#and that's her character! her character that drives Lenore up the wall good and bad! her appeal so to speak

[catcatb0y]

I almost scrolled past this as someone who WAS shocked and felt like it was unexpected (after all Annabel Lee had to have known Lenore would have gotten upset- there's not much room for her to genuinely slip in and cement herself as being the grace Lenore needs even if she never figured out who actually... you know)

So it is slightly a dumb move on Annabel's part when it would be more effective (as a ploy) to go for someone Lenore has no connection to-

That would be the rational move; she's a queen on a chess board, surely the pawns come first, no? 'Lenore, dearest, you can't tell me you actually care about Side Character B? Did you even notice their absence? Really.'

But therein lies Annabel's hubris and sheer desperation coming forth! It's unexpected, but not out of character.

So it first, you know, I was going to 'agree to disagree' I don't see it, the works.

But then I saw someone like "I have no clue how AnaNore is endgame-" and going on a huge rant and almost jumped to the same anger level like a spooked cat.

nevermore spoilers episode 77, very short rant (tldr me being a bitch)

since the beginning annabel has promised lenore they’d get out of there, no matter what. she was always ready to eliminate their rivals. why are some people surprised she actually kept that promise and saying it’s unexpected

“omg the fucked up codependent character, who considers everyone but her lover pawns to be eliminated, is actually fucked up???”

also of course she’d pick one of the easiest targets: the man who is rooming with someone in her group, who hasn’t manifested his specter yet, and who is closest to lenore (therefore easier to manipulate using her appearance). like. it isn’t that hard to connect the dots.

she wants them to have that second chance, whether or not lenore likes her methods. something else she made clear early on.

[phantastus]

Is there any symbolism behind the bird scientific names tags representing Silent Hill characters? Like, did you pick them for any particular reasons? 👀

Oh man, well, I guess I never went into detail about them anywhere. They definitely were picked for a reason but the reason is related to a currently-unwritten fanfic and literally who knows when that’s going to happen (Gravity needs to get finished first and who knows when that’s going to happen :’]), so I might as well try and do it now.

When I was in college I started coming up with concepts and symbolism for a fic project and because I’m obsessed with birds all of it involved birds and the title of the fic was appropriately “Four and Twenty Blackbirds”, with the ‘four’ specifically referring to Harry, James, Heather, and Henry (because they were the main characters). Each of them had a different ‘blackbird’ species representing them. 

So when I decided to make separate aesthetic/inspo tags for individual characters (I already have a #silent feels tag for general SH inspiration, but I am crazy and it was NOT CONVOLUTED ENOUGH FOR ME), I decided to use the scientific bird names since it was conveniently already cemented in my brain. THIS IS GOING TO BE VERY, VERY LONG SO I’M PUTTING IT UNDER A READMORE. Click for pretentious Silent Hill fan analysis.

HARRY MASON | CORVUS BRACHYRYNCHOS (American Crow)

Harry Mason is the “”generic”” all-American protagonist who rises to a heroic status pretty much out of sheer determination and a commitment to his loved one. He’s not an unusual person, in fact he’s deceptively normal-- so the American crow felt right for him since they’re so common. You see them so often you don’t even think about them, but they’re smart, resourceful, and resilient survivors (something that especially comes into play with Harry post-SH1 when he’s eluding the Order). Harry is underestimated because of his normalcy but he’s capable of incredible things.

Also crows (and other corvids) have deep, almost humanlike family bonds between parents and offspring. They���ll maintain relationships even after the babies grow up and become fully self-sufficient, with the adult children regularly visiting their parents and socializing or helping to take care of younger siblings.

In the context of the fic Harry’s symbolic/prophetic connection to such a common “pest” species is sort of a derogatory assignment on the part of the Order/the town, as he’s seen as a heretic troublemaker (CULTS HATE HIM!! LOCAL MAN STEALS MESSIAH AND THWARTS FATE WITH ONE COOL TRICK!)

JAMES SUNDERLAND | CORVUS CORAX (Common Raven)

Ravens are like the most symbolic corvid, every gothic poet/novelist/artist and their grandma used them to represent death, grief and malaise, and James’s story is nothing if not filled with all three of those things. I mean, come on:    “By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—    Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,    It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore— Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”            Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.” -Edgar Allen Poe, u know where it’s from.

Also in college, I got very interested in the myth “Raven Steals the Sun”, which has a number of different variations (it’s a story shared across multiple First Nations peoples of the Pacific Northwest and Alaska, there’s no one clear origin-- you can read about a couple of versions here!) but most involve the titular Raven delivering the Sun to the world after stealing or freeing it from a dark place where it was kept. Depending on the version, Raven's motives can either be purely selfish or more benevolent, and sometimes starts the story as a pure white bird who is stained black with soot in the act of taking the Sun. The duality of Raven’s intentions as well as the theme of light/warmth being hidden in darkness until it’s brought out felt fitting for a character whose motivations are complex and left a little ambiguous in canon (James grapples with whether his own act was purely selfish or one of love/mercy) AND someone who is naturally warm and caring but slipped behind a cold, dark wall of depression and self-isolation. The theme of being permanently marked/transformed by an act, whether for good or for bad, felt fitting too.

(Obligatory Disclaimer That My (Very White) Personal Interpretation Should Not Remotely Be Considered An Authentic Take On The Myth And Is Not Intended To Be Appropriation. For fic purposes the story would only have come up as an interesting symbolic parallel/running motif among many others, not a Literal Connection. James is a clueless white dude and Silent Hill doesn’t even take place on the west coast.)

“BUT WAIT! Doesn’t stealing the sun from a malevolent party and freeing it sound sort of like Harry rescuing Alessa/Cheryl/Heather??” Yes, this was going to be a source of in-character confusion and a surprise twist when it turns out they got their birds mixed up. Blah blah nothing is as it seems and destiny is mutable.

One time while I was walking on a foggy beach I got followed around by an enormous raven who was just sort of waddle-hopping after me looking forlorn and scruffy and the experience stuck with me and now all these years later my enormous galaxy brain is just like “That was Big James Energy”.

Wow that was long, I’m sorry.

HENRY TOWNSHEND | CORVUS FRUGILEGUS (Rook)

The most obvious symbolism is probably the chess piece with the same name-- that felt fitting for Henry since he’s probably the protagonist who has to do the most strategizing. Between his limited inventory and his progressively-more-cursed apartment and escorting Eileen and his five billion trips across multiple fractured Otherworlds, my poor guy has a lot to mentally keep track of. In the fic, he was going to wind up being the one to keep track of all the weird complicated bullshit items and rituals they had to complete to get through the Otherworld.

The rook chess piece also resembles a castle, and unlike the other protagonists whose stories progress in a linear fashion, Henry operates from/returns to his home base shitty cursed apartment.

BUT ONTO THE BIRD the rook is a corvid like the crow and the raven, and shares their pest/death omen status in popular culture. Just appropriate for SH protags in general since they keep getting in the way of the cult’s business and also misfortune follows them.

In the SH3 Crematorium Puzzle (I’ll talk more about that in Heather’s section), there is a poem:    "The black Rook is the praying sort    Who hears the gods in the skies    His whispered petitions go on without end    And glassy and dim are his eyes" Obviously this does NOT describe Henry as a person, but it IS eerily reminiscent of the title that was thrust upon him: Receiver. Maybe if Walter’s plans had succeeded, this is how Henry would have ended up.

There is also an old belief that if rooks abandon an established “rookery” (place where they regularly roost), it’s a sign of calamity to follow. If Henry the Certified Homebody (tm) bursts out of the apartment complex and goes staggering down the street, you should get out of that apartment complex.

HEATHER MASON | AGELAIUS PHOENICEUS (Red-Winged Blackbird)

Oh boy this one’s probably the weirdest but here we go.

The first obvious thing is that unlike the other three, the red-winged blackbird is not actually a corvid (it’s from the Icteridae family, not the Corvidae family). In-universe, this was supposed to represent Heather being inherently different from the rest (like... she basically is an iteration of the Silent Hill deity), even if she seems to be a normal human. Harry’s act of stealing her from the Order and changing her appearance/name to hide her was going to be depicted as “dousing Her in black ink, but [the ink] not able to fully conceal Her radiance”. The red and gold shoulders of the blackbird visually symbolize her “””true nature””” peeking out.

I also associate her specifically with the MALE red-winged blackbird (the female looks completely different, hooray sexual dimorphism) because gender is a fuck and Heather understandably has some really intense and complicated issues with womanhood/femininity. One of my favorite aspects of her as a character is how she blurs the line between masculine and feminine, especially since she’s been through so much... extremely gendered violence, to put it lightly. Heather Mason says FUCK YOUR GENDER BINARY.

As a fun side-note, Heather is also represented (or appears to be, ymmv) by a bird in canon! The SH3 Crematorium puzzle (on hard mode) features a series of poems each about birds, and each one represents a character if you squint. Heather seems to be referenced in this one:     "The Wren, with pure heart as yet unrefined     Makes us laugh with his feeble lip-smacking     But still we all know he shall never grow old     And he knows not how much he is lacking." Heather’s role as a brash, foolhardy youth who talks tough to cope is pretty blatantly summed up in there, as is the fact that she’s... functionally immortal and keeps fucking reincarnating. The wren, a plucky little bird, is perfect for her. The part of the main riddle that references the wren is also... ominously on the nose, given Heather’s backstory:     "Burn the one who knows no death     Pure, adored by those above     No prayers within, just simple love.”

YET ANOTHER CREMATORIUM POEM could be construed as representing the town’s God (or the spiritual force of the land, w/e), damaged/corrupted/turned malevolent by All The Bullshit:     "The Kite, hot, crazy, and panting mad     Sweet shackles that tease and excite     Death itself would drive him wild     Red blood that turns milky white"  Heather is a pure-hearted protagonist in one sense, but there’s plenty of not-so-subtle hints to a bloodlust and desire for violence just waiting to break free (ESPECIALLY when Heather does certain things that could be considered taking on the role of God). So to me the Kite is what happens when Heather gets sick of being nice and decides to go apeshit.

“BUT WAIT what does this have to do with the red-winged blackbird?” The inherent trinity of Heather’s character (Alessa/Cheryl/Heather, the Mother of God/Daughter of God/God Herself) deserves a bird trinity too. I’M GREEDY, I WANT *ALL* THE BIRD METAPHORS!

Red-winged blackbirds are bold little shits who will straight up harass birds of prey. Kind of like Heather does to God.

The fact that “phoeniceus” was part of the scientific name was a VERY delightful coincidence-- but I’m not complaining about how satisfying I found it that my Bird Choice (tm) inadvertently connects her to the concept of the phoenix, poster child of pyrogenesis.

That was even longer than James’, I’m so sorry.

SO THAT’S THE META BEHIND THOSE CHOICES FOR THE FOUR MAIN CHARACTERS. If you’re still interested after all that BS, I can write up another (probably much shorter) post for the other characters. Thanks for the ask!

[dbhilluminate]

DBH: Illuminate- “Coffee Break: Broken Nose”

(Chapter art by Optcldrift)

Characters: Detective Gavin Reed, Cameron James, Special Agent Vivienne Lenore Word Count: 3,975

What drives a man to hate the world so much that he would close himself off to it?

Previous Chapter

• Chapter Index • Characters •

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

January 2nd, 2020- 7PM

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Gavin stared at the far wall at the other end of his hospital bed and fingered the class ring around his middle finger- not his, but a friend’s, once belonging to someone more important to him than the shitty people that dare called themselves his family. Yeah, that’s right, once. That is until about two days ago.

Cameron was the only person who’d ever truly understood him, and probably the only real friend he ever had. Gavin had just turned seven when they’d met in elementary school, in the fall of 2009. Cam’s dad had just been arrested for the third time that year on domestic dispute charges, and some of their asshole classmates had decided to pick at him for having a deadbeat dad while he was still very raw; but that day he just couldn’t take it anymore, and he lashed out like a cornered animal. That was the first time Reed had really seen him as more than just the wallflower everyone seemed to ignore. Because even while pinned to the ground and outnumbered, Cam fought tooth and nail, through snarling lips and furious eyes that screamed about how even though he was just eight years old at the time, he had already run out of shits to give. And that day, so had Gavin. He’d pulled one of the boys off him and thrown him to the ground, kicked him in the stomach, then dropped to his knees and punched him until his teeth chipped and his lip bled and he cried for teacher’s help because the kid was too chickenshit to finish what he’d started. And it felt good, because that day he’d found his twisted soul mate- one that was every bit the raging bull ready to gore the first jackass to wave a red fucking cape in his face, and one he would have taken on the whole goddamn world with if meant he had a friend to ride or die for by his side. Truth was, deep down, Cam was just as broken, and angry, and fucked up as himself; but, and he came to learn, he was also hopeful, gentle, and courageous, everything he never thought himself to be. And that was why he’d liked him so much.

Cam had been given nothing in his entire life, until he meet Gavin Reed- and as far as he was concerned, from the moment he’d squinted over at him with that toothless, ear-to-ear grin while they sat outside the principal’s office that day awaiting their punishment, he was his white fucking knight. When he realized he rarely ate, Gavin gave him his lunch because he could tough out a little hunger, because he knew he could at least eat later. When he needed money, Reed would hand him his allowance without even asking what it was for. And when the bullies came knocking, he stood by him back to back, better or worse, no matter the cost. Cam didn’t feel he deserved a friend like Reed, but neither did Reed think he deserved a friend like Cam- because no one had ever before loved either of them like a brother, and because no one had ever told them they were worthy of being loved as such.

See, Cam came from a broken home- he was an only child, but his mother was an alcoholic, and his father an abusive asshole who’d been in and out of prison since he was five years old. Cam had gotten his first split lip for mouthing off to him when he was nine, got his first job when he was thirteen just to put food on the table so he wouldn’t starve. He’d wound up in juvenile hall for stealing a car when he was seventeen, because he needed it to get to and from work but couldn’t afford to get his dead one fixed. Even still, in spite of all that he’d spit the blood out of his mouth, look hardship in the eye, give it a big old shit eating grin and say “fuck you, not today.” Cam was a survivor, scrappy and resourceful- never did enough to get into real trouble, but always just enough to keep his head above water.

Reed on the other hand had been born into a family of prodigies, raised by a nanny in the shadows of Fortune 500 parents and siblings whose coattails had always been just too far out of reach. They’d found their true callings before they’d even hit puberty (one now a nationally sought-after defense attorney, the other a Cyberlife engineer), while he was left behind, isolated and aimless: a gifted jock with a bad attitude that couldn’t play nice, that no coach in their right mind would have wanted on their team if not for his talent. Because of it, his relationship with his parents had always been strained, and they’d eventually grown so sick of it they’d threatened to cut him off from their money if he didn’t make something of himself. But Gavin didn’t care, because he wasn’t like them. He didn’t measure success as digits in a bank account or his picture on the cover of TIME magazine- his idea of success was pulling himself up out of the mud after being knocked down time and time again. It was bloody knuckles and black eyes and being able to throw up a strong middle finger in the face of those who claimed he wouldn’t amount to anything. Because his idea of success had been molded in the image of the one person who had always accepted him as he was and stood by his side... Until now. And he had no one to blame but himself.

They’d had a plan to grab everything they could throw into the back of his Chevy Nova and get the hell out of Detroit while the rest of the world celebrated the new year, before their families could even notice they were gone. It was supposed to be their fresh start, their chance at a better life, to escape the abuse and the toxic expectations that they were supposed to be anyone other than who they were: black sheep, troubled kids, the ones “with issues running so deep” adults had labeled them hopeless. The coroner’s report said he’d died on impact, but unfortunately for him Gavin knew that wasn’t true. What had really happened would haunt him for the rest of his life, and he’d take it to his grave to protect Cam’s mother from the truth. It had only taken seconds for their lives to change, but when he realized what was about to happen, Cam had closed his eyes and gripped his hand strong as a vice, and braced for impact. The sedan hit them nearly head-on on the passenger side at eighty-seven miles per hour and pushed the car two hundred feet before they were struck from behind by a truck, which hit them so hard it rolled them twice before the Nova settled onto its side in the middle of the road. When Gavin opened his eyes, he was pinned between the seat and the steel frame of the car, forced to watch as the light faded from Cam’s green eyes as he bled out. In his final moments, as the blood gurgled from between his lips and streamed down his forehead, Cam had cracked a concerned smile and forced out one last sentiment before he passed.

You can still be happy.

Anger bubbled up inside of him, and eighteen-year-old Reed balled his still-good hand into a quivering, white-knuckled fist, twisted his face into a despondent grimace, and choked on his grief. Why would he have said that? How could he have possibly thought that, of all things, that would be what he needed to hear? Not “I forgive you”, not “This isn’t your fault”. He had to have known he was going to blame himself, he had to have known he was going to need his forgiveness. So why that? This absolute load of bullshit… He couldn’t imagine a future where he could be, because no matter where he went, no matter what he did, Cam had always been a part of it. So how the hell was he supposed to move on and be happy without him?

Gavin grimaced as he moved the casted arm off his lap and laid it on the bed beside him. The surgeon who had pieced it back together said it had been crushed by the weight of the vehicle when it had rolled, one of the worst comminuted fractures he’d ever seen: twelve pins and a two plates. He’d be in therapy for the next six months, but “at least he’d gotten away with his life”. Apparently he was “lucky”, at least that was the word they kept throwing around. That’s what they’d said about the gash in his broken nose when they’d pried his head from between a folded-over support beam that had nearly crushed his skull like an overripe watermelon. First responders said he should have been dead, and in all honesty? He wished he was, because at least then he wouldn’t have to live with the guilt of knowing Cam’s death was on his hands because he couldn’t get out of the way fast enough, or his mother crying at his bedside, hysterical, reminding him of how much he’d meant to her son. If he hadn’t lived through the crash, he wouldn’t have had to grin and bear his parents blaming the accident on their attempted runaway, and not the jackass driving on the wrong side of the road. If he were dead he wouldn’t have to continue living without the only person he’d ever been bothered to give a shit about.

Gavin glanced out the window into the night but scowled when he instead saw his sorry reflection staring back at him- his head bandaged, left eye wrapped up beneath an eyepatch, the stitches on his nose still stained with iodine under a wad of gauze. With a scar like that, it was going to be impossible to put this behind him and move on, because he’d be reminded of it every time he looked in the goddamn mirror. He roared out an angry scream into the empty room and flung the dinner tray at the wall with all his residual strength, and wept quietly as the medical staff went about their business outside the glass doors of his room in the intensive care unit. Again he was alone in the world, and he wasn’t at all ready for it.

Following the accident, his parents forced him to get a job and start paying his expenses, in addition to applying to a University and “planning for his future”- a fucking slap in the face if he’d ever been. But because he was out of options he’d done everything they asked so he wouldn’t have to hear their bitching, and kept his cards close to his chest. Gavin took the money they’d given him and paid his tuition in full, separating his self-earned assets until he was fully self-sufficient, and bode his time until he could break out from under their ironclad grip of control. It took longer than he’d wanted, but eight years later, after he’d graduated with his Master’s Degree in Criminal Justice, Gavin severed the ties that had been hanging by a thread for so long. The ensuing blowout was explosive and violent, but he was prepared. For the first time that he remembered his father struck him, but he’d just spit out the blood and laughed in his face- because if he was trying to motivate him to stay, all he had done was drive him further in the opposite direction, as he had done all his life; and if he was trying to scare him, well, Gavin had been through so much worse. He’d threatened to take back everything they’d given him, but Gavin just reminded him the money was already spent. When he threatened to take away his car and stop paying his rent, Reed informed them that his neither of their name were on the pink slip for his car or the lease on his apartment, because he’d already been paying all his expenses for four years. And when he’d finally run out of leverage, Gavin had flipped him a strong middle finger, left them with three strong parting words he’d been waiting all his life to say, and never looked back.

Three weeks later he’d already breezed through a rigorous first week in DCPD’s Police Academy, and shot up to the top of his class without breaking a sweat. During his college years he’d learned just enough about communication to get by in the academy, but friends were another story. There had been a few, but they hadn’t stuck around long once they realized just how much baggage he was dragging. Being stuck in the academy with a bunch of straight-and-narrow Johnny-law types only served to reinforce his desire to remain in complete isolation, with no friends or lovers. Gavin had tried putting himself out there now and again, only to have it backfire in his face after a few weeks (or in some cases, a few days), which had caught him a lot of flack from the hyper-masculine would-be cops in training alongside him, but he just shrugged it off. “What’s the matter, Reed? You gay?” was one they threw around a lot thinking it would get a rise out of him, but were disappointed when they were instead met with apathy and eyes rolled all the way back as far as they could go. Maybe a little, but that wasn’t the reason he’d broken off every relationship he’d had before it had time to mature. Truth was, every time someone found out his family name they were real quick to turn up the charm, and nothing pissed him off quicker than some fake fuck who just wanted to use his father’s name to boost their social status. The Reed name meant jack shit to the family reject, he wasn’t special and he knew it. That’s why he’d done all this -not for the approval of distant, dissatisfied parents, not for the fame, not for the fortune- for himself and for the promise he’d made to uphold Cam’s wish for him, even if he hadn’t understood it at the time. Gavin had followed his own self-made path, just like they’d planned, and he’d done it by keeping fame-chasing, two-dimensional, “background characters” out of his life. But he hadn’t just chased them off because they were shallow as shit (because hell, even the ones that hadn’t cared about where he came from eventually came to grate on his nerves like sandpaper on glass), it was because they couldn’t see the world from his point of view, because none of them had truly understood him- not like Cam. No one ever had. Well, except for Cam.

For the first few months of his career Reed walked to and from work, just daring the city to take a swing, to throw him something - a robbery, a break in, a drunk dude trying to take advantage of a woman outside a bar - anything to scratch the itch of a good fight; but, like many things in life, it didn’t quite turn out how he’d hoped. Gavin never really had been one for religion or sentimentalism, but that night after nearly twenty-seven years of his miserable existence, he found himself believing that wayward souls could return to take care of unfinished business. Any other day Reed wouldn’t have given a second glance to a stray dog snarling at him as he passed, but it wasn’t snarling at him. It had something cornered. It took him all of five seconds to realize that something was a six-month-old kitten -hissing and clawing, furious and frantic- and as he trembled in recognition, instinct set in. A short sprint and one hard swing kicked hard across the dog’s rib cage sent it yelping and whimpering down the alley as he scooped up the animal and cradled it in his arms. To his surprise, tortoiseshell kitten didn’t struggle to escape his embrace, just squinted up at him and slumped into the crook of his arm with a tired sigh as if to say “Finally, I’ve found you”. And for just one night, as he stared into the grateful green eyes of the soul he already knew so well, Gavin believed in life beyond death. Cam had come back to him. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve such a gift, but he didn’t care, because with Cam back in the picture, everything became more tolerable. Coming home to his best friend at the end of a long day and being met with excited meows and a running leap up into his arms made all the bullshit worth it. As the years passed he thought about the accident less and less. With the help of an impressive rate of closure on his cases, Reed continued to climb the ranks at his job and traded the title of Officer for Detective with the minimum experience necessary for the position. It had taken him eighteen years to make good on Cam’s wish for him, and while life wasn’t perfect, he was at least on his way to being happy, and that was all that mattered. For a while.

November 13th, 2038- 10:30AM

Morning came hard after a restless night on the couch, and he ripped open his eyes with a sharp breath to the sound of purring and a prickly weight on his chest. The ginger and brown tortoiseshell cat stretched and contracted his toes as he kneaded at the detective’s neck and drooled into his shirt. Gavin let out a tired sigh and laid his arm over his eyes and clammy forehead to rest his mind for a minute, then reached to scratch the cat’s neck behind its ears. The old boy hunkered down with a happy, fluttery chirp, and he closed his eyes and listened to the soothing vibration. It had been a while since he’d dreamt of the crash- maybe a few months, maybe half a year, he wasn’t entirely sure. The way the days had blurred one into the next over the last five years since he’d become a detective, didn’t lend much help to his awareness of the passage of time. It had been eighteen years now since Cam’s death, and even though it had gotten easier to live without him, it still stung like hell every time he thought about it.

Reed traced his fingertips over the scar across his nose for a moment of deep thought, but cleared it from his mind as he rubbed the hurt from his raccoon-eyes with the heel of the hand on his still-good arm and stretched his legs out long. Cam shifted with a quiet meow and crawled up higher onto his shoulder to nuzzle under his jawline. Gavin let out a painful chuckle as the ten-pound cat crawled over the sling and sputtered a gentle “fuck” under his breath as the pain resurfaced and shot through his shoulder like tearing muscle. He was lucky the reconstructed AR’s the deviants were using only fired nine millimeter rounds and not the standard five-five-six. Smaller bullets meant his shoulder wasn’t nearly as torn up as it could have been, but even with the treatment he’d received to speed up the healing process (stem cells, 3-d printed right in to fill the wound), the pain was still pretty bad. Throbbing when it wasn’t stabbing, aching when it wasn’t burning- until the stem cells fused with the muscle, it was going to be an annoying recovery process.

The morning silence didn’t last long- almost as if he had woken up just to take the call, Viv’s name lit up the screen and triggered the ring.

Get up, get up, get a move on. Get up, get up, what’s takin’ so looooo~ng? Get up, get up, get a move on. Stop stallin’, I’m callin’-

Gavin groaned as he reached for the screaming cell phone in his pocket and lifted it to his ear with a, “Wha’dya want, Viv?” Couldn’t even have ten minutes to himself before getting back to the bullshit. “Oh, good, you’re awake,” she replied with a relieved breath. “How are you feeling today?” Before he answered, he tried lifting his right arm up to the shoulder, but yipped and groaned in her ear before shaking his head with an angry scrunch of his lips. “Not great,” his voice cracked in annoyed reply, at which she sighed and paused before asking. “You sober, at least?” “I’ve been sleepin’ since Connor dropped me off last night,” he assured as he tried to nudge the cat away from brushing its face with the stubble on his chin. “Well, we still have work to do, are you gonna make it today?” she asked as he sat up and pushed the cat off his stomach, ignoring the low growl from the old boy, then fumbled with the lid of the rattling bottle of pills with a shaking hand. “I’ll be fine,” he fibbed, dumping out a pill into the lid as it finally popped off. “I can still shoot straight with my left hand.” He could hear Vivienne chuckling and imagined her shaking her head at his stubbornness. “Well, get up and get dressed. I’ll be over in half an hour to pick you up,” she informed. “Don’ bother, I’ve got a bike,” he mumbled as he balanced the pill on his tongue and reached for the glass of water on the coffee table. “Do you have a death wish, or are you really just as stupid as you look!?” In spite of how indelicately she’d phrased it, the shrill panic still carried in her tone, and he grinned to himself, appreciative of her concern. No one had ever really given him shit for taking unnecessary risks, because nobody would have missed him if he was gone. “No, you stay put. You get on that death trap with your arm in a sling and I swear to God, Reed, I will arrest you.” “Alright, ma. I’ll sit tight,” he quipped back and ended the call with a “See ya,” before she could protest with her angry huffs. The phone dropped onto the sofa beside him and he dragged his hand down his face as he took in a slow, deep breath, then peered between his fingers over at the cat, who was sitting next to him with a judgmental squint.

“Don’t look at me like that Cam, she ain’t so bad,” he explained as if the cat could actually understand what he was saying. When the animal rose and climbed back into his lap, Gavin’s hand reached instinctively to scratch at the back of his neck with a small sigh. She really wasn’t, in fact he’d really grown to like Viv more than he thought he would. Even though their partnership had started off rough, she’d still cared more for his well-being than even his own mother ever had. It was strange to have that kind of support for once, but he’d already noticed how much he’d benefited from her presence in his life. Maybe it was possible to find the family he’d always wished he had... maybe even find love. Reed sputtered our a laugh at the absurdity of the notion in self-defense, but deep down in the scarcely touched recesses of his dark heart he hoped. It wasn’t like he wanted to be a miserable asshole, it was just what the world had forced him to become.

[dbhilluminate]

DBH: Illuminate- Chapter 7.75: “Friction”

Characters: Hank, Connor, Vivienne, Gavin, Kate (mentions of Captain Allen, Fowler, Nicodemus) Word Count: 4,050

(This chapter will be undergoing retcons and heavy revision within the month- in preparation for that, I've divided the chapter more accordingly, and this summary will not match for a bit. Sorry for the confusion!)

Nick, Dennis, and Zero arrive at Central Station just in time to witness an argument between Viv and Perkins. Connor is apprehensive about why Cyberlife would send three additional RK's to help with their investigation.

Connor’s questions about the deviants lead him back to Kate, but Hank decides to crash the meeting without an invitation.

( Chapter Art by triple_jays_art , Co-authored by grayorca15)

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• Chapter Index • Characters •

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November 12, 2038- 4PM

“You really telling me, you’ve already been here a week and you have nothing yet?” “I didn’t say we have nothing,” she hissed back at the angry little man, “I said, we were in the middle of chasing down a perfect storm of leads and finally gaining traction on this investigation.” “An investigation that should never have been any of your concern to begin with,” he chastised, gesturing with an open palm. “So then what- you’re just gonna yank it out from under me?” she snorted as she shook her head with a disbelieving smirk. “You’re damn right I am!” he almost yelled. “I sent you here to find Illuminate, but instead you’ve been chasing down every other fucking lead that crosses your path!” “Well what the hell else am I supposed to do?” she challenged. “The girl’s smart, and she can change her appearance at will. Right now, the only way to get to Illuminate is to go through the deviants she’s helping,” she insisted, though the explanation didn’t hit as well as she’d hoped.

Above the clamor of ringing telephones and television broadcasts, her voice carried across the room to where Hank, Connor, and Gavin were huddled around Hank’s desk, watching the verbal lashing go back and forth as Lenore and Special Agent Perkins argued about her priorities. Hank leaned back in his chair with a huff and scowled, crossed his arms, and shook his head. “Ugh… that guy’s gotta be the biggest prick I’ve ever met in my life,” he insisted with a tired sigh. “You... sure about that statement, Lieutenant?” Detective Reed leaned over in the chair on the other side of the desk and flashed him a big, goofy grin that was just downright disturbing coming from him. Anderson’s face twisted hard as he glanced over at the man —who was hopped up on painkillers and couldn’t give any less of a fuck at the moment— and gave him a sick look as he turned his attention back to the Agents, struggling to get the words out. “As much as I hate to admit it, yeah,” he groaned. “He’s way worse than you.” Gavin projected an ear-shattering cackle, slapped his knee with his good hand and laughed with ironic delight. “Oh wow, that’s just rich... c’mon now, you gotta tell me- just how bad a taste did it leave in your mouth to admit that?” A low groan rumbled in his throat in response and he cracked in a defeated tone, “I think I need a drink.” Hank reached around for his lukewarm coffee, pulled a flask out of his coat and dumped a little of the whiskey into it before anyone could catch him.

“When your investigation strays from your objective, you call it in! Pass it off to someone else, and focus on the task you’ve been assigned!” he screeched back. “You don’t go chasing down stolen firearms just for the hell of it!” “So you would have rather had armed deviants on the streets than allow me a little freedom to work my case?” Viv shot him a vapid grin and forced a sardonic laugh as he reprimanded her for making what was by far one of the biggest breaks in the deviant case thus far. “Do I need to pull you off this and replace you with someone else who won't get sidetracked?”

Viv’s expression went cold as the frozen banks of the Detroit river. Her heart was palpitating, her blood boiling. Her eyelids flickered as she stepped back and placed a strong hand on the table to steady herself and pressed her fingertips against her sternum as her chest rose and fell in time with her labored breathing. Something about her biorhythm just wasn’t right. Connor’s brow hardened as he tried to analyze the arrhythmia from across the room, but there was just too much background noise to collect substantial data. “Something wrong, kid?” Hank asked, recognizing the scowl on his face as the same look he’d seen him wear at crime scenes when he’d found an interesting, but confusing piece of evidence. “No Lieutenant,” he lied out of necessity, “It’s just-” There was definitely something wrong, something she wasn’t telling them, but until he knew what he wasn’t going to say anything. There was no need for them to worry until he knew what to worry about. Connor sighed and clenched his teeth. “I don’t like him either.”

“No, I can handle it,” she asserted as her lip curled and her eye twitched. “Then stop giving me excuses, and get me some fucking results!” Perkins slammed his hand down on the table so hard it shook, and his scream echoed loud enough that for a moment, the background chatter stopped and everyone turned to stare. She bore the humiliation long enough for him to storm off, but once he was gone Lenore clenched both her hands into white-knuckled fists, snatched up the folder, then turned and stormed back to her temporary desk next to Hank’s before she said something she’d regret.

The file hit the surface with a loud slap but she continued right on past them to stand on the other side of the cubicle walls. As she stared out the window she curled her fingers into her hair and took a couple seconds to take in a few calming breaths and regain her composure. The three men glanced at each other and craned their necks to try and see around the wall without being too invasive, but Gavin’s concept of personal space and tact had gone out the window along with his sobriety. He pushed his chair back slowly until she was in his line of sight, and prodded in a sarcastic tone. “Sooooooo… he seems nice.” Viv whipped around, furious, and was about to verbally eviscerate him until she saw him rolling his eyes into the back of his head; instead, she sighed. “He doesn’t want me hunting deviants anymore,” she relayed. “He wants me to focus on finding Illuminate.” “Yeah, we gathered that much,” Hank replied apologetically. “I think the whole damn precinct heard.” “Well the only way you’re going to do that is by continuing to chase down these leads,” Connor chimed in, stiff and trying to redirect her away from the idea of investigating Illuminate. “One of them has to know where she is.” Vivienne heaved a morose sigh. “I know that and you know that, but…” She paused, gesturing across the room toward the front door where Perkins had exited the building, and flipped off the empty air with a strong middle finger. “He doesn’t care.”

Gavin stifled a quiet chuckle and she turned to glare at him. “Why are you laughing?” she retorted, but he just shrugged it off. “Nothin’... just nice t’see you fired up and pissed off at someone other than me for a change,” he replied and flashed her a sloppy grin that made her groan. He wasn’t anywhere near sober enough to drive. “Jesus… someone’s gonna need to get him home,” she volunteered as she walked over and stooped to pick him up. “Noooo, no no no.” Detective Reed shook his head and tried to push her away with his good arm, but kept missing. “I’m fine V, really.” “No, you’re high on percocet and need to be in bed,” she scolded with a small grunt and threw his good arm over her shoulders, then looped an arm around his waist for support. “Are you offerin’ to take me there?” He teased with a grin and another small laugh, but she wasn’t amused. Viv could have put up with most of his bullshit, but this time he had crossed a professional line.

Immediately she dropped him back into the chair, ignoring his yelp as the searing pain again ripped through the bullet hole in his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I can’t do it. I just can’t,” she apologized as she pressed her fingers between her eyes and turned away. “Someone else is going to have to get it done.” “I’ll do it, Vivienne,” Connor offered as he helped the injured man to his feet, against his loud objections and expletives of “Fuck you plastic prick! Get your hands off me!” “You two get some rest, I have somewhere I need to be soon anyway.” Even though Vivienne had missed the significance of Connor having a “prior commitment”, it wasn’t lost on Hank. The man narrowed his eyes in suspicion and watched him get about halfway across the room before he had to stop and help Reed to his feet again. “My hero!” she thanked as she leaned in to pinch his cheek on her way out. “I’ll see you boys in the morning. I need to get out of here before I go to prison for assaulting my superior.” “Hey!” Hank called after him as he stumbled toward to the door with Gavin, who had just noticed how dizzy he was now that he was up and moving around. “You be careful out there on the road, ya hear…?” “I’ll be fine Hank,” he promised with a chuckle, as he half turned to look him in the eye. “Just go home. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He watched them as they made their way across the room, down the hall, and through the security gates. For a good minute and a half after they had all left, Lieutenant Anderson sat at his desk drumming his fingers and debating whether or not he should follow him and find out what his partner had been up to in his spare time. He had been coming up with some pretty nonlinear theories recently that had turned out to be legitimate truth, so was it possible he had an inside source feeding him information? If so, who was he talking to? And why hadn’t he told him about them? Did Connor not trust him? The thought made his heart ache in a way he hadn’t felt in years. It had been a long time since he’d let anyone in, much less an Android, but he liked Connor. He was a good kid, and he didn’t want him to feel like he couldn’t trust him. That alone was enough to make up his mind for him. Without giving it too much more thought, he swiped the keys to his unmarked patrol car out of the top drawer of his desk and decided to find out what he’d been spending his time doing outside of their investigation. He had to know for his own peace of mind.

November 12, 2038- 5:30PM

It had been several minutes by the time he was ready to leave, but it wasn’t hard to figure out where they were headed. Hank pulled Reed’s address from his driver’s license in the database and arrived a few minutes behind them, just in time to watch Connor’s patience run thin. He chuckled to himself as he hoisted the sleeping man over his shoulder and carried him into the building, and tossed him carefully on the couch when he'd reached the top of the stairs. Gavin’s apartment was about what he’d expected- a cozy two-bedroom on the second floor in a “once nice” neighborhood around the corner from Miliken State park, which was about all he could afford on a detective’s salary in this city. Through the window, in the light cast by the floor lamp behind the couch, he watched the tired man protest as Connor threw a blanket over him and handed him a glass of water; they went back and forth for another minute before Connor locked the front door, descended the stairs, and made for the elevated rail train a few blocks over heading across town. Hank kept on him from a safe distance, following him for ten minutes before he darted up the stairs to the platform, but he didn’t lose him until Connor boarded the train that stopped a few minutes later. He’d tried to keep pace with rail car, but cursed when he lost it at a red light he wasn’t willing to run. The stops along the railway were at least predictable, but it’d be hard to know which stop he’d gotten off at without a direct line of sight. As he sat and watched the cars take turns, he glanced down at the GPS navigation system in his dashboard and realized there was an easier way. Twenty minutes later, after a quick call to Cyberlife, the Lieutenant had located his wayward partner and arrived at the docks on the west end of town. As the patrol car rolled to a stop, he killed the headlights and parked in an alley a few hundred feet from the waterfront. From his place in the shadows, he had a clear line of sight on Connor pacing the dock and rubbing his hands together feverishly. Every thirty seconds he’d turn and sweep the area, either looking for someone or keeping an eye out for uninvited guests, or maybe both, but as soon as he turned his back to him Hank exited the car, moved to the corner, waited, and listened.

Connor was on edge- more so than he had been in the past when waiting for her to arrive, but with good reason. Not only he was afraid of how Kate would react to him coming back not even twenty-four hours later asking for her help with something she had explicitly told him she wouldn’t help him with, but the situation with the armed deviants had him paranoid. The thought that she may have known about the stolen weapons had crossed his mind earlier in the day and had corroded his comfort to the point where he couldn’t think straight. Even though he was certain of what her answer would be, he wouldn’t be able to relax until she told him what he needed to hear, and he couldn’t really understand why.

To his surprise, he recognized her footsteps in the alley behind him before she could sneak up on him, and he turned to the corner to catch her the moment she stepped into the light. "What is so urgent it couldn’t wait until after dark?” she sighed and crossed her arms as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Connor hesitated, fear blurring the questions that had been so clear just a few seconds ago, but pushed it aside and steeled his resolve as he locked onto her pressing green-eyed gaze. “You’re not gonna like it, but I need you to listen before you get upset,” he pleaded as she rolled her eyes and turned away. “Please, it’s important.” Illuminate blinked wide-eyed and gestured toward him with one flexed hand, but dropped her frustration, slapped her hand to her thigh, and shook her head as she braced herself mentally. “What is it?” “It’s about the deviants from the pawn shop-”

Outrage exploded across her face, and she threw up both hands and turned away from him before placing them on her hips, leaned over and let out an uncomfortable laugh, then turned back to him. “RK, I told you- even if I knew where they were, I won’t give them up,” she almost snarled, an angry quiver in her jowls. “I’m not a rat.” “Kate, just listen to me, please,” he begged one last time as she threw her eyes to the sky and prayed for patience. “You told me to investigate, and I did- but I found something very disturbing that I’m hoping you didn’t know about, and this whole thing has gotten a lot more complicated since we last spoke, in a very bad way.”

Kate could hear the urgency in his voice. When she turned she looked deep into his dark brown eyes and saw the dread gnawing at the corners of his mind like he was unraveling, and knew he was telling the truth. Something was very wrong, but just what could have brought this out of him? What exactly had he found? Her expression softened before turning grim. “Bad how?” His eyelids fell shut and his shoulders relaxed, but he flexed his jaw before admitting the truth. “They were hoarding stolen military property- firearms, dozens of them.”

Of all the things he expected her to say, he hadn’t expected silence. When he opened his eyes again, she was gone- not physically, but mentally she had flashed back to a place she feared so deep, her dead eyes stared right through him. The ghosts of her past screamed at her through long forgotten nightmares of a future envisioned by a madman, driven by an unquenchable thirst for power. Jericho had never sought to change the world through acts of violence, and now they were hoarding weapons? Tools of war? The idea could have only come from one place. Nicodemus was still in Detroit trying to undermine her work. All this time, thinking she was safe, and he’d just been busy luring away any of her allies with even a shred of malcontent. Had he been watching? Had he been following her? How much did he know? How long had he been planning this? And how many of her friends had he turned against her? Who could she trust? “Kate?”

Connor’s voice interrupted her panicked thoughts and shallow breathing, and she blinked to try and shake off the disconnect and refocus on the conversation as best she could. “I’m sorry… th- they what?” she stammered, twitching eyes darting from him to the ground and back again. “DCPD raided the shop this morning,” he continued, as much as he wanted to ask if she was alright. “They’d already moved most of them during the night but the evidence left behind was enough for us to find a trail back to the source-” Before he finished the statement he paused, sighed and dropped his hands to his side. “They had enough for a small army.”

Her eyes drifted away from him to the ground as she listened, disturbed, and at a complete loss for words. She felt betrayed, angry, hurt, but most of all she was afraid- not just for herself, but also for any of her friends who had been seduced by Nico’s ferocity and charisma, as she had once been. They didn’t know the kind of man he was, the man she had known, the man who had almost gotten her killed and would surely get them killed one day if they continued to blindly follow him into hell.

The initial reaction the news had dragged out of her had given him hope, but Kate’s silence now worried him. This wasn’t the kind of calming silence that settled when she was deep in thought, she was haunted and lost, fighting an internal war he couldn’t see nor hear. There was something she wasn’t telling him, a missing piece of the puzzle she was keeping to herself. “I don’t know what they were planning to do with them, but we can’t let an armed deviant army become a reality,” he insisted, grasping at straws to just bring her back to the moment. “That’s why I need your help. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”

After several quiet moments, Kate’s eyes finally turned up to look at him again, this time focusing on his face instead of staring through him. Connor stood his ground and waited for her to say something, but when she faltered, tore her gaze from him and stepped away, he caught himself moving toward her, afraid she’d leave him with more questions than when he’d arrived. “No, don’t-” His hand snapped away as she turned back in silent debate and he watched as she hesitated to say what was on her mind. Kate grimaced several times, each harder than the last as if she’d been yelling at herself to “just do it”, then finally got the words out. “Look… I don’t know where your lost deviant is or what he’s doing, but I can take a guess at who he’s involved with.” Connor’s forehead crinkled in surprise for a split-second, then squinted as her voice cracked and faltered, dread settling into her body language and tone. “And there’s something you should know-” “So this is who you’ve been sneakin’ off to talk to…!”

Before he could even ask, her attention snapped over his shoulder at Hank as he emerged from the alley behind him, and Connor whirled and came face-to-face with the barrel of his partner’s gun leering pointedly at the android fuming behind him. “You were followed!?” she raged as she stepped out of Hank’s line of sight and pulled her hat down to cover her face. “I- I didn’t- I wasn’t-...” he stammered as he stood between them, glancing back and forth, and held out a hand between himself and his friend, then hissed at him, “Hank, what are you doing here!?” “You’ve been actin’ weird, so I came to find out why,” he replied in a tone that was both cold and fatherly. “So you mind tellin’ me what the hell’s goin’ on? What does she know about the case?” “Easy Hank, lower your weapon,” he coaxed as calmly as he could manage with Kate itching to bolt behind him. “Just listen to me-” “I have to go, I can’t stay here,” she insisted as she stepped back, and he stepped with her. “No please, don’t leave,” he pleaded, knowing that if he didn’t fix this now she may never trust him again. “I really need your help-” “Help…? What do you need her help with?” he questioned as he took three steps forward and regripped his gun tighter, raising it around him this time until she could see the muzzle over Connor’s shoulder. It was enough to make her shiver. “Just who the hell are you anyway?” “Haaaaaank….!” Connor warned in a threatening tone as he turned his body to shield her, but when she moved away she stepped back into the light, and Hank gasped as a look of dawning realization washed over his face.

His arms dropped, his eyes grew wide. “Holy shit…” he muttered in awe. “Is- is that-…?” “Connor he knows,” she whispered, her voice quivering, eyes darting between them. “You have to let me go-” Before she could move away any further, he turned and grabbed her shaking hand and looked her dead in the eye with genuine determination she’d never forget. It was the first time anyone had truly stood up for her. “He’s not going to hurt you,” he promised with a reassuring squeeze as he redirected his piercing gaze on Hank. “I won’t let him.”

Anderson’s lip curled and twitched angrily as he clenched his teeth and stared him down with a heated glare that Connor endured without batting an eye, and after a while he growled in frustration, lowered his weapon and placed it back in the holster on his hip. “Fine, you win,” he sighed, holding up his hands in defeat. Part of him couldn’t believe the Lieutenant had backed down. Hank was as stubborn as the day was long, and he thought for sure he’d be taking at least one bullet, but it seemed that he trusted him more than he’d assessed. Perhaps he’d been wrong to think he couldn’t trust him with this secret. Perhaps... “But start talkin’. NOW!”

His grip around Kate’s hand loosened to let go but to his surprise, instead of slipping away her fingers pushed back between his and squeezed. Connor turned to look at her over his shoulder and found her staring back at him through teary eyes, gratitude radiating from crinkled cheeks and a tremulous smile. A warmth he’d never felt enveloped and uplifted him, giving him a strength he didn’t know he had, and then he knew that this was the kind of selfless act she’d been trying to bring out of him- something she’d seen in him before that he couldn’t see in himself, something to prove that she hadn’t misplaced her faith in him. Finally, he’d done something right by her. But now wasn’t the time to rejoice over small victories. Hank had demanded an explanation, and he knew better than to keep him waiting.