging on gleeful now. Tommy decided he didn’t like that smile--it made a chill run down his spine.

“But as you have not answered, I will assume you prefer not to call upon His help,” the brunette continued. “Now, you may have noticed that your chair has armrests with cuffs. I am going to remove your current pair and instead secure you to your seat so you don’t flail about too much.”

The investigator rose to his full height, setting a briefcase Tommy hadn’t noticed before on the table between them. He came around and began to undo the handcuffs and Tommy immediately tried to get out of his reach. But somehow the scrawny man managed to catch hold of him and pin his wrists to the table.

“Now now,” Jonathan chided, still looking far too happy. “You can struggle as much as you like once I have you restrained. But there is no escaping this, understand?”

Looking into those hazel eyes--strangely emotionless despite his expression--Tommy got the strong sense that if he tried something like that again, this still-unknown horrible thing that was about to happen to him would get infinitely worse. He hadn’t gotten a feeling like that since he’d met the Boss and that realization made a cold sweat start to gather on his brow.

One Jonathan had finished cuffing the nervous suspect, he returned to the table and opened the briefcase.

“It doesn’t matter what your goal is or who you’re working for,” he mused, more to himself than to Tommy. “Sooner or later, someone always talks. And what convinces them to talk? Their fear. You assumed when I came in that this was going to be like one of those television dramas where I yell at you and throw things and make you afraid that I will beat the answers I’m seeking out of you. Quite frankly, that is truly a barbaric way to accomplish the goal of a confession. I won’t have to even touch you to get what I want from you; you’ll give it to me quite willingly.”

Tommy watched in silent apprehension as the lanky man withdrew what appeared to be a burlap sack from the case. Jonathan admired it for a moment and the handcuffed man realized it was a mask of some sort, roughly shaped like the head of a scarecrow.

“Do try to resist screaming,” he said, reaching into the case again and removing a cannister. “You can’t give me the information I want if you lose your voice, now can you?”

Jonathan did not see Jervis for the whole rest of the day. It had been several hours since Tommy Payaso had finally broken down and blubbered out everything he knew about his employer’s plans, allowing the brunette to come down from the rush he felt using the Toxin and learning his victim’s worst fears. When finally it was the end of his shift, Jonathan decided to see if he could catch his partner before he left for the night.

He managed to find him in the break room, sipping a cup of tea with a strong floral scent next to the window.

“Jervis,” he greeted him.

“Jonathan,” the blonde replied curtly.

A heavy silence fell between them, Jonathan awkwardly standing in the doorway with his briefcase and watching as Jervis drank his herbal blend and stare out into the night sky.

“You know I didn’t mean to undermine or offend you when I took over the interrogation,” the taller man eventually said.

“Just as you know that isn’t the reason why I’m cross with you,” Jervis shot back.

“Tetch, we’ve been over this; the Toxin is highly effective in interrogation scenarios for ensuring truthful confessions from the suspects.”

“But that doesn’t mean it’s right, Jonathan!” the englishman burst, slamming down his cup and slopping hot liquid onto the table. “It’s cruel and it doesn’t just affect the victims either! Do you have any idea who you become when you use that gas of yours?!”

“I’m in control,” Jonathan insisted, tone sharp.

“Are you? Are you really? Because sometimes I start to wonder, Jon!”

The brunette waited until Jervis’ breathing had somewhat settled and he was no longer holding his teacup in a deathgrip before he crossed the room and sat opposite his partner. Still, he remained quiet to let the smaller man speak when he was ready.

“I don’t like how much you rely on it,” the blonde admitted. “It’s like...like it’s becoming your go-to method, no matter how certain we are on a suspect’s guilt.”

“I could always let you be the harsh one instead--the ‘bad cop’ as it were,” Jonathan suggested. “You can be incredibly fierce once you let all the propriety go.”

“And then perhaps everyone would stop saying I’m so ‘adorable’,” Jervis muttered, a faint grin crossing his face as the thought played out in his mind. He quickly hid the emotion with a gulp of his remaining tea before rising to grab some napkins and clean up his spill. Jonathan let a weary smile at that before his usual somber expression returned.

Both men knew this would not be the last time this topic would come up between them--it was nowhere near resolved--but now was not the time to discuss it: they were tired from their hard day’s work and their emotions were still too close to the surface to keep from fighting about it more. For tonight, they would put it aside.

“Would you like to walk out with me?” the taller man offered. “It’s about time to leave.”

“Wait a mo,” Jervis replied, taking his cup to the sink and rinsing it before he put it back into the cupboard. One it was safely in his place, he returned to his seat and picked up his bag. “There we are. After you.”

The walk was silent until they reached the front doors of the station. Standing at the bottom step, the two exchanged their goodbyes.

“Hopefully we’ll be able to move forward in our investigation tomorrow,” Jervis said.

“If the night shift doesn’t ruin everything,” Jonathan added. “Until then, Tetch.”

“Make sure you eat a proper meal when you get home; I don’t want there to be a bandersnatch at your desk in the morning.”

“Yes ‘mother’.”

#batman #Jonathan Crane #Jervis Tetch #edward nigma #hybridwrites #fanfic post #fanfiction #AU #buddy cop #long post

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bangkokjacknews · 5 years ago

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'Assassination squads' - Thai exiles speak of life in fear

When political activist Sirawith Seritiwat was attacked at a bus stop in suburban #Bangkok in June 2019, the ripples were soon felt among Thailand's exiled dissidents.

Sirawith, 27, was chased down the street and beaten by a group of men carrying sticks, the most violent encounter he had endured in more than five years opposing the military junta which assumed control of Thailand in 2014. He has been detained and charged more than any other activist since the coup. The attacks on Thai dissidents and pro-democracy activists are becoming increasingly violent and are being felt across ASEAN countries. And for political exiles who are critical of the monarchy –many of whom are wanted for lese-majeste or royal defamation – the attacks can be deadly. Nithiwat Wannasiri is an exiled member of the protest band Faiyen who is living across the border in Laos. He felt certain Sirawith's attack was connected to the deaths of two of his associates and the disappearance of six others in the past three years. “It’s made us concerned ... We know that they’re the same murderers in ,” he said.

Democracy activist Sirawith Seritiwat leads a demonstration in May 2018.CREDIT:AP On New Year's Eve, two bodies washed up on the banks of the Mekong River on the Thai-Laos border. They were gutted and stuffed with concrete to weigh them down, and were later identified as belonging to colleagues of Surachai Danwattananusorn, who has spent decades opposing the monarchy and military regimes. Surachai himself has been missing since December 2018. On May 8, three close associates of the band were detained entering Vietnam and have not been heard from since. Reports of abductions in the Lao capital, Vientiane, date from June 2016. All those missing or dead are fierce critics of the junta and question the role of the Thai monarchy. Sunday’s assault on Sirawith also coincided with threats the band has received in recent weeks – a series of vitriolic and personal messages suggesting they were the next targets of attackers apparently undeterred by the border. Faiyen member Worravut “Tito” Thueakchaiyaphum, 30, said the exiled critics had been living with threats for five years, but it “has become more serious because eight people have been made disappeared”. “Now the focus is on Faiyen because we are the last group. We are the last group broadcasting into Thailand,” he said.

Members of the Faiyen protest band in Laos: Nithiwat Wannasiri, Worravut Thueakchaiyaphum, Romchalee Sombulrattanakul and Trairong Sinseubpol. CREDIT:AP “They sent an assassination squad into Laos. We worked together, we were very close to the victims. “I am not a criminal, and thinking differently about the monarch is not criminal. Criticising the monarchy should not be a death sentence." Named for a handheld sparkler, and literally translated as "cool fire", Faiyen's sweet blend of Thai folk and pop music belies the subversiveness of their lyrics. They take direct aim at the monarchy and the country's elite, often including or adapting chants from political rallies. The band broadcasts on radio and uses live social media feeds to spread their music and messages. Worravut said he and his friends were “the people who want to see Thailand develop and advance".

"We are not criminals. We want our struggle to be known internationally. This is a liberty and freedom people should have to think differently. We hope the brutality and barbaric acts of the Thai junta will be condemned.” Human Rights Watch Thailand senior researcher Sunai Phasuk said both the attack on Sirawith and the threats to Faiyen were part of a broader crackdown on dissent, but likely fell into separate categories. Sirawith was one of three high-profile victims of non-lethal attacks on Thai territory. These were likely about short-term politics, because they targeted opponents of Prayut Chan-o-cha – the junta leader who this week was confirmed as the country's Prime Minister. Those in Laos, Vietnam and a registered asylum seeker forcibly returned from Malaysia last month were different.

Surachai Danwattananusorn faces court in Bangkok in 2012. He later went into exile in Laos and has not been seen since December 12, 2018. CREDIT:AP "They are enemies of the palace,” Sunai said, adding the Prayut administration had made tracking down dissidents in exile a priority. However, Sunai said it was unclear who was behind the deaths and disappearances. The claims of squads travelling to neighbouring countries were serious and were unlike anything he had heard of before, but were unproven. “There’s no evidence because there’s no investigation,” he said. “Laos has responded as if nothing has happened. What has made them turn a blind eye? When the bodies appeared it should have been a red light. What happened? Nothing. “All the combined signals, even though there’s no clear evidence, suggest someone significant enough to put them under the rug. It has to be someone really powerful to influence authorities in two countries.” There was also an element of reciprocity with the latest disappearances, as blogger Truong Duy Nhat had been abducted from a Bangkok mall on January 26, Sunai said. He re-emerged in Vietnamese custody, with authorities saying he had been held since January 28. Sunai said the Thai government had been persistent in asking for assistance to track down political exiles, but with ASEAN countries helping it showed “nowhere is safe for these dissidents any more”. The rights group repeatedly asked both the Thai and Vietnamese governments about the three activists who vanished on May 8 only to be told there is “no information”. “They don’t even care to open an investigation. Laos itself says they have never been in Laos.” The threats, Sunai said, are at a “new high”. “It has become more intensified and more deadly. I’ve never seen anything like this myself.” The lack of official response has been consistent. Thailand’s senior Deputy Prime Minister Prawit Wongsuwan, a former army chief who is also defence minister, was asked directly about the whereabouts of the three arrested in Vietnam. The government knew nothing, he said. https://bangkokjack.com/2019/04/17/thailand-north-korean-model/ After the second disappearance, in July 2016, the army chief of the day said he knew only what was on the news. A promised inquiry into the deaths has failed to materialise. Junya Yimprasert, a fugitive from lese-majeste charges who fled Thailand in 2010, has seen exiles leave in waves during 15 years of political unrest. Speaking from Finland, where she is helping campaign for Faiyen to find asylum in a third country, she said there were cases where teenage Facebook page administrators had to flee within hours of being wanted for material posted online. “The Thai media totally censor themselves,” Junya said. “Even the most progressive outlets will be very careful. That is the tragedy of Thailand.” While Junya has adjusted to a new life, she said the consequences of exile were profound. “Many of us have lost contacts, we have to stop contacting our families an we cut relations with close friends,” she said. “And there will be more.”

Exiled Thai dissident Worravut “Tito” Thueakchaiyaphum fears for his life. CREDIT:WORRAVUT “TITO” THUEAKCHAIYAPHUM Taking care not to give away his location, Worravut said the band members never travelled alone, rotated a 24-hour guard at their property and had moved frequently over the years. Threats came electronically, as did warnings from friends and family. They had never seen who was after them. Those who did were never heard from again. “Everyone who has been abducted has been found dead or is presumed dead,” Worravut said. “I don’t know how many spies have been monitoring my movements, but when they come it will be the end of me.” - Brisbane Times – You can follow BangkokJack on Instagram, Twitter & Reddit. Or join the free mailing list (top right) Please help us continue to bring the REAL NEWS - PayPal Read the full article

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tristanleggett · 5 years ago

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B2B Marketing Strategies in IT Consulting [Codete Case Study]

Based in Berlin, but with Polish roots, the IT consulting company, Codete, is in really good company, working with KIA, Cisco, BMW, Porsche...

120+ employees are working in projects related to cloud computing, data science, IoT, machine learning, artificial intelligence, from various verticals.

We had to find out what made Codete grow, how it’s dealing with employer branding in a very competitive tech landscape and how it markets itself.

So, follow me while I tell you the Codete growth story.

Codete: Krakow’s Thriving IT Consulting Company

With a portfolio of world-renowned clients, a continuously growing website traffic and being the host of a plethora of tech events, Codete is inspiring the Polish tech community.

We wanted to dig up among Codete’s marketing and employer branding strategies to see how they attract both employees and clients in a crowded tech market.

So, what’s the formula behind Codete’s success?

You’ll find out that:

Building a community around you is a must

Going inbound is a marathon, but with patience and strategic thinking, results will show up

Employer branding is a long-term process that will make a difference in a noisy landscape

TABLE OF CONTENT

Brand Awareness at Codete

Codete in Social Media

Traffic Acquisition at Codete

Codete’s Content Marketing Strategy

Codete’s Paid Traffic Acquisition

Summing Up

Brand Awareness at Codete

Due to a dizzying array of media channels available, things seem to be getting out of control in terms of communication. Your stakeholders can speak of you on every channel in every corner of the world, and damage control is freaking hard now. It’s like walking on thin ice.

How can you deal with all of it and come out unharmed?

How can you build a strong brand?

This is what we’re trying to understand when analyzing Codete.

Codete in Social Media

Now, almost everyone has built at least one profile on a social media platform. So, as long as your stakeholders are active in social media, you should be there too. And that’s that.

So, what is Codete doing about it?

Let’s find out.

Facebook

For Codete, the Facebook profile is very much used for community building and employer branding.

Workshops, meetups, and other community events are promoted.

Also hiring posts are everywhere. It seems that Codete has some big growth plans.

Also for Berlin, hiring seems to be a burning issue. In March 20019, Codete was willing even to relocate developers to Berlin.

In terms of content types, Codete also seems to be embracing video.

The LinkedIn account is not promoting the company’s services, but broadcasting news about events they organize or the hiring opportunities they have.

As on Facebook, videos are leveraged in LinkedIn as well.

No opportunity is missed to speak about awards, nominations, celebrations:

Employer Branding and Hiring

A company is only as good as its people.

Today’s IT consulting companies are trying to build a workspace that combines amusement and fun with professional and personal fulfillment.

What about Codete?

“Team building is our fundamental value” - they say.

And throughout the social media messaging they’re broadcasting this: from videos, photos, testimonials.

Interestingly, they’re building a personal brand around Codete’s founder and CTO, Karol Przystalski. He is a speaker at multiple events and O’Reilly trainer.

Now, we spoke of some events being hosted by Codete and promoted via social media channels.

These events are employer branding tools. They give Codete a voice among IT specialists around Poland and Germany and send a positive message that they are involved in the community and love to share knowledge.

Next, let’s take a look a bit at the perks Codete's employees receive: from career support to personal development and health perks.

Looking at the Codete vacancies, they want to hire at least 18 new people, mostly developers. Some of them will be assigned to specific projects, as this one:

The thing that caught my eye when investigating whether Codete does any paid ads, is this ad:

and this is its landing page:

Codete is trying to attract tech talent from Ukraine for its IT consulting business and is offering a relocation package for the whole family if need be! (We’ve covered the tech Ukrainian talent market here, if you need the bigger picture.)

Some testimonials from non-Polish employees are used for social proof.

Community Building

The marketing and sales environment has become so cluttered. We’ve got salespeople, marketers, short content, long-form content, video content, social media messages, chatbots.

So, for the jaded consumers, events might just be the answer they’ve been looking for.

So, what about Codete? Are they getting involved in the community by organizing events?

Hell, yeah!

Check this out!

We’ve got meetups, workshops (mostly paid) and a conference going on.

Now, let’s move on to CodeteCON, the conference organized by Codete.

In November 2019, in Krakow, the attendees have listened to speakers from Capgemini, BMW and more, across 3 tracks: Data Science, Back-end and Front-end.

Next, Codete even used to list online classes on the O’Reilly learning platform:

Codete’s Website

Moving on to Codete’s website, we notice a simple layout with intuitive navigation.

The first thing that you see on the website is the list of clients, which are top-notch by the way.

Is this making you trust the Codete expertise? Pretty much. And the short case studies are reinforcing this.

The services are as clear as possible.

So, no questions asked. Everything looks clear for a potential client.

Codete’s Traffic Acquisition

Now, let’s look a bit at Codete’s website traffic sources.

It seems that they’ve placed a bet on content marketing, and traffic is coming that way - 86% of it in December 2019.

In our next chapter, we’ll go deeper into Codete’s content strategy, we’ll analyze the whole funnel, based on the RACE framework.

So, let’s start.

Codete’s Content Marketing Strategy

REACH

On the reach side of the RACE Framework, Codete’s developing a blog around topics such as technology & development, data science, consulting, big data, personal development, machine learning, project management.

The traffic is growing steadily. The number of organic keywords peaked at 1.8k in November 2019. Still, there’s more place for growth, because only around 100 keywords show up on the first page of Google results (on the US market, via Semrush data).

The content is written by marketers, engineers or developers, HR people, depending on the subject.

Besides blog articles, they have case studies that reinforce the fact they’ve got lots of software development experience and developed a stunning client portfolio.

Now, looking more at some numbers, the technical content on the blog accrues most of the traffic, as we’ve already been used to.

We’ve identified a keyword cluster around “java 8” and “java 11” for which Codete is really well-positioned in the organic results.

Looking at the backlinks that Codete gets, the ones coming from high domain authority websites point out to the homepage as well as to blog pages.

They got some good quality backlinks from Reddit, Financial Times, dev.to and more.

ACT

At the act level, users are getting more engaged with the Codete and it’s here where they become leads.

I haven’t discovered any lead magnets being used for lead generation purposes.

Instead, Codete makes use of a newsletter.

CONVERT

At this level, this IT consulting company is developing paid workshops, which can serve two purposes: getting new clients or getting potential employees in the pipeline.

Codete’s Paid Traffic Acquisition

Now, let’s move on a bit to the paid marketing efforts.

As I’ve mentioned before, Codete used paid search ads to attract potential employees from Ukraine.

Also, search ads were being used to promote Codete or meetups Codete attended.

These are some display ads they used. Might be for remarketing.

In terms of Facebook ads, it seems hiring is still the focus.

Summing Up

So, which is the most important takeaway for today?

Brands use live events because they are an excellent channel to create experiences for potential employees and clients.

Marketers nowadays realize that the power of face-to-face marketing can go hand in hand with digital tactics. Codete understands this really well and takes event organizing to a whole new level, from organizing its own conference, to building workshops or hosting meetups.

In a very digitized world, human interactions and live experiences are more valued than ever. You can no longer hide behind a screen and prepare your digital marketing strategies. Real-life connections are a must.

Every company we’ve analyzed so far has left some unique fingerprints from the marketing point of view. If you haven’t read the rest of the stories, make sure you do.

The growth stories of Poznan, Wroclaw, Krakow or Warsaw are inspiring in the IT outsourcing industry, more info in our Growth Marketing Secrets of Top European Software Houses Ebook

if(window.strchfSettings === undefined) window.strchfSettings = {}; window.strchfSettings.stats = {url: "https://man-digital.storychief.io/it-consulting?id=1045316090&type=12",title: "B2B Marketing Strategies in IT Consulting [Codete Case Study]",id: "4f08255c-5e51-436c-99aa-71482a308009"}; (function(d, s, id) { var js, sjs = d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0]; if (d.getElementById(id)) {window.strchf.update(); return;} js = d.createElement(s); js.id = id; js.src = "https://d37oebn0w9ir6a.cloudfront.net/scripts/v0/strchf.js"; js.async = true; sjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js, sjs); }(document, 'script', 'storychief-jssdk')) from Digital Marketing Automation Consulting | MAN Digital https://mandigitalblog.blogspot.com/2020/01/b2b-marketing-strategies-in-it.html via https://mandigitalblog.blogspot.com/ Read more on our blog MAN Digital MAN Digital Blogger

#Digital Marketing Automation Consulting | MAN Digital

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murderincrp · 7 years ago

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PROFILE LOADED... 「BANG YONGGUK」「SYNDICATE」「THIRTY-TWO」

“Thirty-two-year-old INTERNAL AFFAIRS HITMAN and PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR that goes by the alias ‘MORPHEUS’. His allegiance lies with SYNDICATE.”

✘ THREAT LEVEL HIGH. PROCEED WITH EXTREME CAUTION...

WARNING: DRUGS, OVERDOSE, DEATH, ADDICTION, SERIAL MURDER, ILLNESS, KNIVES

[ BACKGROUND... ]

To say that Yongguk’s early years were boring would be a gross understatement. His family life was stable, he and his twin brother, Yongnam, and their little sister got along well, they did exceptionally well in school; their parents weren’t rich, but they weren’t hurting for cash. On the surface, and as far as the kids were aware, they were a well-adjusted, typical family.

Then his sister got sick.

Family life became strained, tense. His mother fell into a depressive spiral, working two jobs to try to keep the medical bills paid while his father turned to drugs to just numb himself to the world. Yongguk was quick to lash out, accusing his father of getting them further into debt due to his drug problem, only to later find out that his father was pushing to try and cover the debts he owed to his dealers. Yongguk was sixteen when he found out his dad was a pusher, selling drugs to students at his high school to try and make some quick cash; Yongguk had taken it upon himself to track down the source of the drug flow once several of his friends had ended up in the hospital from overdose and chemically-laced narcotics.

A deal went bad, a kid ended up dead, and his father ended up in prison.

To this day, Yongguk wished he felt bad about it. His father put himself before his family, before his daughter that was lying sick and possibly dying in the hospital. He couldn’t forgive him.

Yongguk and his brother both continued to go to school, working odd jobs before and after classes, using the money to help pay for food and bills to try and take some of the pressure off of their mother. After a while, their sister started to get better, and she was able to come home. She still needed a lot of in-home care and medication, but she was home. Things got better, and the boys managed to graduate in the top twenty percent in their class, in spite of hardships and part-time jobs in their senior year. The two of them managed to put themselves through college, Yongnam focusing on business-related studies closer to home while Yongguk left Seoul for Yongin to put his focus toward both chemical and computer sciences and psychology, eventually centralizing on criminal psychology and forensics, after enrolling in the Korean National Police University. Four years at the university to graduation and completing his mandatory two years of rotation work, Yongguk was fortunate enough to have everything paid for by the state; any unspent money he was given from his monthly student allowance was sent to his mother and sister.

At age twenty-four, he officially joined the police force in Seoul, quickly finding himself in line to join the homicide investigations team as a trainee detective, his supervisors citing his dedication and intelligence as their reasons for expediting his promotion. Two years in, and he found himself leading his own investigative team. It was stressful, being responsible for fifteen people, each specializing in a different field of investigation, some more seasoned than others, and all of them opinionated and headstrong. They would fight him every step of the way, undermining the authority many of them thought he was still too young and inexperienced to deserve.

He was twenty-seven when he got his first major case; seventeen young women, ranging in age from sixteen to twenty-two, had been found dead all in the same morning in different parts of the city, their bodies left posed in public places, impeccably dressed, hair and makeup done, looking every bit as if they were sleeping or, in some cases, simply sitting in the park on a bench in broad daylight wearing sunglasses. No traces of the killer had been left behind, and no one had noticed the girls being posed, each found early in the morning leading Yongguk to believe that they had been left before sun-up, fifteen to twenty minutes of distance between each of them by car. It was a horrible feeling, getting the call for each body that had been found, but…

What had struck him the hardest was that each girl had been reported missing for a month or more, and little to no searching for them was done. Each of their cases had slipped through the cracks, far too quickly for it to have been even remotely “routine”. Everyone told him not to worry about it. He was told to just ignore it, let the higher-ups take care of it. After a week and a half of being brushed off and told to just look the other way, Yongguk started doing some digging through some of the older cold case files; this hadn’t been the first time something like this had happened. Eleven years beforehand, a similar event had taken place. Not as many girls, and not as polished and elaborate, or as careful, but similar enough for it not to have been a coincidence. All it had meant was the killer had been given time to perfect his methods and the “effect” that he desired…and someone was trying to cover it up.

The killer was a cop, and a high-ranking one at that.

Something in Yongguk simply…snapped. The abuse of power, those around him willfully protecting a serial killer within their own ranks…the fact that any of the girls could have easily been his little sister…No one was going to punish this man for his crimes. The girls he had murdered were, for the most part, left unclaimed and would go unavenged.

It didn’t take much to convince the older man to meet him, which was honestly surprising, but what shook Yongguk to his core was how easy it was to just knock the cop to his knees and slice his throat; no ballistic evidence left behind, the blade of the knife nondescript and unremarkable, no fingerprints or DNA evidence left behind. A quick, easy, and ultimately unsatisfying kill. Hardly payment for the twenty-four lives that he had taken.

He felt hollow.

Yongguk resigned months later, so it would seem less suspicious, citing his sister’s frequently unsteady health as a reason for returning home. In truth, the depth of the corruption had simply eaten away at him. He sought a more straightforward, clear-cut way of dealing with the unseemly, working as a bounty hunter for a time before he was approached for a more stable form of employment.

At least with the gangs, one knew ahead of time there was rarely any pretense. No one out playing the faultless hero while secretly murdering the people they were sworn to protect.

[ BEHAVIOR... ]

While he is no pacifist, he does not kill without purpose; he has his own sense of morality that while not considered “lawful”, he might be considered less heinous than others in his line of work. No children, no pregnant women, those are his primary rules; also, don’t ask him to murder your ex because they managed to move on without you, he’s more likely to punch you in the face. When he does kill, he is ruthless, efficient, and leaves no trace. As a former homicide detective, he is aware of the work required to keep his crime scenes as free of evidence as humanly possible.

Generally quiet, his temperament comes across as incredibly mild and it takes quite a bit to honestly rile or rattle him; though should he ever find himself in a situation that just truly chills him to the bone, he often reacts with outright anger, barely kept in check. He tries to remain level-headed and single-minded when on a job, but certain things will ultimately trigger a far less controlled reaction, namely when children are hurt or exploited. Job or not, he’s more likely to snap and break the assailant’s arm than just walk past and ignore it.

He’s incredibly detail oriented and intelligent, in spite of most taking one look at him and seeing a thug, or just intimidating in general. There is more to him than initially meets the eye, but most of the time he prefers it when people think of him as merely a nameless brute. People are more likely to let their guard down if they think someone is an idiot.

At times he finds it difficult to connect to others due to his job; killing for a living doesn’t exactly make for polite social conversation. However, once he finds someone he honestly likes, he will latch on almost obsessively, for good or for ill; should he be betrayed, it won’t end well for anyone involved. When in love, which is a rare enough event in and of itself, Yongguk is devoted and affectionate; he is almost a completely different person when alone with someone he loves. He doesn’t trust easily, and he certainly would not give his heart or his body to just anyone due to his background. Even if he doesn’t immediately say that he loves you, you’ll know. He shows his love via his actions, not his words. Though when he does actually get to where he’s comfortable enough to talk about it, he’s a complete sap.

Even if he doesn’t speak to his family much anymore, he still sends money to his mother and sister to help with the debt and the continuing medical bills to keep his sister alive and as healthy as possible.

#mi:accepted #mi:syndicate #bang yongguk #b.a.p #krp

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fangirlinganditswonders · 8 years ago

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Truth comes first ~ P.4

► Summary: The team composed by Jughead and the reader keeps working and investigating about Jason’s case while between them two mysterious things start to happen and appear as well.

► Pair: Jughead Jones x reader

► Warnings: Angst and Fluff start to do their great entrances!

► Author’s notes: I’ve done this fourth part a little bit longe than the previous ones, tell me what you think about it. For getting tagged or make a question or just a message click HERE!

► Tags: @matchesarelit @armafoxx @luvspnandphan @unicornqueen05

PART THREE

Series Masterlist

Pop’s ended up being the headquarters for Jughead and you.

Current customers of the dinner stared weirdly at the place where you both usually sit, surprised to see the enigmatic beanie boy sharing his booth with someone else.

“For a moment I really thought Cheryl could have been related to Jason’s death” you confessed.

Cheryl’s detention that morning just before the classes left the whole school shocked and speculating about it.

After the autopsy it was discovered that Jason didn’t die on July 4th but after that date. Doctors said that the date of his death would be around the eleventh of that same month. Jason’s body had been frozen after his death and torture mark marks could be seen in the aforementioned corpse.

“I admit that I also thought so” Jughead said leaving his coffee cup on its plate before staring back to the screen of his laptop. “What do you think?” He spoke again after a few seconds. In front of you the piece of paper where you wrote you first and quick criminal profile. The blue pen being a toy in your nervous and frustrated fingers while you tried to figure something else up.

“I don’t have much but…”

“Hey, it’s okay” It kinda surprised you when he comforted you putting one of his hands on top of one of yours but it certainly made you feel better. “Go on with what you have, we’ll work with that”

“All right so… It may sound obvious but whoever murdered Jason knew him for sure. This is not a coincidence or an accident. This is an organized murder.”

“What do you mean by organized?”

“One crime is called organized when it has been premeditated, planned. The person who killed Jason knew in advance that they were doing it. It was not something that the murderer thought in that exact moment leaded by a fight or an argument.”

“So maybe Jason’s killer kidnapped him on July 4th?”

“There’s the possibility, yes. Then they… well, you know, they tortured Jason until they killed him.”

“And why did they froze him?”

“Maybe they wanted to conserve the body because at that moment they didn’t know how to get rid of it. Perhaps when the whole thing started to be a great deal they got scared and decided to throw the copse to Sweetwater River with the hope that the water would make any evidence disappear…”

“You are a hundred per cent sure that the killer knew Jason right?”

“Pretty sure. If this was a disorganized crime or they didn’t know Jason they wouldn’t have cared about hiding the corpse. It would have been found sooner, much sooner.” Jughead remained silent. You could almost see his thoughts written on his forehead. “Does any name come to your mind?” He locked eyes with you and he denied with his head.

“Sadly no… You?”

“Either”

Both of you fell in a sad and deceived silence. New clues were given to you but they didn’t help that much. The ideas and theories were stuck in your heads.

The bell ringed and you both looked to the door to see Veronica and Betty entering the dinner place.

Unconsciously you hided the paper where your ideas were written, a little movement that didn’t go unnoticed by Jughead. Your hand stopped suddenly when you realized what you were doing, leaving half of the paper showing. It has been just and involuntary reaction.

“Hello guys” Betty greeted “Can we seat with you?” In what seemed an accomplice look he asked you if it was okay with his eyes. His concern about your unusual behavior increased since last night. He already had noticed it before but seeing your reaction and how you acted after you saw that car made him even more suspicious. You slightly nodded as a response to his non verbal question.

“Go on” The blonde and the brunette girls took their seats; Veronica next to you and Betty next to Jughead. Veronica was dead silent.

“What’s up?” You asked Betty considering that maybe Veronica was not in the mood for a talk.

“I’ll tell you what’s up” But you were wrong “Chuck Clayton is a damn disgusting pig! That is what happens”

“She had a date with him last night and…” Betty started to explain but she was cut by the raven haired.

“We just made up, a few stupid kisses in his car and then…” With a frustrated growl she started to look for something in her phone “Just take a look at this”

The rest of the night at Pop’s was about Chuck Clayton, a mysterious and hypothetic ranking list the football team apparently had and how bad Veronica wanted revenge against Chuck but before that the list needed to be found.

Veronica and Betty were willing to find that list no matter what so what better plan than to sneak into school at night to find it?

You three were not alone, Kevin and some other girls who confirmed that the list was real were with you. Even Cheryl Blossom made her great entrance to cooperate with you according to her words. You just had the feeling that she was there to clean his brother’s name since it was said that it appeared on that despicable list.

The Lodge girl was heading the group to the lockers room.

“So, is everything going fine with Jughead?” Betty asked you out of nowhere. You looked at her frowning. “I mean, you two have this investigation team I’ve heard.”

“Oh, yeah. We’re working together”

“How’s that? Don’t get me wrong but I had never seen you two together before.”

“I know” You slightly smiled “I just had this feeling that he would be the perfect teammate and by now I’m pretty happy with the decision”

It seemed like she wanted to add something but both of you were called to approach the rest of the group when they found the locker where the list should be.

“Okay, how are we supposed to open it?” Kevin asked. People’s faces showed that they were thinking about it. Your hand reached one of the bobby pins that were helping you ponytail’s resistance.

“Let me” With that little piece of metal in your hand you made your way to the locker. It took you around two minutes to open the locker, leaving some of the present ones a bit surprised.

“Where did you learn to do that, Marnie?” Kevin asked making you chuckle.

“A magician never reveals the tricks of their magic” You joked blowing at your bobby pin as if it was you infallible gun.

The silence in the air seemed to get heavier and impossible to swallow when Betty took the black notebook out of the locker.

She shared stares with everyone there before open it as if she was checking all of you still agreed with that. No one said a word.

To find the list she just had to flip a few pages.

Names, scores and even a few notes like the ones that some teachers add to the marks when they want to congratulate the student of emphasize what they have to improve. All of your eyes were on that list and yours widened when you saw that in one row next to Jason’s name Polly’s one was written.

“Betty…” For the way her knuckles almost tuned white while holding the notebook you could tell she has seen it.

“This can’t be true…” Cheryl said with a very low voice.

“You’re seeing it” Betty answered with a sharpness tone of voice no one else dared to say a word.

The next step on the revenge plan was ready but everything was in Betty’s and Veronica’s along with Ethel. After that, everyone in Riverdale high would be aware of the secret the football team had been hiding all this time.

The night when everything was supposed to happen you were home with your cellphone right next to you, just in case.

The only thing you could do was staring at the ceiling. Apparently you head preferred to keep thinking but you were feeling too tired for that.

Your mom was still working. She was working very hard to provide for you two and in your head you were feeling so useless.

Besides all the money thing you knew your mother was thankful for the fact that she was not spending that much time home. She didn’t like the idea of you being all alone that much time but she wanted to earn enough money soon so you could move to another house and leave the one you were living now behind. So many bad memories impregnated in those walls.

Wanting to calm your nerves you went downstairs to prepare a hot and relaxing cup of tea. Before you could make the first step into the kitchen you heard noises coming from your porch which made you feel very tense.

Fear was the one to take the lead on running your body. You were not expecting anyone and after the whole murder thing going on in Riverdale it was so much easier for play tricks in the heads of the Riverdale citizens.

The first thing you could grab to defense yourself in case you need it was one of the umbrellas that were always on you hall.

Raising the umbrella above your head your hand grabbed the doorknob to finally open the door revealing who was behind it; Jughead.

“What are you doing with that?” Of course the umbrella thing was not going to be missed by him.

“Honestly? I was about to hit you with it” You answered clearly embarrassed.

“Are you okay?” Your lips opened to answer but before you could say a word Jughead added “And that was a rhetorical question”

If you thought you could play everyone around you and no one would suspect if you let yourself to act differently for a day or a few ones in that moment you clearly saw that Jughead was not playing following your rules. You let a small sigh out before letting him in.

“So, what’s wrong?” Jughead asked you when you were both sitting on your sofa with a cup of tea on both of your hands.

“Apparently… everything has seemed to be wrong lately.”

“Almost?” One of his eyebrows raised as it always does when he’s feeling curious “What are the good things?”

“Well… Betty and I… we’re trying to bring our friendship back and… I think I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed her actually. And our teamwork, I could say I really like to spend time with you.” You were about to finish the sentence there but the surprise in Jughead’s face made you feel a weird sensation of awkwardness. “I mean, when we work I don’t think about other things, I don’t have the chance to. That’s something I’m very grateful to right now.”

The guy with the beanie stared at you fighting with himself to not make the question he was wanting to make. He was afraid of what could be your reaction. Maybe you’d just tell him or maybe you’d ask him to leave. How could he know? To Jughead Jones you were still a mystery.

“And…” At the end his curiosity won the battle though. “What about the bad things?”

“Well uhm…” Even though you wanted to talk about it and let it go out of your chest you didn’t know exactly how. Usually you had this sort of conversations with your elder brother but now… “It’s just like every wall I’ve put so much effort on building had started to shake to its foundations and I’m afraid they’re going to start falling.” You lowered your head not wanting to cry in front of him. “Sorry if my words don’t make any sense… I cannot even put them in order in my head.” And as he had done that day at Pop’s to comfort you, one of his hands rested on top of one of yours.

“You don’t have to apologize. If you ever want to talk about it, at any time, I’ll be glad to listen.”

And a little but genuine smile appeared on your face.

“What you wanted to tell us?”

That morning, before the first class Betty had approached you and Jughead while you were having a conversation right next your locker and told you she wanted to have a little chat with you after the show.

With the show she meant the moment when Chuck and some others of the football team got exposed in front of the whole school. What a great moment.

“You two seem to be very great at the whole investigation and research thing so… Would you like to join “The blue and gold” team? You and Jughead looked at each other and words were no needed.

“We’re in” The answer came out of both of your mouths at the same time leaving Betty with a huge smile on her face.

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drinkyourfuckingmilk · 8 years ago

Note

Do you have any particular documentaries you like ?

yes I have a list!!! I’ll copy and paste an old one I’ve used and updated recently. though a lot of the documentaries I watch are crime/psychology related so some of these are going to be morbid, just a heads up.

the crime/psychology list

- Making a Murderer: this one is on netflix, looks at possible police corruption, wrongful imprisonment and analyses a current murder trial. it’s pretty damn popular and it’s brilliantly well done (though frustrating on a lot of levels) so check it out. it’s about a current case too so there’s still new information to look up.

- There’s Something Wrong with Aunt Diane: a family tries to investigate what really happened the day diane schuler fatally drove into oncoming traffic with 6 children in her car. this one haunts me for some reason, not a lot of it makes sense in terms of her character.

- Dear Zachary: A Letter to His Son About His Father: very tragic story but good insight into how the justice system and child protective services need constant reevaluation and scrutiny, and the story also features probably the bravest and most supernaturally compassionate and strong couple I’ve ever seen like if you want just an example of two incredible human beings then pay attention to the mother and father.

The Boy Who Should Have Lived: looks at the story of a boy with a mental illness, his parents struggle to get him help and how the system utterly fucking failed him.

The 9/11 Faker: a woman who got away with pretending to be a survivor of 9/11 and the aftermath of her actions within the survivor group she totally fooled.

The Imposter: amazing documentary on a man who pretended to be a long lost missing child and disturbingly fooled a lot of people. I didn’t even think this one was real until the end.

- Back From the Edge: documentary on borderline personality disorder that interviews people living with the disorder (women AND men which is good, because borderline can seem like it presents quite differently in either gender).

- Boy Interrupted: about a boy named evan who suffered from bipolar disorder from a very young age. it looks at the genetic influences, how it affected the family in the aftermath, and it’s heartbreaking to see how the illness manifests itself in such a young child.

- Just Melvin, Just Evil: this one is centered around a large extended family and how child sexual abuse has affected its members. it’s got very triggering content for abuse survivors so avoid it if that’s a problem for you, but it’s actually a really important insight into how abuse contributes to poverty, alcoholism, dysfunction, self-harm, mental health issues and how that cycle is perpetuated)

- Child of Rage: looks at the rehabilitation of a child suffering from reactive attachment disorder which is when a child fails to develop emotional attachment or empathy for others (sometimes being the foundation of sociopathy/psychopathy), in this case due to sexual abuse and neglect. it involves recordings of therapy sessions with a young girl who experienced this and how she is treated for the disorder.

- Interview with Expert FBI Criminal Profiler: basically just an interview with one of my role models John Douglas who probably has one of the most extensive careers as a criminal profiler and conducted a huge body of research that contributed to the most effective methods of catching killers and preventing crime.

Love Crimes of Kabul: follows several women in a Afghanistan prison and their stories of what “crimes” had them imprisoned (just dont look through the comment section. this applies to all videos obviously but this one in particular).

History of the Capital Punishment: kinna self explanatory but really awesome because crime AND history.

Broadmoor: documentary on a psychiatric facility in Britain that contains violent offenders who suffer from mental illness, and looks at the rehabilitation process and at the morality of treating or punishing the patients/offenders)

India’s Daughters: documentary on the issue of rape culture in India and the sociopolitical aftermath of the rape and murder of a medical student, Jyoti.

Thin: follows several women in a treatment facility for eating disorders.

and if you’re just interested in crime and profiling etc then you can find most good 30 - 40 min crime documentaries on youtube from Crime Investigation Channel but keep in mind these can be quite full-on since some of them have “dramatic reenactments” of crime (and tbh some of them go over the top to the point where I feel like it can get disrespectful)

some history yaaaayyyy

Nanking: an interesting documentary that revolves around the foreigners who stayed behind in Nanking to create a Safety Zone for 200,000 chinese residents fleeing from the atrocities committed by the invading japanese military. It uses narration by actors and interviews with actual witnesses and survivors of the time.

Sorrowful Homecoming: a korean documentary (with subtitles) that follows a japanese journalist Takashi Ito who has been interviewing and advocating for korean survivors used as “comfort women” during wartime by japanese soldiers. this one is very upsetting and has a lot of sexual violence described so keep that in mind before you watch it.

The Romanov Dynasty: mini documentary series about each tsar and tsarina who ruled during the 300 year long romanov dynasty. IT’S SO WELL DONE and was made with so much love.

Marie Antoinette Documentary: one of the best documentaries on the historical bae who has always been grossly misunderstood and misrepresented even in modern history classes.

Mystery of the Romanovs: looks into the discovery of the remains of the Romanovs, insight into what happened the night they were murdered and investigation into the potential survival of Anastasia and/or Alexei.

Catherine the Great: the title says it all, gurl was great. amazing leader who knew exactly how to play the political/royal game and told all the men who tried to oppress or abuse her to sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up y’all best recognize.

Servants: The True Story of Life Below Stairs: really cool little doco series on the people who served the upper class in the UK back in the day (Victorian, Edwardian eras etc) and what their daily lives were like and what kind of people they were.

And Man Created Dogs: how wolves/dogs evolved and bonded with us and became the natural BFFs of humans like god bless the power of evolution and oxytocin.

less morbid documentaries in general

- Babies: this is a lovely documentary (FOR A CHANGE). it doesn’t use interviews or voice overs, it just follows the development and differing parenting of four babies from four different nations: Japan, America, Namibia and Mongolia. it’s really interesting and excruciatingly cute.

- My Heart Belongs to My Dad: looks at 3 men doing their best to raise their children as single parents.

Nomadic Tribes of the Sahara: basically the title sums it up! the narrator is kind of annoying but it’s a really awesome look at how the tribes of the sahara adapt to live in such a scorching climate.

- Poor Kids: follows children in the UK who live below the poverty line and how their family’s make do from day to day

Search For Habitable Planets: because space is hella and maybe one day we’ll end up on one of these bad boys like not in my lifetime at least but hey.

An Astronaut’s Guide to Life in Space: mini videos about Chris Hadfield doing adorable and informative shit in space

Cosmos: everything you’ve ever wanted to know about everything that hurts your brain to even think aka the entire universe brought to you by Carl Sagan

Killing Us Softly 3: absolute favourite look into how advertising and the sexual objectification of women creates a horrible climate of low self-esteem, eating disorders, and violence etc against them

Planet Earth: if you haven’t seen david attenboroughs planet earth series then holy sHIT get on that because it’s so beautiful and the footage of the animals and landscapes and how he explains all of it is just perfect seriously I’ve watched this series more times than I can count.

The Union: Business Behind Getting High: super entertaining doco on the history and politics of weed and how we would benefit if it was legalized and how we should be goDDAMN USING HEMP AS A HUGE NATURAL RESOURCE.

and obviously if you haven’t checked out any of louis theroux’s documentaries then GET ON THAT

- list of some of his doco’s

youtube channels with more awesome documentaries

- Real Stories

- 20/20

- BBC History Documentaries Playlist

[some of the links might be broken as youtube is want to remove every good video from existence but just do a new search in youtube/google and you’ll probably find all of these]

#here ya go #Anonymous

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thefaeriereview · 4 years ago

Text

Tour: Serial Investigations

https://ift.tt/2NR3h44

SERIES REVIEW TOUR

Serial Investigations by Rhiannon D’Averc

Serial Investigations follows a private detective duo, Will and Ram, through tricky cases, mortal danger, and the horror of (maybe) unrequited love for your best friend – with plenty of demons to battle along the way.

The stories need to be read in order.

Overall Heat Rating for the series: 2 flames

Goodreads Series Link

Warning: All books contain depictions of alcoholism, anorexia, and violent crime/murder.

BOOK 1

Book Title: Bloodless

Length: 70 000 words/ 240 pages

Release Date: April 29, 2019

Genre/s: M/M Crime/thriller

Trope/s: Slow burn friends to lovers

Themes: Identity struggle, murder, unrequited love

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available on Kindle Unlimited

How do you solve a murder…

… When you’re the prime suspect?

Blurb A body cut up into pieces and left in Highgate Wood. It sounds like the most exciting case that private detectives Ram and Will have had to deal with since leaving their FBI training and returning to London. As each new body is piled up amongst the trees, the stakes get higher – and Serial Investigations London embraces their first real challenge. But Ram’s lifestyle – staying out all days of the week, drinking too much, and having sex with a different man every night – soon catches up with him when the police realise there’s just one link that connects the bodies. And it’s him. Will faces a battle around the clock to prevent his best friend from being put away for life – and while the two of them face their own demons, there’s a secret hanging over their heads that might just bring it all crashing down. If you’re a fan of BBC’s Luther, Jo Nesbo’s Harry Hole, or sharply witty gay men, you’ll love Serial Investigations. Jump into the action from the very beginning with Bloodless, the first book in a series you won’t dare to put down.

BOOK 2

Book Title: Blood Evidence

Length: 63 000 words/ 200 pages

Release Date: August 15, 2019

Genre/s: M/M Crime/thriller

Trope/s: Slow burn friends to lovers

Themes: Coming out, murder, unrequited love

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available on Kindle Unlimited

A missing person’s case…

… A murder investigation?

Blurb Private detectives Ram and Will got their name in the news by catching a high-profile serial killer, and now they’re getting more clients. When they’re hired to find a missing person, all they’re worried about is having to spend a night away from home. They go to check his last known sighting in Kent, staying in a quaint country inn. Little do they expect that Serial Investigations London are about to get thrust into a new murder investigation – one that happens right under their noses. A confession seems to solve the case, but is it genuine? With suspicions running high, the duo still have to find time to sniff out the whereabouts of their client – and avoid getting arrested themselves. With Ram hitting the bottle harder than ever and Will fighting to stay in control, they might be about to lose more than just the case.

BOOK 3

Book Title: Blood Alcohol

Length: 60 000 words/ 173 pages

Release Date: November 30, 2019

Genre/s: M/M Crime/thriller

Trope/s: Slow burn friends to lovers

Themes: Coming out, murder, inner demons

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available on Kindle Unlimited

A horrific torture case with a ticking clock.

All he can see is the bottle.

Blurb Private detectives Ram and Will thought they’d wrapped everything up when they found Ray Riley’s body in Sevenoaks. But it turns out that things aren’t what they seemed – and Riley may be the latest victim of a torture-happy murderous duo. For the second time, Serial Investigations London are called in to assist as civilian consultants with DI Alex Heath’s team at the Met – but they have their own personal problems getting in the way of clear thinking. Will has something to get off his chest, and it’s related to that kiss they shared – the one they both tried to forget. But Ram can’t stop drinking to push away the confusion, and this time he’s going to land himself in more trouble than ever before. Can they get over their issues for long enough to stop another murder – or even keep themselves alive?

BOOK 4

Book Title: Blood Sucker

Length: 65 000 words/ 191 pages

Release Date: March 28, 2020

Genre/s: M/M Crime/thriller

Trope/s: Slow burn friends to lovers/misunderstandings

Themes: Conflict, murder, trust and loyalty

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available on Kindle Unlimited

A dead body posted on social media.

A vampire stalking the streets of London?

Blurb Will and Ram’s private detective partnership seems to be unravelling. After they ended up sleeping together, the tension between them is at an all-time high – and the unsolved Simon Shystone case is haunting them and their police contacts. DI Alex Heath normally wants their help, but when a murderer posts images of his victim on social media, the chase is on to trace his digital footprint. With his superiors breathing down his neck, he might not be able to bring Serial Investigations London in on one of the biggest cases of their career. They should be focusing on the artist who seems to have disappeared without a trace from his home studio. Could his latest commission have something to do with it? And will they be able to handle finding another client turned up dead? Things are spiralling out of control for Will and Ram – and this time, they might not have each other to rely on.

BOOK 5

Book Title: Blood Sport

Length: 164 pages

Release Date: June 30, 2020

Genre/s: M/M Crime/thriller

Trope/s: Slow burn friends to lovers/misunderstandings resolved

Themes: Murder, kidnap, vanquishing the big bad

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available on Kindle Unlimited

A copycat killer who knows every detail. A locked room with no escape.

Blurb Serial Investigations London is officially closed for business – with private detectives Will and Ram still not talking to one another after an explosive argument. Even when a copycat killer springs up, seemingly targeting only their own cases, they can’t see eye to eye. Little wonder, given that they both have something more important on their minds. Someone knows about San Francisco – about the man who died on a rooftop at their feet. Who has discovered their deepest secret? And what will they do to keep it buried? That’s when another mystery piles up on top of the rest: a traditional trope that every seasoned detective must face, the locked room. But this one has a deadly twist, and if they don’t come to terms with their differences and work together, one of them might not live to regret it. Will and Ram face the most pressing and personal danger yet – but the question is, who’s behind it? And will they realise they’ve been set against one another before it’s too late? If you’re a fan of BBC’s Luther, Jo Nesbo’s Harry Hole, or sharply witty gay men, you’ll love Serial Investigations. The story continues with Blood Sport, a nail-biting series of twists and turns that will have you questioning how they’ll ever survive. Click 'Buy Now' to enter the minds of troubled yet brilliant detectives as they struggle inside an interconnected web of lies – and the spider is getting hungry… Praise for Serial Investigations: “The front cover didn't lie; Bloodless is exciting and thrilling.” “Sets up a really great atmosphere right from the start and constantly leaves you wanting to find out what happens next.” “A punchy storyline makes it difficult to put down and leaves you wanting more.” “Just the right amount of action, plenty of intriguing deception and detective work.” “Love the plot twists! Can’t wait for the next book to see what happens next to Will and Ram.”

Excerpt Bloodless – Chapter One Unlocking the door to your new home for the first time is supposed to be exciting. I guess it was the jet-lag, but I couldn’t even force myself to smile as we walked in. Not even for Ram’s sake. We crashed in hungover and out of it, the sparkling wine and whisky of the plane no longer seeming like such a good idea. I chose a bedroom and dragged my suitcases inside. It felt good to no longer have all of my worldly possessions attached to my person. Without the weight of my backpack on my shoulders, I could feel just how much strain the muscles had been under. I found Ram still standing at the wide windows of the living room. He was looking out of the clean, fresh glass into the grey and drizzling London of December. It felt like a jolt to look out and see not palm trees, but old Victorian factories and blocks of flats as far as the eye could see. But then again, no one has ever mistaken Whitechapel for California. It was always going to be a bit of a culture shock, coming back home again. I shook him by the shoulder, trying to ignore the pit in my own stomach. Maybe if I could get him to snap out of this weary daze we had both fallen into, he would be able to wake me up in return. “Ram?” I asked, after a moment. He simply swayed under the movement of my hand, like a doll. I wasn’t even sure he was actually looking out at anything. He turned and looked at me when he heard his name. It was like he was looking at someone he didn’t recognise from a long distance away. If I had felt uneasy before, that expression made my scalp itch with worry. Of the two of us, Ram is the calm and centred one. Even when he’s so drunk he can barely walk, he doesn’t lose it. Not like me. But I’ve never seen him like this before. “I’m going to take a shower,” he said, after a moment, seeming to rouse. He shrugged off my hand and walked away, leaving me stood watching the place where he had been stood watching. I felt like a sentinel. Something had left us behind and we were plunging into a bowl of cold water, too confused to even try to hold onto the side. I wondered if it would even wash away what we had on our hands. I was alone, without the option of distracting myself by looking at him. The only thing I could do was to keep moving. I heard the sound of the shower turn on, and I guided my weary feet into my new room. It felt like midnight, but the sun wasn’t even at its midday apex. I went from task to task, like an automaton, letting the cogs turn by themselves to keep my mind empty. Suitcase unzipped; clothes pulled out; find hangers; one by one, up on the rail. Knick-knacks. Decorations. Picture frame. The flat came furnished, but now I realised that on our hasty flight out of San Francisco we forgot to take a few things into account. The beds had mattresses, but no pillows or sheets. The drawers in the kitchen held no cutlery, crockery, or mugs for tea. Even if they did, there was no kettle, no bags of tea, no instant coffee machine. I ran out of things to do but I had to find something. I stalked from room to room, tablet in hand, stabbing the pages of an online shopping site. Kettle — black, chrome, retro. Tea bags — Earl Grey, Caramel Rooibos, Herbal Blend. Bed set — plain blue, reverse check, king size. Next. Ram’s room. Suitcases still locked, black leather bag slung onto bare mattress, leather jacket discarded next to it. He wouldn’t mind. It’s not like we have any secrets from each other. Or many, at least. Open the suitcase (correctly guess the code on the lock). Take out clothes, one by one, to string them up on hangers and leave them waiting for him. Personal items. Books stacked by the bed. Jewellery case. Boots on the floor by the door. Leather jacket hung up last, finally, the only thing left untouched. I wondered how long it must have been now. A long time, surely, but all I could hear still was the water hitting the shower tray. Over and over, the same hiss in the same tone. A long time for Ram to be in there, on his own, with those thoughts swirling around in his head. With razors and scissors and other sharp things. “Ram?” I shouted, pounding on the locked bathroom door. Nothing but the sibilant hiss of the water. I threw my shoulder into the door, felt it bounce back against me, sending a shockwave through from the impact. Again. The door rattled, the lock unable to give. Again. Again. As many times as it took, again, ignoring the flower of pain blooming out across my shoulder and back. Once more, and I was stumbling forward into the room, momentarily disorientated as the momentum carried me onwards. The glass of the shower door was all steam, except for a patch near the bottom where the spray of the water was heavy enough to keep it clear. I saw his legs, sprawled across the floor, and I could barely breathe for the fear that I had realised too late. I wrenched open the door and saw him, and for a moment I understood nothing. He was whole — yes. No blood. But he was lying naked under the water, letting it hit his face and open eyes without blinking, not even reacting to my appearance. “Ram?” I said again, but his eyes didn’t even flicker in response. I reached in and grabbed his shoulder, ignoring the water. It quickly drenched my shirt through to the skin, spreading up over my chest and into my eyes as I shook him. Slowly, like he was caught in a time lapse, his face swivelled around. His eyes looked at me, but they were empty. I don’t think he even saw me. “Everything’s going to be alright,” I said, reaching up and turning the shower off. I didn’t know if it was the truth, but he was alive. For the time being, that was enough. He stirred a little when the water stopped hitting him, but only for a moment. His shoulders slumped back down and he rested, resigned, still looking fixedly at nothing. I grabbed a towel from my bathroom, thankfully one of the few things I did remember to bring with me. I ran back to find him still sitting in the same place. It was like there was no one left inside to notice that he must be cold and uncomfortable. I pulled him out of the shower and into my waiting arms. He came willingly, falling against me like a doll. I towelled him dry as best I could and held him tight, like we were kids again, trying to take some small comfort from one another. His head slotted under my chin, and it felt right but so wrong, because Ram is supposed to be the strong one. “Everything’s going to be fine, Ram, I promise,” I said, closing my eyes and praying that I was telling the truth.

About the Author

Rhiannon D'Averc is a crime writer based in the UK. She works as a ghostwriter and author under her own name as well as under pseudonyms. As a professional writer for over a decade, she also keeps herself busy as Chief Editor of London Runway, an indie fashion magazine. Her short stories have been published in Litro, Devolution-Z, Storgy, Literati, and more.

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