#and my manager got fired 2 days after I started for doing cocaine in front of guests :)))))

[junranghae]

Applying for a second job tomorrow

[ammar-b-shakir-blog]

Edison’s Life &  Its Inventions

An article about Edison's life and its inventions:

Admiz Melton writes: One day Edison bought all of Faraday's writings and sat down to study the height and slept there. When my eyes opened in the morning, he was sitting and reading. We were both going to a hotel about a mile away for breakfast. What Edison did read was his mind wandering. Somehow he told me, Adams, I have so much work to do, and life is so short that I have to hurry so badly that I have to go to bed. Started running Most of the things we often use in our daily life are ancient and modern inventions of science. Behind all these inventions is the hands of great scientists and inventors who worked hard and achieved a high standard. One such name was Miss Elwid Yason. Edison was probably the greatest inventor in history. He attended school for only six months, but the invention of his bulbs and phonographs changed the lives of millions of people. Edison has patented 1,000 inventions in his life. In reference to Edison's great service to humanity, Henry Ford once suggested that distant life should be called the Edison covenant. Edison praised extraordinary intelligence in these words: a verdict on the idea and a nascent decision on a sweat. He proved this belief by working all the time that he was just at meal time. Edison seemed to find everything strange. He experimented with pharmaceuticals and proposed a program for people's comfort. He was very close to the invention of the Red U. and he used nuclear energy. Predicted about Edison always strives to create things that can work under normal methods without spoiling and easily repair and improve the inventions of other

Early Life:

Edison Milne was born on February 5, 1847 in Ohio. Samuel Edison and Nanny Edison were the seventh child. Edison's grandfather was Judith Holland and mother was from Canada. The family emigrated from Amsterdam to the United States in the 8th century. Seeing the boy's curiosity and passion, his family called him Elva. Elva used to ask them questions constantly. How does the bird escape from the chicken poop? What makes the bird fly? Why does the water extinguish the fire? His school teacher couldn't even answer some of his questions. If no one was able to answer his question, he would try to get the answer from his own experience. One day, Elva learned that bubbles fly because they have gas. So he sent a boy to sidelight. Feed three sauces of safflow Elva was convinced that when the boy's stomach was full of gas he would start flying. But instead, the boy fell sick and lay on the ground, and the world began to feel him spinning.

At the age of seven, Elva moved with her parents to Ho Chi Minh, where her parents started a grain and litter business. Elva entered a public school and hurried the teacher to ask a lot of questions. The teachers used heavy leather keys to kill the children who asked them questions. One day, Elva told the district school inspector Ho Edna's son, Hoyna, is dirty and unable to study. Elva ran home and told her mother. She would go straight to the teacher and tell her in incredible words (Elva is more intelligent than the teacher's entire body in little swallows) and she dropped him off from school. Thus, the regular recognition of Elva Edison lasted only three months. His mother intended to teach him by playing the game, which was unusual at the time. His mother made education a game for him. At first he was surprised at it, but very happy later. He began to learn so fast that his mother could not teach him any more. When Elva was nine years old, her mother introduced her to a book written by Richard Babe Parker, a well-known teacher of the mid-nineteenth century. Elva Edison refused to accept her writings. She repeated each experiment to prove the author wrong. Elva had more than a hundred smells of different chemicals. She had poisoned all the smells to keep her family members away from them. Charles Bachelor, a friend of Elva's, says: "One night I returned, and I was sitting at the dockside, and in front of it was a pile of alchemy and other books, some as high as five feet." He was studying all day and night. In a few weeks, he had looked at all the books and prepared a volume based on his abstracts. He also did many experiments on farms. From the age of nine to twelve, he spent many years in the history of Hume, England, the rise and fall of the Empire, Potter's Discovery of the Senses, and Tuton's Principal of Teacher, Fla. Now it was fall. At the age of twelve, he got a job as a train boy in a grenade trunk train. He used to save newspapers, candy, tea, and peanuts in the train (which runs between Port Huron and Detroit). Was. In his spare time, he experimented with merchandise and chemicals in an empty container. He bought a press and started publishing his own newspaper (the Herald Daily). Due to its unique nature, it began to go hand in hand. It was the first newspaper to be published in a moving train.

Chemical experiments in Elva's train hit him hard. One day, a fire broke out in the foreshore pen, causing a flare in the train's car. At this point, the conductor hit the powerful Elva's ear. Received and threw her out of the box with her chemicals, printing on it and other things. The incident caused Elva to become deaf. However, Elva attributed her deafness to another incident. While she was trying to board a moving vehicle, the conductor pulled her by the ear and brought her to the platform. Edison said a few years later (I He felt something break in his head.) My deafness started from then on and it only increased.

Edison, though not completely deaf, but in the last years he could barely hear the screams. His depression could have ended with a concussion, but he refused to have surgery. Edison did not mind being deaf but thought of an easy way to get one. Edison escaped Barmouth's mouth because of his ear impairment. It happened that Edison bought a large pile of old books in doodler and he took it and left for the house at three o'clock in the night. In fact, a watchman saw him and ordered the thief to be considered. Jason couldn't hear because he was deaf. The guard fired the bullet, but the bullet passed through Edison's ear. Thus the great inventor survived the target. After the train wreck, Elva started to save the newspaper at the stations. One day at the Clemens Railway station, Elva noticed that a freight train was moving towards the station at Mulla Zam's son. Elva rescues the baby in a timely manner. Thanks to the station, Mulazam taught Elva to use a telegraph in return.

.Early Inventions:

1868, In Boston, Edison worked as a telegraphist in Boston. He completed his first invention, which he sought to sell. It was an electronic voting machine that resembled a machine used in legislative assemblies in various states. It recorded the votes of members of the legislature on a large board. Elva Edison took it to Washington and Congress A committee heard it, but the chairman of the committee told him that the machine was not in the Congress's priority: it takes about 5 minutes to attend. Your machine had to make it work. Elva Edison was very angry with this behavior and said that no I will not invent anything that is not needed. And he kept the words of his words. After that time he committed himself to these words in urgent need of the world. Elva Edison emigrated from Boston to New York in 1940. She had nothing and obtained permission to sleep in the futures of an employee of the Goldandecar Company. Elva Edison used her time to understand the stock ticker most of the time. The telegraph was the kind of machine the company used to tell brokers about the price of cocaine. A few days later the stock ticker broke and Edison surprised the manager by fixing it because everyone else had failed to fix it. At that time, the manager offered him $ 5 for a supervisor job. It was great. Edison's busy brain continued his experiments on the stock ticker. It made it so much better that the president of the Goldland Stock Telegraph Company, Jazel Marcel Lefferts, expressed his interest. The leaflets sent Edison a payday and asked what amount he would take to patent his stock. Edison made a decision that he would say $ 5 and accept up to $ 5. He hesitated and said, "Well do Jazel Fur, you offer me .....", Leffer Toss thought for a moment and then said, "Do you accept 3 dollar  ? For a moment Edison found it difficult to control himself. He grabbed the desk to keep himself upright and said gently yes! I think it will be fine.

Magic of Menlo Park

23 years ago Edison established his first workshop in Newyark, New Jersey, with money from Lefferts. It was there that he began to manufacture his own stock-ticker. In the year 2, he modified the typewriter's steel components with wood. It also corrected the intonation and ink distribution of words. Edison Improved Typewriter It was possible to write with machine speed much faster than Yes. Edison Menlo came in. That same year, he improved the telephone by adding a car bin transmitter. This was a very important step in making the telephone workable. Before this change people had to smell the telephone very loudly. Edison's inventive phonograph or record player has been named the most innovative invention in the world. In this regard, no one had ever made a practical model of phonograph, and the specimen was brand new and untouched. Edison has always called phonograph his favorite invention. The idea of ​​a phonograph came about when he was trying to find ways to automatically record telegraph messages. He wanted to record messages on a rotating plate on paper pads. That disk is like today's phonograph. He was walking around. Edison learned from his telegraph analyst how the diaphragm is being made or how the discharge is triggered in the disc that reacts to the sound waves. He made an opening or one that had a caffeine attached to the cabin. On his neck, one of the elbows was opened in which the opening had been cut. I went or mine! Six o'clock baby eats. And I have promoted a ton of wood. Edison decided that he could recapture those moles rather than give them something. Then he can make the word abusive by saying that he has two. Edison made a note and ordered his cousin's footman to take a cue from Crowley or make it. Croatia did, however, confused her, but he confused her. He was asked to make something that was neither alchemy nor evil, but it was mica goodness. On the contrary, Edison did not destroy anything that could be completely mica-good. C could not imagine who used Edison to make this device but he took it and built it. When the C-C, the cylinder-shaped machine comes with Z. Edison's wings or you ask what it is. Edison unintentionally said, "Oh, this machine will smell. He wrapped the fort's foil on the cylinder's neck! The baby at six o'clock eats. He smelled this alphabet in the machine's silence. The machine gave Edison's words every chance. The croc's face turned white with movement. Edison, however, remains a diamond.

Electrical light (BULB):

Light bulb (bulb) Didn't I like the style of the new photo shot? Many two-headed people worked on this concept for years. The Russian-born Michael Najnier Paula Jiblo was persuaded by Pir's family to be archery at the time, but Edison wanted younger boys and girls who could be used at home and at home. Coin - in fact, it was the gas of the heart that was the main source of energy. In 1879 AD, Edison brought out a successful soliloquy of LED light. He did just that for the second time to observe all the flame minutes, which could illuminate the roaring light. The employee was sent to Azzone and another to the jungles of Japan. He had tried about three thousand things for a minute. On 19 October 1879 , after several attempts, Car Edison's fibers were finally able to be applied to the filament bulb. The bulb gave great light. By the morning of October 7, the precious bulb was burning. Finally on October 7, at 2:30 pm, Edison decided to raise two latches, which caused the bulb to burn. On the 5th of September Edison's lightning flashed a new invention of light. Edison became known all over the world as the magic of Menlo Park. Edison won the patent for electric light in January. Edison did more than 3 experiments for the invention of the bulb. In 9 AD, Edison moved to New Jersey, the large and modern Libya rotary of the West and Najj. He spent most of his time working on his new inventions. He organized many companies to develop his inventions. By the end of the decade, Edison began producing animated films and films. He made a comedy based on the inventions of George Eastman and others. In 2 AD Edison combined phonographs and cameras to create spoken pictures. The machine showed some flaws and Edison put it aside. Other people later fixed the flaws. At first people thought of animated films as a toy, but Edison saw them with the hope that it would be through education. He predicted that one day it would change other ways of teaching. Some of his later inventions and distortions include storage irons Tissimeters, cement mixers, duct phones and photocopying machines. From his first patented invention (Golden Artificial Plant to Artificial Rubber) to Edison's society Participation continued at the same pace. He died in the West and Najj on 18 October 1931 at the age of 84.

Edison’s Friends:

Edison had no special close friends. He often liked to be with Henry Ford, Harvey Fairestone and John Barrows. But he worked hard for hours, not having much time for friends. Used to be Throughout Edison's life, his work has always been a joy and a friend to him. Edison was a musician. Despite being deaf, he claimed he could hear the speaker of the phonograph with his skull. Edison was not a religious man but he believed in great intelligence. One time he told his friend that although he is known as a great inventor in the world, he cannot create even the simplest of life. Edison's most important work for the world was not only to invent electric light, but also to map the world's first power plant to reach millions of people. Edison received so many awards for his achievements that he had to say that I needed a mole to produce them. In 1956, Edison's laboratory was declared a national heritage. In 1959, her house was also declared a national heritage. The fact is that not only in life but also after death, the honor and fame that came to the part of Edison, which is very fortunate.

[themousai]

Q+A: Flirting With Disaster

You released your first single  'Catastrophizing' since your 2015 debut album earlier this year in August, what was the reaction like to it after being quiet on the music front for so long? It was actually really good. A lot of people liked the new direction, the harder / faster sort of vibe. Which is exciting, as a lot of our new album will have a 'similar' sort of feel (but still it's really varied, the overall vibe is 'to the point - no bullshit, no filler').  

Can you tell us how the new music you're working on compares to your first album? It's a lot more direct, but still just as varied I think. I feel like there's not a single part or section in the new album that's 'just there'. It all seems like it fits, and has purpose. Lyrically it's a lot more black and white as well, which I really like. There's some really short and fast songs, and some tracks that have more depth and variances. I'm excited for people to hear this! I think if they liked our last record they'll really dig this one. But still, it's not written to try and appeal to anyone but ourselves (for better or worse!), but I like that - as it keeps it feeling honest. The moment you start writing music "because this type of song does well" it loses credibility and honesty.

You've managed to get support slots for some great international bands, with The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus on 28th November and Mayday Parade on 6th December up next. What's been your favourite show you've supported on? I think the Pennywise show was probably my personal favorite, though mostly because it was our first show in about a year at that time. I also had the worst throat infection / cold at the time, so I couldn't hit a single vocal note and lost my voice after 2-3 songs haha, but fuck it - the crowd liked the energy so we fed off that.  

Chazz, you've been a part of the NZ music scene for a long time now. How do you think it's changed over the years? To be honest, we all have. Kev has been in it longer than I have. But anyway - things have changed heaps over the years. Crowds are different, shows are different. I guess at our age (playing punk rock) it's not like you really get a band following like you did when you were in your teens / early twenties. We aren't playing 'popular / radio friendly' music, so it's always sort of interesting playing live - not knowing what to expect from the crowd. I think the older audiences get it much more than the younger ones, and good riddance too - as the younger generations just stand there with their phones out rather than moving, which seems bizarre at a punk rock show. But that's just the way the world has gone. Back in the day the fans sort of would just become your best friends. I don't think it's like that anymore, it's more like "I saw a band live, they were good... Who were they again?" haha.

So how did Flirting With Disaster come about? I was chatting to Kev at a show, I think it was Snakes of Iron and The Rabble on K road many years ago. Kev and I always got on, and he suggested we started a 'Transplants meets boxcar racer' style project. I was in for that, so we asked our friend "Ash" to play bass and eventually got together and jammed and started writing tunes. A few months later, we asked Tony if he wanted to join the band as I've always loved his tunes / voice, so Ash switched to second guitar and tony started playing bass specifically for FwD.  

You've been teasing some exciting stuff like a new album and US tour dates, what can you tell us about the future of Flirting With Disaster that you're most looking forward to? Right now we are really just focusing on getting these new songs as good as we can. We are taking our time because we don't want to rush them out when we aren't 100% happy, but they are coming together quickly regardless. We actually had to say "ok, we have to stop writing new songs or we'll never get this album done" because we are on such a roll with music.  Though, Tony played me a new song he wrote the other day that's so good that I think we'll have to put that one in too. (track 16?).      

Quick Fire

The one song I wish I wrote is... For me, it was always either Green Days "American Idiot" or "21st Century Breakdown". The break in 21st CB, where it goes to that faster "Celtic Jig on Cocaine" style part blows my mind. I've listened to it about six thousand times.

Three things I can’t live without are... My Guitar, Music and unfortunately my phone (as it organizes my life)

If I could only play music in one genre for the rest of my life it would be... Punk Rock. All I've ever played, and all I want to.

Three adjectives that describe my life are... Impatient, Anxious, Busy. hahaha. Fuck knows.

If I held a world record it would be for... Something useless.

My first memory of loving music is... Probably sitting on my parents bed watching a live Queen show.

The song of mine that I am the most proud of is… Currently it's a song called "Rescue Remedy" off our new album. But this changes all the time.

My favourite venue I've ever played is… In Blackpool for "The Rebellion Festival", I think it was "Winter Gardens". Huge hall, massive stage!

The ideal environment for me to create music in is… A tidy recording studio / practice space.

If I could have any two bands open for me they would be… Green day and Millencolin? Or Eminem.

Disclaimer: all answers by Chazz Valentine

Follow Flirting With Disaster on social media!

FACEBOOK  | SPOTIFY

Interview by Scarlett Dellow

Photographer unknown.

[thecrotchhand]

health class >:(

-ug

-did somebody say rick of suicide

-”ooh, there’s a laser!” -student teacher

-good ways to manage stress- “punching a hole through the wall”

-”do you have a long-term goal?” “dying”

-”we should deport justin bieber back to canada”

-”if you say you're gonna do something, then do it" "i'm gonna kill myself ;))"

-"i'm busy singing Africa by Toto" *off-key singing continues*

-"when you lose weight, where does it go?" "it goes to weight heaven"

-the guy next to me started playing Africa quietly from his phone

-"i'm talking to bowl cut. just kidding chris. i love you." "...i'm getting a haircut."

-"you don't lift to get swole" -st

-"that sounds not good for you" "i'm gonna try it"

-"during pregnancy, the women in here are gonna need more folate, iron, and calcium" "no, i'm gonna need a coathanger"

-"liar liar pants for hire"

-"is eustress good stress or bad stress?" (long silence) "it's good stress! yay!" -st

-good ways to relax- "11 hours straight of anime"

-"everything's gonna be ok" lmao good joke

-"precipitation... wait i mean perspiration. it still counts, it's raining from your body."

-ways to manage depression- "kill yourself :D"

-help the teacher (flynn) has been yelling at us for the past five minutes

-uh oh she said damn it's gettin' wild

-she went back into her office after and all of a sudden we hear a quiet "oh, happy Wednesday"

-"is it possible to have an abortion 700 weeks late?"

-"what's the r-word we talked about?" "rawr XD"

-"what does autonomy mean?" "it's like grey's anatomy but for cars"

-alcoholism is a good sims trait

-guy: sneezes

guy's friend: "god bless... america"

-”what do you say to your sibling during an argument?” "you should've been aborted" “no”

- "your personality might be kind of boring" "like a potato!" "yeah"

-"what does down to earth mean?" "it means you're like the lorax, you speak for the trees"

-"he was happy?" "yeah! put him working with me and larson for ten years and... we fixed him!"

-the student teacher generally has a habit of sarcastic yaying and it entertains me

-"jason (chris) move your head" "just throw a rock at it, it'll move"

-someone was trying to come up with weird phobias and someone suggested genital herpes

-"sir you've been diagnose with hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia " "aahHH"

-"if someone comes up to you and says a mean word, you're gonna be upset" "hey sam" "what" "fuck"

-"i found a big circle"

-"*cough* flynn"

flynn, out of nowhere: "i heard that"

-"have you guys seen cabin in the woods?" "wait, the one with the cabin in the woods?"

-:(

-"let's say you don't have a gun" "pft, not in america"

-we were talking about miscarriage and cody goes "fetus... deletus"

-examples of anger- "when mcdonald's doesn't have ice cream"

-video from the 80's: "depression isn't talked about"

-a seal saved this guy's life and he just: 'ah yes it was all because of god' ¿¿¿???

-80's commercials are the weirdest shit

-yepperdoodles

-"...gonna get addicted to xanax"

-"you guys all did a really good job on your tests" "i got a C" "i got a D+" "yeah there wasn't a single person i was not happy with"

-"you say you see really good scores, but what i'm seeing is a D"

-examples of compromise- "i got a D+, but i feel i deserved an A, so let's meet in the middle with a C" "but what do i get out of it?" "if he passes the class, you don't have to see him anymore"

-"oh no my one feeling"

-"what are some ways to resolve conflict?" "killing yourself"

-"put away the candy this is health class"

-(talking about conflict) "...then the fire nation attacked"

-(softly) "yo what the heck dawg"

-"if they started a rumor-" "kill them"

-"when i was-" "a young boy"

-"you got two more weeks with the student teacher, then you get me back" *high pitched screaming*

-"they never broke out, and then one of them broke out"

-"wrestling uniforms are skimpy"

-(across the room) "hey man, can i touch your butt?" "i don't mind, dude"

-"let's say my wife is going to leave me and i'm... celebrating! oh wait"

-"they're fat and skinny, they're white, black, pink, purple, and orange-" "trump"

-"listen, idiotface"

-"do you think... the government is hiding the cure for cancer...?"

-i love government conspiracy theories during health

-"i... declare... bAnkrUptCY"

-"are we watching a movie?" "maybe if we're lucky it's the ring and it'll kill us"

-lmao i don't need drugs to feel numb

-"aww, flynn, we know you're drinkin' a bottle in the back room" "yeah, just look at ya, why wouldn't i?"

-The Weed™

-"weed stops your sperm from being produced correctly" "perfect, it's birth control too"

-"weed might shrink your... parts" "i think i'll just stick to meth"

-"weed might give you a special needs child" "it's wilson 2.0!"

-"i'm gonna be a drug dealer but not a mean one like a nice, happy 'eyy, wanna buy some drugs? :3'"

-oh no, grandma's growing weed in the basement

-"ahh, the weed's on fire"

-"guess that's how they caught the drug dealers. the deer were high"

-teacher: "ooh, i just sounded like yoda: don't smoke The Weed™"

-"hey, where can you buy a still? asking for a cousin"

-"raise your hand if you want to watch hentai"

-this guy keeps responding to people with "yes, my child?"

-"they put aborted fetuses in vaccines" "oh honey no"

-"how do you keep yourself from getting sick?" "stop breathing"

-examples of painkillers- "cocaine"

-"i know elvis presley is still alive because the king never dies"

-biggest drinker in our grade: "am i gonna be an alcoholic?" class: "you already are"

-c o m p r o m i s i n g  p o s i t i o n

-"trick question, i am hentai"

-"what would you do... if i said i could put you in your own hentai"

-"you're gettin' a hole in your nose oh my goodness"

-"depression" "nope" "wait... depression"

-"I can't remember the happiness i felt before drugs" "i can't remember feeling happiness at all"

-"oh you're back! just in time for meth"

-"oh my garage"

-"lotta meth in that town" "nah just incest"

-"it kills your brain cells. which some of you can't afford (staring directly at the class alcoholic)"

-"why do dentists have the highest suicide rate?? probably because everyone hates the dentist, i dunno"

-"that's accusations" "uuuuuhh no" "oh"

-"oh my gads. you got some meth?"

-"in the puss!" "terms" "sorry. vag!"

-"there's a pretty good chance that drug came out of someone's anal cavity" "that's why i don't do heroin"

-"hey, whose buttocks did this come out of?"

"i'm gonna go shoot myself with some dog food, brb"

-"oh my chicken pie"

-"i've been told we're gonna draw a penis"

-help they're genuinely discussing giving babies steroids

-"most of the female reproductive cells are useless" "just like my brain cells"

-the teacher keeps referring to developing babies as "little rat" and "alien creature"

-"if you eat my period snacks, i will eat you"

-*chiming* "is that santa??"

-"what's the only fluid that doesn't go to the baby?" "water" "no" "air" "no" "earth" "..." "fire"

-"you're supposed to snort those calcium pills" "don't snort the calcium pills"

-"mr. o'reilly, when'd you miss your period?"

-"is it true you puke the day after you get pregnant?" "no, if you puke the day after, it's from the alcohol the night before"

-fetus = jumbo shrimp

- i too, am a very sad lookin' heart

-"no, you cannot throw up your baby"

-"now that we've taken the baby home, we need to figure out what to do with it" "flush it down the toilet"

-"if you wear a hat all the time, all your hair is gonna fall out and die" "ha ha kevin, you're gonna die"

-"since i was 14. and i'm 112"

-"big dumb"

-"what do you want to be when you grow up?" "dead"

-"my parents say: 'hey... whatcha doin' with that 24-pack?'"

-"did jeffery dahmer's mom love him?" "hope not"

-"ohh i love the smell of babies *sniff sniff*"

-"they can be found in places that are... places"

-"why are there rotting apples under here?" "no you gotta let those ferment"

-"what's something you lose by age 3?" "hope"

-the guy in front of me had marvel porn on his phone????????????? hentai hulk's bright red ass is permanently ingrained in my mind

-"what am i supposed to do to live 2 more years? wrap myself in bubble wrap and eat brussel sprouts?"

-"for every 10 pounds overweight you are, subtract 1." "-50"

-"you're wearing a flamingo shirt, you're no one's favorite"

-"you don't snort viagra"

-"how do you feel about having guns in our home?" "how do you feel about how quickly i'd use it to kill myself?"

-"hey, 2 seniors walking down the hallway! wanna give her your papers?" "outta my way. hey! get back here and gimme your papers, ya bums."

-"it's not just the genitals that transfer STDs" "left calf"

-"what if they got an STD some other way?" "drinking sprite"

-"...serial monogamy-" "cereal is for mornings"

-"...trading sex for-" "chicken nugget"

-"you wanna try sex wearing a hazmat suit, go ahead" "don't kinkshame me"

-"STI: spaghetti time infection. it's an epidemic"

-"g- ross"

-"AIDS didn't come from sex with a monkey" "it's definitely about sex with monkeys"

-"what kinds of drugs do i need if i have AIDS?" "nothing, you wanna die"

-"do you know what they do to get rid of genital warts?" "chop your dick off" "mix wart cream with water and drink it"

-oh no they found out what they do get rid of genital warts

-"they shove a q-tip in your penis" "iiiiii'd rather die"

-"is that what tinder is? swipe right if you want crabs?"

-"i would suggest not setting your genitals on fire"

- "your penis doesn't do tricks"

-"do you have a driver's license? *nod* "do you have a car?" *nod* "are you a big boy?" *unsure nod*

-"i know it's only the last day but i will make you suffer for every last minute" "then i'll just do what i always do *sleeps*"

-our resident alcoholic was washing the board and people were jokingly flirting with him so he tied his shirt into a bikini and continued washing so the teacher docked him points for it. don't worry he was already failing

[sirveltic]

Hey hey hhey! This is my first one shot and i hope i didnt get too ooc with Mute!

Mute and rainbow six siege belongs to ubisoft, Lynx and this fanfic belongs to me!

---------

The world was rough. It could be your best friend, as well as your worse enemy. The world liked kicking innocent people in the ass to make them suffer. In that case, only the best of the best would survive, only to delve back into misery again, or, to finally get the reward of life.

Others would turn back to the world and make it suffer in return. She's heard countless screams of agony and pain, wailings of fear and heartbreak. She'd seen people get their life extinguished like a fire. She'd failed those who had fallen. All those who she swore to protect and yet, she had failed to keep them alive long enough so they could see their family again, or even see the light of another day once more.

She sighed, rubbing her forehead with a hand and tilting her head down, breathing heavily. Another one of those fucking nightmares. Not only that, her hip decided that it hadn't been an annoyance long enough, and had decided to wake her up with a violent bite to the ass.

Tiredly, the woman closed the door to the roof behind her and limped over to the railing, gripping it tightly and leaning on it, her arms trembling. With shaking hands, she reached into one of her pockets and pulled out a half-empty packet of cigarettes, bouncing it softly a few times until one of the butts perked out. Quickly, she grabbed it and placed it in between her lips, closing the packet and sliding it back in her pocket before taking out a lighter. She brought it up to the end of the cigarette and lit it up, putting the lighter back in its original place.

Finally, she felt her worries slowly begin to fade. She inhaled deeply, exhaling the smoke through her nose. She went quiet, observing the area around her.

Crickets chirped, winds blew softly and stars danced within the night sky. Everything felt so peaceful, breaking her from the harsh reality that any day, she took a step closer to death. In fact, all the operators in team Rainbow did. Some more than others for personal reasons.

The soft light of the lit cigarette illuminated her features faintly, her brown eyes never leaving the sight of the horizon. With an exhale, a small cloud of smoke blew from her nose, disappearing into the air around her. The woman's hands trembled as she placed the cigar back in between her lips and took another drag, repeating the process from before. So many things to take care of, and so little time was left. Softly, she sighed and dipped her head down, closing her eyes for just a brief moment, shivering when a soft gust of cold wind blew near her, her dark auburn hair waving in the currents.

The Romanian's eyes snapped open when she felt something get placed on her back. It wasn't heavy, and it felt like a jacket, a leather jacket with the softest wool lining in the interior she could muster to think about. She spared a glance to her side, only now noticing of the Brit that had accompanyied her to the roof.

Mute.

"Fancy seeing you here." She commented, breaking the silence. The man merely shrugged, his gaze moving to the dark blue sky on top of them, the stars reflecting off of the goggles of his gas mask. Lynx huffed, puffing out another cloud of smoke. Silence once again overcame them, the crickets taking over with their music. The woman shifted her weight from one leg to the other, wincing as she did so, a soft hiss escaping her. Fucking hip. Not one day of a break, huh?

"Didn't take you for a night owl." She said, hoping to strike a conversation with the usually silent man. He only raised his shoulders in a shrug. Lynx rose a brow, tapping the cigar lightly to let some ash fall on the ground beneath them. With that done, she inhaled more of the smoke, this time coughing it out, snuggling deeper into the leather jacket when another gust of wind blew by.

Mute gazed over at her and took a step closer, their bodies now only inches apart. Finally, he spoke after a while.

"Doc told ya t'stop smokin'." Lynx barked a weak laugh, shaking her head in amusement.

"Doc can kiss my ass with his rules." She mumbled. After all, what did the Frenchman know about what was good for her? It's not like he knew what it was like to live with a semi-healed fractured hip. Mute looked down at her hip, hidden by some sort of cushion to soften falls.

"Uncomfortable?" He asked, earning a scoff from the woman.

"In fucking agony, Mute." Mute hummed, returning back to his silence for only a short moment.

"How'd it happen?" He asked, causing the Romanian to sigh, take a drag of the cigar and breathe out the smoke through her nose. She brushed some of her hair away from her eyes, shifting her weight to the leg she had a good hip for. She shrugged.

"Some... idiots. They hit me with a bat and managed to fracture it. Doesn’t hurt as much, but it’s an annoyance." She chuckled, yet she held regret in her voice, that much, he could point out. His hidden eyes gazed back up at her face, taking in as much detail as he could, now that they weren't fighting for their lives. Though the dark did hide a few things, he could make out quite a few things. 

Like the pain she hid in her emotionless expression, but not her eyes.

"You never got to get even, did'ya?"

"…No." He rose a brow.

"I had to take care've my sister. Mama turned alcoholic after dad died, so is just me and my sis. When I turned old enough, I said 'fuck it' and moved enlisted in the army, despite her wishes. Look at where it’s got me now." She rambled on, tossing the butt of the cigar to the ground next to her and snuffing it out by stomping on it with her foot. Mute gave a nod, turning his attention back to the stars, letting her ramble on.

"Doc's a good man, but fucking hell he can stick his no smokin' rules up his ass." Lynx snickered, sliding her arms into the sleeves of the jacket and crossing her arms on the railing, leaning against it, sniffling a little. Despite the heavy smell of smoke, she could sniff faint traces of Mute's cologne on his jacket. A smell she had grown to find comforting in times like these. If only it was like this all the time. The  SAS and SIAS operators went quiet, now merely enjoying each others presence. It was, she estimated, around 2 AM, meaning she'd been on the roof for over an hour, smoking.

The woman closed her eyes, letting her unkept auburn hair dangle in front of her face as she dipped her head down.

"So, what kept you up?" She finally asked the British man, who only chuckled with the softed voice he could muster.

"The boys snore. 'Specially Smoke."

"And you don't?" Mused Lynx, nudging him a little with her hip.

"Fai' point." He mumbled, leaning next to her, his arms crossed on the railing.

"Sledge's the worst."

"Definitely. Sounds like a fucking motorcycle geeked up on speed." Mute allowed himself to snort, dipping his head down as his shoulders shook in laughter.

"The fuck's a motorcycle geeked up on speed sound like?" He asked in between laughs, looking at the Romanian, who would only shrug and snort in reply.

"Like Sledge, whaddya think?" She said, causing the Brit to bang his fist into the metal railing. Man, they truly felt like teenagers at this moment. Being able to talk shit behind the backs of their teammates, knowing they won't ever find out about the gossip. Makes the two remember the good days of their childhood, where they didn't have a care in the world and they could do whatever the hell they wanted to do.

As the laughter died down, their eyes met the darkened sky again, taking in detail every single one of the bright spots that were known as stars.

The roof always had some of the best views, tonight was no exception to this. The few clouds moved slowly to the side, never once blocking the half-moon that shone brightly, luminating the grounds that were covered in darkness. Man, he would kill to see another sunrise on this roof. The last one he saw, it had left him with peace. A truly wonderful sight to start the day with.

Lynx sniffled again, burrying her nose in the soft wool lining of the jacket. Unknowingly, she'd begun to lean on the man, looking for more warmth from his body. After making sure they were completely alone, Mute's arm slid around her waist, pulling her closer to him. He'd only ever get this affectionate when they'd be alone. And each moment was to die for.

"Thanks for the jacket, by the way."

"Figured ya'd be cold. Brought 'n extra one, just'n case." He shrugged. The corner of Lynx's lips tugged up in a smile. She lifted her head up and leaned it against his shoulder, blinking tiredly. Heh. Not even a few moments ago she was wide awake, stressed out of her mind and now? She was moments away from passing out in his arms.

The crickets had stopped chirping by now, probably entering their own slumber until the next night.

"C'mon, le's go inside. 'S gettin' cold." Mute informed, removing his hand from her waist. Lynx nodded, leaning off from the railing and arching her back, groaning in satisfaction when she heard it crack. Oh, that felt so good. The two looked at each other, Mute gesturing towards the staircase.

"Ladies first."

"Oh shut up." Lynx laughed softly, walking over to the door and opening it, making her way down the narrow, spiral stairway, Mute close behind her.

It wasn't long before they walked the spacious hall side by side, enjoying a small talk in hushed voices as they passed the dorms of the other operators. It was no secret that the British slept in the same dorm, the Russians in a separate, and so on and so on. Their boots thumped softly against the polished floor, the noise soft, barely audible.

Along the way, the two passed the lockers of the others, again, who were divided in sections, just like the dorms.

"How much are you willing to bet that Bandit keeps cocaine 'n his locker?" Asked Lynx, pointing over to the German's locker with a thumb.

"Mate, Doc's caught 'im before." Mute chuckled, shaking his head in amusement.

The trip to the lounge was short, taking only about 10 minutes, give or take. Lynx made her way to the couch and let herself drop on it, huffing as she did so. She kicked off her boots and put her feet on the coffee table, sighing in relaxation. The warmth of the base was wonderful.

Mute sat himself down next to her an arm wrapped around her shoulders, making her lean on him.

Silence. This time, the crickets weren't there to sing their song and the stars weren't dancing along. It was pure, undisturbed silence. The Brit glanced over at the clock on the wall.

2:49 AM.

It'd be a while until the others would wake up. Or at least until Jackal appeared for his daily dose of 4 cups of coffee to keep him going for the day. Thatcher? Well, knowing him, he would drag the others out of bed, quite literally, if he had to. He'd done it before and he'd do it again. It was also usually around that time that the others would wake up by the alarm clock in each one of the dorms. Sledge had broken a few before, hence why he now had to leave his sledgehammer in his locker.

Lynx chuckled at the thoughts and allowed herself to close her eyes, snuggling deeper into the leather jacket and resting her head on his chest. She inhaled deeply, then exhaled, enjoying the now stronger smell of the man's comforting cologne. Mute tilted his head back and sighed, closing his hidden eyes for the time being. Based on Lynx's slowed breathing, he could safely say that she'd fallen asleep, desoite having told him in the hall that she was done with sleeping for the night.

Tsk.

"G'night t'ya too."

[stressful-and-deathy]

each step draws us closer to the aisle

“Hey, babe.

Because I’m an amazing work AND life partner, I know you pretty well.

That means I knew there’d be a very high chance you’d be getting all nervous and stressed out about things going right right now. But listen, that’s not your job today, okay? The only thing you have to do is show up and marry me. Let your mom and Kylie and the rest of the wedding party put out the fires and try to relax a bit.

I made you something that I hope will help you do that.

Don’t press play until you turn the first page. And no peeking!”

link to previous chapter - (x)  

song #2 - together we stand, divided we fall 

read on ao3 or click on Keep Reading below! 

“Amy, do you have your first aid kit in there?” - Rosa asked again. “Nikolaj’s allergies are attacking again and he needs your epipen. If you want your flower boy to actually be able to walk down the aisle you should probably open the door.” “Coming!”  Before Amy even registered anything Rosa said, she was already getting up and picking up the phone, the still opened book and the box as she hastily moved to open the door. For some reason, she felt like a child getting caught stealing candy from the kitchen cabinet in the middle of the night.

“Hi, Diaz. Rosa. Hi, Rosa Diaz. Which is you. Hi, you. What’s up, girl?” Amy managed to say after opening the bathroom door while fumbling with all the items she was trying to hold. That, of course, resulted in the scrapbook being dropped to the floor and Amy immediately diving to catch it.

Rosa stood there for about five seconds with a “Do I Really Have to Deal With This Right Now?” look on her face until she decided that no, she didn’t. There were more pressing issues at the moment. “Okay, just move before Nikolaj’s throat closes up.” Rosa moved past Amy, spotting the small kit on the counter top behind her.

“Oh, that’s really great for him” - Amy mumbled, completely distracted by the new page of the scrapbook that had been revealed when it fell. She didn’t really understand what she was seeing at first. There were no pictures, just hundreds of very small printed sequences of numbers and letters, that at first seemed completely meaningless, organized in about nine or ten columns under the title “SONG #2”. On the bottom of the page, a small massage in Jake's chaotic handwriting that said: "It sucks A LOT less when I get to do it with you".

She picked up the book, and moved towards the couch, still mesmerized by the curious inscribed numbers, but before she could actually sit down, Kylie, who was still on the phone, grabbed her arm and moved her slightly to the side, avoiding the fact that Amy was about to sit on a bunch of Gina’s makeup, therefore, saving her life from certain murder.

Kylie threw her an exasperated look but Amy didn’t even look up, so she rolled her eyes and went back to yelling into her cellphone.

Amy put on the headphones again just as she began to suspect what all those numbers were. She pressed play and when “Let’s Work Together” by Canned Heat began playing, she was sure. That was the song Jake made her, and everyone in the precinct, listen to whenever they were assigned to work together on a case for at least two years into their partnership.

Every time Jake left Captain McGintley ‘s office with a file in his hands, playing air guitar while making his way to her desk, singing “Let’s get on the ball and work together. Come on, Come on. Let’s work together”, Amy would take a deep breath and accept the fact that she was in for a long ride.

But that’s the thing, though. After a while, she stopped believing that all his buffoonery and childish behavior interfered on his abilities to do his job, he had proved time and time again what a great detective he was, there was no denying that. And more importantly, she stopped believing that the two of them would never work well together because of their very fundamental differences. Turns out, their partnership was so powerful and solid because each brought their own strengths to the table and even though Jake had insisted for a long time that he was a lone wolf and worked best alone, they both knew that was not accurate at all. When they were solving crimes together, they found a balance that just made everything easier.

Those series of numbers on the page were actually the numbers of cases she and Jake had solved together as partners, since day one up until the grand larceny case they worked on a few weeks ago. Hundreds and hundreds of them.

Amy was thinking about all the work Jake had put into getting all of those files and wondered if Kylie had actually helped him, as she scanned the page once more, just now noticing a few small drawings around some of the numbers. Some of them made her sigh lovingly, for example, surrounding what she recognized to be number of the Augustine case, there were dozens of badly drawn tiny hearts.

Others made her roll and eyes and smile, like the drawing of (barely recognizable) car keys around what was probably the number from the case of that crazy woman, who insisted she had every right to leave her small children locked inside her car alone and actually tried to swallow her car keys to prove that point. They didn’t know how long those kids had been inside the car, so Amy acted on impulse and literally shoved her hand down that woman’s throat, successfully recovering the keys while Jake already had her on handcuffs. She’d never forget seeing Jake with his mouth hanging open and a look of complete wonder on his eyes, as if she was his own personal hero.

Also there was what she assumed to be a vulture next to the numbers of every case they had almost lost to Major Crimes but managed to solve first.  And lastly, she noticed the small drawing of a green and a white bar, intercalated between gold vertical bars, that was probably an attempt to reproduce the Excellent Police Duty Medal, which both she and Jake proudly wore on their uniforms. She ran her finger softly over the number next to it as her mind drifted once more to a time when she would’ve laughed out loud if told that she’d be marrying her partner.

It was a little less than a year before Holt became their captain and Jake and Amy were working on a huge case. Their informants were hitting at a new guy in town who had begun a big distribution ring in Brooklyn. After months of investigating, they found out his name was Gregory Giordano, he was the youngest kid in the Giordano family, a huge name in the mafia active on the West Coast. From what they had managed to gather, it seemed that Gregory had a major falling out with the rest of his family, so he decided to fly solo and move to New York.

Everyone they arrested with information about him would said he wasn’t like any other boss they had ever had before. Because he didn’t have an established network he could trust, he was very hands-on and liked to oversee every operation himself. They described him as a large man, who was very passionate and blew up very easily, especially when talking about his family, but still was very careful and did not do things without thinking them through first.

Finally, after weeks trying some way to approach him, they got intel that indicated he had a new dealer he was training on the streets. That meant he would be watching the new guy work throughout the day to evaluate him and accept him or not into his operation. They knew they had to get Giordano to take down the ring and that was their best shot.

It was settled that Jake and Amy would go undercover, act like they wanted to buy drugs from the new kid and try to get Giordano to engage, hoping for at least a first contact with him. They would be surrounded by backup and Rosa and Charles would also be strategically positioned in case anything went wrong.  

They were in the car, about to drive to the location, and Amy was really nervous but hearing Jake babble about his ridiculous made up story for their cover in the driver’s seat actually helped a little.

“So, let’s go over it one more time: I am Jack Daniels, a successful motocross rider that has but one flaw — he is an adrenaline junkie and being on two wheels in very dangerous roads is just not enough for him anymore. Now, he started to do cocaine hard. Like, right before the doping tests so he never knows if he’ll be picked or not. You see, it’s like russian roulette but it’s his entire career on stake, not his life. Well, metaphorically his life is at a stake too, because, you know, motocrossing is his entire life. And you are, Stephanie Garcia, my trusty assistant who would do literally anything for me because you’ve been secretly in love in with me for five years now. You don’t want me to be recognized so you’ll do the talking with the dealer while I’ll just hang here wearing these cool sunglasses.”

“Sure, okay. Just drive already, we’re gonna be late.”  - Amy answered.

It was less than twenty minutes until they arrived on the street where the dealer supposedly was and they quickly spotted a skinny kid, looking like he couldn’t be older than seventeen years old hanging around a black SUV.

As instructed by their informant, Jake drove to the front of a abandoned football camp, and parked beside a “Keep Out” sign. He did the code, which was to honk twice and roll down all four windows and waited.  It wasn’t long until the scrawny looking boy came their way.

He stopped by Amy’s window and said “Sup”.

Amy took a deep breath, looked at him and muttered the following words: “May I have some cocaine, please?”

It was dead quiet for about five seconds.

Then Jake started to cough nervously and the kid jumped, taken aback.

“The fuck, dude. You guys fucking cops or something? What the fuck.”

At the sign of trouble, a huge guy left the SUV followed by two man dressed in suits. Both Jake and Amy noticed how all three of them kept one their hands on their waist, indicating they were all armed.

The large man, who matched Gregory Giordano’s description, reached their car after pushing the kid back and looked inside. It seemed that the kid was wearing a wire and Giordano was listening to the whole thing in the small device he was still holding.

“Is there a problem here?”

Amy was about to answer but Jake was faster.

“Oh man, not at all! You have to excuse my girlfriend. It’s the first time she’s doing this and with her kind of backstory, it’s hard to let some old habits go.”  Everyone, including Amy looked at Jake like he had literally lost his mind but he just kept going.

“You know, she’s embarrassed to say it but… Jacintha here is actually the only heir of the family that owns all of the… art places in New York City. Or should I say…” - He took of his sunglasses in a dramatic manner for effect - “... was the heir, because you see, Jacintha was done with being told what to do and how to behave, she was sick of being the princess who had her future set in stone without being able to choose what she wanted to do with her life. She had a very formal upbringing and we met when she was forced into grad school, then Jacintha fell in love with the bad boy, which is me, by the way, if you can’t tell by these awesome sunglasses I’ve got here. So, I took it as a mission to show her the darker, more fun side of the world with the drugs and the um… staying up late. Anyways, that’s why she’s so formal, she had to grow up like that, but we are actually super chill and my girl here is just really inexperienced with this kind of thing, thanks to her family.”

Giordano was now staring at Amy, as if he were carefully examining every aspect of her face. She just tried to keep on smiling, whispering a small “sorry” through clenched teeth.

“You wouldn’t let anything bad happen to a happy couple in love that’s just looking for some cocaine, would you?” - Jake said, holding Amy’s hand and flashing him the best smile he could muster.

Giordano, who had never taken his eyes off of Amy, said: “So, your family’s just a bunch of assholes, huh?”

“Hm, yes, sir. They most definitely are.” -  Amy managed to answer.

“I know how that feels like. Having your stupid family telling you what you should do and shit. Fuck them. I feel you, I really do. But listen to me, the best thing you can do is get the hell away from them and get your sweet revenge, you know? Like me, my dumb family was planning on moving to New York and shit. To expand the business. Guess what I did? I moved here first, took all their little plans and now I’m about to become the motherfucking main king of the area. Right in their fucking ugly faces. So yeah, I got your coke. On the house. And if you look for me again in about a week, I’ll be serving some meth, too. ‘Cause business are going great, baby! Those fuckers never saw this coming.”

He was very altered, basically yelling for anyone who wanted to hear.

And Jake and Amy were smiling from ear to ear, because just when he turned around to get the drug from the kid, he was faced with Detective Diaz and Detective Boyle, who had already taken down the three remaining people in the scene, pointing their guns at him.

Amy left the car with her handcuffs ready -  “Gregory Giordano, you are under arrest.” and after she had gone through the Miranda Rights, Jake whispered to Giordano - “I’m sorry your family never loved you, dude”.

A few days later, Jake and Amy were at a ceremony in which they’d be receiving the Excellent Police Duty Medal for “an intelligent act materially contributing to a valuable accomplishment”.

Right before they were called up on stage, Jake turned to Amy and said: “I guess you are a pretty good detective.”

Amy smiled and was about to return the compliment but he kept going before she could say anything.

“Not better than me, of course. But second best is not that bad.”  That made Amy’s face transform immediately, going from a soft thankful expression to furrowed eyebrows and incredulous look.

“What? Are you kidding? I am obviously a much better detective, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You wish. If I hadn’t made up that story for you insanely soliciting drugs in perfect grammar, we wouldn’t be here today.”

“Well, if I hadn’t done that in the first place, there would be no story for you to create and Gregory would be selling meth left and right. And, oh yeah, that’s right, we wouldn’t be here either.”

They kept going back and forth all through the night and until the next day, when they were all in the conference room before the morning briefing. The rest of the squad could not take anymore of Jake and Amy's banter, everyone was sick of hearing the two of them discussing about who was actually the best detective.

“You guys should just make a bet and settle this already.” - Gina suggested.

After the small crowd, including Jake, hollered in approval of the idea, Amy put her hands on her hips and asked: “Okay, but what are the stakes? And don’t say money because I know you’re in debt.”

Before her mind could take her down that path, the song ended and she hadn’t even turned the page when the next song started. As her mind caught up with the familiar beats, Amy laughed out loud.  

“Oh, my God. You didn’t.”

[rason-rodd]

Red Hood and The Outlaws: Loyalty (Chapter 18)

[Read on AO3] [Previous Chapter]

Author’s note: This fan fiction is coming to an end. Only 2 chapters left after this one. In the meantime I would truly appreciate to know what you think about it because I don’t receive many comments. Thx

Chapter 18: Gloria

How could he have done that? He was ashamed. Here, staring at his computer screen. He had violated her secrets. He had violated the secrets of the woman he loved.   But how could she have done that? He was angry. Here, staring at this name. At her real name. she had betrayed him. She had betrayed the man he thought she loved.

[Y/N] STANSON … STANSON…

He knew that name all too well. It had haunted him back in his Robin days. It had destroyed him. It was the name of his first failure. The name of the woman he could not save. The name of the woman who had made him cross the line for the first time.

Gloria Stanson. She was a model, a beautiful young woman with glimmering blue eyes, shining golden hair and a smile to die for. Well, at least, that is how she looked like on the pictures he had seen of her.               The day he met her she was nothing like that. She was broken; her eyes filled with terror, her face and naked body covered with bruises hidden under the sheets of the filthy bed he had raped her in. Felipe Garzonas. Some son of rich diplomat involved in drug traffic and protected by his beloved father.       Jason had thought that he and Batman could bring him to justice but there was no justice for men like Garzonas. And he learned that the hard way.         He learned that when he found Gloria again, in her own room this time, swinging at the end of a rope. Gloria had been like cracked crystal, beautiful but too fragile for this world inhabited by monsters like Felipe Garzonas.      

“What are you doing?” A voice coming from behind him made him jump. [Y/N] was here, wearing one of Jason’s large t-shirts. She looked as if she was ready to fall. Her knees were slightly bent and she was holding to the doorframe.       “[Y/N]. You should be in bed.” Jason immediately said as he ran towards her but she pushed him and approached his desk to have a look at his computer. “ Where did you get this?”             “ Batman gave it to me. When would you have told me?”         She didn’t answer, still staring at her file. Everything was there. From her family record book to her internment at Arkham Asylum.   “ Did you read it all?” She had tears in her eyes.           “When would you have told me?” He repeated. “No. Let me correct it. Would you have told me?” But she ignored him again, and simply asked again, this time, more firmly. “Jay. Did you read it?” “ No. Not down to the very last detail. The beginning was already tough to take in. Now tell me, would you have told me?” She lowered her eyes, ashamed. He took her silence as a no but he wasn’t surprised, just disappointed.“ That’s what I thought”               “ Let me explain!” She tried to scream but her voice was too broken, reduced to a mere croaky pleading.   “ No! I don’t need to hear you don’t trust me. I already know”               “ I do trust you.”               “ Then why?” He was angry but most of all he was sad and hurt. She looked at him with pity and shame. “ My past is not glorious.”             “ Because mine is? I don’t judge you, [Y/N]. I’ve never judged you. On the contrary, I accept you for whoever you are. I just … I just need to hear the truth. What is your story?”       “ I can’t tell you.” She turned away from him and sat down. She couldn’t look at him. Instead, she stood there, still, staring at her tiny pale cold hands.                   Jason wanted to grab them in his, kneeled in front of her. He wanted to whisper a loving and reassuring “Tell me”. Instead he just clenched his fists and jaw and growled “Just fucking tell me and no lies this time.”

She briefly peeked at him, with tears in her grey eyes and after a deep breath she started her story. No more lies.     “ I was born in Gotham from very modest parents. My mum was a mere cashier working her ass off in a convenience store while my father was getting more and more involved in Black Mask’s drug business each day. But I told you that. I had a sister as well: Gloria. She was perfect. I looked up to her. She was beautiful, funny, smart … and way too loyal to our family. When my mother died, my dad got her involved in a cocaine traffic he was working on. He always loved her best and he knew no man could resist her. She was a model after all while I … I was the rebel daughter who still held him responsible for my mother’s death.”             A tear fell along her cheeks as she visualised her dead mother in that armchair, covered in snow, foamy saliva and white powder. “ One day things went terribly bad. My sister had trouble with a guy named Felipe Garzonas.” The name sent shivers back down Jason’s spine. “ The diplomat’s son. He raped your sister. Got away with that.”         “ And she killed herself. Jumped off a chair with a noose around her neck. In my darkest nightmares I can still hear the rope creaking and see her body swinging. But you can relate, right? You found her body and you killed him.”

He didn’t reply, too shocked to say a word. No one knew about that. Not even Batman. He always told him it was an accident. He always said he slipped and fell from the balcony after the young Robin spooked him.                 But the truth is, he did push him. And he could still picture himself doing it, his hands on his chest, catching him by surprise.

“I saw you, at his apartment. I was coming for him too, with a knife in my pocket. You were on the balcony, facing him in your colourful Robin costume and you pushed him over. His body fell. He screamed and hit the ground and you stared at his corpse. You were so angry but I … I was so satisfied… at least for a brief moment. But the truth is, Gloria would have never killed herself if my father hadn’t involved her in this mess.” Jason shivered as he felt where the story was going. “I came back home. My father was here. He was counting dollar bills on the kitchen table as if nothing had happened. He looked at me from head to toes, threw a dress at me and told me “ that should do it””

She made a pause in her story. She hadn’t told anybody about this since the day before they sent her to Arkham. But like that day, the words were like thin needles stabbing her heart and stomach.

“My dad wanted to prostitute me.” She finally managed to say “But I wasn’t my sister. So I told him to fuck off, that I was leaving, that I didn’t want to see him again and that I’d grass him up to the cops. It drove it mad so he caught me by my hair, put me down on the ground and started beating me up. I screamed for help. No one came. I knew he would eventually kill me. So I took the knife that I wanted to use on Garzonas and stabbed him in the stomach. And then the worst happened. My blood began to boil in my veins and my bones broke one by one as if a vice was crushing them slowly. I felt like it lasted hours but the truth is I’m in barely took a couple of minutes.”     “ You turned.”  Jason said calmly and with compassion for the little girl who had lost everything, her mother, her sister, her father …         “ I’ve never felt so much pain. I eventually lost consciousness … or control... I don't know. I wasn’t myself anymore. I was a beast. I still can’t remember what really happened that night but I can still hear my dad screaming for mercy, in pain. When I came back to myself, I was naked on the ground, my [Y/HC] hair had turned white and my father's heart was in my hand as his limbs were scattered all over the living room. I had never seen so much blood. I felt guilty and strangely … sad. I called the GCPD, told them what happened. Even though they saw the paw prints in the room, they found a perfect logical explanation. My neighbour’s German Shepards. I was pleading guilty for my father’s murder and they told me I was a crazy traumatized little girl. “The poor girl is orphan now… I think trauma turned her mad… Perhaps we should send her to Arkham”               “ And you were.”             “ And I was”

That was a lot to take in even for someone like Jason who had heard, seen and experienced so much despite his young years. The entire story, all this was just too much. All the lies were too much. He couldn’t look at her. But, he knew there was more. And he desperately wanted to know. He probably was a masochist.

“ But you escaped. How? What happened back there?”             “ Don’t you remember the fire in Arkham Asylum a couple months after?” Yes, he does. It had destroyed an entire wing of Arkham and the evidence of frame-up along with it. Took days for Batman to truly understand how it happened. “ Yeah. Joker got out again with Firefly’s help.” “ And Bronze Tiger’s.” Jason eyes widened. “ What?” Bronze Tiger wasn’t in Arkham. He would have known. He had seen the inmates list. He could see remember it. “Bronze Tiger. Ben Turner.” And then he understood. “Bronze tiger is your mentor.” He wasn’t a question. Of course he was. What’s better than a shapeshifter to train another shapeshifter.   “He broke me out of Arkham, took me with him to ‘Eth Alth’Eban and I joined the League of Assassins.”

It was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Jason silently turned his back and clenched his fist so tight his nails almost drew blood from his palm. No she couldn’t! Not that! Not to him!

“ I don’t want to lie anymore, Jason. I’m a murderer. I’ve killed for the League, for Ra’s Al Ghul, for Bronze Tiger. They sent me to Gotham… to find you and bring you back to ‘Eth Alth’Eban.” She thought revealing the truth would ease the burden on her shoulder but she felt terrible. There’s was no freedom in the truth, just an intense loneliness.       “ Are you telling me you tricked me?” Jason managed to say though his voice sounded so broken and miserable.   “ No. I never did it.” She rushed towards him to catch his arm as she noticed he was on the verge of tears. “I refused to do what the League wanted and that’s why Lady Shiva went after me. They still think I’m in their team but …” He pushed her away, without a look. Just with a simple arm move. “Honestly [Y/N] I don’t know if I believe that.” She lowered her eyes. She could understand.                 “ I need to be alone for a while. So please just leave this place”           “ Jay” She begged in a whisper “Please don’t”                 “Leave!!”

There are moments that will always haunt you. Memories, so terrible, they appear in your worst nightmares as ghosts from an awful past.                 For Jason, it used to be the Joker beating him up to death with a crowbar in a filthy bunker in Qurac. For [Y/N], it was the death of her entire family. But today, both of them knew, they will forever be haunted by the face of the other, staring with tears in their eyes, as their heart cries out in pain.

[midnightstarsky]

VS Cartel AU Chapter 1 Part 3

This is my cross-over fiction of vatanim sensin and the narcos history/tv show. Finally, after two months of plotting here’s the first part of the story. I hope you guys enjoy this!

Note: I don’t own any of the VS characters or narcos characters. These are characters based loosely on history so I any similarities are due to that.

All of these parts can be found under vs cartel au tag on my blog, where you can also find gifs and previews for the story and narcos show. And you can find a mash up trailer.

Hope you enjoy!

This one takes off where part 2 ends, hileon settle into married life and face increasingly challenging circumstances. 

content warning: This is a cartel fic, so there will be mentions of violence and drugs from this point on from the story. So canon typical violence for a show like narcos is to be expected. 

Chapter 1: The Beginning Part 3

Hilal and I settled in our own place in the city, settling into our new lives.

              Hilal worked as a nurse in the nearby hospital, and I worked my cases around the city. Work was hard, and sometimes the nights were tough, but life was good.

              Until as time progressed, the cases were rougher and longer. We were facing drug dealers with even more advanced weapons than what we were used to or prepared for. The drug dealers weren’t young teens with pistols anymore, they were young teens and adults with semi-automatic weapons that were aimed to kill and did kill. Nearly a hundred people were killed from cartel violence in a period of three years. Nearly two hundred people overdosed in that same period. Soon it became routine to face shootouts over a couple hundred kilos of cocaine, and it became more dangerous when we went out to make a bust. We were putting our lives at risk every day, and already we’d lost five DEA agents in the past year. Ali Kemal’s partner was killed when an informant betrayed her. I’d seen some horrific things, watching innocent people caught in the crossfire and watching what the fear and terror was doing to the neighborhoods especially affected.

I was starting to feel helpless, I was starting to doubt that I was even making a difference here.

It got harder every night to come home to Hilal after seeing the things I had to see. I couldn’t take bringing home disappointment and regret home to her. And it was about to get worse.

Chicago 2016

              Leon opened the door and walked over to Hilal tiredly, leaning down to give her a quick kiss as she looked up at him with a frustrated expression. He frowned down at her in concern, bringing his hand to cradle her cheek and she leaned into his palm and sighed. Wordlessly, she grabbed his other hand and pulled him to sit beside her and leaned her head against his. He closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair and breathed her familiar scent in. She kissed his shoulder as she entwined her hand in his.

              They stayed like that until she sat up to face him and asked, “That bad?”

              “Another Greektown cocaine bust, this time with a bunch of teens shooting at us with machine guns,” he said tiredly looking down at his hands, “When we returned fire I ended up hitting one in the chest and killing him. He was just a kid, Hilal.”

              Hilal was silent for a moment, “Good.”

              Leon’s eyes snapped to his wife, “Hilal! What are you saying?”

              She stood up and turned away from him, “He deserved to die.”

              Leon studied her silently before standing and approaching her. He wrapped his arms around her middle and felt the tension in her body. She leaned back into his chest and eased.

              She let out a pained sigh as he asked, “What happened?”

              She turned around and buried her face in his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her to hold her close.

              “A sixteen-year old girl overdosed and died in the ER today,” she said shakily, “Just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, we got a pregnant woman who had overdosed from cocaine.”

              Hilal breathed shakily as he kissed the top of her head, “She died an hour later, we tried to save the baby but we couldn’t. That little baby boy died in my arms, Leon.”

              She was shaking now, and Leon pulled away to cradle her face in his hands, “Hilal, you did what you could.”

              She nodded slowly, “I keep telling myself that. But Leon, she was found in Greektown and they found out she had swallowed packets of cocaine. She was one of those, what did you tell me they call them? Cocaine mules? The poor girl had swallowed twenty packets of cocaine. God, she was carrying 120 grams of cocaine, Leon. Two of the packets had burst and got into her bloodstream, overdosing her immediately.  She had twelve grams of cocaine enter her blood directly sending her heart into cardiac arrest, she stood no chance once even one of those packets burst. We were never going to be able to save her.”

              Leon breathed sharply and held her tighter.

              “I feel so helpless, Leon,” she said tiredly, “Like whatever I do isn’t making a difference.”

              He felt his heart break, because he never thought he’d see his strong stubborn Hilal feel like he did, like a failure. She never gave up, and damn anyone who stood in the way of her goals.  It made him feel like he had failed his wife, she had been his rock and support when things got tough and here he was with no answer for her own struggle.

              “Why does this keep happening?” Hilal sobbed into his chest.

              Leon brought her closer and felt his own eyes water, “I don’t know.”

The cocaine business had moved from the typical cartel locations to Greektown, every week there were drug traffickers caught or gunned down. And it wasn’t just the police fighting these new drug traffickers, gang violence in the area was on a high. Murder rates were skyrocketing, and bodies were piling up like never before in Chicago. Not even Al Capone could claim to have brought the kind of violence we were seeing.  And it seemed like there was no stopping it. And every day, there were reported deaths from overdoses, with cocaine not from Mexico, but cocaine from Greek traffickers and with Greek connections. It was becoming increasingly clear that we weren’t even making a dent in our work. If we managed to confiscate ten kilos of cocaine in a day, they were smuggling in 1 ton of cocaine a day. They were toying with us, letting us find the obvious cache of cocaine while smuggling the real loads in. It was frustrating because we knew we were being played and we couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Ali Kemal and I were just about banging our heads against the walls, begging our superiors that we needed to do more.

Finally, someone listened.

We were called to the office of the head of the DEA in Chicago, Agent Fatma, a formidable woman who had dealt with the worst cartels in Chicago for the past 15 years. There were even rumors she had done about four years of undercover work in Colombia during the second Search bloc era. Other rumors said she had been instrumental in capturing key Sinaloa cartel leaders in Mexico. There were other rumors too, some too unbelievable to even mention here.  Whatever the truth was, this was the universally accepted truth among our fellow DEA agents, Special Agent Fatma was a certified badass.  

She brought us in and explained that she herself had seen the beginnings of this cartel but for years they had been a minor problem, her superiors had told her to focus on the Sinaloa cartel trafficking activities. But as the Sinaloa cartel was falling with the capture of El Chapo and his associates, a new cartel had arisen to take their place of power. And it was becoming clear that this new player in town wasn’t going away and they were more powerful than ever.

“After we looked further into it, we’ve found that this cartel is a sophisticated and complex organization that has infiltrated and dominated the cocaine business in the past five years from their base in Thessaloniki in Greece,” she explained.

That peaked both of their interests, the brothers were born in Thessaloniki.

Agent Fatma eyed them, “You’re probably wondering why I brought you brought you in today. Well, brace yourselves, you might not like what you’re about to find out. But it’s important that you know, because we are going to need you both for this case.”

She opened a drawer and grabbed a folder. She tossed it front of Leon who peered down before glancing up.

“What do you know about CevVas cartel?” Agent Fatma asked seriously.

Not liking what we heard that day was the understatement of the century.

Leon stumbled home, nearly falling twice as he walked up the stairs to their small house in the inner suburbs. He grabbed onto the railings to steady himself before heaving into the flowerbed under the windows of their home. Hilal was going to kill him for ruining her favorite rose bush he had planted for her birthday. He took a shaky breath as his hair fell before his eyes and he leaned his forehead against the railing. He breathed deeply, gripping the railing feeling like he could collapse at any moment.

The door opened, and he immediately felt a familiar presence support him.

“Where have you been? Your brother called and said you left him at his place nearly two hours ago?” Hilal asked worriedly, “Leon, you smell like alcohol, how much have you had?”

Leon didn’t respond only leaned over and heaved again. He felt Hilal’s cool hands stroking his hair as she leaned into his side to support his weight.

“You should have called me and let me know so I could have picked you up, or at least keep an eye on your intake tonight,” she reprimanded, “You know better than to drink alone, you promised me you wouldn’t go off on a bender when you’re upset or frustrated. You know there are more positive ways to deal when it gets tough, you don’t see me getting drunk when I have a hard day at work…”

She was interrupted when Leon threw up again on her roses.

Hilal sighed, “Well, you’ll have to buy me new roses now. Come in.”               He managed a nod before feeling dizzy again and turning green.

His wife shot him another disapproving look, but Leon’s hair shielded his eyes from the worst of Hilal’s ire. She huffed as she positioned herself under his arm and guided him with surprising gentleness considering her irritation at his stupidity. She expertly helped him through the house with Leon feeling sturdy on his feet with her help. She may have been a foot shorter than him, but her small frame hid a stubborn strength that manifested itself in physical strength.

              Once they were inside, she led him to their couch near the kitchen. Leon sat down and leaned his head against the cushions and closed his eyes.

              “What could possibly possess you to be so stupid and drink yourself into a stupor?” Hilal demanded as she rummaged through the kitchen.

              “Hilal,” he moaned, “Do we really need to do this right now?”

              “Yes, we do,” Hilal responded sternly, “Open your eyes.”

              Leon slowly opened his eyes to see a cup of water in his face. He took the glass as he eyed his wife with a frown. She glared at him before shoving two aspirin pills into his hand. He swallowed them quickly and finished off the glass before handing it to his wife. She placed the glass on the coffee table before taking a seat on the armchair across him and crossing her legs.

              She looked at him expectantly, “Well, what have you to say for your idiotic behavior.”

              He looked back at her stubbornly, “I’d rather not say.”

              Hilal frowned and leaned forward, “Leon, tell me the truth. Your eyes are red so you’ve clearly been crying and you never let yourself get this wasted alone. Did another kid die in a shootout? Did you lose another DEA agent?”

              He looked down and shook his head.

              She was worried now, “Leon, please tell me what’s wrong. Don’t shut me out, my love.”

              Hilal reached across the coffee table to take his hand in hers, “Please.”

              He looked up at her, his eyes full of despair, “This burden should be mine alone.”

              “I know your brother knows, I could sense his anger through the phone,” she pointed out, “but apparently, I can’t be trusted? No, it’s not that you don’t trust me, it’s that you want to protect me. So l’m to be sheltered? I know I’ve made it quite clear, husband, that you do not get to shelter me from the dangers of your job. Or did you forget the time I locked you out of the house for a full day because you decided not to tell me that your brother lost his partner in a shootout?”

              “Hilal, stop being so damn stubborn,” he whined as he covered his eyes with his free hand, “I’m not better off for knowing what I know.”

But his darling Hilal wasn’t about to let this go, “I’m your wife, we promised to share everything. I don’t keep secrets from you.”

              He sighed and brought her hand up to his lips to kiss, “Hilal, just this once, let me deal with this myself.”

              She pulled her hand away to grab his chin, forcing him to face her gaze. Her eyes were hard and determined.

              “If you don’t tell me, I’m going to assume the worst,” she warned.

              Leon raised an eyebrow, “Trust me, I don’t think there’s anything worse than this Hilal.”

              Hilal held his gaze, “Try me.”

              He pulled away and leaned back as he ran a hand through his hair as he breathed out.

After a moment, he faced Hilal.

              “Our supervisor called us into her office,” he began, “She told us that all the cocaine trafficking around Greektown, all the shootings, all the deaths had been tracked down to one name. They’re a new cartel but they’ve taken over the cocaine business as the Sinaloa cartel was being brought down. They’ve traced them to sources in Greece, specifically Thessaloniki.”

              Hilal raised an eyebrow curiously but didn’t say anything.

              He stopped and took a deep breath, “They’ve been able to find a couple names as well, and they’re well respected members of Greek society, practically billionaires.”

              Hilal snorted, “Respectable drug dealers.”

              Leon simply said, “They’re quite powerful, rumors are that they’ve bought off politicians and police to make sure their business isn’t hindered.”

              His wife looked disgusted, “The very people who should be protecting their country are lining their pockets with drug money.”

              “Hilal, if you want to know so badly, stop interrupting me,” he laughed bitterly.

              She pursed her lips and nodded.

              “Agent Fatma gave us the names and photos of the people in charge of and connected to this Greek cartel,” he forced out as he reached into his jacket to pull out a small stack of papers and threw them on the table between them.

              His wife moved closer and glanced down at the papers.

              Leon grabbed her wrist gently to stop her causing her to glance up at him.

              “Hilal, all our sources are telling us that the man behind all of this, all of the drugs and deaths is,” he choked the words out, “My father.”

              His wife gasped and brought a hand to her mouth before glancing down.

              He reached into the papers to pull out a photo of his father, he hadn’t seen the man in over twenty years but one of the few memories he had held onto from his life in Greece had been this one memory of his father laughing and smiling as he surprised his family with gifts. Leon could never forget the easy smile of his father, the love and kindness in the man’s eyes as he gazed at his wife and children. He had gazed at them as if they were the most precious possession he had.

              Had that been the case? Had this twisted monster, and he was a monster if even half of the things Leon had read about Vasili was true could attest to, really cared for his family? Could a man who had no problem using pregnant women as cocaine mules, who didn’t care that he was selling poison by the kilo, who didn’t care who died to make sure he made his money, really find it in himself to love or care about someone?

              Leon wasn’t sure he even wanted the answer to that, all he knew was that he felt like his whole world was destroyed. He’d always suspected that perhaps his father wasn’t this beacon of goodness, but he never expected this, never expected that his father was responsible for so much harm.

              All Leon could think of was one thing.

              He was the son of a monster.

Leon felt ill.

              Hilal was studying him, as if waiting for him to say something.

              Leon sighed and held both of her hands in his, “There’s more, Hilal.”

              He stroked her fingers as he said quietly, “The official underground name of the cartel is the CevVas cartel, Vas for Vasili and Cev for Cevdet.”

              Hilal’s snatched her hands away and stood up, “No, it can’t be true. He’s dead, he’s been dead since we were little, it’s why we followed your mother here.”

              She was shaking her head frantically, “No, Leon, it can’t be true.”

              His heart broke for her, her mother had told Hilal and her sister that their father had died in suspicious circumstances. Azize had explained that their father’s death was why they had moved to the United States, to keep them safe. It was more of an explanation than Veronica had given Leon and Ali Kemal, and it had allowed the sisters to think fondly of their father Leon now realized. Perhaps Azize hoped Cevdet dead too.

              He grabbed a paper and held it out, “More than anything I wish I was wrong, my darling Hilal. I’m so sorry.”

              Hilal grabbed the paper and swallowed a sob as she traced the letters beneath the photo of a man, and there was no doubt in her mind that her husband was telling the truth.

              “He’s Vasili’s second in command, many believe the brains behind the operation,” Leon explained as he watch Hilal process all this.

              She dropped the paper on the table and ran her hands through her hair, pacing around the room.

              “There’s more,” Leon ground out.

              Hilal turned towards him with angry tears, “What else? Spit it out, Leon.”               He pulled another photo and showed her, “Yildiz has been living with your father for the past four years. She’s basically known in Greece as the richest heiress, practically treated like a princess there.”

              Yildiz was smirking the photo, dressed in the finest clothes money could buy with a sizable emerald pendant hanging from her neck and her wrists and fingers dripping in gold and diamonds.

              Hilal looked sick, “She can’t be this foolish? This careless?”               “We have intel from the Greek police that would have us believe that Yildiz is quite aware of everything, we suspect she may be involved,” he explained.

              His wife looked as overwhelmed as he still did. He tried to reach for her but she swatted him away and walked silently to the kitchen.

              He mentally cursed himself, he should have left the part about her father and Yildiz. But he knew that Hilal would have found out eventually, her father alone was richer than El Chapo. When he fell, and he would, the world’s eyes would be on Greece and the CevVas cartel. Hilal would know then and she would never forgive him for keeping something so important from her.

              Hilal returned with a bottle of the vodka his DEA partner had gotten him for his birthday and a glass. She sat down and filled the glass, all while Leon eyed her curiously.

              She held up the glass and asked him, “Just so we’re clear, our fathers oversee the largest cocaine cartel in the world, they’re billionaires making money off the very poison that is killing people in the hundreds in this city alone, and they control the authorities and government in Greece. Anything I didn’t understand?”

              He shook his head.

              Hilal leaned her head back and finished off the glass, before grimacing at the taste.

              Leon would normally have laughed at his wife, knowing that she wasn’t much of a drinker. But all he could do was study her quietly.

              Hilal shook her head before filling another glass, “Where do we go from here?”

              He leaned back, “They’re sending Ali Kemal next month to start gathering evidence against the cartel, and I’ve been assigned to join DEA operations within the next year. I will leave for Athens probably after some preparation, Ali Kemal has already worked undercover for a while so they will probably send him ahead to start some intel gathering.”

              “I’m coming with you,” she interrupted.

              Leon looked ready to argue but Hilal raised a hand to stop him.

              She nodded, “If you think I’m not going to let you go off alone to take down our fathers while I stay here, you don’t really know me. I’m going to be at your side to the end of the road, Leon.”

              If he was honest with himself, he didn’t think he could last a week without seeing Hilal let alone a year or two long mission. Maybe it made him selfish to want to bring Hilal somewhere she could be a target, but he didn’t care about that right now.  

“All right,” he agreed.

Hilal took another swig before he reached over to grab the glass.

“Hey,” she protested.

“Let’s make sure only one of us is hungover tomorrow morning,” he said as pulled the bottle away.

              A year later, Hilal and I were boarding the plane to Athens.

For me, I saw it as my duty and responsibility to undertake this mission. I had watched my city become worse rather than better, I’d watched too many lives extinguished too soon. My father and his cartel had brought war to my city, to my adopted country, and that I couldn’t take. I was going to take the fight to them.  I felt like a soldier sent off to war, telling myself that I had to do this. I also told myself that I had to stop my father’s evil, that it was my brother and my responsibility to make sure our father was behind bars at the end of this. That by stopping him we would leave a better legacy for our family, and a better name for our family. That my children wouldn’t have to live with the shame of who their grandfather was because their father had stopped him.

I had no idea what I had gotten myself into.

[calicokingcodex-blog]

THE STORY OF VICTOR CALDERON 

With a leather briefcase of money reflecting off his sunglasses, the new King of Calico slammed the trunk in satisfaction.  

He was called Victor Calderon. His rap sheet would tell you that he was a pimp,  shylock, and narcotics trafficker. His tax statement would classify him as a lucrative oil man, a landlord, a store owner. But he would cooly dismiss these titles. If prompted, he liked to tell people he was just a washed up gangster from 5th ward, Houston-town. He liked to say, “I caught a share of breaks, but I’m small time.” But in his heart, he was a true bastard of free market; an equal opportunity carnivore.  He had holdings (both legitimate and nefarious) in most of the major cities of the southwest– El Paso/Juarez, Tulsa, Austin/San Antonio, Sante Fe, Denver, Las Vegas, and as far west as Los Angeles. In L.A. his stake was small– just a faint whisper. He owned a gentlemen’s club, where he spent his time micro-managing heart-robbed concubines. His most recent recruit was easily his most vulnerable: A failed ballet dancer called, “Sage” Her eyes had true, classic beauty, but a nomadic, dope-sick lifestyle had started to fade them into something joyless.  She signed on to dance at Calderon’s place, on the sole condition that she was only expected to dance. Calderon gave her his word before he left L.A.– telling her to “stay strong” in his absence.

He know she would soon be broken. The initial resistance and kick back she put fourth would tire out. It wasn’t long and she  began to sell off parts of her self to vicious appetites and dirty wallets. Victor was delighted. His experience knew that she would now be soft in his hands, soft like butterfly wings in his fingertips. After months on the stage, Victor called from Las Vegas and told her she was to be relieved the next day. To calm her fury he quoted the numbers of her paycheck and promised her furlough. 

  “I know you’re tired of this. I’m tired of it too. But you’re going to walk out of there with some money. You’re coming back to Texas, to my spots. It’s time you rest for the next month. It’s my first order of business. I’ll be by tomorrow, stay strong. 

But there would be an unforeseen delay that turned one night in to 6 months . 

He was two hours outside of L.A. when he steered his Lincoln off of Route 66 for gas. He had caught Route 66 via Arizona, to make the drive more peaceful. In the raw warmth of desert air, he felt most at home. 

The valley’s bravado had put him into a trance, and he wandered around dazed for 15 miles. He pulled in to gas station, and caught his bearings. After a look at the road map, he was sure that he was in one of the two sun burnt towns outside of Barstow. He wondered what kind of bad things went on in a town like this. He watched the road for a while, his senses grew keen. The  familiar, savage hunger took over him. It was the same hunger of a starved coyote in heat, surrounded by gentle dogs.

Victor was born a bad seed, and he become a bad man. Prison, the ghetto, and summers in the country  had fostered an ability to swindle most people. Though some country folk were too guarded to fall for his gab, they were exceptions: he knew how to hustle a small town. It was custom to scout new towns, and while he walked down Main st. an uncanny brilliance began to shoot through his eyes.  Numbers and margins danced around his head as he appraised foreclosed silver mines, worn copper mills, perpetually unfolding derricks– typical real estate licks. Clearly there was money here, yet no signs of obvious dirt. So back at his car, he decided that this deaf-mute town called Calico must be a clean hold out. Some towns on the map simply don’t break bread with the devil. He started to the highway when his eyes caught something. He took his shades off. There was a house in his sight that stood out.

Then he saw some traffic head towards it, and he noted the time of day. The house was about a mile out of Calico, just  past the town. It was beyond an arched bridge that crossed a veiny, deep, jet-black river. Another rogue truck honked and drove by, loaded with  young men in collared shirts. This gave him more than a hunch. He followed behind the caravan and crept down the main artery of Calico. His eyes remained stolen by the shadowed mansion perched at the end of the boulevard.

And It would be at this quiet brothel that Victor would learn the inner workings of the town. He got comfortable and threw money around like empty promises.  He was always scouting for who held real juice in this yellow ghost town. 2 hours west, Sage was dying inside. Each night, she danced in the dark, praying and hoping for mercy, while the man who could give it was ingratiating himself with the people of Calico. He had moved up the hierarchy. Like a chess master using pawns, he used the Madam and lowly miners for introductions to the sheriff, the sheriff for the land owners. After some time, he was properly introduced to Calico’s 1%, The Five Dukes.

The Dukes oversaw all action and vice in east San Bernardino county. They  talked business with Calderon, always walking away impressed. Their operation was known as the Victorville Co-op at high noon, and as Southside Assassins by midnight. Over decades, they had stockpiled a small fortune, property deeds and a cache of arms. They generated revenue by monopolizing narcotics, refusing the escorts from neighboring cities, and keeping outside influence out of their business. The most violent it ever got was if a young boy was roughed up for petty gambling debts or someone commit insurance fraud to cover a vig. One night a Duke bragged about this, and Victor showed that man his prison tattoos in a play to silently seal his dominance. He said,  “these are the scars from another life, ya know? Bad scars, I hate them. But they’ll always be on me”.

They were buying in to him more, day by day. Calderon’s temper stayed cool like a well trained Doberman waiting to bite. Then one night, he was fully in.  Calderon was a regular, the unofficial 6th duke. He spent a month building more trust and rapport. Each night he grinned as they obliviously laughed at his anecdotes, laughing to their grave. They were like blindfolded fools waltzing in a shack with a rattle snake. 

Like any real confidence man, Calderon’s mouth could harm you more than his trigger finger. Behind his mouth was a calculated mind of boundless apathetic greed. You couldn’t stop this kind of evil: The madam and the fallen angels of the cat house were wise enough to remain weary and fear him. For the most part, they kept distant. Yet fear still couldn’t fully relieve them from the power and intrigue of his mystique, it couldn’t sequester years of filling heads with just the right words at the right time.. 

And The Dukes fell victim much easier. Calderon carried himself savagely intimidating and masculine, but spoke his peace with a city slick vocabulary. It proved to always allow him an advantage. After five months, the time came when that advantage materialized in to real upper hand. That upper hand was the perfect pitch to the dukes. The Pitch was a crime of opportunity, a set up which he advertised and sold after hearing them weigh out the risks of robbing a bank. They argued pros and cons over poker.

 Victor chimed in, and asked a series of loaded questions. Once he was sure just how pathetic their actual trigger time was, and sure that they had no cartel ties, he stuck in his fangs. Victor knew their power was grandfathered in, and their wealth was rat holed.  He told them how much money he made on his first robbery. Wide eyed, they asked Victor if it was worth it. 

Victor pretended to deliberate, knowing they were hooked. “ I like you boys, and I normally wouldn’t do this, but ya’ll have shown me well and hospitable. Robbing a bank depends on a schematic, a blueprint. In houston, I could hawk a print for 1/2 a million, but I’d consider selling you boys a heist”

 They jumped on it, and Calderon put the price tag of  $40,000 a head on it (a small investment for a half million dollar score)  He guaranteed the strength of the heist by offering his cut of the heist up front The dukes rejected as an absurd notion ”Victor you’ve shown yourself a real man of brass and nobility, we trust you”  Victor continued to sell, “Well, the least I can do is drive get away.” obliterating any fraction of suspicion. 

A week before the heist, Calderon made his next move. Over bourbon and beige white cocaine, he calmly suggested they prepare wills to be safe. He said, “A bank robbery is a bank robbery. There is always risk in this” The Dukes ears perched. “Go on” ...

“You wouldn’t want your family’s mineral rights or the holdings in the mine to go to the state, now? would you, Chuck?”  

“And George, what would happen to your wife and kids if you took a bullet? Do you have all that oil protected?” 

This would make Victor’s time in calico a life long pay check. The Dukes bought it, the poor fools. They weren’t ready. They just weren’t prepared for this kind of slick. They agreed to let Victor handle all of their legal paper work, and send it to his “ big shots” in L.A. 

The day of the robbery, the men looked sick as they drove out. They rolled in to Barstow, armed with mac-11′s, a Beneli Shotgun and a couple snub nose revolvers. Before walking out, the dukes bowed and began to pray in the car; praying for their families, their safety, and thanking God for the chance. The  men said “Amen” and ran out towards the bank. Calderon watched as they dry heaved onward, choking on fear, yet remaining determined. 

As planned, they stormed the front door, masks on, and scanned the lobby with their barrels. It took them three seconds to notice the 3 man posse of state troopers–Three crooked badges that Mr. Calderon kept on payroll. In vicious rapid fire, The Co-op was struck down by the gun. The thunderstorm of bullets chopped them down, until they fell.  After the hot slugs officially ended the reign of these kings of Calico, Calderon drove back to town, directly. He headed for his room at the brothel, and  finalized the dukes’ wills, signing his name on their deeds and holdings, right as word of the botched robbery arrived back at the Brothel..

That night was to be his last night in Calico. He had one last task, a cherry on top before he left back to L.A. He made his first phone call to Sage since he left. He let her know he’d be in by the next morning. She sounded despondent; years older than when he left.  Meanwhile, the working girls downstairs mourned--some sobbing the loss of their fathers, uncles, and lovers. Tears fell down their cheeks into stiff drinks. Calderon bobbed and weaved in and out of their grief, preparing the car with his belongings, avoiding eye contact with them.

Yet The Madam eyed him with fearless hatred. She swigged her bourbon down, and called down for her only son, (a young man called “Kid”) 

“Do mother a favor and run down to Bill Curtis’s for a minute. Go play records on his jukebox until I call” The Kid asked no questions, he knew enough not to. The madam resolved that he didn’t need to see this reptile, Calderon, while he choke to death on the rat poison she stirred in his drink.

With her son gone, she walked up to Calderon, fighting back rage. She was holding his beverage and eyed the rattle snake that he is, daydreaming that  she could tell him “You fucking snake. I heard your phone calls. I know what you did.” She shook out the fantasy and approached wearing a strait face. 

He looked at the beverage feverishly, noting the first drink in 6 months with melted ice in it. He decided to finish his last job a bit early. So he declined on the drink, complimented the madam’s hair, and  put his pistol on her. A capitalist must always seize easy money. She wanted to cry but the words fell out in a throaty whimper “ You’ve taken enough from us” 

She splashed the whiskey in his face, and Calderon momentarily lost sight. He pulled the trigger, shooting on reflex. The impact blew the Madam four feet back to a love seat in the den. She was still alive and crawled off while a blinded Calderon stammered out the door. He fell, but couldn’t help but laugh. He wiped the liquid off with a bandana, spitting out everything that came close to his mouth. His vision returned within seconds, and after his initial shock, he blew a kiss towards the front door, and tipped his hat down to the red wooded bed house.

On the way out of town, he pulled in to the gas station. He filled canisters up with gasoline, lighter fluid, and put a drum of kerosene in the passenger seat. He sang under his breath headed back to the mansion.

The night was quiet in Calico, and the jet black river moved downstream with  mild stillness. The moon shined down pale gray and in the deafening silence, Calderon furiously doused the parameter of the mansion. Once every drop fell on to the property he stuck switch blades in to the dead bolts of each possible exit. He lined the kerosene from the entrance to the yard, and lit a cigar. 

Inside fallen angels tried to keep the Madam alive with hymns and fumbled prayers. They bandaged her up, clueless that they were now trapped in with her. Calderon flicked his cigar on the line and the mansion caught. Fire ignited and cracked the  red wood planks. The shout of embers bursting drowned out faintly muffled screams of the women and the kind Madam. 

As the beams began to lose their footing, Calderon drove back towards Main, still humming under his breath. He crossed over the bridge of River Calico, watching the devil in his rear view send him winks and nods of approval from the blaze. On the way out of town he noticed the Madam’s bastard son charging up hill. “The mother fucking Kid.” He saw  tears had swollen the boys face as he darted passed, heading straight to where his mother was falling away in to a dead white ash. He slowed down the Lincoln, and debated shooting the Kid from Calico. But by the time his revolver was unholstered, he had vanished across  river. 

Back at the same gas station he had drove in to 6 months prior, he walked back to his trunk to make sure everything was there: the property deeds, mineral and oil rights, holdings/investments in the central industries of Calico town, and all the extra cash he managed to siphon during his tenure at Calico. With a leather briefcase of money reflecting off his sunglasses, the new King of Calico slammed the trunk in satisfaction. At the stroke of midnight, he began the two hour drive back to Los Angeles. 

                                                    Epilogue

The kid from Calico, just 17 at the time, stood at the edge of town, watching a this fire burn and burn down the walls he was born and raised in. He  turned his head back to town, searching for Victor. There was nothing but some dust. Dust and a speck of fleeting white coming from his Texas plates and tail lights which tinkered off back towards Route 66. Back where the son of a bitch came. He turned his head back to look at his home. It hurt to do so. Ashes swirled in the wind, and through the dry air. His eyes stung and the harsh smell of fire burned through his nostrils. He stared at the flames for minutes, his eyes getting lost in the dancing heat. As time passed, the Kid swore he saw the Devil’s face materialize. It stayed and offered him wild dreams; revenge, money, women, talent, anything a boy in that empty state could use. The kid blinked away, and instead, looked towards the sky. As the fire fell out, the Kid began to speak out. He laid out the new terms of war. A war which he now vowed to wage against God.