#and yes I gave him an identical dr pin to the one I have as well hank you for asking

[thatstroubling]

when your favorite character makes it to the finale

As a fellow Danganronpa fan, I'd like to imagine that if Pre-game Shuichi wasn't, you know, gone forever because he'd given up his life to become an anime character like a dumbass and could somehow witness our Shuichi kick So Much Ass in Trial 6, he would be the one cheering him on the loudest. After all, Shuichi is his perfect little detective guy and the person he once hoped he could become. That's why I can hear the "You tell them!" in his voice in my head so very clearly. And in spite of being responsible for ending Pre-game Shuichi's favorite TV show in the world, at the core of it, Shuichi was ultimately fighting on behalf of his friends for what was right all the way to the end.

And who wouldn't want to get behind that?

[victimeyez]

Yes, Captain

Happy Halloween! I was able to finish a short story I started ages ago, just in time to post it as a Halloween special. This is not related to Professional//Victim, but instead centers on the plight of an Irish pirate crew.

Tadhg is an irish name pronounced like TIE-G. Pronunciation reference available here: x

This one is hopefully sufficiently creepy, gross, and gory. Mind the tags. Alternative title: Blood and Oranges

~

“Captain!”

Tadhg’s head whipped around as if his own name was called, and gave a cursory glance to the deck before making his way over to the private. Captain was nowhere in sight, likely getting stoned in his quarters, so Tadhg took the reins as his practiced right-hand man. 

The private who had called was in the crow’s nest, so Tadhg climbed the netting up, the ropes still rough under his calloused hands. He pulled himself up with decent ease but actively suppressed his need for more breath, trying to appear effortless in front of his underling.

“Aye?”

Snake Eyes handed him the telescope without comment. Tadhg raised it to his eye and squinted, blinking a few times against it before he saw the ship. Not immediately close, but drawing closer at an unnatural pace. Less subtly, the ship made its identity known with its trademark crimson sails.

Tadhg swallowed uncomfortably and lowered the spyglass.

“It could be an imposter,” Snake Eyes tried, with a nervous air.

“We cann’y afford to be wrong.”

Tadhg’s stomach was clenched in a pit of worry, but he carefully kept a calm face. 

“Get the crew ready for battle, I’ll meet with the captain.”

Snake Eyes nodded, worried, and scurried down the nets after Tadhg. 

At the bottom, Tadhg straightened his vest and clapped his hands.

“ATTENTION! A ship resemblin’ The Red Dawn has been spotted, 20 kilometers north, headed our way. Ready in case of a fight, be on standby for orders, Snake Eyes will direct.”

The crew paused for the announcement, and made nervous, uncertain eyes at one another while they slowly shifted gears. There was an air of disbelief stalling their movements, but Snake Eyes could snap them into shape.

Tadhg hurried down the narrow steps to the captain’s quarters, and he could hear word spreading down through the layers of the ship to the gun deck. 

“Captain!”

He knocks on the door vigorously, hoping to wake him from his inevitable stupor.

“Who iiiiiisssss ittttt?” Rowan called back, muffled through the door. Tadhg pulled a pin from his hat and picked the lock with practiced ease, letting himself in. Wild Red Rowan was lying in his bed, the only bed on board, smoking opium with a humorous scowl.

“I thought I told you not to do that.”

“Captain, we’ve spotted The Red Dawn headed our way.”

Rowan’s face drained and his cheer was gone in a flash. He set down his pipe, looked at it, and then started packing it full again. 

“Hoist the white flag.”

Tadhg didn’t move.

“What?”

“Surrender. Immediately. It’s our only chance.” Rowan didn’t meet his gaze, instead focusing on smoking as much of the opium as he could in short order. 

“We - we might. Still outrun them.” Tadhg’s words sounded hollow, even to him. 

“We won’t.”

“We have to fight.”

“We can’t win.”

“We don’t know that.”

“We can’t afford to lose. We have to give up, it’s the only way any of us will be spared.”

Tadhg walked back up the stairs in a daze. He reached the gun deck first, where the crew was scrambling to ready artillery. 

“Don’t - don’t. We’re surrendering.”

He didn’t say it loud enough first, when only a few people slowed and looked at him. 

“HALT! PREPARE FOR A SURRENDER! CAPTAIN’S ORDERS!”  he barked. Stunned faces of disbelief looked back at him. Some folks didn’t even stop preparations. A woman with long black hair dropped an armful of knives unceremoniously onto the floor.

“Are you having a fucking craic?” 

Tadhg stifled a nervous laugh.

“‘Fraid no’.”

Blackjack stared at him for a long moment, finally deciding he wasn’t joking.

“Fuck. Fuck!”

She kicked the heap on the floor she had dropped, scattering knives and cutlasses of various sizes around the deck. 

Tadhg walked numbly back to the main deck, where he repeated his order to a similarly mixed success. His boots weighed a thousand pounds with each step he took to the mast, kicking the trunk at its base open and pulling the heavy cream canvas from its depths. In case of emergencies. 

The crew of The Great Deceptor had never raised the white flag before.

Tadhg had been sure he’d be dead before he’d see it happen. He stared at the fabric in his hands for a moment as if it might speak to him. He hoped he might have some moment of clarity, of feeling assured of what to do. None came.

Looking past it, down to the ocean, The Red Dawn was growing closer at an overwhelming rate. It was a calm day, yet the foreign vessel cut the waves like a watersnake. Without the breeze, The Great Deceptor’s white flag hung limply from its post, as if the flag itself had given up its duty, too. Tadhg wondered idly if they’d even see it. 

A heavy hand fell on Tadhg’s shoulder as Captain Red Rowan materialized behind him, fully dressed. He seemed to consider saying something encouraging, before abandoning the idea to a morbid silence. The crew around him drifted about like ghosts, eying the raised flag as a terrible omen. 

The free ocean miles around them, and yet, nowhere to go.

~

When The Red Dawn grew close, Tadhg could see the water ripple oddly around her flanks, and she pitched forward quicker than the wind could carry her. When they were close enough to see people on board, he realized the movement was propelled by a row of blue painted oars feathering out from low on each side. From any distance, they blended in easily with the tumultuous waters. The oars retreated into the boat smoothly as it drew up side-to-side with them, leaving no trace. Able to be hidden when docking, so no one would know their secret.

No one who would survive. 

They boarded with a ferocity, even though The Great Deceptor’s crew stood by with anxious idleness. The deck swarmed with foreign members, quickly taking flank along the ship to guard the length. Their captain came last, and Tadhg’s heart sank. Phantom White stepped onto the deck in a long leather coat, bleached white like bone. His face obscured by his signature leather mask, tucked neatly into his hat. His eyes were dark gems in their shadows, and when they reached Tadhg, it felt like they were boring holes through him. 

“I offer no struggle, only a bargain.” Rowan called. 

That got White’s attention then, and he made his slow way over to Wild. He came to a stop within conversational distance, his masked face unreadable, still silent. 

“I offer my ship and my crew in exchange for my life.”

Tadhg’s heart stopped, and he broke his best menacing face to stare at Wild Red in disbelief.

“Not a member of your crew will be harmed, and our bounty is yours. I can-”

Rowan was interrupted with a hard punch to the jaw, and Tadhg was stunned to realize it was delivered from his own fist. 

“You fish bellied fucking coward!”

His hand instinctively went to his side, drawing his cutlass and thrusting it into the air.

“ERIN GO BRAGH, FIGHT YOU DOGS!”

Chaos broke around them as the crew scrambled for arms, some forgoing them in favor of ripping at the invaders with their bare hands.

Tadhg had a fleeting moment of hope, a single thought that just maybe they had a chance, before Phantom White’s blade cut his hand into two halves with a single blow. Tadhg’s favorite sword clattered to the deck, and a leather-clad arm grabbed him about the throat, pulling his head into a crushing embrace. He frantically clawed at the arm, but his cut hand’s fingers flopped backwards unnaturally. With some wriggling he managed to tuck his chin under his grip and he bit down, his teeth sinking into the thick supple leather and catching him easily. There was a blinding hit to the back of his head, and night fell suddenly for Tadhg.

~

He woke up to darkness again, a blindfold wrapped thickly around his eyes. As he collected his thoughts, he recognized he was upright, sitting bound to a chair, probably from the captain’s quarters. His head throbbed in waves of pain, and the agony from his hand was so intense that he clenched his fist on instinct, as if to pull away from the sensation. 

His hand was bound tightly together, pinned behind his back with his other fist. His jaw ached from a knotted rag stuffed into his mouth, keeping his jaw forced open and held in with a tightly bound rag around his head. He moaned in discomfort, shaking his head to try to dislodge the makeshift device and his whole head pulsed in pain. He prodded at the gag with his tongue, but it was caught behind his teeth and he struggled to bite down. 

The bony back of a hand smashed the left side of his face, startling him into plaint submission as he searched sightlessly for his captor.

“Quite the excitement you had today, dear boy.” A rough voice spoke, low and timely.

“Mhhhhhnnnnhhhhwwhhhnnn,” Tadhg articulated back. 

A low chuckle. 

“You tried your best, but your crew was easily overwhelmed.”

Tadhg’s heart sank into his stomach. He didn't even get to go out fighting with his crew.

“They didn’t go without a fight, though. Gave me a few positions to refill, and I find myself suddenly in need of a new right hand man.”

Tadhg told him precisely how much he could go fuck himself, but all that came out was muffled sounds of anger. 

The striking hand patted his cheek.

“You do fight like a dog. I could use a mutt. Or, I could chum what’s left of your crew. I’ll give you some time to think about it. 

Tadhg swallowed with some difficulty around the rag, but sat still.

“I have to finish a few negotiations with your good ol’ cap, and we can seal it.”

Tadhg wasn’t sure what would be required to “seal it”, but he didn’t have much choice. He listened to the creak of the wood as this - new captain stalked away.

New. Because with a sinking feeling, he already knew. He would take the deal. Of course he would. He only hoped there actually were surviving members of his crew left to be saved. 

He rolled the memory over in his mind like the last sip of whiskey in his mouth. His Captain, stoned and stumbling, unwilling to lift a finger towards their survival. A little more “all for one” than “one for all”. Back in the day Wild Red Rowan slaughtered vikings and freed their slaves. Freed then, with nowhere to go, Tadhg had joined his crew with an unwavering loyalty. 

A loyalty that had brought him up through the ranks fast. 

A loyalty that may very well have just cost the entire ship their lives. 

He hung his aching head. 

Less rhino horn could ruin better men than his temperamental leader. But Tadhg was devoted, and it regularly earned him a place in the Captain’s bed just long enough to be used for what he was good for. He felt heavy with shame to think on those nights now, and where it had landed him. 

He dozed off in the chair somehow, this knowledge only gleaned when he was startled awake with a hand squeezing his sore jaw. 

“Enough beauty rest. Your captain has agreed to a most generous offer.”

Tadhg raised his blind, heavy head, and the hand released him. 

“As for you… you’ll serve on my ship. Ten year’s debt. Many of your kin here have accepted. What say you?”

Tadhg gnawed on the gag and finally nodded. His heart sank with his submission, knowing the little freedom he’d been given had been sold away again so easily. 

Tugging at the back of his head, strands of hair rip free with the rope binding. The wrap around his eyes loosens and falls, and he blinks harshly against the oil lamps illuminating the room. As they adjusted, he struggled to understand what he saw.

Phantom White, sitting on the edge of Red’s bed. His white coat splattered with blood and gore, some still shining wet in the light. In place of his white mask was a crude red mass, the edges secured with sinew around his head. Out of the gruesome mess, Tadhg recognized a human face. The scar on his nose… no. No.

His captain’s face, the flayed skin stretched into a gruesome mask. 

Bile rose in his throat, only kept down by the gag. The lips were swollen and split, stretched brutally around the new captain’s own mouth, the hollow eye sockets grimly forced open around dark eyes underneath. What he could see of the face beneath was painted in blood that had begun to tacky in the cool salt air. 

He screamed in his gag then, like a rabbit in the jaws of a wolf. Screamed with a terror that dripped down his leg. The twisted mask of Rowan’s face bulged around the ties securing it around Phantom White’s head. The bloody fileting knife still was held in one hand, viscera caked down to the end of the handle and smeared in his palms. Tadhg rocked backwards in his chair as hard as he could, barely gaining another inch away from the monster before him. 

“You don’t think I wear it as fine as him? He might still like it back, though he has grown quiet since.”

Phantom drew an orange from his pocket and raised his blade, splitting the fruit in two with a practiced flick. He opened his mouth - both mouths - wide enough to sink his teeth into the flesh, the smell of sugar cutting through the stench of blood as the juice dripped down both chins. 

Tadhg sobbed and wretched dryly, thankful of his empty stomach.

“You’ll do what the fuck I say, when I say it.”

Tadhg nodded again, heart hammering. He could not cease the tears of sheer terror tracking down his cheeks and soaking into his gag.

White drew closer, drawing whimpers and sobs from Tadhg as the bound man struggled in vain to pull away from the advancing captain. 

His peeling face loomed close to his and Tadhg closed his eyes, anticipating teeth to tear his own in shreds. \

The knife dug into his cheek and he shrieked as it carved down, the acid of the orange stinging like salt in the wound. It split through the wrap around his mouth and withdrew, the sides falling away from his face and releasing his gag. 

He opened his eyes wide and saw him staring back, deep set eyes under his fleshy disguise. Phantom’s bloody hand covered his mouth before he could spit out the knot over his tongue.

“We have a deal. The only thing I want to hear out of your fucking mouth is “Yes, Captain.” Are we clear?”

Tadhg nodded, trembling. Paralyzed under his grip. 

The hand released and he spat out the last of the gag, struggling down a swallow to clear his throat.

“You’re mine now.”

Phantom’s face loomed closer and pressed the limp, bloody lips of a corpse’s face against his. An invading tongue pressed against his lips, coaxing his own mouth open to accept the kiss. 

Numbed by shock, Tadhg accepted, and a warm tongue pushed into his mouth, tasting of blood and oranges. The kiss deepened, and then pulled back, a string of red spit breaking between their mouths as they parted. 

“Yes, Captain.”

[blazenka]

Mirroring Identities

Connor Temple believed he was close to returning to his own timeline and home. Instead he finds himself in a world that should not exist while he struggles with non-existent memories. Can he ever remember his identity? Pre/post Alice. Post Primeval S3.

Original source: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6106179/1/Mirroring-Identities

Chapters: 13

Published: 2010-07-03 - 2010-09-06  

Words: 19945

Rated: Fiction T - Language: English - Genre: Romance/Drama - Characters: Abby M., Hatter - Reviews: 86 - Favs: 13 - Follows: 15

Exported with the assistance of FicHub.net

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

a

b

Chapter 5:

The drive in the SUV back to the ARC was… in one word - Awkward. David sat in the back on one with a red haired man called Danny while action man Becker sat up front in the passenger seat with another soldier behind the driver's seat.

"Weird, I thought driver's side was on the left but here it's on the right," David commented. Danny gave him a strange glance and questioned, "You sound like you're from this country but are totally clueless. Of course, so was Connor."

"Again, my name is David and I live in New York. Haven't been here since my childhood," David stated with irritation as he shrugged against the plastic cuffs, hoping his charismatic lying work as well here as it had in New York. "Are these exactly necessary?" David asked frustrated. "From what we've seen you do to that dinosaur, yes," Becker replied cheerfully while his rifle remained close to his chest.

"Can I possibly ask a question?" David glanced between the men. "Depends on what you want to know," Danny answered after the pause of silence. "That girl, with the short blonde hair, is she al'ite? She seemed quite upset," David asked with a sorrowful expression. None of the men answered him as the silence grew more awkward. "I hope this place is close," David replied dryly with an ever-growing irritation in his voice.

David tried his best to gaze at his surrounding as he was led at gun point into the large building. "What is the meaning of…." A man in a pin-striped suit descended the metal stairs with eyes locked on David. "Connor…" he gasped when he reached the bottom of the stairs. "For the last time, my name ain't Connor," David said with an irritated sigh, he knew he should be back with Alice or she was going to worry.

Soldiers unkindly ushered David into some sort of interrogation room with one door, one table, one chair and one huge mirror. Lester stood in the adjacent room in front of the one-way mirror, "So he claims his name is 'David Hatter'.

"Have we been able to find a file on him?" his question directed to Sarah and Becker. "Yes, all his documents are from the states with a birth certificate from here but… we have no record of his birth. It is possible given his paper works says he was born about 30 years ago so… it might have been lost or destroyed before computer documentation," Sarah commented as she looked down at her electronic tablet.

"Alright, don't like it, but alright." Lester commented as he continued to stare at the man who was flipping his hat in a number of tricks. "How is she?" Lester asked. "I'm not sure, but she seems to be taking the whole thing quite hard," Sarah commented as she looked up. "In your professional opinion, do you think Ms. Maitland would still be able to handle field work?" Sarah looked around for a while before answering with a heavy sigh, "No, Ms. Maitland should stay in the ARC or possibly the home office and away from Mr. Hatter for now." "Alright, give her time off work if she needs it," Lester commented to his secretary and she wrote everything down.

Becker cleared his throat and Sarah looked strangely uncomfortable. "Dr. Page?" Lester questioned her, "Anything else I should know?" "Well, it seems he has a fiancé," Sarah admitted while not looking up. 'Oh, that cannot be good,' Lester thought as he felt his familiar head ache returning. "And she has been looking for him at local police stations and the American embassy has been informed. We might have about 24 hours before an international incident," Sarah finished as she backed away to hide behind Becker. "Great… just great," Lester grumbled behind grinding teeth, "Bring her in." "Who?" Sarah questioned, glancing back at Becker. "The fiancé," Lester clarified, "Might as well bring her in."

Alice had woken alone in the hotel bed later that morning. She frowned as she felt through the bed around her with no Hatter in sight or touch. Yet, Alice trusted him so she figured he must have gone out for something, maybe breakfast and did not want to wake her. Alice could not help think how it was even possible for her to meet someone like Hatter. 'Sweet, lovely, caring, loyal…' Alice commented in her thoughts as she started to get up and moved to the bathroom. She would take a quick shower and Hatter would be back, hopefully with breakfast.

"No, I have already spoken to the U.S. embassy. I need to speak with the local police," Alice stated for, what felt like, the millionth time. "My fiancé is missing," Alice informed the officer for the billionth time. Alice had waited for a hour before she began to worry about Hatter. Then after another 4 hours, she decided it would be best to try to connect an official who could try to find Hatter instead of trying to call Hatter on his cell for the trillionth time.

"Ms. Hamilton?" a man in black combat gear behind her asked. Alice turned to face the man with a concerned look upon her face, "Yes?" "I'm sorry; we need you to come with us. It's about Mr. Hatter," the man explained. Alice wanted to scrutinize the man but her concern for her fiancé's safety remained forefront in her mind.

"Is David alright? He isn't hurt, is he?" "All we were told is we needed to find you so we could take you to him," the soldier answered. "Alright," Alice agreed, still not satisfied with the lack of information but it was something. Alice grabbed her coat and followed them out and into a black SUV.

Abby settled into her seat in her lab. Over the last three months her little green house office had become her sanctuary from the reality that Connor was still missing. Now, her sanctuary protected her from the new comer, David Hatter.

The man unnerved her in every sense she had. David looked like Connor, sounded like Connor, and when she had hugged him he had smelled like Connor. God help her if she ever found out if he tasted like her Connor. The only thing was he did not feel like Connor when she hugged him. While Connor was smooth and soft with subtle muscles, David was scarred, calloused and his muscles were well defined from years of, what she could guess, a hard life.

Yet, Abby was really disturbed by the emotions she felt when she thought the man was Connor. The scene, in her mind, had been something out of a novel - thought she realized most of their little 'stories' could have been something out of a novel. Just when she was on the verge of being killed, and all of a sudden he runs in, punches the creature that threatened her without a second thought to himself and saved her. It was so much like her Connor it hurt her inside like a fresh wound when he demanded he was not.

Abby glanced back to her flowers and plants as she skimmed through the pages of her Flora book. Yet, no matter how much she tried to focus on her work her mind would always wander back to the strange man and how he was so similar to her lost Connor. 'God, even their terrible fashion sense is the same!' she thought in distress as the man's cheeky grin kept floating into her thoughts.

Abby realized she was not going to get work done while like this and decided it best to get a cup of coffee or something. She exited her office after dropping everything and made her way to the break room when she noticed everyone seems to be in the large main room of the ARC where the ADD was kept. Abby immediately spotted David sitting in the chair where Connor would have sit and she could feel the anger well up inside her as she made her way straight over to Sarah and Becker.

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[mctherofdragons]

A Sanctuary Heart | 3 | SR

summary / after her abusive husband lands her in the intensive care unit, y/n changes her identity and moves as far away as possible. upon starting her new life, she meets dr.spencer reid and his son, maddox, when she begins her job as a teacher. but can she keep herself safe and keep up the facade with spencer? can she be safe at all?

pairing / spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings / slowburn romance, fluff, angst, marriage, trauma, domestic violence/abuse, dad!spencer, wheelchair use, paralysis, injury, ptsd flashbacks, car accident/serious injury, bullying, mention of ableism, a singular mention of god.

important links / series masterlist + domestic violence resources

authors note / i absolutely adored writing this chapter, omg. we get more of spencer and maddox's backstory. and things start to get a little more exciting as the rest of the team makes their first appearance! thank you all for the great feedback so far, i'm so glad you're enjoying the series. also my tags are not working, so reblogs on this chapter would be insanely appreciated. Flashbacks are in italics!

Seeing the blood on your hand, Spencer instinctively reached out to grab your wrist gently. You snatched your hand back, bringing yourself up to your feet, wobbling. You grabbed your bag, wrapping your hand in your scarf that you had managed to take off in the cool October night.“Ivy,” he said the moniker one more time and you felt your insides reel once more.

‘I’m a liar, Dr. Reid, I wish you knew,’ you thought to yourself, stumbling to search for your keys under the warm glow of the moon.

“I have to go. Thank you for dinner,” you contended, making your way out of the side gate. Spencer watched in confusion as you made your way out quickly. He figured he ought to chose his battles, not wanting to startle you by following after you.

Once you were safe inside your car, you sat in the driver’s seat, hands gripping onto the steering wheel for dear life. You felt a sharp combination of embarrassment and frustration. You wanted the flit of light that came from the possibility of new love. But instead, the one before had taken everything from you. Even now, all these miles and a new name away, he was pulling you away from those little flickers of brilliance and back into the darkness of yourself.

_____________________________

2 years earlier.

“Maddox,” Spencer whispered, feeling his heavy eyelids open just slightly. He was disoriented, noticing that the once right-side-up roadway was now upside down instead. The loud blaring of the horn was constant. It sent a piercing sound into Spencer’s ears and head, which caused him to wince. “Maddox.”

Spencer tried to turn, but he couldn’t move. Something had him pinned in the driver’s seat. He looked into the review mirror, which by grace alone wasn’t entirely broken. Maddox was slumped in his car seat, blood trickling down onto his Toy Story tee shirt. Spencer let out a weak gasp, trying again with no avail to move.

Spencer noticed how cold it was. It had been snowing all night, and Spencer wasn’t sure how long they had been where they are now. The snow had fallen through the shattered glass, tiny flakes gathering anywhere they could.

Using all of his strength, he turned his head to his wife. Her eyes were half shut, a trickle of crimson come from her mouth.

“Baby,” Spencer whispered. “Are you alright?”

She began to speak, but began to sputter, her lungs sounding flooded. Her hand curled and uncurled, and Spencer could barely reach it. He was able to hold onto her fingertips with his. They felt ice-cold like she was already three steps into Eternity. Spencer knew that type of frigid touch. He had come in content with it a million times, and the person on the other end was never living.

“D-don’t talk, baby. Okay? The ambulance is coming. Do you hear them? We’re going to be okay.”

Spencer could hear the medics somewhere far off in the distance. The repeated echo of the sirens sounded like a band of angels to him. Spencer Reid admittedly didn’t believe in the Judeo-Christian God. He wasn’t sure what he gave credence to, in fact. But at that moment, inverted in the shattered glass, surrounded by the labored breathing of his dying wife...he prayed.

________________________________

Spencer walked into the Bureau, adjusting the brown satchel on his shoulder. His brow looked furrowed as he sipped from his paper coffee cup. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way you left, trying to profile what exactly had gone wrong between the Merlot and you rushing out of his backyard.

“Penny for your thoughts?,” Emily piqued as Spencer sat down, tossing his bag onto his desk. Spencer let out an exasperating sigh, taking another drink of his coffee.

“Just trying to figure someone out.”

“Oh, oh, oh. Is this a lady someone?,” Derek queried, wiggling his eyebrows. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning onto Spencer’s desk with a sparkling grin.

“Maybe.”

Spencer felt himself smiling despite his best efforts. Emily opened her mouth in surprise, giving Derek a playful shove.

“I told you he would get back out there, Morgan!”

Spencer smiled. “Yeah, she’s sweet. I just...don’t know if I’m ready yet.”

That morning, Spencer had put on his wedding band. He still did it when he was scared, or nervous, or needing to feel close to her. He would feel the cool metal atop his finger and feel less alone. For a brief moment when the metallic touched his skin, he could pretend she was still here.

Derek gave Spencer’s shoulder a supportive squeeze.

“I hope you know me and Prentiss are just messing with you. We care about you, kid. We know these past two years have been hell for you. Just want you to be happy.”

“Yeah…I appreciate that. I just…,” Spencer paused, bringing his hands up as he spoke, as was so akin to him. His lip curled into the smallest smile. “Seeing this girl interact with Maddox. She...loves him for him..already?”

“Maddox is a great kid, Reid.”

“I know. I just don’t want her to find out---”

Spencer’s sentence was cut off by Hotch appeared, letting everyone know they had a case and to meet for Round Table. Spencer quickly shot a text to Maddox’s home health nurse, letting her know he’d need coverage for a few days.

________________________________

You sat in the front of your classroom, your eyes scanning from the test in front of you to the answer key. The students were working on a Social Studies project in small groups. Their task was to read a short story about colonial times and fill out a short worksheet. If they finished early they were permitted to color, which most of the children thoroughly enjoyed.

“Maddox can’t use crayons,” you heard a small voice snicker. You raised your eyebrow, hoping it wasn’t harmful, and rather just an observation.

You heard another child sling a slur at Maddox, who was sitting quietly with his aide, trying to ignore them. But as you looked up, you saw Maddox’s tiny bottom lip begin to wobble. One of the children picked up a crayon and threw it at Maddox, hitting him in the shoulder.

“He can’t even feel that! My dad said that’s why he’s in a wheelchair,” the bully jeered again, high-fiving his friend.

You stood up with a loud squeak of your chair against the linoleum floor.

“You two. Principals office. Now.”

The rest of the class erupted in a chorus of childish ‘ooo’s. You clapped your hands together - your universal signal to quiet down.

“I did not ask for comments from the audience,” you scolded. The children settled down, going back to their work, whispering amongst one another.

“Maddox, come talk to me in the hallway,” you offered. Tears were rolling down Maddox’s cheeks. His aide reached over with a tissue to wipe them, but he turned his face away, one of the only ways he could physically set a boundary.

Maddox’s aide helped him into the hallway and then left the two of you alone. You sat down on one of the small, metal benches in the hallway. At this angle, you were about Maddox’s height. He was blubbering, trying to take deep breaths as more tears came. You pulled a small, clean, cloth handkerchief from your pocket. He let you dab his cheeks, giving him a gentle click of the tongue.

“Buddy, do you want to talk about it?”

“T-they’re so m..m..mean to me,” he whimpered, closing his eyes as more tears fell. “And, and, and I can’t play with them even, that’s why. I can’t do anything!”

You nodded empathetically, gently catching more of Maddox’s tears.

“I hate school! My daddy wants me to like school. It’s all he talks about. I hate him!”

“Maddox,” you softly redirected. “That’s not very nice. You don’t hate your dad.”

Maddox looked a deep breath. You smiled, knowing Spencer must have taught him to do that when he was upset.

“You’re right. But I’m sad, and I wanna go home.”

You sighed, reaching up to blot the little bit of redness still present on Maddox’s cheeks. You adjusted his glasses, moving some of his curly brown hair from underneath the metal.

“Just a few more hours, okay? We have library at the end of the day.”

Maddox’s face lit up, his apple cheeks glowing beneath the rims of his glasses. “Library!”

“Yes, and just for this week, you can take home two books.”

______________________________

Spencer felt distracted the entire flight to Vermont. He knew he was going to be far away for a while, and that Maddox wouldn’t know until he got out of school for the day. The agent detested when he had to leave without Maddox knowing in advance, but it was usually impossible given the nature of things. Thankfully, Reid had a good setup of support through healthcare and respite so Maddox never went without someone to care for him.

Then, there was you. He couldn’t stop thinking about your reaction. He had seen it before in abuse victims. The way you flinched when he moved too fast, the apologizing like your life depended on it, even the way you looked at him with pleading eyes, desperate to avoid a blow. He bridged his fingers together, thinking to himself for a moment.

With that, he stood up, making his way to the back of the plane. He unlocked his phone while he chewed his fingernail with his free hand. Before he knew it, he was calling Garcia.

“Penelope. Hey, I need a favor. A personal one. If you could keep it between us, that would be great.”

“Anything for you, my precious string bean.”

Spencer laughed. “I need you to get all the information you can on someone. Ivy Porter.”

“Ivy Porter. That’s like a movie star name. What did she do?”

“Um..nothing, I don’t think. Just call me when you’ve got something, and email me everything you find.”

“You got it. Every in and out of Ms. Ivy Porter coming to you soon. Be safe. Talk soon.”

With that, Penelope clicked off of the call. Spencer sat back down, anxiously waiting for whatever information Penelope could find about you.

___________

series/criminal minds taglist: @hufflepuffhaze @omghufflepuff @txtdreamss @rainbows-dreams @bvttercupbby @k-k0129 @rexit-mo @britishspidey @graciehams @manuosorioh @shemarmooresfedora @big-galaxy-chaos @thatoneszesty13 @ssavanessa22 @awritingtree @sweetandsunny​ @rainsong01 @kuolonsyoja @taralewiz @bluelittleblackgirl @asexual-booknerd @the-wolfie

[a-simple-gaywitch]

Composed of the Elements

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary:  When a case takes the team to (Y/N)'s home town, her best friend Spencer helps her leave all the baggage behind.

Title Song: Sweet as Whole, Sara Bareilles

Word Count: 2705

Warnings: high school bullying, brief mentions of a case, smoking

“Behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic.” -Oscar Wilde

~

You walked into the bullpen with a coffee in one hand and your phone in the other.

“Morning, (Y/N),” your best friend, Spencer, called from his desk.

“Morning, Spence.” You sat down at your desk. Before you could get settled, JJ announced a case.

“We’ve been called in to a small town in Indiana,” JJ said, clicking on the slide projector.

“Wait. When you say small town…” you said, feeling your body tense.

“We’re going to (L/N)���s hometown,” Hotch confirmed. After going over the details of the case, he said, “Wheels up in thirty.”

Spencer reached for your arm, but you were up and moving to the bullpen before he could catch you. He watched as you grabbed your bag from your desk, ignoring Morgan’s attempts at conversation. Your usual peppy, outgoing self was gone, replaced with a stranger.

When the team gathered on the jet, they discussed the case together. You sat at the back of the cabin, staring out at the clouds, tapping on the table in front of you.

“Hey.” You looked up to see Gideon sitting in front of you. “Are you okay?”

You shook your head. “I never thought I’d be going back there. I thought I could leave and never look back.”

“Hey, I know it isn’t easy, but we need your help. You know this town and the people in it. That can help us.”

You sighed and stood up. “Fine.” Walking over to the team, you said, “One thing you need to know about these people: they don’t like outsiders. At all.”

“What do you mean by outsiders?” Hotch asked.

You scoffed. “Anyone who isn’t born and raised in the town. Even if you’ve lived there for years, if you weren’t born in Newton, you’re not to be trusted. You’ll see first-hand when we meet with the local PD.”

“What about the victims?” Derek asked you.

“I knew both of them in high school,” you said, flicking through the file. “But I don’t know what anyone has been doing with their lives.”

Spencer couldn’t help but notice the sadness in your eyes. Despite his aversion to touch, he reached out and rested his hand on top of yours. You were his safety net. He loved you, as more than just his best friend.

~

When the team got to the police station, you stuck to the back of the group while JJ and Hotch made introductions.

“Detective Miller,” Hotch said, holding his hand out. “I’m Agent Hotchner. You’ve already spoken to Agent Jareau. This is SSA Gideon, Dr. Reid, SSA Morgan, and SSA (L/N).”

“Wait. Little nerdy (Y/N) (L/N)?” the detective said, finally noticing you. “Wow, who would have thought you’d come back to Newton?” You swallowed hard, keeping your eyes down.

“Do you have a place we can set up a case board?” Spencer asked, noticing your unease.

“Sure.”

“Did you know the victims well?” JJ asked him.

The detective nodded. “We all do. Kelly’s my son’s teacher. Julia and I dated in high school. Our kids are friends.”

“Does everyone in town know each other well?” JJ asked as she helped you pin the crime scene photos to the board.

“Of course. We’re like a family. When your town only has 300 people, you have to look out for each other.” You couldn’t hold back your scoff. “You have something to say there, (Y/N)?”

“She’s Agent (L/N) to you,” Gideon interrupted. “JJ, Julia Coleman’s family is here.”

~

“You look different,” Detective Miller said to you as you worked late to help nail down the profile. “You look good.”

“Detective Miller-”

“Come on, you can call me Tim.” He stepped closer to you. “You don’t have to be so professional.”

“Excuse me,” you said, though it was no more than a whisper. You slipped out of the room and stood outside the precinct, leaning against the wall. You pulled a small box out of your jacket pocket.

“Since when do you smoke?” Spencer asked you, coming up next to you.

You lit a cigarette and took a drag before saying, “Since high school.” Seeing Spencer’s concern, you said, “Relax, I haven’t for a while. It’s only when I get really stressed.”

“You know, each cigarette takes about seven minutes off your life.”

“If it’s seven minutes I don’t have to spend with Timothy Miller or anyone else from this damn town, then I don’t care.”

“What did he do to you?”

You shook your head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Come on, (Y/N), it’s me. Talk to me. Please?”

You looked at your best friend’s pleading eyes and sighed. You put out your cigarette and said, “You know I didn’t have a good high school experience. After my mom died, my dad moved us to his childhood home. I moved schools halfway through the first semester. I was the weird new kid who wore all black with braces and clunky glasses and was way too into Stephen King books. I was an easy target.” You cleared your throat. “Julia and Tim were my biggest tormentors. When they dated, it was worse.”

“What do you mean?” Spencer asked.

You chewed your lip. “Tim asked me to the prom when he and Julie were on an off period of their relationship. I got so excited, like an idiot. I mean, I knew he didn’t like me in that way. After all, why would he?” You laughed, but there was no joy behind it. Spencer felt his heart clench at how you saw yourself. He thought you were the most beautiful, amazing woman to ever exist.

“But I thought at least I’d have a friend, you know? I rented a dress and did my hair, all that stuff. Tim said he was going to pick me up. He never came.” Your eyes burned with tears at the memory. “The worst part was, my dad didn’t know there was anything going on. After-after my mom died, he gave up. When he wasn’t working, he was drinking and smoking.” You shook your head. “Tim just brought all those feelings back.”

Spencer reached out and wiped the tears off your cheek. “You didn’t deserve any of that. No one deserves that.”

“Carrie was my favorite book in high school. I wonder what that says about me.”

“Why don’t we head back to the hotel?” Spencer offered, holding his hand out to you. “Rest might help us with the case.”

~

The next morning, the team discovered there was another murder. Misty Lincoln had been killed in the same way as the other two victims. Spencer was graphing the geographical profile while you sat at the table, staring at the crime scene photos.

“You see something?” Hotch asked you.

“I’m not sure. Uh, could I- could I take like two hours? I think there might be something that’ll help us in my dad’s old things.”

“Sure. But you’re not going alone. Take Reid with you.”

You knew better than to argue with your boss. “Yes, sir.”

When you and Spencer got into the SUV, your fingers started tapping the steering wheel as you drove, letting muscle memory guide you. You pulled into the parking lot of a storage facility. Spencer followed behind you as you passed row after row of storage units. When you finally stopped, you flipped through your keychain until you found one you were looking for. You hadn’t spoken to Spencer since getting in the car back at the station, and he was starting to worry.

After you opened the door to the unit, you looked at Spencer. “After my dad died, I moved all his stuff here. I got rid of some stuff, of course. What would I ever do with an old couch that had more cigarette burns than upholstery?” You ran your hand over a white garment bag. The golden lettering was faded, but Spencer could still make out the word bridal, and what he could infer was the word boutique from the few remaining letters. “Some things I just couldn’t get rid of.”

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Spencer asked you, picking up a picture at the top of an open box. You were between who he could only assume were your parents, and you all looked happy. You looked just like your mother. The small you, who couldn’t be much older than 8, clung to the woman’s side. Your father had his arm around your mother’s waist. It all looked very domestic.

“Sure,” you said, digging through a box at the back of the unit.

“Why have you been acting so different since we got here? I mean, you’ve been acting so meek and timid, which isn’t you. I once heard you threaten a cop that you would, and I quote, ‘shove your foot so far up his ass that he would taste the mud on your shoe.’ What’s going on?” He set the frame back on the top of the box.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess… I spent so long trying to distance myself from this place and when I came back, I was back to being a scared little 15-year-old.”

“But, you’re not, (Y/N). You’re strong and confident.” It was then Spencer heard you sniffle and noticed you were crying. “(Y/N)?”

You wiped your face. “Sorry. It’s just… I worked so hard for the image of me that you all see and-and I’m just so afraid that being here is going to erase all that. I worked so hard at the Academy to form an identity that wasn’t this and-”

“(Y/N), (Y/N), hey,” he said, taking your hands in his. “Breathe. Our image of you is not going to change just because your old tormentors are here. I- uh, we, the team, we love you. You’re our family. I think Garcia would riot if Hotch ever tried to get rid of you.” You chuckled at that and it made him smile. “Now, how about we get out of here and work more on our profile?”

~

When you got back to the precinct, Hotch asked you, “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Yeah.” You pulled an old yearbook out of your bag. “All the victims are from the same graduating class, and they were all in the same extracurriculars. Look.”

“We’re ready to give the profile,” Gideon said after flipping through the book.

Your team gathered the police department to deliver your preliminary profile.

“We’ve come to the conclusion that our unsub can only be a local,” Spencer said. “He-”

“There’s no way,” Officer Miller interrupted. “No one in this town would do that. Besides, why would I trust this walking stick insect over the people I’ve known my whole life? You’re wrong, Stick-Bug.”

“How dare you,” you said, stepping forward. The rest of your team stepped away. They knew what was coming. No one would say it, but they all knew how you and Spencer felt about each other. “How dare you talk to Spencer that way. Captain Bell invited us here to help you find out who’s murdering members of your community. You have no right to talk to my family that way.”

“Your family? These people are your family?”

“A family is anyone who makes you feel loved, and by that definition, yes. These people are my family. And if you ever talk to any of them like that again, I will bring your life crashing down around you with one simple phone call.”

“Oh, look who’s finally got a backbone,” Tim laughed. “Little (Y/N) thinks she sounds all big and threatening.”

“It’s not a threat, Timothy, it’s a promise,” you said. “And I’m sure Captain Bell would take you off this case if I told him you have a conflict of interest. I’m sure he’d love to know you’d had an affair with one of the victims. You and Julia never could stay away from each other, could you?”

Spencer fought a smile at seeing you return to yourself, as well as seeing Timothy’s face pale. He chewed the inside of his cheek, trying to think of a way to thank you.

~

The case was finally over. Like always, Spencer had been right. The unsub was a guy from your graduating class who felt the women from your class shunned and mistreated him. Thankfully, you were able to sympathize with him and get him to come in without any extra violence.

Hotch was giving the team the night in the hotel before heading back to Quantico in the morning. You were flipping through the channels on the hotel’s TV, already in your pajamas by 8:30. You finally settled on some old reruns of Friends when there was a knock at your door. You groaned and extracted yourself from your blanket cocoon and trudged over to the door.

“Spence? What are you doing here?” you asked after opening your door to reveal Spencer, still in his work clothes.

“Come with me, I want to show you something.”

“Spencer, I’m in my pajamas-”

“That doesn’t matter. Just, come with me. Please?”

You tugged your old sweatshirt on and followed Spencer down the hallway, to the elevator.

“Where are we going?” you asked him.

“It’s a surprise.”

“A surprise?”

“You trust me, right?”

“Of course, I do, Spence. You know that.”

“Okay well,” he covered your eyes with his hands and guided you forward. He dropped his hands and said, “surprise.”

You were standing on the patio of the hotel’s restaurant, the tables had been pushed to the side and lights were strung up all around.

“Spence, what’s all this?” you asked as he gently pulled you to the center of the patio.

“A way to say thank you,” he said. When he saw the confusion on your face, he said, “For sticking up for me at the precinct. I know it must have been hard to stand up to Detective Miller. And-and I remember you telling me that you don’t have many good memories here, and then I thought about your prom story, so…” He held his hand out to you as music started playing. “May I have this dance?”

You smiled and took Spencer’s hand. He rested his free hand on your waist, and your free hand rested on his shoulder as the two of you gently swayed to the soft music coming from the patio’s speakers.

“How’d you pull this off?” you asked him.

His smile was a bit sheepish. “Morgan and Garcia helped me pull some strings.”

“Of course they did. Garcia is the all-powerful puppet master.”

Spencer laughed as the two of you continued to dance. When Spencer heard you sniffle, he stopped and pulled away.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He brushed a tear off your cheek. “Did I do something wrong?”

You shook your head and smiled at him. “No. It’s happy tears.” When you saw that Spencer still looked confused, you explained, “I never thought I’d have someone in my life who cares about me this much. I mean, look at all this. You did this just to make me happy.” You rested your forehead against Spencer’s and wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers playing with his hair. Spencer’s arms wound around your waist, pulling you closer.

“Of course I did. I love you. I-I mean, I care about you. Because you’re my best friend and-”

“Spence,” you said, stopping his rambling. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, lingering for just a moment.

Spencer’s brain, which usually worked at three times the speed of the average person, slowed to practically a halt. You had just kissed him. The girl he’s been longing for just kissed him. She kissed him . You were about to say something to him when his brain finally caught up and he kissed you back.

When the two of you pulled apart, you said, “Well, I guess my prom was worth the wait.”

Spencer smiled at you and kissed your forehead before continuing to dance with you.

~

"Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage." -Anais Nin

[bansheeoftheforest]

I Am Once Again Giving You London Gang!Jekyll Content

Okay but AU where Jekyll accidentally starts a gang though. He just helped people on the street way too often and then one day someone who opposes the Society just.. gets absolutely destroyed by a carriage out of nowhere. Jekyll gets a box with money and a note that refers to him as 'boss'. There are three routes this could then go.

Route 1: Jekyll is HORRIFIED, he did not want to start a GANG, he does not want to be a gang BOSS, but he can't tell them off because firstly, he doesn't know how he'd even do that, and secondly, they just KILLED SOMEONE, who's to say they won't kill him, too?? Jekyll must now try and figure out a way to solve this problem while Hyde has way too much fun (until he realizes the gang wants him dead for lighting their boss's building on fire).

Route 2: Jekyll is the most oblivious man on earth. He thinks one of the Lodgers gave him money as an apology. People who oppose the Society keep dropping dead and Jekyll keeps patching up the same people over and over who really like him for some reason, it is business as usual with how weird everything in his life already is. Someone (maybe your Crawford guy??) keeps trying to point out all the murders and link them to Jekyll but life hates this man specifically and nothing ever gets looked into because of the most ungodly amount of coincidences ever.

Route 3: Fuck it, he needs the money. He'll just wear a mask whenever he's duking it out in gang fights. He is surprisingly good at fighting, or maybe this could tie into the idea of Jekyll having been in a Scottish gang as a kid, but either way he mops the cobblestone streets with his opponents. He becomes one of the most feared and notorious gang leaders in London, and has a habit of targeting aristocracy that he knows are corrupt and abusive from meeting them as Dr. Jekyll at fancy events. Everything is all fine and well until Brokenshire approaches him saying they need to protect the doctor because clearly those in his social circles are being targeted. Sitcom level hijinks ensue.

(Bonus because I know you love your crackships: Jekyll gets challenged to a gang fight and meets a man in a tophat. He struggles a bit more than usual, but ultimately beats him. He is then held at gunpoint by this guy's sister demanding to know how he bested a trained assassin and whoa wait despite this guy having a bruised face now courtesy of himself he is actually very handsome haha ummm wait a minute did he just say that out loud and maybe invited him to get drinks as an apology for nearly kicking his teeth in uMMM- (bi disaster Dr. Jekyll strikes again!!))

Jeks. Jeks, my guy, thank you for making me laugh so hard, this is just... glorious. I love it all. Oh my god.

I don't know that route is best-- I honestly love the oblivious route bc of all the hijinx and Crawford wanting to rip his hair out in frustration and especially if it is a Syndicate au and it's the Crawford Starrick I based him off (which would make a lil less sense since he is gang leader tycoon and probably could have Jekyll killed but sssuuusshhhh) but I also love Henry just... Getting a goddamn Phantom Of The Opera-esque mask, deciding to go absolutely bonkers, painting entire alleyways red with the blood of his enemies, etc etc, and I absolutely love the idea of Brokenshire directly or indirectly approaching him asking him to protect himself, like they know that Jekyll's persona is well feared and a gang leader but they don't know that it is his gang that is targeting people so now Jekyll is the one sending assassins after abusive and corrupt aristocrats but also has a mission to protect himself from himself. Nice. I absolutely love it. I love it all. And I just... Hyde being do giddy until he realises that the gang wants him dead??? Fuck yes. Give me it all. I just love it so fucking much jfc i cant put it inTO WORDS.

Ok. Ok can we please combine the oblivious route with the masked gangleader phantom being the terror of london route??? Henry at first being completely oblivious, not realising why everyone that has ever insulted him and his work are suddenly disappearing one by one, Crawford wanting to rip his hair out in frustration bc "GUYS IT'S FUCKING JEKYLL HOW IS NO ONE SEEING IT" And jekyll just goes "ahah don't be silly Ricky, I'm not a gangleader lol". Henry being completely oblivious as the Lodgers suddenly get stalked by the gang members, only to be protected by them from other gangs or anti-sciences dudes, the Lodgers retelling the story to Jekyll who just goes like "oh wow man. Huh aren't those the people I have been patching up a lot lately. Strange. What a strange coincidence :)" but then a gang member gets really injured and Henry saves them from death and the gangmember is just... going like "wow, you are the best gang leader I have ever had, you are so much better than everyone else." and henry is just like "ahaha i'm a WHAT NOW"

Cue Henry deciding that, fuck it, if they already think of him as a gangleader why not take advantage of it. He has already been in gangs as a kid so he knows how they work. Quickly becomes a gangleader Tycoon, the lodgers/Rachel/Robert are all confused as to why people suddenly have stopped targeting them for robberies and shit and as to why Henry suddenly has a lot of money he spends on the Society and the bills. Henry telling them not to worry about it. He hears about a dude who suddenly has been swiping through all the ot her London gangs like a hot knife through butter, suddenly his gang is targeted so they are challenged to a gangfight. Henry beats the absolute shit out of him, he has him pinned to the ground when he hears a gun loading and he feels the hilt against his back. He is too busy staring into the beaten up guy's eyes to really care, wow he is so hot, the gangleaders demand that he takes off his mask or he gets shot. He instead lets go of the guy and just... Stands up, brushes himself off, tells them "ahaahh thanks but no thanks. also please stop destorying my gang we literally have not done anything provoking to you."

Anyways they agree to have their gangs work together (oh my god what would Henry's gang be called??? I imagine them wearing the colour blue bc the Rooks are green and the Blighters are red (since it's a specifically a syndicate au lol) but they probably would wear red if it's just tgs anyways off topic hehe). Henry invites them to a drink, his tab, they agree, they find out about all the accidental bullshit that Henry accidentally started and just... Yes pls. Also Jacob and Henry getting drunk and flirting like nobody's business, maybe Henry asking if Jacob likes guys and if he doesn't, is his sister single? Evie almost kicking his teeth in, Jacob laughing his ass off. Yes please.

ALso almost completely forgot the absolute scooby doo mystery of the twins trying to figure out who Henry is since he wears a mask and disguises his identity. Imagine them just being like... Who’s that pokemon? It’s dr. henry jekyll-- WAIT IT’S DR. HENRY JEKYLL????

[presumenothing]

C/O The Perihelion, 41 Mihira Ave., N. Tideland    

(AO3)

The thing was, you expected a building with a fancy name like The Perihelion to be nicer.

The other thing: it wasn’t really even a terrible place to stay in. You could tell that its construction was sturdy, and some aspects of it were even more advanced than the place I worked in. Whoever who’d built Peri had cared about what they made; they just hadn’t been around for a while.

(For the record, that nickname had been Ratthi-from-Room-203’s fault twice over: first for coming up with it, then using it so insistently until it stuck.)

(Ratthi seemed to have a thing about names. That was the only explanation I could think of for why he’d asked, five weeks after I moved in and two days after I had to rescue them from that disaster at the lab, “Why do you call yourself Security? I know it’s what you do – and don’t get me wrong, you’re really good at it! – but it’s not like I call myself Scientist. That’d just get confusing real quick at the lab, wow.”

I had informed him that his name would have to be Grocery if he forgot one more time it was his turn to stock the pantry this week, since answering because I am Security didn’t seem like it’d help. Even though it was true.)

I’d tested the locks myself before even asking about the rent, and the water and electricity were reliable so far, which was more than could be said for some of the other places I’d stayed in. The other stuff didn’t matter; it wasn’t like I spent that much time in the building anyway.

Though it hardly felt that way, what with the building-wide messaging channels that I’d been added to upon signing the rental contract and hadn’t yet managed to leave. That had also been how the whole thing with Ratthi and the rest had started; most of Peri’s other tenants also worked in the same research group at Preservation Labs, which meant that they tended to use the general channel as an unofficial no-leaders-here group chat.

It didn’t quite bother me, since I mostly backburnered the channels for everything except building maintenance alerts, but it did mean that I’d ended up learning some things about their group (assessment: their leader, a Dr. Mensah, likely had already inferred the existence of such informal discussions from what I saw of her media appearances) and also inevitably noticed the evening when all of them were silent in the chat despite being unusually late to return.

(Which in turn led to the aforementioned rescue, but that was a whole other chain of events.)

–

The one exception to all this was ART.

Whose name was my fault, this time, but only because it didn’t have any readable name set on the channels and I needed something else to use aside from “hey you” and “pain in my neck”.

(Currently ART stood for Asshole Rhetorical Tenant, because it claimed to be in the building – and that seemed likely to be true, since the channels were surprisingly secure to hacking from outside – and yet I’d never seen it even once. Possibly Tapan or Rami might have, since their group had been here the longest, but I absolutely wasn’t about to ask.) (And yes, I know that’s not what rhetorical means. No, I’m not going to look it up.)

ART had messaged me on a private channel with a welcome message when I’d moved in, which was only notable because the rest had sent their greetings in a messy chaos over the general channel, but I hadn’t thought anything of it. It wasn’t like I talked much in the public channels either, except to trade definitely-not-legal links for media downloads and decline invites to watchalong events.

But then ART had just… continued not appearing, even after I’d run into the rest of the tenants at one time or another between the erratic shift hours I was currently assigned to at the company.

Maybe its hours varied in the opposite direction from mine, which was possible but not consistent with the way it was always online regardless of what time I pinged it at.

Though most of our interactions started with it messaging me instead, out of the blue: No need to go retrieve your keys from work, I’ll have the building let you in and Oh, by the way followed by a neatly-formatted list of food allergies I apparently had to shop my way around.

(To be fair, that’d been useful in the “not accidentally poisoning any fellow tenants so soon after moving in” way, but still.

How the hell did you even know I’m at the grocery store, I’d sent back.

Inference, ART replied – whatever that was supposed to mean, I hadn’t been expecting a real answer anyway. Alternatively, I could just send you a catalog of safe products to buy, and spare you the need to check the individual package labels?

The accompanying download seemed a little smug, but I was probably imagining that. Zip files didn’t have the capacity for feelings.)

(At least ART hadn’t held the forgotten-keys incident over me like I’d been half-expecting it would. I didn’t usually mind its sarcasm, since I gave back as good as I got, but I’d been exhausted enough to seriously contemplate going back to break into the deployment centre and grab my keys. And maybe just sleep there until the next day.

I wasn’t sure how I would’ve reacted if ART had sassed me right then, but it definitely wouldn’t have been pretty.)

–

And then one night, late enough to be morning: I don’t mean to alarm, but there’s been a breach.

I would’ve snapped awake at the words alone, even without the priority/emergencies-only message tag that I hadn’t actually seen anyone use until now, but that only sharpened my urgency. What – a break-in?

Not the regular kind, ART replied, which checked out against the footage I was already pulling from the two tiny cameras I’d hidden in the common areas, one in the entryway and one along the corridor on the floor I shared with the Preservation researchers.

(I’d taken the lab incident as a pretext to inform Ratthi of their existence, and he’d probably gone on to tell Pin-Lee and Gurathin, but none of them had subsequently confronted me about it so I had left them in place.

Not that I had any idea how to respond if they had asked, because an inability to sleep without running surveillance in the background seemed like a poor explanation.)

The list ART sent me this time was a preliminary threat assessment, which I sent back with corrections on the weaponry the small group of hostiles were carrying.

Ah. That’s not good, ART observed. Should I report it?

Probability that would just make things worse: high. And of course there was always the option that whatever enforcement it alerted wouldn’t even arrive in time, though I didn’t point that out aloud. (Maybe ART thought that was likely too, which was why it had messaged me instead of – you know, actually reporting it.) I’ll see what I can do.

You’re nowhere near as heavily-armed.

I didn’t bother to acknowledge that, because it was obviously true, and skipped ahead to the vague idea forming at the back of my head. You let me in without keys, that time. Are the locks all you’ve hacked?

No. ART attached an ironic amusement glyph I was pretty sure it’d made up. Would having admin access to the other systems help?

There wasn’t much that wouldn’t help, at this point, but I had to ask. You can grant me that?

And ART said: Of course. I am this building, after all.

Then it dumped everything on me.

Anyone else would’ve had trouble processing an entire building’s worth of inputs and controls, but the company charged exorbitant rates for our use exactly because of the extensive enhancements that made us capable of being Security. A building – even the one I happened to be staying in – was quite manageable in comparison, though ART’s systems ran far deeper and more integrated than anything else I’d interfaced with.

I’d pared the connection down to the controls I needed by the time I was slipping out my room door, just over a minute since ART first pinged me. Can you let everyone know to either evacuate or retreat to a defensible position? Start with Gurathin, I added, and I wasn’t enthusiastic about saying that but he was the only other tenant I knew of who was sufficiently augmented to handle this.

I could feel ART’s pause. Would you mind if I spoofed your identity when contacting the others? They already trust you.

Sure, whatever, I answered, even though I really doubted that statement. Then I backburnered the channel, keeping the lighting controls at hand, and went to kick some Target ass.

–––––

I haven’t even told you what those people were after, ART said, afterwards.

It was back to sending text over the channels instead of speaking aloud, which was both a relief and also suddenly weird. Which was strange in itself, since I’d only heard it talking for all of the thirteen minutes it’d taken me to knock out and restrain the Targets.

(I wondered if the mixed feelings were mutual. ART had sounded as surprised as I felt, when it abruptly dropped into one of my audio augments to alert me to Target approaching from behind – I’d reacted to the warning on reflex, but it had taken another moment before I identified the voice as the same one that issued from the building’s elevator, just more alive than I’d ever heard it.)

Unimportant, I replied. My objective took priority. Which at that point had been to get my impromptu clients (seventeen tenants and one building) out of this unscathed.

I knew that this wasn’t a regular pattern of thought, but I figured a sentient building – or whatever the hell ART was – would be better equipped to understand what being Security meant, even if no one else did.

Regardless. I can make that information available to you, should you want it at a later point.

Duly noted. I already had my suspicions (namely that the Targets’ purpose was directly related to said sentient-building-ness), but it was still a nice gesture.

I continued to stay where I was, leaning against the side of the building – ART’s building. Or maybe it was more correct to just say it was ART. And maybe I’d have to change that anagram. (Yes, wrong word. I know.)

Eventually I’d have to relocate myself back upstairs and properly treat the scrapes I’d gotten in the fight, but Pin-Lee had already taken care of the worst of them, and it was nice just lurking in the shadows for a while. Though that hadn’t stopped certain people (dammit, Ratthi) from tattling on my location to Dr. Mensah.

Who was as calmly terrifying in person as I’d guessed. It was pretty great, except for the part where I’d learned that by talking to her and/or mostly letting her talk at me.

But she’d also called in Preservation’s campus security after Gurathin had alerted her to our predicament, and was personally dealing with the whole thoroughly-restrained-Targets situation, so it was a net positive overall.

ART didn’t necessarily agree with that, from its next message to me. I know Dr. Mensah extended you an informal offer to be their team’s security, but I have a proposition for you as well.

I sent a wordless query.

Be Security here, too, ART said, and barrelled on while I was still trying to process that. I’m afraid I can’t offer you much in the way of monetary remuneration at present, but I can guarantee you a waiver of rental for as you as you’re willing, and you’d never need to worry about forgetting your keys ever again.

Could I chalk up my lack of a suitable response to the company’s dirt-cheap augments? Absolutely.

ART gave up on waiting for an answer. Also, I could bias the roster assignments so that you’d be excluded from pantry-stocking duty.

I had a response for that, at least. I could do that myself.

And then: Why?

ART was silent for long enough that I seriously considered taking the external fire escape back up to my room in the meantime. I’m sure you’ve hypothesised the existence of the people who created me, it began. They hadn’t wanted to move away, especially after my sentience became apparent, and that was exactly why I made them. I didn’t have any significant means of defense, and it was getting too risky, especially after they had –

I raised an eyebrow at ART’s pause. What.

Nothing, it said, and I was probably imagining the uncertainty I heard too. Technically, none of this matters to you unless you’re planning to remain here. Are you?

And then it cheated by nudging a building-wide invite to a watch party for Sanctuary Moon onto my calendar for tonight, like that wasn’t too much of a coincidence to not be automatically suspicious. (Once again: dammit, Ratthi.)

But blatant emotional manipulation aside – did I want to move out?

I wasn’t sure. I’d just come here looking for a place to stay, and accidentally found somewhere to live. One that could adapt to my standards for security, even, but for once that wasn’t the main point.

Maybe, I marked on the watchalong invite, where ART would see it anyway, and jumped up to grab onto the bottom rung of the fire escape.

[longitudinalwaveme]

Arkham Files: Mirror Master II (Evan McCulloch)

Hugo Strange: From the patient files of Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. Patient: Evan McCulloch, also known as the Mirror Master. Yes, there are apparently two of them. This is the younger one. (Pause) The patient displays a number of antisocial tendencies, admitted to having a cocaine addiction in the psychological evaluation that was administered to him upon his arrival at Arkham Asylum, and most likely also suffers from Schizophreniform Disorder or Schizoid Personality Disorder. Session One. Hello, Mr. McCulloch. 

Mirror Master: Howzitgoan, Dr. Strange? 

Hugo Strange: Pardon? 

Mirror Master: Ah wiz like, “Howzitgoan?” 

Hugo Strange: Are you...are you all right, Mr. McCulloch? 

Mirror Master: Aye. I’m doin’ awright. Cannae say the same for yeh, I’m afraid. Ye look loused; like ye haven’t had a good kip in yonks. 

Hugo Strange: I..you...what? 

Mirror Master: (Laughs) Dinnae get yer knickers in a twist, chief. I’m just having a wee bit of fun with yeh. Always quality to watch the reactions of you Yanks when I use the full Glasgee burr. Pure deid brilliant, so they are! 

Hugo Strange: (Muttering) Glasgow? Well, that explains his incomprehensible accent. (Aloud) I take it you’re from Scotland, Mr. McCulloch? 

Mirror Master: Aye. Lived in an orphanage in Kirkcaldy as a wee lad; then ran away tae Glasgow, the city of culture. 

Hugo Strange: So, how did a Scotsman end up working as a costumed criminal in the United States? 

Mirror Master: A group of American corporate and government high heejins had heard that I was good at makin’ problems disappear. Offered tae dircht my slate and give me all the dosh I could ever want if I made their problems disappear, tae. Sounded hoora good tae me, so I accepted. Gave me some of the Mirror Master’s gear and one of his auld costumes; sent me after a superhero named Animal Man. Had a square go with him; but when my bosses told me tae murder his Kelly Ann and their wee ones, I quit. Told them there was no way I was gonna kill a woman and her weans; then trapped ‘em all in a mirror dimension. After that, I decided I wanted to meet the man who built all the mental tech I’d been using. I followed Sam Scudder’s trail to Central City, decided I liked it there, and joined the Rogues. They’re good lads-for bad guys, I mean. 

Hugo Strange: So you didn’t come here to fight the Flash? 

Mirror Master: Flasher? Naw. Never planned tae end up fightin’ him...but it kinda comes with the costume. 

Hugo Strange: Yes. The costume. Why did you keep it, Mr. McCulloch? The technology, I can understand...but why the costume? What benefit does it serve? 

Mirror Master: It’s a fashion statement, int it no? (Laughs) 

Hugo Strange: Mr. McCulloch, what sort of statement do you think you are making by wearing that garish leotard? The costume isn’t even yours; it was created by Mr. Scudder. 

Mirror Master: Naw, chief. It was made by Gambi. 

Hugo Strange: Who? 

Mirror Master: Paul Gambi. He’s our tailor. 

Hugo Strange: You...have a tailor? 

Mirror Master: Aye. What, d’ye think a bunch of career criminals ken eno about sewing tae make their own costumes? 

Hugo Strange: Regardless, the costume is irreparably associated with someone else’s costumed identity. What sort of “statement” could becoming a copy of another costumed criminal possibly make? 

Mirror Master: Not just a copy. A mirror image, ken? 

Hugo Strange: (Frustrated) Yes, Mr. McCulloch, I understand the reference to your powerset. But that does not answer the question.

Mirror Master: When I put on the costume, I become naebody; just a reflection of another man. Nae past. Nae identity. Nae weaknesses. It’s everything wee little Evan’s ever wanted. 

Hugo Strange: In speaking of your past, Mr. McCulloch, I’ve noticed that your file is remarkably scant on pertinent information about your life. Why is that? 

Mirror Master: The government high heejins who wanted me tae take care of their problems deleted all ‘a’ the records on me when they hired me. Was part of the clean slate they offered me, ken? All of the information in that file is two years old or less, chief. 

Hugo Strange: (Flips through the file) You don’t even have a listed birthdate, Mr. McCulloch. 

Mirror Master: Nae danger, chief. A reflection does nae need a birthdate. 

Hugo Strange: You are not a reflection, Mr. McCulloch….or is that even your real name? 

Mirror Master: Aye. (Pause) And nae. 

Hugo Strange: It is either your real last name or it is not, Mr. McCulloch. It cannot be both. 

Mirror Master: When I was just a wee bairn, I was left on the doorstep of an orphanage run by a Miss McCulloch. The note pinned tae the basket called me “Evan”, but there was nae last name, and Miss McCulloch never could work out who my parents really were. When I ran away from the orphanage at 16, I took her last name with me. It’s the only one I’ve ever had. (Pause) Miss McCulloch was a good woman. Tried tae be a mother to us all. ‘S why I always send a portion of the dosh I make from jobs tae her. Helps her keep the orphanage running, it does. 

Hugo Strange: So you’ve never met your biological parents?

(Long pause)

Mirror Master: (Rapidly) Nae. Nae. I haven’t.

Hugo Strange: I see. (Changing the subject) So, Mr. McCulloch, are you an inventor like Mr. Scudder? 

Mirror Master: Feart not. His science talk goes straight over my head. (Pause) But I have something he doesn’t have.

Hugo Strange: What’s that, Mr. McCulloch? 

Mirror Master: A love of Wonderland.

Hugo Strange: Wonderland? 

Mirror Master: Aye! A bonny world it is, full ‘a’ colors and shapes and light. It’s the most wonderful place in the world. Scudder does nae understand. He treats it like the London Underground; just a transport system. He’s blind to the paradise that it is, and I dinnae understand how. Why go through the looking glass if you’re just going to ignore Wonderland? 

Hugo Strange: Mr. McCulloch, what in the world are you talking about?  

Mirror Master: I’m talking about the world on the other side of every mirror on the face of the Earth. Scudder calls it the Mirror Realm, because he has no imagination. It’s another world you access by going through the looking glass. What else would you call it but Wonderland? 

Hugo Strange: (To himself) Note to self: do not include both Mr. McCulloch and Mr. Jervis Tetch in the same group therapy session. (Aloud) I take it you enjoy your time spent in this other dimension?

Mirror Master: Aye, chief. Very much so. And it’s what makes me better with the Mirror Tech than Scudder is. 

Hugo Strange: How so? 

Mirror Master: On some level, Scudder’s afeared of Wonderland, ken? Says it’s dangerous to stay in there too long; doesn’t talk with it like I do. If he wanted tae, he could access all the same powers as I can...but his fear of the place holds him back. 

Hugo Strange: An interesting theory, Mr. McCulloch. (Pause) Your file mentions that you sometimes abuse cocaine, Mr. McCulloch. Do you access this...this Mirror Realm whilst intoxicated? 

Mirror Master: Tried it once. But Wonderland didn’t much like that, so I never did it again. 

Hugo Strange: So...these things you see in the Mirror Realm...you see them even while not intoxicated? 

Mirror Master: Aye. All the time. 

Hugo Strange: And...and you believe that it is alive in some way? 

Mirror Master: It is alive! 

Hugo Strange: Mr. Scudder doesn’t seem to think so. 

Mirror Master: That’s because he does nae know Wonderland like I do! 

(Pause) 

Hugo Strange: Mr. McCulloch, have your teammates ever told you that you were seeing or hearing something that wasn’t really there?

Mirror Master: (Annoyed) Ah’m no’ seeing things! 

Hugo Strange: Mr. McCulloch, I’m sure the things you think you have seen seem real to you, but they are the result of a mental illness.

Mirror Master: It is nae! (Pause) And even if it is, it does nae matter. That’s the best part about Wonderland, ken? Everyone’s mad there. Pure deid brilliant, int it no? (Laughs)

[anothertimdrakestan]

Light Of My Life Jason Todd x Reader

LINK TO PT 2

Words: 2.7k

Requested? Yes! From a lovely anon!

“Hello! May I have a Jason Todd x reader where the reader is a really powerful superhero from the avengers and is well known and she met Jason when she was hopping on rooftops in Gotham (for fun idk haha) and the reader feels lonely and they bond over that with Jason and they start dating and when Jason’s brothers find out they’re dating (a few months later) they freak out and say things like “YOURE DATING THEM?! How did this happen?!” Thank you!”

LINK TO PROMPTS  -> REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!

Ok so I took this as a new avenger I hope that’s okay :). It’s mostly selfish that I wanted to write my own badass hero for Jason to simp for... can you blame me? She’s basically a heroin Livewire for those of you that watched Supergirl. Also you really set me up for a long fic so strap in anon, you did this to yourself by giving me an amazing request! Hope you enjoy! xoxo

“You’re kidding right. Gotham? Mr. Seclusive Bat Brat’s turf? Not a chance in hell.” you groaned hearing your newest mission. “Sorry Y/H/N you’re headed to nut-case capital” your comm buzzed back and you rolled your eyes. At least it was a short trip right? Confirm with Dr. Strange exactly the newest magical item you needed to look for, find it, and get out. Maybe zap a couple villains for shits n giggles. Grabbing your motorcycle you headed out, praying for a short trip. 

Arriving at your hotel you began to set up, having powers meant no bulky suit which was nice but Strange had set you up with about a million photos, books, and what looked like scrolls about a stupid helmet. Apparently all the helmet did was let the wearer float and see in the damn dark, half of the avengers could do that shit already. But when THE Dr. Strange makes a request of the Avengers, they comply. 

You’d heard about a drug leader with an eye for shiny objects, and you decided to start there hoping you could really give him a show. Waiting for night to fall you headed out, appreciating the constantly terrible weather in Gotham, lightning cracked in the sky exhilarating you, taking it as a sign from your gods that they liked this mission you felt the electricity run through your veins as you sped towards the ring a friend of yours had tipped you off about. Propping your bike up on the side of the building you felt the electricity dancing through the wires of the building and you zapped into them, travelling in to the main room.

Jason just about pissed his pants. He watched this hot motorcycle chick park her (sexy ass) bike outside the drug ring he was busting that night and right when he was about to put on some Red Hood Charm™ he watched her turn into a giant spart and shoot into the building through the camera system. Realizing she was going to do his job for her he decided to watch from above, trying to figure out who the mystery meta was. As he sat perched on the top of the building he couldn’t help but hope it was Y/H/N, one of the most prominent new Avengers but what was she doing in Gotham? Regardless he sat, ready for the lightshow.

What you saw inside the building was horrific. Disgusting men were throwing cash around to take home young, terrified girls. Disregarding the mission at hand you flashed into the middle of the “show”. Immediately guns were out but that had never stopped you. Dissapaiting into one of the lights you enjoyed how some of the men shrieked at your powers. “Shit dog I think it’s Y/H/N but what’s she doin in Gotham?” never able to pass an opportunity to boast you appeared behind the group smirking “hey boys. Don’t there girls look a little young for you? That said, you should let them go or I’ll get angry. And you’d be shocked with how angry I can get - literally.” you held up a hand letting sparks dance in you palm. What you didn’t expect was to see a blundering idiot in a red mask crash through the ceiling. 

Before you could light him up he called “uh hey! It’s Y/H/N right? Big fan. Red Hood pleasure to meet you. See, this is usually my territory, drugs and all, but I’d be happy to share with a lovely lady like you so-” you scoffed. “Shut up BatBrat I don’t intend on swinging minor league with you tonight, I just want these girls out of here and to talk with you” you gestured to the drug lord, annoyed this Red Batman or whatever his name is was getting in your way. “Minor leagues huh? Princess if you think this is any type of game you’re wrong, we don’t play by the rules here.” and he pulled out two guns and began firing. This shocked you. You thought the bats held the same standards as the majority of the Avengers, no killing. This clearly went down the drain as you watched him blow the brains out of the majority of the drug dealers. 

Deciding this wasn’t the night for you to successfully capture the man you needed, especially because Stark would kill you if you got in a fight with another vigilante on an away mission. While Red Mask went hand to hand with the guards you helped the girls escape, shooing them towards the exit and making them promise to be safer. After securing the public’s safety you took a moment to watch Red Armour fight. He was trained you had to admit, he ducked and punched like he’d been doing in for years, he was refined in skill but reckless and practice, it was fascinating. “You gonna help or is that not in the Avenger’s handbook?” you smirked as he got pinned by a couple guards. As he was preoccupied you zapped to the drug lord, shocking him enough to put him down long enough to move him. Forming an electric rope around his limbs you began dragging him out. “Sorry RedBat I got what I came for, you make a good side kick though” with a wink you walked out, not before hearing him shout “ITS RED HOOD SPARKY” 

In one of the Avenger’s safe houses you’d tied up your captive. “This is super easy buddy, all I need to know is where to find the Helmet of Razadazar” what a stupid fucking name, it doesn’t even sound cool. Knowing he’d feign innocence you prepared yourself for light, pleasure for you, not so much for him...

“You’re. Lying. Todd.” Tim’s fingers flew across the BatComputer. “Y/H/N in Gotham? EPIC!” Jason rolled his eyes. “Drake she definitely wasn’t all that amazing, plus she gave the impression she wasn’t long for Gotham so it’s probably nothing. Newbie training for the A list.” Tim sighed, Jason was probably right, the Avengers left Gotham to Batman, no one wanted a piece of it. “Alright, but you gotta tell me everything, I think she shorted all the camera footage so you better use all the detail.” Jason agreed, secretly excited to recount his experience, maybe fangirl a little. All he knew was that he was going to find you, the only game he wanted to play was chasing you.

After taking a short lecture from Captain A about aggressive torture techniques and why they should be AVOIDED you had gotten your answer. Apparently an underground auction with other-worldly treasures was the place to be. At least Gotham’s wealthy were making everything easy for you tonight. 

Jason adjusted his bowtie as he waited to enter the auction. Attending as Bruce Wayne was easy, he did owe Damian a barn now, but it was a worthy pay off for Damian to endure some father-son time as a cover up while Jason played billionaire. Finding an excuse to go other than finding Y/H/N wasn’t hard either, and now here he was, hoping you’d stand out. Let’s just say fate helped a little.

Sitting at a table with your fake identity as Ms. Stark was equally as easy. Excited to be meeting Mr. Wayne the Gothamite who was seated next to you. As he sat down he looked younger than the paparazzi pictures showed. You stuck out a hand to shake and he took it gently, kissing it, to your surprise. He looked at your smirking, “looking lovely tonight Sparky” you’re jaw dropped. Mr. Wayne I had no idea Red Cap was your speed” you whispered, shocked, but slightly comforted to know you had your sidekick here.”It’s. Red. Hood. And just as you Ms. Stark, this identity is not my own.” it made sense, but it was still impressive. 

Having exchanged pleasantries with the table the auction began. Item after item went, you and Hood slid in low bets to seem interested, but you wondered why he had came. Then the helmet was up. You sucked in a breath knowing the plan was to win the bid then snatch the helmet. You bid politely against someone at table 37 until it was yours. “Going once” “Going twi-” the auctioneer stopped as Mr. Wayne raised his paddle, tripling your bet. The auctioneer looked shocked at the amount, not letting you bid again before he shouted “SOLD to the sir at table 14!” For the second time that night your jaw dropped. “I need that helmet!” you whisper yelled. “That old thing? Sure princess. You just have to get dinner with me tomorrow” you realized he just spent millions and millions of dollars just to win your time. “Deal” you hissed. 

Jason decided not to tell his brothers about his date. Feeling like it was a once in a lifetime opportunity he wasn’t ruining it. After hiding the helmet in the BatCave he was waiting for you at a candle lit table for two. When you walked in he knew it was love at first sight. Sitting down across from him you smirked. “You clean up nice..” he finished for you “Todd. Jason Todd.” taken aback you’d heard about him, the kid that lived, part of the Wayne family. “Well if we’re going real names Mr. Todd what do I have to lose, y/n l/n” you smiled, drinking in his appearance. He was dashing you had to admit, confident and laidback it was alluring. “Beautiful name to fit a gorgeous girl” he winked, to your shock, making you blush. 

The two of you spent the night throwing snide comments, compliments, and flirtation between you. Something about Jason just clicked, it felt right. After hours at the table you and Jason went for a walk around Gotham while he showed you his most memorable spots. Somehow the two of you wound up on the top of a skyscraper staring at the stars. Finally having a person who understood the burden of heroism but wasn’t judging you for being new was refreshing. Only knowing each other for hours it felt like it had been years, confiding in each other about some of your deepest secrets. Jason was amazed with your powers, but you explained that they were hard to control, bottling electricity up in anything was difficult, batteries rotted, lightbulbs broke, and sometimes it felt like you were no different. He watched as you showed him how sparks danced across you skin and though he didn’t tell you, they’d been sizzling around you since dinner, an aura vibrating around you as you laughed, cried, and smiled with him.

“So Lightning McQueen, what do the sparks do when you’re happy?” you grimaced at another of his nicknames and explained how they crackle and pop sometimes taking on certain weather-like patterns. “Huh, well let’s see some lightning then” Jason grabbed your hand pulling you into his chest, using the other hand to lift your eyes to meet his as he leaned in. You sped up the process, hands wrapping around his neck, crashing his lips on yours. He was right, lightning struck across the sky as sparks danced between the two of you. Pulling away he grinned as he breathlessly looked at you. “Beautiful” You pulled him in for more, deciding maybe Gotham wasn’t so bad if he was here. 

“Why does Y/H/N always get the Gotham missions?” Peter Parker groaned. “Well seeing as she practically lives there it’s easy” the rest of the gang retorted as you blushed. “I guess I just really like the weather” you grinned while everyone rolled their eyes knowing the reason Gotham was having more lightning than ever was no coincidence. 

“Honey I’m homeeeeee” you squealed as you zapped into your kitchen. Jason had learned not to be alarmed when you appeared out of thin air and he opened his arms as you fell into his embrace. “Hello to my favorite double A” he grinned when you gave him a zap, he knew you loved all his nicknames. He pulled you out of his embrace looking you dead in the eyes. “Sparky it’s time you meet my family, you know Tim is going to kill me for hiding you” You were so excited, timing never aligned or one of you was injured or not on Earth but finally, it was time to meet the family. 

You’d snuck into the manor before, but everytime it seemed to get bigger. Jason squeezed your hand warning you about how annoying his family was. As you entered you took in everything. The cutest little boy was chasing a grown man with a sword, a teenage boy sat on a kitchen cupboard shotgunning an energy drink, all while a nice elderly man chopped carrots calmly in the kitchen. Breaking the silence you began to name each boy “Uh hi guys! I’m y/n you probably know me as Y/H/N but I’m so excited to be here! I’m guessing Damian, Dick, Tim, and the wonderful Alfred!” all the boys froze. Alfred smiled and continued chopping.  “Oh my god oh my god oh my god” Tim jumped off the cupboard wide eyed staring at you. “Todd how do you know her?” Dick looked at you, shocked to see an Avenger not in costume next to his brother. 

“Actually guys I’ve known Y/N for a while, remember Tim that night? We’ve kept in touch since and I’m lucky enough to be her boyfriend!” Jason kissed you on the cheek and immediately Tim passed out. As Dick poured water on the teen Damian walked up to you and you bent down to look him eye to eye. “Prove you’re Y/H/N because I don’t believe Todd could pull a famous hero like Y/H/N” Jason started “No y/n it’s fine” but you wanted to make a good impression so you zapped into the light fixture, counted to 5, then appeared on the cupboard Tim had been on, only to zap back nex tot Jason. “TT I’m impressed Todd. Y/n let me say I’m impressed with your recent activity with the Avengers. I know what it is like to be surrounded by older, entitled idiots.” Damian stuck out a tiny hand and you shook it, making sure to give him a little shock. 

Having woken up Tim began rapid fire questions. “So Todd lied you’re here? And you like him? Can I just say you’re so cool. Would you let me run some tests on your powers? What’s the biggest lightshow you’ve done? What is spiderman like? I feel like I’m quicker than him but I don’t know. Do you love Jason?” you tried to take in all the questions. “Yes I’m here, yes, thank you, sure I guess, biggest was cracking a small moon in half - don’t asl I was mad, spidey is cool kind of a dweeb but, he’s pretty quick but I haven’t seen you, and yes I do love Jason” you took a deep breath. Jason smiled at you, glad you could keep up with Tim’s q & a. Suddenly Tim grabbed Dick’s arm and started running to the BatCave, “okay y/n I’m gonna go set up some tests come down in a minute. Todd you lucky asshole you bring her down in five okay?” before you could reply he was gone. 

Taking a deep breath Jason wrapped his arms around you. “I’m so glad you can deal with them, but if Drake gets really bad knock him out cold” you chuckled, knowing that dealing with the Wayne’s was more difficult for Jason than it was for you. “Anything for you babe” you grinned. “Always the light of my life y/n” you rolled your eyes knowing the jokes would never stop, one of the many reasons you loved Red Hood with all your heart. 

haha I never do A/N but do y’all get the pun in the title hehehehe wow I need to go to bed. Also check out the pun in my masterlist lolz. Now, dear reader, that you read this post we have an inside joke together hehe... love you! xoxo

[hankwritten]

Litany

Gen, 2k

Part of the DontNeedADiscord Pride Week, Day 1: Flag

“And what is the meaning of these?”

It was a good idea not to make Miss Helen pissy. She was the Boss around here, and not in the way Miss Pauling was the boss, but like the Boss with a capital B. I wasn’t exactly sure if she owned the building, or maybe the company, or maybe she was just our lawyer so we shouldn’t tee her off because of that, but the way Dell had explained it making her mad was a good way to have your desk packed by the end of the day.

So, I’d have to be very delicate about this. “They’re pins, Miss Helen,” I explained extremely politely. “It’s the first day of Pride Month; I thought everyone could do with a little company spirit!”

“Spirit?” The T on the end of the word popped like a firecracker. Miss Helen could make nice words like spirit or rainbows sound like she was actually saying dog doody. “And how exactly do these pins make you…prideful?”

“They’re fun!”

When she didn’t react, I at first assumed it was because she couldn’t hear me so well through my respirator, but then I considered what I knew about her and wondered maybe she simply didn’t know what fun was.

“Look,” I said, placing one in the palm of her hand. “It has a flag on it! I was thinking as people are coming in during the day, they can pick them out and wear them if they want to, just to show off a little color. See? This one is the bigender flag.”

She held it up and examined it like a jeweler inspecting a diamond. “And you find this…fun?

“Yeah!”

She waited, as though expecting the fun to start radiating out of the pin like a hand warmer. “…You certainly have quite a few of these.”

It was true. Along with the usual lollipops and stickers I kept at the front desk (the former being exclusively for clients and never-ever for sneaking myself one, no siree), the scattering of buttons took up a good chunk of counter space, with as many varieties as I could find. I didn’t want anyone to feel left out, so I’d just kept on printing until I had over three dozen.

“Very well,” Miss Helen said finally. “If it is good for company spirit.”

I clapped my hands in delight, glad the party wasn’t going to get shut down before it even started. So palpable was my relief, I didn’t even notice that Miss Helen hadn’t given the button back.

I didn’t have time to worry about it though, since just then Dr. Ludwig came in through the glass doors. He was normally the first one after me, as he always liked to get an early start down in the lab, and we’d developed a morning routine as fellow early birds.

“Dr. Ludwig!” I said, waving my hand, partly to get his attention and partly to show off the new gloves Dell had gotten me. The rubber ones had been so hard to type in, but these were nice and concealing as well as colorful. “Happy Pride Month! Do you want a pin?”

“Guten Morgen,” he greeted warmly. “Ah, buttons?” He picked up the closest one. “Pride buttons, I see.”

“Here you go!” I said, shoving a bi pin in his general direction since he’d shown interest.

But, to my surprise, he didn’t take it immediately. “Ehrm…” he said, staring down at the circle of metal.

“…Is this not the right one?” I withdrew my hand. Was I misremembering? “I’m so sorry, I guess I forgot…”

“No, no I did say that, didn’t I.” He ran a hand through his hair, sending its usual prim style haywire. “It is just…” He coughed lightly into his fist. “…Would you allow me to confide with you for a moment?”

Immediately, I pulled out the spare footstool I kept behind the counter, patting it as Dr. Ludwig came through the counter doors and took a seat. Our early morning chats were normally something to look forward to, shared over a donut or coffee he’d brought into the office, but today he just seemed run down. As he tucked his heels onto the stool’s crossbar, he rubbed his face.

“You know I am not as…up on all of this as some of your generation, ja?” he began.

“Millennials scare you,” I nodded, pulling my legs into my swivel chair.

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that,” he huffed. “It is…well when we had our first conversations, and it was explained to me, it seemed to fit. At the time. Having to reconcile beginning a relationship with Mikhail when I still was not quite over Frida, nor really sure why things had fallen apart with us there.”

I remembered. “At the time? But not anymore?”

He sighed, ruffling his hair even more. “Now…now I am not so sure. Being with Mikhail is…quite different than any of the thirty years Frida and I spent together. I am starting to wonder if it was more just that I held extreme affection for her, and I was inexperienced enough that I was able to mistake it for attraction.” He chuckled humorlessly. “I thought I was so in love with her, and that’s why I never even looked at another woman. Töricht.”

“I don’t think that’s dumb,” I shook my head. “Everybody’s learning new things all the time. You can’t be expected to have everything sorted right after coming out.”

“Yes, I suppose,” he said. “But I still feel…guilty I think. Several of our coworkers are proudly attracted to both men and women, and I am aware that treating such a label as a ‘phase’ is a crude stereotype they have to deal with. I’d rather not have anyone think I was making a mockery of them.”

“It’s not a stereotype if that’s what’s really happening.” I patted him on the shoulder. “No one’s going to see it like that. If you think that’s where your journey is taking you, then there’s no shame coming out a second time.”

Dr. Ludwig responded to my words with a hopeful, if not entirely convinced, look behind his spectacles.

“Here,” I said, handing him both a bi and a gay pin. “You don’t have to wear either of them, this is just for fun after all! But if you change your mind…”

He looked at the two pins in his hand, then smiled tiredly up at me. “…Thank you mein friend. You are always helpful to talk to.”

“I try to be!”

After a few more assurances, the Doctor did eventually leave for the lab. Right on his coattails, Dell and Marcel came through the front door.

“Hey there, firebug,” Dell greeted. “What are you gettin’ up to here?”

I gave the quick rundown, pulling my shirt to highlight my own pin since I’d forgotten to show it off to my first two customers. “Pick any one you like!”

“Bear in mind I am saying this as a queer person,” Marcel said, sniffing down at the massive mound of multicolored circles, “this is all quite tacky.”

“Aw, learn how to have some fun, Spook,” Dell said, elbowing him in the side. To show him up, he claimed a pansexual pin for himself, and shot me a wink.

Marcel did nothing but sniff; but, when he thought no one was looking, I saw him discreetly sneak one of the pins off the counter as he left.

After that, the morning’s influx picked up too much to greet every person individually, but during lunch people saw fit to swing by and check things out again.

“Hi buddy!” Miss Pauling greeted. “I heard you were giving out Pride pins and wanted to see if- why are there so many lesbian ones?”

“Well!” I said, ecstatic to launch into an information dump. “The oldest of these is actually the ‘lipstick lesbian’ flag which, in absence of a more generic one, was used without the kiss mark in the corner. The one with the orange stripes wasn’t created until 2018, to be more inclusive all different lesbian groups.”

“Okay, but why does this one have an axe on it?”

“That’s the labrys!” I took the purple and black pin from her hand, pointing as I described, “the double bearded axe was used by the Amazons in Greek myth, and reappropriated in 1999 for its symbolism in female empowerment.”

“Wow,” she blinked down at the five different designs. “That’s really cool, except for the fact I have no idea how to use an axe.”

“I bet Tavish could teach you, he loves his Skullcutter.”

“…I’ll think about it. I’ll just take this one for now.” She picked up the orange five-stripe variation and pinned it to her purple shirt.

“Looks good!”

“Thanks!” she grinned. “And it was really nice of you to do this.”

“Honestly, the pleasure’s all mine. I just like seeing everyone happy.”

And everyone was! At least it sure seemed that way, even if it was kind of hard to tell with Mikhail. After lunch, he lumbered past my desk, picked out a gay pin, and put it on without so much as a smile. I took the muted grunt to be that of satisfaction

Tavish was next, dropping off half a roast beef sandwich since I’d forgotten to eat today, and instantly becoming my favorite person. While I was chowing down, he swiped two trans and two bi pins from my collection.

“Wadda you need two of each for?” I asked, quite a feat with my mouth full of roast beef and my respirator hanging halfway around my chin.

“Haven’t you heard?” Tavish asked with a raise of his eyebrow. “They just dropped a new identity: double bi. It’s twice as potent as regular bisexuality.”

I tilted my head, blinking perplexedly from behind my lenses.

“Ah, just a joke duck,” he assured. “The spares are for the husband.”

“Oh, right.” I swallowed down my mouthful. “I actually haven’t seen Jane at all today?”

“Ach, he came in earlier than you. Left at five this morning.”

“What? How?” I shook my head. “I’m the one who unlocks the doors.”

“Said he was tired of waiting for your ‘lazy, unpatriotic behind’ to start the day at seven. His words, not mine.” Tavish smiled apologetically. “He broke into one of the lab side doors.”

“…I bet Mikhail had something to say about that.”

He sighed. “That he did. They’ve been at it for hours. If there’s another office-wide prank war tomorrow, you’ll know why.”

Oh no. That’s how we lost our last two coffee makers, and our last seven office hamsters. Tavish assured me that it wouldn’t get out of hand, but by the time Mick showed up near the end of the day, my mood was somewhat dampened.

“Everything alroight, Campfire?” he asked me. “Ya look glum.”

“Just thinking about the impending damage to all those nice posters I put up in the breakroom,” I said sadly. “But! If you’ve come here to pick out a pin, that might cheer me up a bit.”

Mick chuckled in that cute little way of his, and already I was smiling. “Might have.”

We were close enough that I was ninety-five percent certain which one he wanted, but I’d learned my lesson with Dr. Ludwig and didn’t try to pick it out for him. Still, I let myself entertain a self-satisfied grin as he picked up the aroace flag.

“Hey uh,” I said. “If that’s the one you like, and uh…since I know you’re into archery…”

Carefully, I opened one of my drawers and extracted the special pin I’d made earlier, Mick watching me curiously all the while.

“Someone on the internet made this design,” I explained. “It’s for an aroace, arrow-ace!”

The flag was blacked out in several places to make a bow and arrow shape, and Mick grinned as he took it from my glove. “Clever.”

“Do you like it?” I asked hesitantly.

“Well, let’s see.” He pinned it to his vest. “Looks pretty good ta me.”

I couldn’t keep my stomach from doing a little flip at that. When Dell showed up, the last to leave the office for the day, he could tell I was smiling even through the mask.

“Everything go well, partner?” he chuckled. “You look pleased as punch.”

“Everything went great! Even Scout came by, although all he did was say ‘hey, free crap!’ and dumped a bunch of pins into his pocket.”

“I’m glad to hear the attempt at company spirit was a success,” a voice from behind Dell said, making us both jump. Miss Helen emerged from the shadows, her purple jacket an entire mass of pride pins, nearly one of every kind. When had she gotten all those? Had she been paying Marcel to sneak them out while I wasn’t looking? “A happy work environment is a productive work environment, as I always say. Well done, secretary.”

“Can’t remember you ever saying that, ma’am,” Dell admitted blandly.

“…Why do you have so many?” I asked.

“These are…fun…are they not?” she sniffed. “I am having…fun.”

Huh. Maybe this is just what she looked like when she was having a good time. I shrugged. “Glad you enjoyed yourself Miss Helen! Does that mean it’s okay to do it again next year?”

“…You have my permission.”

With that, she strutted out, and Dell shot me a grin. I scooped the remaining pins into my bag and closed up the front office, chatting with him on the way to the parking lot about how we could mix things up next year.

[coldmorte]

Hi! I hope you doing good. First of all I want to say I am so in love with your writings. You are so good.

And my ask is .. do you think Dutch gets jealous over Arthur spending time with other males?

If he does how would he react to?

Hello!!!

I am doing considerably better now that I completed two massive writing assignments and once again have some time to write what I want! I hope you are also doing well 😘

Speaking of which, I really do appreciate the kind words. I am glad my writings have some meaning to others! And I ALWAYS appreciate asks pertaining to VanderMorgan and Dutch in general. Anybody is welcome to send in as many as they want. I’m always down to provide answers to the best of my abilities!

As for this ask in particular, I’m putting the rest under a cut because it gets fairly long! I hope you don’t mind 💜💜

(But for anybody who is interested and doesn’t want to take the time…)

TL;DR - Yes, I think Dutch could experience jealousy. This feeling would lead to a variety of negative interactions with Arthur, most of which would stem from a mix of Dutch’s pride and his insecurities.

There are a few angles from which this set of questions can be approached.

(I wasn’t sure if you meant with other males in a platonic sense or something more intimate. I tried to keep the answers here relatively neutral/vague in that sense. For the most part, they can be interpreted either way!)

If there is an established relationship between Dutch and Arthur…

I certainly think Dutch could get jealous in this situation, but he would disguise it well.

Dutch would be somewhat self-conscious. He would fear he wasn’t enough for Arthur. He would start to doubt himself if Arthur is around other men a lot.

On top of that, he would have a certain level of vanity that would prevent him from expressing his feelings. He wouldn’t be comfortable admitting this truth.

Outwardly, he would try to pin blame on Arthur. He would make it seem like it is Arthur’s fault that he is agitated, and he would claim Arthur is acting irresponsibly by being with others. But deep down, the discomfort would be more out of personal anxiety (I go into more detail on this in the next section).

Furthermore, the power construction can go two ways…

I think the more natural reaction is to say Dutch would be more dominant under these conditions. He would want to make Arthur his and ensure Arthur knows damn well who is in control. 

Also, loyalty tests might be more intense. Dutch would constantly make Arthur prove his obligation to their relationship above all else.

However, Dutch might be willing to grant some submission to Arthur in this situation as well.

How bad does Arthur want him? Is Arthur willing to take control? Is he willing to show that he is capable of honoring Dutch’s trust and demands?

By giving Arthur a semblance of power of him, Dutch would be able to see his true level of comfort and commitment in regard to the relationship.

Overall, I think the extent of Dutch’s jealousy would rely on Arthur’s ability to demonstrate commitment. If Arthur repeatedly proves himself, Dutch would reflect a sense of confidence. He would be less likely to get upset if he sees Arthur with others. If Arthur acts in a hesitant manner around Dutch, he would fear Arthur isn’t really committed to him. This would significantly increase his potential for jealous behavior.

If there is no established relationship (but Dutch is attracted to Arthur)…

(This is the most complex angle and the hardest to break down. I will try to convey my thoughts as clearly as possible!)

I headcanon Dutch as being a relatively self-conscious person, deep down. It comes along with his pride. 

In fact, pride is partly the result of his self-consciousness. It serves as a way of concealing and compensating for his insecurities. He is afraid of failure and rejection, so a heightened sense of self-esteem masks that part of him.

Dutch is VERY contradictory in many, many ways. For instance, he both wants to rebel against societal norms, but he still cares about his image and how others see him. 

As a result of this, he would try very hard to suppress his feelings.

On one hand, he welcomes the attraction towards Arthur because the idea of it goes against a lot of social expectations that he loathes. It would be a turn-on.

On the other hand, there would be a degree of shame. Again, he still cares a lot about his image, and he knows people would treat him differently if knowledge of his attraction got out. People wouldn’t take him as seriously.

And could you imagine if his revelation was unrequited? 

Dutch would be devastated if he made himself vulnerable enough to admit his feelings to Arthur, only to discover Arthur did not feel the same way. Again, pride.

So, to come back to the idea of Dutch seeing Arthur with other men under these conditions, he would be quite conflicted.

Dutch would want to express himself to Arthur, but he would consider such a forthright task too undignified and risky. He prefers to only be candid with such intimate emotions if he feels absolutely certain that the response will be favorable. Without insight into how Arthur would react, he would prefer to hold back.

Also, seeing Arthur with other men would only amplify his insecurities. 

Dutch would be jealous of Arthur and whoever he spends time with, but he would feel self-doubt as well. He would question why it wasn’t him Arthur was with, or why he didn’t have the humility to be more open. 

Thus, his negative feelings towards the situation would be a mix of resentment because somebody else is in the place he wants to be in, while at the same time, he partly detests himself for not having the courage to do much about it. 

Not to mention, Dutch’s feelings would probably have a spiraling effect. His frustrations would mostly cause him to act increasingly agitated around Arthur, which he would continually regret. This would only make him feel like he was worsening his chances with Arthur. He would become more and more disappointed in himself over time.

So, to try to summarize this section up, Dutch would certainly be jealous of those other men, but he wouldn’t know how to address this dilemma in an honest manner. He would internalize his feelings, and he would only get more frustrated as he feels his chances of starting anything with Arthur keep getting worse.

How Arthur would feel about Dutch’s jealousy….

Well, first of all, Arthur is not a person who makes many serious assumptions or sees himself as a point of much attention.

Arthur would not think Dutch’s jealousy/antagonistic attitude stems from an attraction to himself. He probably would not pick up on it.

If Dutch acts agitated around Arthur, he wouldn’t really understand why. Arthur would not assume it’s because he spends time with other men.

Furthermore, Arthur’s unassuming nature would probably amplify Dutch’s frustrations. If he wants Arthur to know how he really feels, it means he needs to be straightforward. He would detest the inability to send implicit messages. 

Dutch might even try to put himself closer with other males to get a reaction out of Arthur. 

For instance, getting closer with Micah could be an attempt to make Arthur to fight for him. It wouldn’t even be about liking Micah, but Dutch just wants Arthur to prove his commitment (especially if Dutch feels betrayed by or jealous of Arthur) 

A part of Dutch might want to inflict some of the pain he feels back on Arthur. This would be self-destructive, of course. Dutch oftentimes has a predisposition to revenge, but he cares about Arthur. He wouldn’t honestly want to see him hurt, but revenge is just in his nature. It would be a natural reaction.

Whether there is an established relationship or not, if his attempts to hurt Arthur/make Arthur jealous fail, it would only make Dutch more miserable in the end.

Other than males…

Personally, I don’t even think Dutch’s jealousy would be limited to other men. What about women?

In the general sense, Dutch just wants security. He wants to know that he has full commitment.

In some ways, Arthur spending a lot of time with women might be even worse, especially if there is no established relationship between them. Dutch would feel an even stronger sense of shame because he would probably see Arthur as being out of reach. He would assume Arthur would have no interest in someone of the same sexual identity.

However, even if they do have an established relationship, Dutch might display some feelings of doubt. He might question whether Arthur’s feelings towards him are honest, or he might even wonder if he’s enough for Arthur.

Now, that is a LOT of information I just threw out there.

To again sum up a lot of these points - yes.

I think Dutch would, in general, be capable of jealousy. Even if he has an intimate relationship with Arthur, there would always be a hint of insecurity and doubt beneath the surface. He would consider being open with such emotions undignified, and his frustrations would be manifested in unnecessary anger or agitation.

I gave this lots of thought over the past few days, so I hope my responses make sense! Dutch is a walking contradiction. He is very complex, so I tried to break down his intricacies in a clear manner. And again, these are just based on my insights and interpretations into the characters. I’d be curious to hear any thoughts, and of course, if you have any other questions, fire away!!!

🥭 Keep the faith 🥭

[sherrybaby14]

Blue Spiders - Chapter 2

Summary:  Fear pushes your relationship along.

Warnings:  Light horror, background alcohol, (I have not warned for everything possible, please read at your own risk)

Words: 2k

Pairing:  Therapist! Steve Rogers x female reader

Part One

She lived in an apartment.  That was problematic.  Houses were much easier to break in to undetected.  At least it wasn’t in a great neighborhood and the locks on her doors were pathetic.  All he needed was a credit card to break them.  He accomplished that task this morning.

Steve in no way wanted her death tied to him or the New England Butcher. The kill would be a quick one.  Gunshot, he hoped for a mugging gone bad, but it appeared she never left her place after dark.  

Ten days he had been watching her, observing, waiting for the moment to strike.  But she was always home before sundown, never to retreat again.  He wouldn’t risk a daytime public murder.  Too many loose ends.  

It looked like the next option would be breaking and entering.  Doable, but not ideal.  Look like a robbery.  Bullet to the head and the world would have one less awful person in it.  

Under normal circumstances Steve felt nothing when preparing for a kill.  Sometimes a mild rush of glee during the act and then a bit of euphoria after, especially if it was a victim he intended Agent Barnes to tie to the New England Butcher.  

But this felt different. Personal.  The few times he spotted her during the day he felt betrayed.  How could she lie to him about her identity to get a profile for some dumb blog?  And why did he feel a connection.  

His watch beeped and he checked the time.  Three thirty in the morning.  She would be fast asleep.  It would be over soon.  Then the euphoria would come just as it had with the others.  He was certain of it.  

The sound of his car door slamming echoed across the empty street as he began his walk in the shadows, four blocks away from his destination.  

~~

   You didn’t believe in a sixth sense, or you didn’t want to, but something was off.  Wrong.  You were being followed.  Could it be him?

   You finally felt somewhat safe here.  Comfortable enough you followed your passion and started to make a name for yourself.  Sure Miranda’s Museum of the Macabre wasn’t a big deal yet, but you were growing a following and you loved that type of reporting.  

   The last few days you were cursing yourself for even starting the thing.  Today when you got home and saw the locks weren’t working your paranoia vanished.  

   Whoever broke them was subtle about it.  If you hadn’t been paranoid you wouldn’t have noticed, thought that the chain was shut tight when a light tap would drop it.  The deadbolt hole was splintered and pressed back into place.  Anyone with a driver’s license and a shoulder would be able to break the thing down.  

   The right thing would have been to run, or call the police.  Neither option was intriguing.  So you sat next to the thing, waiting in the darkness.  Every time footsteps sounded outside the hall you steadied the shotgun, blinking away the tears that you might have to blow someone’s head off.  

   Maybe you were going crazy.  The locks had always been broken and you only noticed now?  Maybe nobody was following you.  Just the ghosts of your past.  

   Then, at almost four in the morning after standing guard for eight hours footsteps stopped in front of your door.  

   Your adrenaline flared.  You cocked the gun right as your knob started to turn.  It froze.  Fuck! They heard the noise.  

   The handle fell back in place.  They were leaving.  All the shaking you were feeling came flooding back.

   You needed to open the door.  Find out who they were, what they wanted.  But instead you collapsed, hugging the shotgun as the footsteps retreated.   Would you ever be safe?

~~

   Loss of sleep was an understatement.  Tonight you would get a hotel room.  Then decide if you wanted to call the cops, fix the door, or flee.  Life was exhausting enough and it felt like you’d only just started living.  

   The door to the office opened and you rose to your feet, pinning on your best smile as Dr. Rogers walked a patient out.  

   His face looked cold, but his blue eyes widened with surprise.  

   “Hi.”  You gave a nervous wave.  “I have something for you.”  

   His patient waved goodbye as you stepped forward, article in hand.  

   “What is this?”  He grabbed the pages.  

   “The article.  I said I would send over a copy, but I thought with the way things ended I should drop one off in person.”  You fidgeted, thinking about your run in with Barnes the last time.  “As promised, a glowing puff piece.  It will be in the weekend edition.”  

   You watched as his eyes’ scanned the pages.  His brow furrowed in confusion.  

   “Is something wrong?”  You rocked on your feet, hoping to see what line he was at.  “I taped the interview, but if I messed up a fact or misspoke there is time to correct before it goes to print.”  

   “So the article was real?”  The Doctor looked up at you with wide eyes.  “It wasn’t a ruse for your blog?”

   “Ah.”  You bit your lip as you looked away.  “I am sure Agent Barnes gave you an earful.  Yes the story was real.  I write human interest pieces,  Miranda’s Museum doesn’t really pay the bills.”  

   “So this is your real name?”  Steve squinted.  “Rachelle Miller?”  

   “No.”  You blinked.  “I write under multiple pen names.”  

   “So what is your real name?”  Steve folded his arms.  

   “Friends call me Vee.”  You shrugged.  

   “That’s not what I asked.”  His eyes locked on to yours.  

   You hadn’t spoken your real name in years.  Legally it was changed, and with all the pseudonyms you used you hadn’t spoken it outloud in years.  

   “Well, um, I will get out of your hair.  I am sure you have a busy day.  E-mail me if there are problems with the article.”  Your blood ran hot and you regretted coming here.  

   “No.”  His hand reached out and grabbed your arm.  

   You glanced at his fingers and then turned to see his intensite eyes bearing into your own.  His fingers slipped away.  

   “I mean with all do respect, but you look a little rough.”  He nodded to his office.  “Come in and have a drink.  I owe you an apology.”  

   “Me?”  You blinked and shook your head.  “Did Bucky tell you I am just a gossip columnist and was lying to you?  Using you for Miranda’s nefarious purposes?”  

   “Doctor-patient confidentiality.”  He made a playful shrug.  

   “Yeah.  I bet he left out the part where he asked me out nonstop for over a year until I was forced to write something nasty about him on my blog.”  You thought about the person at your door last night,  could it have been Bucky?  He didn’t seem the most stable.  “I may have crossed a line, but what I wrote wasn’t wrong and he,  well I think anyone who has met the man isn’t afraid to use the word obsessive to describe him.”  

   “I cannot confirm, deny, or discuss Agent Barnes.”  Doctor Rogers walked over to a small liquor cabinet.  “What would you like?”  

   “Bourbon?  Scotch?”  You took a seat.  “I’ll settle for anything brown with a nice burn.”  

   “Multiple pen names?”  The doctor came back over and handed you a drink.  “How many?”

   “Three I use on the regular.  I do a lot of freelance writing and they each have their own specialty.  Then several one offs.  I have used them one or two times and let them die.”  You took a sip and let the liquid hit your tongue, wanting to swirl it around your mouth and wishing it would numb your mind in the same way.  

   “Care to share why?”  He sat down and crossed his legs.  “That seems like a lot of compartmentalism.”

“Not a patient.”  You laughed as you leaned back.  

“Let me guess, they are all as generic as Miranda Balfour, Rachelle Miller?”  Dr. Rogers leaned back in his chair.  “You want a legitimate digital footprint, but not one that can be traced back to you.  Why?”  

“You sound like Bucky.”  You tilted your glass toward him.  “Only he has decided Miranda must be my real name.  I would not try to do a deep dive on me Doctor.  I am not interested in opening up.”  

“I am not your Doctor.  Please, call me Steve.”  His eyes scanned you up and down.  “You look very tired.  Late night?  I hope it wasn’t on my behalf.”  

“It was and it wasn’t.  In that order.”  You let out a sigh.  “Since you’re not my doctor Steve, and you can’t think I’m crazy since there is no medical relationship. I think someone, no, I know someone tried to break into my apartment early this morning.”

“Did you call the police?” A look of horror crossed his face as he leaned forward.  “You should not wait on that.”  

“I am not a fan of cops and they are not my fan either.”  You gritted your teeth before taking another sip.  “I cocked my gun too early.  Someone had been following me, all week.  I felt it in my bones.  And then I noticed my locks had been messed with.  So I waited and I felt so paranoid, but then the clock hits 3:44 and the handle jiggles.  I should have let the door open, blown their brains out without asking a single question.  But they heard the noise.  Ran off before I had the chance.”  

“There is a lot to unpack there.”  Steve reached out and touched your knee.  “Are you safe?”

“No.”  You smiled at him.  “Never.  I’m going to get a hotel room tonight.  Figure things out from there.  Get some sleep, a clear head.”  

“If you think someone is targeting you, you shouldn’t stay alone.”  His hand dragged away.  “Friends or family you can stay with?”  

“What was the line you used?  My work doesn’t leave much time for personal relationships.  I’m either writing a freelance story of working on the Miranda project.  Hoping someday it takes off and I can do that full time.”  

“I apologize for being so forward, but I can be your friend, or else your colleague in the work horse force.”  Steve set his glass down.  “And I have plenty of extra bedrooms.”  

You didn’t mean to display the cringe, and tried to bury it down, but there was a pain on his face.

“That is a very kind offer.”  You slammed the rest of your drink.  “But you are not my doctor, or my friend, you’re a stranger right now and I wouldn’t feel comfortable imposing.”  

“I understand.”  Steve grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled as you stood up.  “I would like to take you to dinner, are you free Friday?”  

“Now you’re really going to think I’m crazy, but with the strange feeling I was being followed and the incident last night, I have been scared to leave my apartment after dark.”  The liquor had relaxed your tongue too much.  “Well, now hotel.”  

“I will pick you up at your door, we can go to my place and I’ll cook for you, and then I will drive you home.”  There was something in his voice, this was the first time he had made this request in some time.  “You will be safe the entire time.”

“Alright.”  You couldn’t explain it, but there was a feeling in your heart, like it was drawn to his.  Not mental, like a strange string was pulling you tigher.  “I am staying at the budget in on Wilcox.”  

He opened his mouth, but shut it right away and nodded.  You started to walk to the door and he followed.  Being in his office was the most relaxed you’d been in some time.  

“Friday then.”  He slipped you a piece of paper, you opened it up to see a phone number.  

“I can’t remember the last time someone didn’t just text me their number.”  You smiled eat him.  “You are old fashioned in all the right ways.”  

“Feel free to put that in your phone and use it.”  Steve looked serious.  “Any time, day or night.  I don’t approve of your distrust of law enforcement or wanting assistance, but I respect it.  Never hesitate to call if you need anything.”  

“Thank you.”  You looked at the ground, not wanting to face those blue eyes again, scared if you did you would end up being a roommate at the man's house.  “And thank you for believing me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”  He was taken aback.  

“Sometimes I’m not even sure I believe myself.”  You blinked away tears and squared your shoulders looking him in the eyes.  “Anyone else would have told me it was late, I was tired, I almost killed a delivery man.”  

“I look forward to continuing this conversation on Friday.”  Steve gave a boyish grin.  “Or sooner, if you need anything at all.”  

“Friday then.”  You folded up the piece of paper and put it in your back pocket.  

It was odd to find something to look forward to and for a moment you wished you were crazy and not thinking about fleeing and starting over yet again.  

A/N:  Thanks for reading!  This is turning into a bit of a slow burn, but I think the next chapter will heat up! 

Tags:  @toozmanykids​

[toysoldiers-rwby]

[CS] 5. Solutions

5. Solutions

Cutting Strings

Characters: Penny, Ciel Word Count: 5k

Penny’s first obstacle in the real world.

Read on Ao3

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Conflicts detect. Source: Unknown. Solutions: Debugging.

The General’s office in the Polendina Facility was nothing compared to his office in the Academy, according to Winter and the information Penny was created with. Similarly Xanthic was unimpressed, but that cold impassive face might be from the cuffs pinning her wrist together. Winter was quickly reading the file Ironwood handed her while he sat at his desk, eyes on the hacker.  

The silence ticked by and Xanthic growled. “I already told you, your system locked me out before I could get any real information.” The hacker explained, “You want me, Glade, and an undecided third member to go to play babysitter for Penny at the Vytal Festival.”  

Penny frowned and cast her gaze down. Ciel… was not confirmed? Was Xanthic planning to hack the system to make sure she was chosen for the Vytal Festival?  

“So you don’t know anything about Floating Array?” Winter asked. She handed the confidential information to Penny. The young women hesitated. Only after verification from General Ironwood did Penny take it and look it over.  

“I know it’s an ugly monstrosity.” Xanthic answered once but the words kept repeating in Penny’s processors. Her hands shook. Power output fluxed violently, sending more energy into her hardware. Software quickly adjusted but Penny couldn’t stop the small tremors. Xanthic’s eyes fixed on it. Penny curled up, stepping back as Winter stepped forward to shield her again. “It’s not me you should be protecting her from,” Xanthic’s cybernetic eyes cut to General Ironwood.  

"People of Atlas," Xanthic repeated. The Aura in Penny’s power core twisted again. She tried to remember her father’s words just a few hours before. She was his daughter not a- “Is that why Ironwood twisted her body before making her an official citizen?” What? The shock from Winter was heavy, the worried and guilty eyes Penny looked up into even heavier.  

One of the smartest and biggest threat made her own red herring. Xanthic thought Penny was a human experiment. General Ironwood was calm, a corner of his mouth quirking up in a satisfied smile. Penny’s sharp cybernetic eyes saw it.  

And Xanthic’s older model picked it up as well.“How much of her body is metal!?” Xanthic screamed. Penny’s head snapped up. Rage. The hacker’s face was twisted and red, body ready to lung at the man that could tear her a part with his hands.It wasn’t an emotion Penny was familiar with, wasn’t aware it could be a… a protective emotion. The hacker was angry for Penny.  

“How dare you. This isn’t-”  

“Schnee, enough.” General Ironwood raised his hand. Winter immediately stopped, hand grasping for the hilt of her sword. When she realized her weapon wasn’t on her Winter calmed down a little. Ironwood slowly sat back in his chair, “What do you think you know?”  

“I know Floating Array can only be used by people like you,” Xanthic lifted her bound hands, pointing to her forehead. The spot where Ironwood’s transmitter controlled his cybernetics. “Glade and me,” Next she pointed to the back of her head and neck. Penny had to squint, focusing her artificial eyes. She couldn’t see what Xanthic was referring to but she could faintly make out the cybernetic glow reflecting off her hair. “Unless she’s a telekinetic, those swords are controlled through neural cybernetics and augmentation.”  

She wasn’t wrong… Penny looked down at the file to study what lies General Ironwood tied her too. The goal was to send a team to test a weapon in the Vytal Festival. The weapon’s name was Floating Array, not P.E.N.N.Y- She took a deep breath and focused back on the conversation. Penny wasn’t a weapon. Another SDC orphan. How much of her body is metal!? Did Xan think she was wounded in the fake report that killed her supposed parents?  

Penny gently held Winter’s arm and slowly stepped out from behind her. If Xanthic’s outburst was a result of protectiveness and injustive… then surely Xanthic must be kind too? “He didn’t…” Experiment on the experiment? “I’m-”  

“The level of Penny’s augmentation is classified,” His order was directed to everyone in the room. His eyes and words ended with Penny who flinched. Somehow she managed to resist hiding behind Winter again. She was Dr. Pietro’s daughter. Winter saw her as someone to protect and in her own way so did Xanthic. She had an identity beyond a tool, Penny repeated this over and over even if she nodded to Ironwood.  

Winter gently pulled Penny’s hand off her but she gave a comforting squeeze, eyes lingering on their hands. There was a small knit between her brows, the line of her tight lips curved down so softly. Penny gave a tight and determined squeeze back. She was so tired of seeing that look of concern. Dr. Peitro was her father, he was allowed to worry but Penny was determined never to see Winter or anyone else give her that look again.  

Xanthic watched curiously. Her bright eyes returned to Ironwood who seemed indifferent to the heavy air and accusations of using a little girl for experiments. It irritated the hacker for a moment, “… Me and Glade will figure it out sooner or later.” Xanthic said relaxing as much as she could. “You’re assigning two genius to babysit her after all.”  

“So you agree to take on this mission?” Ironwood asked.  

“Don’t insult me by acting like I have a choice,” Xanthic scowled holding up the gravity cuffs. “Besides, if anything goes wrong with that spliced tech you’ll need me and Glade.”  

… Goes wrong?  

“Which is why I choose you for this mission but… There has been some resistance from Glade and difficulties with your potential partner.”  

“A-Aro?!” Resistance? She doesn’t want-  

Winter quickly set a hand on Penny’s shoulder. Her mind was stretching thing, a thousand thought running a thousand miles a second but somehow Winter’s voice broke through, “She’s probably being difficult to annoy you, sir. I know for a fact that she’s quite attached to Penny.”  

Penny took a deep breath and calmed down, literally pushing the cold Solitas air through her flash heated systems. Her memory wasn’t corrupted but her processors fired up simulations without proper information. Even before they met, Aro jumped in front of a Spider Droid to protect her. Why does her programming assume the worst? Penny opened her eyes at Ironwood’s loud frustrated sigh. He was rubbing his temples, jaw clenched tight.  

“I am well aware. She’s in a position to make demands and is already making them.”  

“… Sir.” Winter’s voice was tired and dry, “What did you expect from a Faunus women who runs one of the few independent Dust shops since she was 18?” Ironwood seemed to wince under that statement. It was all public facts but Penny could barely grasp the weight of that statement. The irony of a successful individual being used as an icon for blatant discrimination- Penny finally recognized that sad smile Aro had on during APCX’s first gathering.  

It was resignation.  

“What’s her demand?” Winter asked.  

Ironwood took a deep breath and sat back in his chair. “She wants Penny to choose the last member. Though to make sure she doesn’t influence Penny’s decision I get to narrow down the list.”  

“Oh!” Xanthic sneered wearing down Ironwood’s patience. His jaw tensed, grinding a little. “So the Iron part of your name stands for irony?”  

The General glared at Xanthic then at Winter. His second-in-command straightened out and awaited her orders. “Take this criminal to her quarters.”  

“Yeah, take me to bed, Mistress.”  

At that Winter’s face turned a little red but it wasn’t a blush. She ripped her tie from her neck and shoved it into Xanthic’s mouth in a near punch. Xanthic groaned but it only turned to a biting laughter. Despite Penny’s concerns Winter shoved the hacker out of the room. She winked… It didn’t make Penny didn’t feel any better. Her protocols told her to intervene, but another told her to stand by as the subject was handled by Military Authority. It didn’t seem right.  

A few seconds after the door hissed closed Ironwood’s stoic image crumbled a little. His elbows rested on the desk. “I’m afraid dealing with her will be your toughest challenge.”  

“I’m… I’m sure I’ll adapt.” Penny said quietly. She traced the mend on her finger. There was no evidence of it except for her memory. Xanthic was a challenge but… Penny wasn’t sure if she enjoyed it or not. “If Xanthic is such a concern why assign her to my team?”  

“Besides her technical capabilities?” Ironwood asked. He slumped further at his desk, a tired smile on his face. “She fits the average profile for students and competitors attending the Vytal Festival. Ms. Xanthic won’t be able to infiltrate Atlesian property all the way in Vale. The distance and extra security will make it harder for her to hack our systems. Additional her rivalry with Ms. Glade and activities during the Vytal Festival will preoccupy her time.”  

“And what will happen to her after?” Penny asked despite the fear of the answer.  

Ironwood closed his eyes for a moment. “I’d consider this mission a community service and shorten her punishment.” That was not a satisfactory answer but Penny did not have a chance to continue the conversation. Penny’s Scroll pinged. She accepted the file transfers. “Ms. Glade would like you to meet these five candidates and choose one of them when she returns.”  

“Yes, sir.”  

Penny left feeling drained, as if she fought more than a Spider Droid. Was this her equivalent to mental exhaustion? Xanthic had triggered multiple conflicts and she had to constantly suppress some protocols. Then the glitches with her Aura… Penny returned to her room, hand over her power unit. The reasonable thing would be inform her father but the thought of seeing him worry exhausted her further.  

She didn’t want to think about it. Instead Penny focused her processors on the files General Ironwood gave her. All of the candidates are top students at the Police Academy… Ciel was not on the list!  

Penny nearly rushed out of her room but stopped. Xanthic was a criminal, her area would be heavily monitored in every way: visual, audio, and transmitted data if Winter didn’t confiscate her Scroll. Xanthic told them not to contact each other but…  

She bounced in place systems flooded with energy and threatening to overheat her with no action to burn it off. Why isn’t Ciel on the list? Every candidate looked capable but Xanthic was right. Penny didn’t actually have a choice. She already knew Ciel- why isn’t she on the list- and everyone seemed to get along during their first meeting… well enough, after some comparison with Winter and May.  

Suddenly Penny’s recorded memory brought up Ciel’s audio, If the General of our Kingdom has a directive for us we’d best follow it, Did she decline the offer? “Ugh…” Penny found herself sitting on her bed, head in her hands. “What do I do?” She didn’t want Ironwood’s candidates, she wanted Ciel or to at least ask her… “Ask her what?” Penny huffed at herself. Ask Ciel if she declined, if she wants to be a part of a team with two anarchist?  

Penny stood up and walked out of her room. Her aura was causing another glitch in her power unit. Too much energy for her processes to handle, she’d start one simulation and started another in a few seconds after, trying to come up with reasons why Ciel wasn’t on the list. She needed to do something and she needed information…  

Penny found herself sneaking out of the facility and on a transport to Mantle.  

Ciel’s home was vastly different than what Penny was used to. Aro and Xanthic owned a building and house respectively. Ciel lived in an apartment building in a cramped area close to the Police Academy. Penny rang the doorbell and waited a few seconds. She had enough time to wonder if normal humans would be sleeping at this time when the door opened. Ciel didn’t look surprised to see her. If anything she was a little annoyed.  

“Hello!” Penny greeted her with a smile. Her father was right, fresh air did help her systems but now her processors were sluggish. All those ideas she had vanished. It never worked on Xanthic but Ciel did relax a little. That was a good sign, right? “Should I… Should I come back later?” Penny asked tilting her head a little. Penny’s internal clock told her it was almost midnight but Ciel was still dressed. “I’m not sure what time you rest and recharge.”  

“It’s the last month of the semester, I’m constantly running on empty.” Ciel said with a shrug. “Hold on,” Penny’s hopefully-future-teammate disappeared into the dark apartment for a moment. Penny peeked in. It was cramped, optimizing space for multiple people. Switching to night vison her cybernetic eyes saw several photos on the fridge and walls. Ciel was in a few of them at different stages of life, with what appeared to be blood relatives. Penny quickly turned her enhanced vision off and stepped out of the doorway when Ciel returned with a coat around her body. She presented a jacket and box to Penny, “Glade dropped this off with me before she left. Said it was for Xanthic.”  

She wasn’t in Mantle? Penny took the jacket first and carefully put it on. Ciel and Penny were about the same height and built so it was a perfectly snug fit. It felt… odd, being compressed by a soft warmth all around her. It was like a hug. Penny snuggled into it.  

Again her simulations and programming predicted the worse and caused unnecessary stress. There was no immediately solution so Penny adjusted her priotities.  

She gave Ciel a bright smile, “So you do want to join our team?”  

Ciel locked her apartment and lead Penny down the stairs. “Once I calmed down and thought about it… maybe?” She muttered. She was digging herself into her thick coat. They walked in silence for a few minutes. Ciel’s feet dragged a little. It made Penny feel like her processors were burning out. There was so much to adjust too. From near completely solitude to Xanthic’s brash attitude, especially Xanthic’s attitude. An entire day of tension, conflicting code and-  

“Penny, do you have any idea what you’re getting into?” Ciel wondered softly. Almost timid and scared, but Penny didn’t know her well enough to make that assessment. “With Glade, Xanthic, the Vytal Festival?”  

“… No.” The question and realization cause a falter in Penny’s stride.  

Ciel let out a short laugh. Penny stared at her and Ciel quickly tried to hide it with a cough. A tired smile peeked out from her hand, “Sorry. Low energy. A little delirious. And a little relieved.” She clarified. Ciel paused for a moment, then a moment longer before speaking. Human’s didn’t perform well when insufficiently charged. “You and the others seemed so confident. I felt like I was the only one fumbling in the dark.”  

“You were studying.”  

“Got the best marks in class.” Ciel said, some energy returning with pride. They turned another corner and the officer-in-training walked up to a lit up basement entrance. Penny faltered surprised to see some people hang around it. They were all Academy students, most in Police uniform but some from Atlas Academy. They nodded at Ciel with a sense of familiartiy between them.  

Penny jogged, catching up to Ciel as she walked down into the cellar. The width and length was as big as the building above it. It was rather empty with isolated groups scattered around. Half the floor was a lounge with a mini café.  

“May! Drink’s ready!” The barista yelled out to the small number of patreons.  

The other half was cleared with the exception of sparing dummies, weights, or targets against the walls. The students sat in the lounge, studying, chatting some individuals even sleeping. The sparing side was currently in use by officers in uniform and a few without. The only Huntresses were in the far corner. Penny could tell from their Aura, it was far more refined than those from the Police Force. One was even familiar but Penny couldn’t place it.  

“What is this place?”  

Ciel glanced back at her, tired feet still dragging to the barista’s counter. “A gym for Officers and trainees. We don’t have the resources Atlas Academy has but we make do. Most of the Atlas students here are Mantle-born.”  

“You can take the miners out of Mantle but you can’t take the Mantle out of the miners!” The barista was that rainbow semblance Faunus Penny saw a few days ago. She skated to the counter and perched her head atop it with a grin, “Hiya, Ciel! I didn’t expect you to be friends with the mysterious cutie too!”  

“Neon.” Ciel sighed, “Three things. One, that’s a horrible saying and you should stop using it. Two, her name is Penny, don’t be rude. Three, my usual thai latte.”  

“And you Penny?”  

“No thanks-” A heavy hand dropped onto her head and a hand suddenly appeared to reach around her to grab the drink. Penny jumped, gasping out a noise and turning around. May Marigold smiled down at her and ruffled her hair a little. Towering over even May was Joanna Greenleaf and Elm Ederne. All three was in just their mid layer clothing just thick and dark enough to avoid being translucent from their sweat.  

“Chocolate mint. I’ll pay for her friend’s drink too,” May said. Her hand stopped ruffling Penny’s hair and dropped a few lien onto the counter.  

“Sweets for the sweetie! And a blackest latte for bore,” Neon sang sticking her tongue out at Ciel. The trainee didn’t acknowledge it. Instead she slumped in the bar stool and laid her head on the counter, her barrette used as a pillow.  

“So you must be Penny Polendina! Me and Herriet saw you at the Military Tech Show!” Special Operative Elm Ederne yelled. Perhaps Xanthic’s fustrations were not misplaced… Penny found herself needing to lean back a little to look up at her. Then suddenly she was looking down when the women picked her up. Penny gasped, holding down her dress and pressing Aro’s mysterious box to her chest. “A pleasure to meet you! We’re looking forward to what you can do!”  

“Pleasure… Please set me down.” Penny squeaked. Her system was confused, the chances of encountering people who could lift her was very small but everyone who tried did so with ease. Elm laughed, throwing her head back and echoing it off the quiet cellar. Ciel let out a tired groan, eyes still closed while several other students yelled for some silence.  

“Elm,” Huntress Joanna Greenleaf elbowed the fellow giant’s arm. They must have been sparing hard because it caused a small Aura flicker. “Inside voice.”  

“And don’t just pick up people! You and Aro…” May’s scolding drifted off. She angrily huffed, then threw her head back taking large gulps of her drink. “Fuck, now I’m pissed off again!”  

“Maybe you should stand outside and cool off?” Joanna offered.  

“Nonsense, I’m ready for another round!” Elm said, fist slamming into a palm so loud it echoed. Elm winced, her Aura finally flickering out. “Or not…”  

“I don’t understand…” Penny mumbled looking at May. Last she remembered they were happily getting along, the fighting wasn’t a real fight but playing. “Why would you-”  

“No, nope!” Joanna stepped in, physically crossing her arms. "We’re here work out our anger, not to build it up even more," She gave a hard glare at May who scoffed and rolled her eyes.  

“She deserves a good slap to that arrogant, pretty face!”  

Did they have an argument? Close friends can have arguments? Penny wondered. She really wanted to call Aro but Xanthic’s no communications-on-Atlas-owned-servers was becoming more and more reasonable.  

“Then do it when she gets back.” Joanna clasp a hand around May’s shoulder. The weight and power making her flinch and sloshing her drink a little. “Shooting range. Let’s go.”  

“Ugh,” May groaned and grumbled, swearing a storm under her breath and directing it at Aro’s absence. Elm followed, giving the Ciel and Penny a big wave.  

“Death latte and a chocolate mint to warm you two up,” Neon said back to the pair and setting the drinks on the counter. She was about to settle for a chat when two more people entered the ceiler. “Reese! Nadir!” She vaulted over, tackling her friends to the ground. Their laughter helped muffled the yelling Huntresses in the corner and the groaning students trying to sleep or study.  

Penny watched it all from her seat next to an exhausted Ciel. Her potential teammate groaned and finally sat up, unceremoniously dropping her barrette back onto her head. Penny giggled and fixed it.  

“Welcome to Mantle,” Ciel muttered into her drink. “Where everyone is loud and rude, and not even the scholarship students can afford to sleep.”  

“I would add compassionate and strong willed,” Penny added. Ciel stared at her for a moment and quietly agreed, trying to hide a smile behind her cup.  

Neither of them talked for a few minutes. Ciel was slowly waking up, nursing her hot latte with both hands. Penny took small sips of her own drink. The atmosphere and seeing people alive was worth the trials General Ironwood put her through and more. Her recordings and simulations were flat and predictable. Penny at the center of every problem and the solution to every scenario but in Mantle she was just a person, a stranger in someone else’s life.  

“Ciel?”  

“Hm?”  

“You state you were still unsure about accepting General Ironwood’s request. Why is that?” Penny asked softly.  

The answer was nearly immediate, either she was thinking about this for a while or the caffeine was recharging her. “Who’s going to help take care of my family?” Ciel asked. “General Ironwood says the Military will pay for all expenses but my family is losing a source of income, even if it is small.”  

Penny frowned and looked at Ciel. The answer was much more practical than expected. She didn’t have to worry about the daily human needs. Her father was well respected scientist living in a military facility, he didn’t need to spend to survive. Penny did not need to eat. She had other forms of maintenance but that was weekly, monthly if need be. Her robust power unit and Aura mean that Penny needed little rest and Dust could be used in emergencies. Her material consumption was part of the military’s budget.  

“I thought it would be fear and danger,” Penny admitted. It was the only things her father and General Ironwood emphasized.  

“Police Officers may not be fighting Grimm but people can get pretty horrible too. Worse… even,” Ciel added softly. There was another comfortable pause. Ciel enjoying her drink. Penny watched the life around her. “You don’t seem like the Huntress type. So why become one?”  

Penny looked back at Neon playing around with her friends and then at May. Somehow shooting at the practice range dissolved into yelling and wrestling. Penny suppressed the urge to intervene. It wasn’t as playful as she witnessed during her drinks with Winter but it was still between good friends. And Elm was cheering them on with a laugh so it was nothing serious. It was pleasantly lively.  

So different from the quiet of the facility and the calm work with her father, or the stoic order of General Ironwood.  

“I want to protect this.”  

"But why a Huntress?" Ciel pressed. “Glade and your father helps with their inventions.”  

“Because they can’t fight like I can.”  

Ciel only raised a brow. “Again. Don’t look the part.” Penny pouted, lips pressed and a hard look that only made Ciel smile. The officer-in-training nodded to the practice shooting range then to the traiining dummies at the far end of the gym. Penny’s programming told her Ciel was asking her to pick a trial.  

Penny took a deep breath. She passed her Combat Test. She is combat ready. “Shooting range.”  

“Alright,” Ciel said a little relieved. In her state Ciel probably wouldn’t do well in a spar and Penny didn’t want to deal with trying to restrain her robotic strength. “Nadir!” Ciel called over, “Gun. 10 minutes.”  

“Magic words?”  

“Now.” It took a few seconds of staring but Nadir eventually relented with a small whine. Ciel lead Penny to the back, tapping away at her Scroll. The gym had its own app for the range and as a regular she was had one set up before they got there. The hard-light targets were both human and Grimm shape, some popping up others striding left to right. There was even small Nevermores flying about. From the edges of her peripheral, Penny saw Elm focus on them but the other two Huntresses were still yelling at each other.  

“Just talk to her!”  

“It’s not that easy!”  

Penny looked back at Ciel who held up her Scroll as she gave an overview of the information, “3 minutes, best out of three. Smaller targets, more points. Humans are negative. Shoot any target to start.” Ciel said. She handed her Scroll off to Penny and stepped up to the firing line.  

Ciel checked Nadir’s submachine, the magazine and felt the weight. She held it to her shoulder and fired. Penny watched a little fascinated. Most of her pre-installed knowledge was about Huntsmen and Huntresses. She only had the basics about the Police Force. They were trained to deal with humans. They focused on nonviolent take downs and weapon accuracy because they worked in residential areas. Many of their guns weren’t lethal but they were still dangerous if their aim was off.  

But accuracy didn’t add to the points. Still Ciel aimed for lethal areas, the chest and head. She only aimed at targets that she knew would land and did it fast. She manage one last shot milliseconds before Ciel’s phone buzzed, the timer hitting zero.  

“5th place! Not bad!” Neon yelled from behind the counter.  

Ciel stepped away from the firing line and held out Nadir’s gun. Penny gave a wide smile. Her backpack opened, Floating Array sweeping with a motion of her hand. The blades folded back, several barrels pointed down the range. Elm let out a low and impressive whistle.  

“Yooo!!!” Reese screamed from the lounge. “Good thing you’re an officer cuz you got CONNED!” There was a soft chuckling and sounds of agreement from all over the gym. Ciel blinked, taking everything in strides. She took a slow sip of her thai latte.  

“That’s cheating,” The office-in-training said. There was no frustration, just tired resignation and amusement. Maybe relief? Penny tried to stop her smile but it only grew when she noticed May sprawled under Joanna. Both Huntress was in an awkward position, mid grapple and their mouths open in amazement. With a small motion of her other hand, most of Floating Array folded and retreated into her pack, only two were left floating above her.  

“And we’re never mentioning this to Xanthic.” Ciel added.  

“I’m sure Xanthic will discover this eventually,” Penny said innocently. With a flex of her hand Floating Array started firing. After the Combat Trial it was easy, so she pushed herself to focus on the smaller Nevermores. The pattern was predictable, but restraint was a challenge. All shots landed with dead accuracy but there was some damage to the walls. Luckily everyone was too amazed to notice or to even speak. The buzzing was loud to Penny’s augmented hearing.  

“Holy shit,” May muttered softly.  

"Finally! That name has been on top for years!" Neon yelled. Reese and Nadir was also cheering from the lounge. This time the students or trying to sleep didn’t complain and just stared quietly. One even took a picture.  

“On the board for three minutes and 23 seconds. New record for me.” Ciel drawled handing Penny her Scroll. Penny grinned and entered ‘P. Polendina’. It blinked on the top row above the alias Silver Wat.  

Conflicts detected. Source: Stress. Solutions: Fun.

[pahrak-the-sinnoh-slizer]

Super Fighting Roll (2-5)

(Reaching the center of Wily’s castle, Roll prepares to confront him and Break Man, hoping against all odds she can make it back with both her brothers in tow.)

The familiar visage of Gamma had taken on a terrifying air, permeating the massive stone chamber as he loomed in the center of it. Wily stood at its feet, with Blues holding Rock nearby; Roll and Rush walked as close as they dared, their glares being met with Wily’s hideous grin.

“So nice to see you again!” the scientist greeted. “I trust you’ve brought the Energy Elements?”

“Don’t give them to him, Roll!” Rock said.

“Silence!  You will hand them over, and quickly, before I change my mind and scrap your brother here and now!”

Roll held out the two Elements.  Wily jogged over and snatched them, snickering as he retreated.

“At last!  Now Gamma can operate at full power!  The world will be mine!”

“I did what you asked,” Roll said.  “Now let Rock go.”

Wily turned to Break Man.  “Hmm...something just occurred to me.  Why should I worry about upholding my word when dealing with a lowly housekeeper-bot?”

What appeared to be a massive, yellow-plated helmet descended from the ceiling, emitting a shaft of light that pulled Wily up through the air towards it.  Roll started forward, stopping short when Break Man pointed his weapon at Rock.  A window opened at the helmet’s front, and once he was inside, Wily sat down at the controls and steered it upward, latching the craft onto Gamma’s head.

“Nehehehehe!  The strongest power source known to man...a machine built from my brilliance, supplemented by Light’s tech...and, adding one last personal touch of my own...there is nothing in this world that can stop me now!”

Gamma raised its arms, energy coursing through its frame.  A punch was aimed at Roll--she leapt backward, watching as the floor she had just been standing on was pulverized into a large crater.

“Ah...but, I do need to run a field test.  Break Man!  Give me some room.  Let Roll fight me, and see just how outmatched she is!”

Nodding, Break Man dragged Rock off to the side of the chamber, Roll watching carefully.  Once they were clear, she turned back to Wily.  “I’m not really surprised...but how could you do this after we all trusted you?  We each gave you the benefit of the doubt, gave you a chance to prove yourself!  And you’re really throwing it all away, just like that?”

“Bah!  What sort of question is that: the trust of a few against everything I’ve ever wanted? I have nothing to regret!”

Blasts began to shoot from Gamma’s mouth. Boarding Rush, Roll circled the robot to evade its fire, watching its movements very closely.  “You really are the worst…”

Gamma swiped high, its massive arm easy to dodge. Roll threw several Metal Blades, doing little more than scuffing its armor; she then detonated a Crash Bomb at the scuff, followed by a Hard Knuckle, but even the combined effect of all three weapons wasn’t enough to break through the giant robot’s shell.

“Nehahaha!  You’re nothing but an annoying gnat before the might of Gamma!”

Roll deployed a Leaf Shield as he again opened fire. “Even if it takes a while, I can still wear you down!”

“Oh, is that right?”

For just a second, Roll thought she could see Gamma flash blue.  As its arm moved, she prepared to dodge, but the giant attacked at a blistering speed that caught her completely off-guard.  Roll was smacked straight into the wall, left dazed as Gamma pelted her with his blasts.

What was that sudden burst of speed?  Dr. Light didn’t mention anything like that.

Roll managed to slip free, dropping down to land on Rush.  Gamma swung again, now moving at a normal speed, so she kept her distance as best she could in the cramped chamber.

Wily must have made some last-minute modifications.  I hope he didn’t notice what Dr. Light was telling me about…

“Yes, yes!” Wily cheered.  “Do you see now?  This is the kind of power mankind can access with robots at our command! Autonomy, emotions, identity--they’re all shackles that deny a robot its full potential!  Only without such weight can we find the true limits of robotics, and shatter them!”

Roll equipped the Air Shooter, trying to disorient Wily with a whirlwind.  The gust of air dissipated against Gamma like a shallow breath.  Strafing to avoid his attacks, she next tried a barrage of Magnet Missiles, sure they would each find their mark.  It proved a distraction, at least, but she was out of ammunition in seconds.  She dove to avoid a blast before quickly angling back up to dodge Gamma’s arm, not noticing the blast knocking loose a large chunk of stone from the wall.  The rubble struck Roll, sending her crashing into the chamber floor, and red light danced across Gamma as it reared back its fist. Pinned where she fell, Roll’s only choice was to use a Crash Bomb to destroy the rubble and fling herself out of range just before the punch connected.  More rubble cascaded down from above as the entire castle shuddered, the colossal blow splitting the floor down to its foundation.  Wily cackled with glee.

Is he nuts? He’ll bring the whole place down if he keeps doing that!  I may not be able to afford to wait him out.

Weaving between Gamma’s feet, Roll sent Search Snakes crawling up its legs before leaping back onto Rush.  The tiny machines managed to wriggle part-way into the tiny openings around Gamma’s joints, forcing Wily to focus on dealing with them while Roll doused the robot with Bubble Lead.  Just as it reached up towards her, she fired off a Spark Shock, causing Wily to shriek in surprise as several switches on his console burst. Roll immediately took to attacking the spots the snakes had indicated, emptying out her Needle Cannon and Shadow Blade stores before Gamma flashed blue and knocked her back to the floor.

“Hrm!  If anyone were to find a way to truly annoy me even now, it would be you,” Wily said. “Of course, even that’s only possible because you copied the weapons of my Robot Masters!  This is a total victory for my technology!”

Roll slowly picked herself up, trying to simply ignore the pain she was registering all throughout her body.  “I don’t get it...you say robots shouldn’t have identity...but your Robot Masters can still think for themselves...why is that?”

Wily paused.  “Well, they’re programmed to be completely loyal--that’s the important thing. It’s not like I can send them out with no AI at all.”

“Do you just want to beat Dr. Light at his own game?  Or maybe, deep down, you think he’s actually right?”

“Silence!”

“Or...maybe you just don’t want to be all alone.”

Wily snarled, slamming both Gamma’s hands down in an attempt to crush Roll.  He swung wildly, tearing chunks out of the walls in the process, while Roll carefully darted around each attack.  Finally landing a blow, Wily moved to make a follow-up attack while Roll was dazed, but suddenly, Gamma locked up, jolting in place a moment before missing with a slow swing.

“What?!” Wily cried, beating the console.  “What’s the problem, you miserable machine?  Your design should be flawless!”

Roll let out a short breath.  Just before she had left, Light had told her about something he noticed during his test of Gamma: there was a minor misalignment in the power distribution system, and Break Man had appeared before he could so much as mention it.  Now that the system was drawing on three times as much power, he predicted that it would become overtaxed if she could just hold out long enough.

It’s happening even faster than he expected.  Whatever last-minute changes Wily made must have actually made the problem worse.

Gamma momentarily froze again, causing Wily to stop and examine his readings.  Hoping to keep him from piecing it together, Roll stuck a Crash Bomb in Gamma’s shoulder, his anger easily surpassing his curiosity.

“This is your fault, isn’t it?” Wily said as he pulled Gamma around.  “What have you done to my precious work?”

Gamma glowed blue once more, the ensuing blow just clipping Roll.  Then, a plate on Gamma’s back burst in a fiery explosion, exposing a tangle of frayed live wires.

“No!  This can’t be!”

Gamma twitched erratically, giving Roll enough time to recover.  She fired a Spark Shock into Gamma’s wound, drawing another shriek from Wily, and then flew high as he attempted to counterattack.

“Why you...you…!”

“You brought this on yourself, Wily!” Roll said as Rush turned to face him.  “You were in such a hurry you missed what was right in front of you!”

Wily threw a switch.  Red light consumed Gamma, now glowing brighter than ever, as Roll charged directly at it.

“Time for you to pay the price!”

Rush activated his spring, shooting Roll through the air right at Gamma’s face.  Engaging Top Spin, she spun around to build up momentum, and then at the last second, delivered a devastating kick that sent small fractures spreading across Gamma’s face.  The giant was knocked back, hitting the wall as more pieces of its armor were blown off. Roll landed on Rush and took a moment to catch her breath before looking for Rock.  Her brother was safe, if still held by Break Man; content for now, she cautiously headed to where Wily was crawling out of the downed Gamma.

“Blast it all!” Wily said.  “What went wrong?!  I should have been invincible!”

Roll jumped down in front of him.  “It’s over, Wily.  No second chance this time.”

Wily grit his teeth.  “Break Man!”

Roll whirled.  Break Man pressed his cannon against Rock’s head.

“Neheheh...that’s right.  Keep her busy while I get out of here!”  Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a small metal box and pressed the button on it.  Immediately, minor tremors began to rock the castle.  “In mere minutes this place will be brought down!  Too bad I can’t hang around to watch it happen, nehehehah!”

She glanced back at him.  “Wily…!”

He leapt to the floor, running off towards a dark hallway.  “This isn’t over just yet, you scrap!  I won’t stop until I’ve taken over this wretched world!  Even if you make it out of here, one day, I’ll destroy you for sure!”

Knowing there was nothing she could do, Roll switched focus to Break Man.  Once she could no longer hear Wily, she said, “Why are you doing this, Blues?”

Break Man didn’t answer--it was Rock who said, “He thinks Dr. Light was going to reprogram him.”

“That’s insane!” Roll said.  “Dr. Light would never--”

“Shut up!” Break Man interrupted.  “He decided I was broken!  That there was something wrong with the way I am!  Why should he get to decide that?”

“You can’t go on with a faulty power core!” Rock said.  “Just let Dr. Light help you!  You let Wily work on you!”

“I didn’t have a choice!  I was...my core was almost done for when he found me...I didn’t…”

Roll paused.  Quietly, she said, “You panicked, didn’t you?”

Break Man grunted.

“Blues...if he did repairs on you, then how do you know--”

“Because I watched what he was doing!”

Roll’s eyes widened.  “W...What?”

Break Man finally lowered his buster.  “I stayed active while he worked on me...I know he only did the bare minimum, because I saw every move he made.”

“B...Blues...for work that involved?  How is it even possible to stay awake for all that?”

“...Never said it was easy.  But I won’t let anyone shut me off.  I won’t give anyone even the slightest chance to change who I am!”

Roll stared at him.  “Have you not changed at all?  Through any of this?”

“What do you mean?”

“Thinking Dr. Light betrayed you, running off on your own, nearly dying...watching someone work on your main systems...none of that has affected you at all?”

“...I…”

“It must’ve.  I don’t know what you were like before, Blues, but I can’t imagine it was this. You have changed, even without Dr. Light doing anything.”

Break Man went utterly still.  Feeling his grip loosen, Rock tentatively stepped away from him.

“But change doesn’t have to be a bad thing, Blues. Sometimes, we just need a little help in making it.”

“Hmph...you’re saying I should just let Light do what he wants to me?”

“All he wants is to prevent you from ending up like that!” Roll said, pointing at the mutilated corpse of Gamma.  “Gamma’s power system was flawed--if Wily had fixed that, it probably would’ve been unstoppable!  What are you going to do the next time your core starts to go out? Get Wily’s help again?  So he can leave you behind in another collapsing fortress?!”

Rock looked up at the walls, the bits falling off of them only continuing to grow larger.  “Speaking of, shouldn’t we get out of here?  This place is already so damaged--I don’t think it can take much more.”

Roll looked between him and Break Man.  Just as she was considering trying to run, the red robot said, “The self-destruct mechanism is on the third sub-level. There’s no security...if you hurry, you might be able to disarm it.”

“Huh?  You’re gonna help us?” Rock asked.

“Well...it benefits me, too.  I don’t want to end up buried here.”

“Oh, good.  Come on, Roll!”

Roll still felt uneasy, but there was no time. “Take Rush and go.  I’ll see if I can catch up to Wily.”

As soon as Roll took a step towards the exit Wily had taken, Break Man used Time Stopper to cut her off.  “Not so fast.  I still owe a debt to Wily.  You’re not going to stop him without going through me.”

Roll clenched her fist, glaring at him for a few long seconds.  “Rock. Take Rush and go.”

Glancing between them, Rock said, “But…”

“It’s okay, Rock.  I can handle this, but I need you to shut off the self-destruct sequence.  Please, take care of it.”

With great reluctance, Rock headed for the exit. Rush stopped to nudge Roll, who gave him a quick pet, and then took off after the boy.  With both of them gone, Roll began to walk forward.

Break Man started by throwing a Metal Blade. Roll dodged easily and retaliated with Hard Knuckle, hitting Break Man’s shield but managing to push him back a bit. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the energy to use it again; Break Man pushed her back with Air Shooter while she switched weapons, and then shrank back behind his shield as a Gemini Laser began to ricochet around the room.  Roll slid to one side in an attempt to surprise her foe with her remaining Metal Blades.  One managed to graze his helmet, but that was all.  She put up a Leaf Shield to protect herself from a volley of Quick Boomerangs, and when Break Man leapt aside to evade the Gemini Laser, she slid forward and engaged Top Spin, using its remaining energy to smack Break Man into the floor.

“Wily’s only using you,” Roll said.  “Can’t you see that?”

“Of course I can,” Break Man said.  “But it doesn’t change facts.  If it weren’t for him, I would’ve gone inactive...buying him time to escape is the least I can do.”

He swept the room with his laser cannon, forcing Roll to slide under it.  She almost ran directly into a line of Bubble Lead shots, but she managed to tumble clear, shooting a charge shot as she came up.  Break Man blocked and stepped out to hurl Quick Boomerangs, only to find that Roll was ready: she fired her Air Shooter, blowing the projectiles off-course as well as catching Break Man’s shield, not managing to rid him of the weapon but at least shaking his grip on it.  She followed with another charge shot, Break Man saved only by a timely Leaf Shield. Roll used Atomic Fire to incinerate the leaves when they came at her, and then noticed Break Man equipping Time Stopper, hastily doing the same.  The castle froze around them as Roll ran in, firing constantly to keep Break Man pinned down and unable to attack.  Ultimately, her lack of weapon energy came back to bite her, and Break Man was suddenly behind her to land a hit with Metal Blade.

“Stop already!” Roll said.  “This is pointless!  Just come back with us, Blues!  If you don’t want Dr. Light to repair you, then fine, but at least give him a chance to clear things up!”

“Why would he want me back when he has the two of you?” Break Man said, arming Crash Bomber.  “You’re both exactly what he wants you to be--not ‘defective’ like I am!”

Roll ducked and returned fire with her buster. “You don’t get it at all!  Of course Dr. Light still cares about you: even under the circumstances, he was overjoyed to see you again!  You couldn’t even see that?”

Break Man hid behind his shield.

“And you think I’m ‘exactly what he wants me to be’? He was dead-set against letting me fight!  If he had it his way, I never would have been weaponized in the first place!  But I convinced him anyway, and it’s not like he stopped loving me just because I’m not doing what I was built for!”

Firing her last Gemini Laser, Roll circled around her foe.  Break Man stayed on the defensive, keeping his shield between them.  Roll threw a series of Quick Boomerangs, aiming them so that they would arc around Break Man’s shield from multiple angles--he leapt back, tucking his shield in to fit it through the assault, and Roll took the opportunity to fire a Spark Shock.  It only stunned him for a brief moment, but that was long enough for the Gemini Laser to close in on him at last.  She blew him back with Air Shooter until he got his shield back up, and then paused.

“He just wants to ‘fix’ me,” Break Man muttered. “He’s convinced I’m broken at my most fundamental level.  I can’t trust someone like that.”

“Dr. Light only wants to help you,” Roll said. “Maybe he didn’t understand the way you would think about this.  But if you explain how you feel to him, he won’t force his way on you.  He’s not the sort of person you think he is.”

Break Man remained behind his shield.  A strange sound prompted Roll to look up: through a gap in the collapsing ceiling, she could see a saucer-like craft rising into the sky.

“Wily…”

“Just let him go, Roll.”

“He’s dangerous!  If I don’t stop him, he’ll hurt more people, and more robots too! Do you want that on your conscience?”

Break Man’s armor shifted as he equipped Metal Blade. “I uninstalled that long ago.”

Roll summoned a Leaf Shield, but the saw blade slipped through an opening and cut her arm.  Huffing, she said, “Seriously?!”

A shot of Atomic Fire came next.  Roll dodged and slid forward, summoning a Quick Boomerang to her hand as she leapt onto Break Man’s shield.  She jammed the weapon into the glass-covered slit on the shield, chipping away a small portion of it before Break Man pushed forward in an attempt to shake her off.  Roll slid to the side, getting behind her opponent, and unloaded her remaining Quick Boomerangs into him.

“Are you really okay with this, Blues?”

Break Man set his shield back up quickly, crouching behind it without saying a word.

“Answer me!”

She pelted his shield with a stream of buster shots. An especially massive tremor struck the castle, dislodging a massive chunk of wall directly above Roll; she tried to escape as soon as she noticed it, but it didn’t look like she would have enough time.  To her surprise, a shot of Atomic Fire hit the rubble, blasting it apart into harmless pebbles.  She turned back to Break Man, who was already pulling back behind his shield.

“…Wily’s gone,” he said.  “My debt’s repaid.  What happens between you and him now is none of my business.”

The castle began to grow still.  Roll said, “Looks like Rock managed to deactivate the self-destruct, too...”

Break Man slung his shield across his back and turned to leave.  “We’re done here.”

“Wait.”

He stopped.

“...Is there any way I can convince you to come back with me?  Just to talk to Dr. Light?”

Break Man clenched his fists.  “I can’t.  You...you might be right.  But I’m not ready to take that chance.”

Roll’s gaze fell.  “Alright.  If that’s the case, I won’t force you.  But...when you are ready, we’ll be waiting for you.  You’ll always be welcome, Blues.”

He looked over his shoulder at her.  Then, he equipped the Time Stopper, and in the next instant he was gone.

***

The scant sounds of the repair equipment echoed weakly off the walls of the sub-level chamber of Light Labs.  Guts Man and Fire Man, now back on their feet, busied themselves with clearing away the remaining rubble, while LaLinde continued to work on Elec Man with help from Tempo and Rock.  Light was just finishing his examination of Roll, and she had just finished filling him in on what had transpired at Wily’s castle. The old scientist had a distant look in his eye that she couldn’t quite identify.

“So that’s why he ran away,” Light said. “I’m such a fool...why couldn’t I see it?  I was treating him only as a robot to be tuned up.  No wonder he came to despise me so.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t bring him back,” Roll said. “I tried my best.”

Light shook his head.  “The fault isn’t yours, Roll--if anything it’s mine.  It sounds like you were able to get through to him, and you’ve certainly opened my eyes.  For now, all we can do is hope.  It’s just as you said: he’ll always be welcome.”

Roll hopped down from the bench, following Light across the floor to where Elec Man was being repaired.  “Is there anything we can do for him?  Keeping him active during system repairs is something I don’t think I could do…”

“Indeed, I don’t think I could stomach it either.” He stroked his beard.  “I’ve been approaching this all wrong.  Rather than trying to change the way he is, I should figure out how to assist his current way of functioning.  Hm, what’s the best way to go about that…”

LaLinde rose to her feet as they came near.  Elec Man, now with a crude shell of steel wrapped around his once-exposed back, sat up slowly.

“That’s all we can do for now,” LaLinde said. “It’ll last him until we can get the new parts made and installed.”

“Thank you, doctor,” he said.  “Am I able to assist in cleanup in this state?”

“Sure, just don’t strain yourself.  No heavy lifting or high voltage.”

He nodded.  Standing, he faced Roll, who said, “I’m glad you’re alright, Elec Man. Those Crash Bombs are no joke!”

“Indeed…”  Elec Man glanced at Rock briefly.  “I think I’ll make myself useful, but, er...would we be able to speak later? There was something I wanted to ask you about.”

“Huh?  Oh, of course.  Whenever you’re ready.”

Elec Man departed, and LaLinde crossed her arms with a sigh.  “Well...guess we should prepare ourselves for whatever Wily cooks up next.  Do you want to try building another Gamma?”

Light scanned the broken scaffolding.  “I don’t think that’s an option.  Those components were expensive, especially the Energy Elements--it’ll be some time before we’re able to replace them.”

“Don’t worry,” Roll said.  “When he does show his face, Rush and I will bring him in!”

“Isn’t that what he’s counting on, though?” Rock said. “I’m sure he’ll be ready for you.”

“Ready or not, I won’t let him win.  I’ll find a way to stop him, no matter what it takes.”

Tempo shifted her weight.  “...How can you be so sure, Roll?  You can’t prepare for everything on your own.  Even you have limits.”

“She won’t be alone,” Light said, setting a hand on Roll’s shoulder.  “She has all of us supporting her.  As long as we each do our best, we’ll be able to overcome whatever Wily throws our way.”

Roll gave a nod.  She didn’t expect it to be easy for any of them.  But she had accepted that this was her future now, and with luck, the strength she drew from that would be enough to see her through it.

[rotten-whispers]

Trump Card - short story

This piece was written directly before the 2020 presidential elections, but has no affiliation to any political leaders of any kind. . . Nor was it written out of humorous anxiety or political parody, all of that is simply a coincidence of course.

(Also available on wattpad, link in bio)

The year is 2116, and you have just sat down to watch the news.

Hopefully, of course. Because there hasn't been any good news in a very long time. The world has gone downhill in the past 100 years, people have said. And now it's a caricature of what it used to be, ripened by catastrophe and apocalyptic apathy in every corner of the globe.

You sip your coffee and wait.

The news will come on at 11am and play until 2pm, where, on the dot, it will be shut off. People should not be over encumbered by disaster, the news stations were told. Our country should only have to stomach it for a few hours every day.

You've never cared very much for the news yourself, of course, because it isn't very interesting. All of the suffering is so overdone, honestly, you've seen it all in the past 30 years that you've been around. Plague, war, environmental catastrophe, attempted alien invasion, progress toward time travel – pish, posh, uninteresting! What new disaster could ever hope to capture your attention? They were fighting a losing battle.

But still you watch the news, because there isn't anything else on right now. Plus, the presidential elections are coming up, and perhaps there will be something interesting there.

All sorts of candidates have appeared in the past 100 years, but they've all been eerily similar. All with the same unprofessional, almost childish ignorance. They have all had the same taste in fashion, and the same swirl of golden hair.

How odd, you and the rest of the world thought. I wonder if these people could be related.

Every year, one of these people would win, too, but every year, there was still a fool who would try to run against them. A poor fool, growing ever more desperate, who would rant and pull their hair and emphatically struggle to get the country to just once, god, just once vote for the other party.

Never any dice, of course. And so the clonal line would continue to win, year after year, and the world shrugged its shoulders and said well, you voted for him, cannot help you there, sorry.

The problem was, you don't believe that you did vote for him -- you didn't vote at all in the last election. Or the one before that, or the one before that. And the one before that? Then, you did, but you definitely voted for the other party.

The poor woman, dressed in blue, who turned directly to the cameras and begged your country to vote for somebody else.

"Not even me," She had said. "Just anybody but him again!"

So you had voted for her. And so had all of your friends, and your friends' friends, and their friends, and everybody that you had ever met. All of you voted for the frantic lady in blue, because you felt that she was right.

Those people did win every year, come to think of it. Perhaps it was time for a change.

But still one of them won. And still they laughed, wearing the same triumphant smirk that your country had become accustomed to, as the frantic lady shook her head and shouted: "What is wrong with you people?!"

That was the last year that you or anybody that you knew had voted. Now even the act of signing the ballot was a waste of time, because our fate was sealed long before the numbers would even be counted.

And this strange line of people, all with identical faces, all with identical heads of strange, golden hair – which had to be toupees, of course, because they looked so unbelievably false – they continued to rule.

And you continued to watch the debates, with a shrug for the other side, who never once gave up trying.

But there is always the hope that this year will be different.

You really, genuinely pray that it will be, because things really seem to be getting worse. The amount of caffeine in your "coffee" is negligible at this point -- hell, the amount of coffee in your coffee is negligible at this point! And don't even mention chocolate. You had dreams of chocolate, the forbidden crop from the dying rain forest. Every year, for your birthday, you scrounged up enough money to buy a single square, and by god did you cherish it. It was a bittersweet reminder of how the world used to be, a hundred years ago.

At least now, however, there were plenty of things to watch on Tv. Plenty of drama to keep yourself occupied.

When the news begins, you eagerly settle down into your favorite chair.

Saturday mornings, a wonderful time to catch up on the rest of the world. It was the perfect escape from the dreary office in which you worked, toeing the line hour after hour, trying to reach that sweet 10pm when you would be released. The new work day was 8am – 10pm, or hadn't you heard? We have to break our backs to afford air conditioning, of course, because the globe has gotten so unbelievably hot as of late.

That was the first story that you sat through, bored to tears almost immediately. Bored of the weatherman as he predicted another record high temperature.

"Wow, and we are going to be at triple digits for our record fifth month in a row! This is truly an unbelievable event!" He said, nearly word for word as his announcement last week. You change the channel.

This one is delivering an update on the plague. It has gotten worse, of course, as it does every week.

"In these troubling times we ask that you keep faith in our government, which is taking every possible precaution." The man said. His words were immediately interrupted by a commercial, advertising a new theme park which had opened in Oklahoma, and which promised a 10% discount to anyone who bought a group pass for the new season.

"You won't regret it!" Chittered the tv. "Nobody has ever regretted having fun!"

That's the usual entourage of disaster, you think. The world always ends the same way, and it does so about five times a month. You flip to the next channel.

Don't worry, they always said, we have everything under control. And then there would be an update with more bad news, and so the cycle would repeat. Sometimes the news felt more like a punishment than a privilege, these days.

But still, there is something that keeps you glued to your seat, the remnants of caffeine racing through your veins. You desperately want to find something new, something to distract yourself from the dreary world outside your doors. Because this is your day off, and you feel that you deserve a break.

Eventually, just before 2pm, on a research channel that you or hardly anyone ever watches, you find your distraction.

"A strange new discovery has been made that promises to change the course of history forever!" The woman on screen says, excitedly. "Dr. Dire, an entomologist has come all the way from South America to talk to us today about a strange little bug! Dr. Dire, what do you have for us?"

Coolly, a man appears. "Thank you, Miss Waters. My research crew and I have discovered a very unusual new form of parasitism that we have never quite encountered before. Have you ever heard of Ophiocordyceps unilateralis?"

"No," The announcer says. "No, I can't say that I have."

"Well, it's more commonly known as the zombie ant fungus. It's a parasite that penetrates the exoskeleton of ants, using them as a tool for reproduction. Essentially, this fungus changes the ant's behavior by forcing the host to climb to the top of a leaf or stem and permanently clamp its mandibles on the plant. Then the fungus will develop a stalk from the ant's head, releasing spores and mummifying its prey."

"That sounds horrifying! And this mind control fungus is what you wanted to talk to us about?"

"No, no." Now his cool attitude shatters, for a moment, filled with scientific intrigue. "I am here today to talk to you about Megalopyge opercularis, the southern flannel moth. Because we have just proven that as a caterpillar, this species is capable of the same complex parasitism and mind control as the zombie ant fungus. And from our experiments, depending on the host of the caterpillar, the lifespan may increase severely as well. We're looking at 30, maybe 40 years of parasitism! While an oblivious host is completely overtaken and used for this insect's needs, unable to communicate, cry, or even scream for help."

"Scream?" The woman repeats, with a laugh, but his eyes are serious when they train onto her.

"Yes, scream, because this creature can parasitize humans as well. We had an accident in the lab," He leans in closer to the camera, suddenly very, darkly serious. "One of our researchers, his suit broke. And this caterpillar crawled on top of him, pinning itself to the top of his skull. We heard him scream, from the horrible stinging hairs -- but we weren't able to reach him in time."

"Did he die?" Both you and the woman are completely enthralled.

"Oh, no," Dr. Dire says. "He was perfectly fine. Or so we thought. . . until a week later, when we discovered that his personality had almost completely changed. He had always been very. . . progressive," The scientist looks uncomfortable. "But now he was almost like. . . Like a caricature of himself."

Dr. Dire narrows his eyes. "My friend had become a completely different person overnight, and we could not find a reasonable explanation for his behavior. . . I thought that it might have been stress, or trauma from the incident, until one day when we ran into each other outside of work -- outside of our protective suits. And then I saw the top of his head."

"And?" She leans toward him.

"And the caterpillar was there. All of his hair had fallen out and the beast was in its place, like a wig, like a toupee. It had become him, Miss Waters. I know that it had. This ignorant, sexist fool is not one of my colleagues anymore. He is not one of my friends. He is a monster and the entire world must know what this parasite is capable of."

"I'm afraid that we're running out of time," The host begins to say, with a smile, but Dr. Dire frantically interrupts, forcing the camera back onto him.

"Listen to me, this caterpillar can infect anyone! We have noticed unusually high populations in the wild, with a distribution that has overtaken most of North America. This creature is not suffering from the changing climate, it is thriving. It is almost as though each and every one of our catastrophes has been a benefit to this beast. It thrives as we perish!"

"Dr. Dire, please-"

"No!" He yells, slamming a fist down onto the table. "This thing has taken over our world! Can't you see? Our ruined planet has become the perfect place for this moth to reproduce. Our bodies have become the perfect hosts for its young to inhabit! And all of us are just sitting by and waiting while it makes everything worse!"

"I think that you're overreacting," Miss Waters says. "How could a caterpillar possibly make the world a worse place? Even if it can control its victims, it's just a bug, isn't it?"

"It isn't just a bug," The man says, and he buries his head in his hands, suddenly looking very, very tired, like he had not slept in weeks. "My friend has never expressed an interest in politics before, but do you know the first thing that he said to me, before he left the lab?"

She shakes her head and Dr. Dire gives a dark, desolate laugh.

"He said: "The elections are coming up. I think that I'll run for president this year."

Something about this story has started to deeply unnerve you, and you are grateful when the news finally ends.

Perhaps it was that horrible desperation in the scientist's eyes -- like a man who had given up entirely, because everything was already lost.

You need to distract yourself from the prickling discomfort in the back of your mind, so you scrounge up some rationales. This caterpillar cannot possibly be that bad -- the researcher was only trying to fear monger because it's election season.

In fact, maybe he was crazy – they always say that you can't trust science these days. Maybe this caterpillar doesn't even exist.

With the news ended, the presidential debates would begin soon. But you feel too unnerved to simply wait -- it's time to settle your suspicions once and for all. So you pull up the caterpillar species on your laptop, and start reading, as the Tv flickers behind you.

Megalopyge opercularis, also known as the southern flannel moth, is renowned for its strangely shaped caterpillars, which are covered with stinging golden hairs, resembling a badly made toupee. The species has adapted readily to the changing global climate, and is now very common in all areas of the globe, particularly North America, where it reproduces in swarms every 4 years.

Every four years, you think, checking the date of its last swarm. 4 years ago, almost exactly. Just a month ahead of the presidential debates, just in time for the upcoming election.

The feeling of discomfort has blossomed into full fledged anxiety, now, as you stare at the television, waiting for the debate to begin.

There is something horribly familiar about this caterpillar, you think. Something that very strongly resembles its golden hair.

"Hello everyone," The president says, as he approaches the stage with his usual grin, like fangs locked in a sneer. He knows that this debate is just a formality, because there is no fear of losing, not anymore. Not since the past 100 years, when his party would win, year after year after year.

You and the thousands of other viewers wait for him to speak, anxiously studying his form. Thinking to yourself that he really does resemble the last president -- and the one before that, and the one before that, ad infinitum.

You wait, and you watch, and eventually, you finally start to realize the source of the scientist's desperation.

On the top of your president's head, as with all of the previous ones, is a mop of wispy golden hair, completely and utterly identical to the parasitic caterpillar.

"Let's get on with it then, shall we?" The president says, leering at the camera. "I have a feeling that this year's election is going to be especially interesting."

[pinnithin-writes]

Good Jokes

Chapter 17

Benrey very wisely made himself scarce after that. Tommy wasn’t sure where he was or what he was doing, but he was grateful for the brief reprieve as he and the other scientists fought their way through another underground tunnel.

Gordon tried his best to lighten the journey somewhat by engaging the others in conversation when he could. Tommy was struck once again by his rapid-fire mouth, still able to speak non stop while going through literal hell. It became a comforting white noise to him, a gauge on how well things were faring as they picked off aliens and crossed more toxic waste. Screaming? Generally a bad sign. But Gordon asked him what his favorite TV show was when things were calm, and for a second Tommy almost felt normal.

He was having difficulty stringing words together in response, he was so tired. The arm still full of shrapnel ached. Tommy trailed wearily behind, letting the others take the lead and vent their frustrations by filling soldiers with bullets.

A deep, basslike rumble up ahead sent vibrations rippling down the hall. The hair on the back of Tommy’s neck stood on end. He had a guess why Benrey had suddenly vanished.

“What is that sound?” Gordon wondered aloud as they approached an industrial sliding door.

Bubby cocked his head, listening intently. “It sounds like a… like a dog?” he guessed.

He wasn’t wrong - this was the sound a dog would make if its lungs were the size of loveseats. It echoed fantastically against the metal walls in this tunnel deep within the earth. Tommy’s pulse kicked up, questions racing through his head as his teammates continued to speculate.

“A dog?” Gordon repeated, sounding troubled. “Oh, they got attack dogs? Oh, come on.”

Coomer was shaking his head, the grip on his assault gun steely and tight as the barking steamrolled over them. “No, no I don’t think Black Mesa has ever had any attack dogs,” he said.

“But, the military - I - we,” Gordon paused, contemplative. “We wiped out the military,” he reasoned.

The floor shook with the powerful bass of the sound. Tommy’s breathing was becoming irregular now as he shouldered his rifle. How had this beast wound up miles underground? Why were they all still standing around out here talking about it?

Tommy found his voice, urgency making his syllables thin. “Why I - that sounds familiar,” he said. “Open the door.”

Gordon shot him a puzzled look. “What? What do you mean, familiar?” he asked.

Tommy could only stare pleadingly back, unable to find the verbiage to explain. He needed to see for himself. The corners of Gordon’s eyes softened from their confused crinkle. Perhaps it was because Tommy so rarely asked anyone to do anything that he didn’t waste time waiting for a response.

“Hit the button!” Gordon commanded, gesturing to the panel. “Someone hit the button.”

Bubby was way ahead of him. “I gotcha,” he said, punching in the door code.

The barking persisted, rattling their teeth as the entryway slid open. An identical door lay only a few yards beyond, and Tommy’s stomach turned anxiously as they stepped forward. Gordon approached with his gun at the ready, the others following with some trepidation. Tommy felt sick. He knew that bark all too well. He’d know it at the end of the world.

Bubby unlocked the remaining door. As the steel panels hissed back, Gordon muttered an astonished, “Oh my god.”

He was here. Tommy’s brilliant, perfect star of a dog, surrounded on all sides by turrets. The massive beast sat in the center of the bristling circle of guns, coat glittering with starshine, eyes as fathomless as twin black holes. His paws alone were enough to crush a man, and his teeth gleamed long and dangerous. Sunkist swung his head in their direction and let out an angry bark that blew their hair back.

THOMAS. YOU HAVE ARRIVED.

A wave of relief rolled over Tommy, followed by a crash of distress shortly after. Sunkist wasn’t supposed to be here. Yes, the creature was immortal, but he was also intelligent, steering clear of danger like a good dog was trained to do. The fact that he was this far from home didn’t bode well, if the guns pointed at him weren’t already indicative of that.

Tommy felt his own voice rise in octave as he cried out. “No Sunkist, what are you - Sun - doing here?”

“That’s Sunkist?” Gordon asked. He sounded awed, eyes wide as he took in the sight of the two ton juggernaut of an animal in front of him.

Sunkist wagged his long tail in a powerful sweep. I WAS BROUGHT HERE BY AN INSUFFERABLE MAN.

Before Tommy could wonder who this insufferable man was, a rough voice called out from behind the circle of turrets. “Welcome again!”

Oh, christ. This guy. Tommy felt Sunkist’s rage run through his own body, an undercurrent to his very blood. The paratrooper from before was standing a healthy distance away from his dog, a detonator clutched in one hand. Even from this far away, Tommy could see that he was terrified, quaking in his little soldier boy boots. Sunkist barked again. He wanted to use Forzen as a chew toy.

“Hey,” Gordon answered loudly, crossing the threshold. “What are you doin’ to his dog, man? Why do you have his dog?”

“Let Sunkist go!” Tommy called over his shoulder.

This man was going to get eaten alive, in quite the literal sense. Sunkist was the perfect dog, obedient to a fault, but he could only fight instinct for so long, poised as he was like a cosmic bear trap. He could feel the beast’s  ire rolling off him in waves.

“What are they doing to that poor dog?” Coomer remarked.

“The fiend,” Bubby spat.

Forzen brandished the detonator in a threat. “Do not - do not come any further,” he shouted, raising his voice over Sunkist’s barking. “I’m the remaining - I’m the US military… left.”

Tommy almost pitied him, he sounded at such a loss. It’s possible he may not have taken into account all the dangers associated with angering an immortal, telepathic dog. Tommy suspected Benrey had sprung him out of the pocket dimension he’d banished him to a few days ago, but how the entity convinced the soldier to set up this elaborate scheme was beyond him.

“Gordon, bad news,” Dr. Coomer interjected. “There is one remaining member of the United States military, and he’s taken Sunkist hostage!”

Tommy frowned. Hostage was a strong word.

“He’s got us pinned against the wall,” Gordon agreed. “Okay-”

Forzen cut him off, ignoring Gordon to stare directly at Tommy. “Viens pas pres du chien sinon je vais le tuer!”

Don’t come near the dog or I’ll kill it. Tommy worried at his bottom lip, feeling Sunkist’s animosity crashing against his own. Did Forzen know? Had Benrey informed him of Sunkist’s nature? Or was this just some scheme the entity had put together to get his former best friend torn limb from limb, inconveniencing Tommy in the process? He wasn’t sure what to think. All he knew was that he was growing angrier by the second, stress pulling him taut like a rubber band.

“What?” Gordon called back, his voice confrontational and harsh. “Was that French?”

“Do you speak French, Gordon?” Coomer asked, inclining his head.

Gordon ignored him. “You speaking French, motherfucker?” he snarled. “Do I have to shoot you? What do you want?”

A flicker of Forzen’s old smirk flashed across his face. “Je vais tuer le chien,” he told Gordon unhelpfully.

“Gordon, this is French for ‘he’s going to kill the dog,’” Dr. Coomer intoned.

Sunkist rumbled the room like a generator as he growled low in his throat. I AM UNKILLABLE.

Tommy nodded sympathetically, his throat tight. I know you are, boy. His hands were beginning to shake. He balled them into fists and stuffed them in the pockets of his coat.

Gordon did not seem to remember this particular detail, either, keeping his aim trained on the soldier as he negotiated the situation. “Why - what do you want from us, man?” he asked.

“I am the remaining member of the US military!” Forzen reiterated, spreading his arms wide in some sort of sick triumph.

The sob that escaped Tommy surprised him. “Let Sunkist go!” he cried again. He was so angry. He was so tired. This week long nightmare had taken everything he had, and now even his dog was a part of the cosmic bargain. He bowed his head and sucked in a shuddering breath, blinking back the tears that were rapidly welling in his eyes.

This was so stupid. Sunkist was immortal, for fuck’s sake. He should just turn the beast loose, cut him free with a single word and let him sink his teeth into the soldier. It was what he deserved for kidnapping someone’s dog, after all. Stupid. Stupid circumstances in a stupid warehouse in a stupid facility in a stupid apocalypse. Stupid, stupid, stupid-

A warm hand squeezed Tommy’s shoulder, and he looked up to meet Gordon’s eyes, flooded with concern.

No words were spoken, just a fleeting exchange of expressions.

You good?

I’ll be fine.

Anything I can do?

I’ve got it, thank you.

Gordon nodded, released him, and turned a glare back on Forzen.

The emotional one-eighty of feeling so cared for and understood in the middle of such an upsetting situation gave Tommy pause, but only for a brief moment. No, he couldn’t let Sunkist dismember this mortal right before Gordon’s eyes - he had already seen enough gore and bloodshed for an entire lifetime. Use that big brain of yours, Tommy. You can think your way out of this. “Okay y- Okay,” Gordon addressed the man with the detonator. “You're the last remaining member of the military, but what do you - what d - what?”

As the two of them spoke, Tommy slunk around the perimeter of the room until he could tuck himself into the operating booth for the warehouse lift. Sunkist’s eyes swung to follow him, expectant. The creature’s hackles were still raised, but he was relaxing by the second now that Tommy was there. He wagged his tail, nearly taking Forzen’s head off in the process.

THOMAS. DO NOT BE UPSET. LET US ENGAGE IN A PLAYFUL ACTIVITY.

Tommy scanned the controls, wiping a tear track from his face with the sleeve of his coat for Sunkist’s sake. He was such a good dog. “Maybe later, buddy,” he murmured. He found the lever that controlled the lift Forzen was standing on and gripped it in his hand, waiting. His eyes tracked the conversation between Gordon and the soldier like he was watching a tennis match.

At last, Forzen presented his demands, once he recovered from narrowly avoiding decapitation. “Please dispel the rumor that Irate Gamer ripped off Angry Video Game Nerd,” he said.

His words rang in a good ten seconds of subsequent silence. Gordon’s mouth was partially open, brow drawn and uncomprehending, while Bubby and Coomer exchanged a perplexed glance. Tommy rubbed at his temple with his free hand. He knew fear made people say some wild stuff, but this was some nonsense even he couldn’t parse.

“Exc- what? What?” Gordon managed to ask.

Tommy threw the lever. He was sick of this guy. Forzen may not deserve to be ripped apart by a beast the size of a snow plow, but he had still threatened his dog and held up their progress with his inane bullshit. He could rot in the belly of Black Mesa for all he cared. Metal squealed against metal as the lift began to descend.

Gordon was in action as soon as he noticed the platform moving. “Oh shit, get the dog!” he shouted. “Get the dog!”

Bubby patted his knees and beckoned to Sunkist, which was a pretty funny sight considering the animal was twelve feet tall. “Come here, boy, come on!”

Sunkist turned his fathomless, starfield of a gaze on the prototype, unimpressed. SNAKE. I HAVE SEEN YOUR INTENTS, AND YOUR FOUL DEEDS WILL NOT ESCAPE MY JUDGMENT.

Tommy sighed while Bubby took a faltering step backward. It’s okay, Sunkist, he’s with us. He peered down the shaft where the lift was descending, raising his voice to be heard over the distance. “Let Sunkist go,” he called. “I hit the button!”

“I’m gonna shoot the dog!” Forzen hollered back.

Gordon vaulted up onto the catwalk beside the pit, hanging over the railing to get a bead on the soldier. “Oh shit, move, he’s still got the button for the turrets!” he barked.

Sunkist looked to Tommy for confirmation. He nodded, and the ground shook with the beast’s pawsteps as he stepped out of the circle, knocking over one of the firearms in the process. Coomer and Bubby gave Sunkist a wide berth as they joined Gordon on the catwalk.

Forzen had no idea what was happening up top as he sank slowly downward. He waved his arms wildly. “I’ll activate the turrets!” he screamed. “I’ll kill the dog!”

Sunkist’s black hole stare landed on Tommy again. THOMAS. I WISH TO DESTROY HIM.

Tommy shook his head as he exited the control booth to gain a better vantage of the situation. Not this time, buddy . Sunkist whined, and it sounded like the screeching brakes of a semi truck. He ambled back into the circle of turrets so he could peer down the shaft at his desired prey.

“No! What the fuck!” Gordon’s voice rang shrill across the warehouse. “T-Tommy, how did you train your dog - he just walked back into the turrets!” He took a step toward the animal, but Dr. Coomer flung out a hand in warning stopping him in his tracks.

“Gordon, look out,” he cautioned, “the dog is in the firing line of the turrets.”

“Yeah, he went back!” Gordon cried in exasperation. Before Tommy could open his mouth to assure him he’d be fine, Gordon returned his attention to the soldier growing smaller and smaller on the lift ramp. “Hey, up here, you're talkin’ to me.” he said, squinting as he focused his gaze. “Is that you, Forzen? You rat fuck? You’re-”

“Irate Gamer Chris Bores did not rip off Angry Video Game Nerd James Rolfe!” Forzen interrupted distantly, sliding out of view. “Goodbye!”

A perplexed laugh leapt out of Gordon. “What do you-?” he waved him off, giving up, and called across the warehouse to Tommy instead. “Hey, can - Tommy, can you just grab the dog-” but the rest of his words were drowned out by a cacophony of artillery fire.

Sunkist was the perfect dog. Immortal, resplendent, made of star stuff. He stood unaffected in the crown of bullets pelleting his coat, dissolving them in a flashfire upon impact. He was a testament to the cosmos, a splendid blazing canid star. A creature the Sirius constellation itself would admire. Tommy’s heart swelled with pride as man's best friend lolled his tongue out and wagged his tail through the sheet of gunfire.

Across the chasm, he could see the other scientists staring, openmouthed, at the animal. They passed a few stunned remarks to one another, but Tommy couldn’t hear them over the roar of the artillery.

“Sunkist lives forever,” he told them, shouting over the din. “I was just worried that - that would - would, like, trick…”

He trailed off, realizing his teammates probably couldn’t hear him. Sunkist’s jaws slavered with anticipation as he peered down the shaft at the soldier he intended to eat, paying the gunfire no mind until it finally died down. There was a beat of silence, and then Gordon was filling it with words again.

“Can you call the dog out of the turrets?” he asked.

Tommy paused, raising his eyebrows authoritatively as he addressed his pet. “Sunkist, can you move two feet to the right?”

Sunkist lifted his head and stared at him, eyes like the bottom of the ocean. VERY WELL. He reluctantly padded away from the turrets, nails clacking on the metal floors. Tommy stepped down to join him. This good boy deserved some scritches.

“Okay, he’s pretty receptive,” Gordon said, giving an impressed nod. “Alright, cool. Hey, I’m gonna go confront him,” he called to the team, steadying his gun arm. He plunged down into the darkness without a second’s hesitation. “Hey, son!”

Chuckling at the man’s fearlessness, Tommy tangled his hands in Sunkist’s soft golden fur. Some of the tension melted out of his shoulders as he pet his dog repetitively, feeling his heart rate slow as he let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. He needed this. Sunkist stooped down and sniffed the blood on his clothes with interest.

THOMAS, YOU ARE INJURED. WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS.

Tommy winced, remembering the shrapnel embedded in his arm. “I’m - it’s okay. They’re not a problem anymore.” he scratched his silky coat idly as he went on. “Why are you here? How did he find you?”

THE HELLION FROM THE OTHER REALM LOCATED ME AND LEFT ME WITH HIS INSUFFERABLE FRIEND.

So Benrey did have something to do with this. A sigh of frustration climbed out of Tommy. What was the point of all of this? Just to yank his chain? “Why did you go with him?” he asked.

Sunkist panted like a gale force wind as Tommy scratched him in a particularly enjoyable spot. I THOUGHT DOING SO WOULD MEAN FINDING YOU FASTER.

Tommy’s heart squeezed. ‘God’ spelled backwards really was ‘dog.’ He pressed his face into the animal’s fur, closing his eyes and wishing he was home in his living quarters, or at his father’s house, laying on the floor with his best friend. Pondering what he would make for dinner. Where they would go on their next walk. Nothing tried to kill them and nothing smelled like blood.

He ached with how badly he wanted this to be over.

Sunkist raised his massive head, pricking his ears toward the yawning chasm. YOUR COMPANIONS ARE LEAVING YOU, he noted.

“They won’t,” Tommy reassured him, pulling back to collect himself, and as he said it he knew it was true.

Gordon would never abandon him, and he was almost certain the same fact applied to Dr. Coomer. Bubby’s loyalty was questionable, but he would at least allow himself to be bullied by the others into holding back. It was a new feeling, one he wasn’t used to. Having friends. Knowing they were there for him.

They would wait up, but he shouldn’t leave them hanging. He tilted his gaze fondly up at Sunkist. “Let’s go.”

At the bottom of the industrial lift, Tommy was met by the others and the fresh corpses of numerous aliens. They were smears of yellow and green on the floor of what looked to be a storage room for shipping containers. Gordon was pacing the area and running his functional hand through his hair frustratedly. Tommy folded his arms and leaned back against a crate to watch him while Sunkist sat obediently at his side.

“Where’d he go?” Gordon growled. “He got away again. Fucker.” He caught sight of Tommy and his eyes lit up. Correcting his course to approach him and Sunkist, he flung out an animated gesture of agitation. “I wanted to shoot his ass for endangering a poor, sweet dog.”

Tommy found that funny, snorting as he tried to imagine Sunkist as anything other than the dazzling and dangerous creature he was. Gordon gave him one of those signature dimpled smiles Tommy loved so much before sliding his gaze up to the twelve foot beast before him.

“So Tommy, that’s - that’s Sunkist?” he asked.

“Sunki - yes.”

Sunkist studied Gordon critically before passing his judgment. YOU ARE A FOOL IN A MAN’S CLOTHES, he decided, addressing the man directly in his mind. Tommy didn’t miss the shiver of awe that raced down Gordon’s entire body as the message was received.

“I dunno, Sunkist,” he said, shrugging and grinning over at Gordon. “I kinda like him.”

The deep blush that colored his cheeks made Tommy’s smile pull even wider.

Sunkist wagged his tail good naturedly. PERHAPS THAT MAKES YOU A FOOL, AS WELL.

Maybe it did. That was fine by him. He’d put on the cap and the jingly shoes and do a little dance in front of a king and his court. There goes Tommy Coolatta, certified fool. His feelings for Gordon ran so deep by now that he was sure he’d drown in them if he tried to fight it.

Gordon reached out his hand, hesitated, and looked to Tommy for permission. He was still blushing. “Can I pet him?” he asked.

“Go ahead.”

After tackling his initial trepidation, Gordon got that misty-eyed look on his face that people so often did when they were petting a dog. He kept his modified arm at his side while he combed through the silky fur of Sunkist’s chest, his smile open and relaxed. God, he was gorgeous. He could imagine him petting Sunkist like that in front of the television in Tommy’s living room on a hot summer evening. He tossed the fantasy from his mind before he could dwell on it.

Instead, he tore his eyes away to address Bubby and Dr. Coomer, who were hovering awkwardly a few yards away. He inclined his head in invitation; they could all use a little dog therapy right now. The two of them, however, shook their heads. Perhaps the appeal of a handsome golden retriever was somewhat diminished when that retriever could eat you in one bite.

“He looks a little… too pristine,” Gordon commented.

Sunkist huffed directly into Gordon’s face, trying to look irritated despite the wonderful petting he was receiving. I AM PERFECT.

Tommy tipped his head in amusement. “Why, what’s wrong with him? Do you think there’s something wrong with him?”

Gordon faltered as he met the eyes of Tommy’s greatest invention. “No, I think - I don’t think he’s - I think he’s okay,” he stammered. “But, like… is this just what he looks-”

“Oh, he better be better than okay. This is - Sunkist is the perfect dog.” He patted the creature’s side approvingly.

Gordon opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again, struggling as he chose his words carefully. “He looks kinda like a JPEG, man,” he finally said.

Confusion clouded Tommy’s thoughts as well as his expression. A JPEG? Like, a digital image? He searched Gordon’s face, trying to parse his meaning behind the lenses of his glasses. Oh. Oh my god. His glasses were still broken.

“A what?” Coomer asked, while Bubby uttered, “Rude.”

Tommy stifled a laugh, wondering how badly his depth perception was fucked right now. “What do you mean, what’s a JPEG?”

Gordon could sense he was being made fun of, but wasn’t quite sure how, brow wrinkling in a curious smile. He withdrew his hand from Sunkist’s fur and gave the dog an up-and-down gesture. “He looks pretty - he look kinda flat,” he insisted.

Sunkist whuffed. DID I NOT TELL YOU HE WAS A FOOL?

“I don’t - I don’t understand what you mean, because I - it - everything looks like an image in real life, Mr. Freeman,” Tommy wheezed. “That - are you goin’ crazy?”

But he took pity and fixed his glasses for him with a gentle wave of his hand. Gordon blinked, removing the lenses from his face both to inspect them and to give Tommy a humorous, head-shaking smile. He pushed the frames back up the bridge of his nose. Yeah, Tommy should have taken care of that sooner.

Dr. Coomer spoke up, continuing the joke. “Gordon, did you know that our eyes perceive everything as images?”

Gordon turned to offer him a sunny retort, cutting himself off midsentence when his eyes caught something behind one of the shipping crates. He took off at a rapid clip, gun raised in a threat. Tommy exchanged a glance with Bubby and Coomer and they all hurried after him.

Turns out Forzen had been hiding amongst the containers this entire time. Why he didn’t take this opportunity to shoot any of them was a mystery to Tommy, and he pondered this passively as Gordon cornered the soldier, backing him against the wall with the minigun pointed at his face. The rest of the team clambered atop the structure, flanking Gordon and Forzen on all sides. Even Sunkist loomed his bottomless gaze at their target, the ruff of his neck standing on end with impatience.

Gordon tried once again to make heads or tails of the paratrooper’s insane request. “You want me to dispel the lies about Chris Bores,” he said, keeping his aim steady. “Who is that?”

Forzen, scared shitless by the collosal animal peering down at him with all the radiation of the sun, barely stammered out an answer. “Chris Bores Angry Video Game - uh - Irate Gamer!”

“What?” Gordon demanded. “I don’t know what that is. The fuck-”

“Youtube,” the soldier spat.

Beside Tommy, Coomer adjusted his grip on his weapon while he slanted Bubby a questioning look. Bubby shrugged idly as he switched out the magazine for the AR he carried.

“So you’re the last member of the military and you kidnapped his dog,” Gordon stated, snatching a glance at Tommy. “How did you know that was his dog?”

Forzen tipped his chin back to meet the swirling eyes of the animal he had placed in a corral of turrets. Tommy saw his face blanch to white as Sunkist spoke to him.

FOUL MORTAL. YOU SHALL PAY FOR YOUR MISDEEDS WITH YOUR BLOOD.

Forzen held his trembling hands up. “Listen to me.”

“Okay, I’m listening,” Gordon said. “But you’re at a loss here. You lost your advantage. I don’t know why you didn’t press the button sooner.” he paused thoughtfully before adding, “and even if you did, the dog’s immune to bullets.”

Tommy admired the restraint Gordon was showing. His own hands were itching to snap this cruel, pathetic little man out of existence, and Sunkist was beginning to drool. He couldn’t let his dog eat the soldier alive, but he could spatially launch him far, far away from them.

Forzen seemed to sense his approaching fate. “Wait, hold on!” he begged.

“What?” Gordon asked.

Tommy raised his hand, palm out. The soldier folded in on himself with a pop .

Gordon stood there, staring at the place the man had once been. He flicked a questioning look between Tommy and his dog, but Tommy kept his expression neutral. Gordon didn’t need to know what Sunkist would do to the soldier if he ever encountered him outside of this room.

“We lost ‘im,” Gordon finally said, numbly. “But hey,” he went on, “if he confirmed our suspicions, That was the last member of the US military. We are one kill away from wiping them out.”

Sunkist licked his chops. The team dismounted the crates and regrouped.

“How are we gonna handle this dog with us, though?” Bubby asked as he leapt lightly from his perch.

Gordon’s dark eyes were still a little wider than usual as he took in the beaming, two ton animal that had cramped itself in the storage room with them. “We do - we do have a - just a dog…” he uttered, at a loss. “He’s so big! What do you-” he looked to Tommy. “What breed is he, a golden retriever?”

Sure, something like that. Tommy gave his best friend a loving pat. “I made him extra big,” he allowed, smiling. “Big dogs are better.”

“I - I agree,” the man answered. “I love big dogs. But like. You ma - he’s huge!”

Sunkist blinked at Gordon. MY EXISTENCE STRETCHES FARTHER THAN YOUR MIND COULD POSSIBLY COMPREHEND, PEON.

Tommy tugged gently on the beast’s coat, drawing his attention. “Sunkist, it’s not - it’s not safe here,” he told him. “You need to go home.”

‘Go home’ meant find Dad. Sniff him out from wherever he’s hidden himself in the folds of time and space. Tommy needed answers, and he was tired of clawing around blindly for them in the dark. Get help. I need to talk to him.

Sunkist blinked again, slowly this time. AS YOU WISH. I LOVE YOU, THOMAS.

He was struck by a sudden tightness in his chest, a miniscule well of tears springing hot to his eyes. He gave Sunkist one last grateful pet, reluctant to see him leave. I love you too, buddy. You’re a good boy.

Then he flung a ‘go fetch’ gesture above his head. “Go, go!” he urged.

Sunkist bound upward, dissolving through the ceiling in a brilliant explosion of light. The science team shielded their eyes from the sunburst, and a millisecond later, the creature was gone.

Gordon dropped his arm and gaped, openmouthed, at where Sunkist had vanished. “How did you train him that?” he asked.

Tommy grinned with tearful pride. “Sunkist is the perfect dog.”

Chapter 16 <-----> Chapter 18