#as a spectator disgusted but intrigued by humans of course

[mihai-florescu]

Youd think as a hater id at least get along with other haters too but No a true hater is a lone sigma wolf

[wednesdaysgun]

stalkers and letters (wednesday x tyler)

To.. you know who you are. I don’t feel need to spell it out- figuratively or literally. Because of course you’re going to know I wrote this all for you. Are you aware of the dent in the side of my skull you’ve left me with? Are you aware of how often your voice collides with my train of thought before running it off the the tracks with the whisper of “come back come back come back come back come

DING. Thank you, whatever Demon heard her sanity slipping from so far up. Clearly she was reeling in her own thoughts and the Deity decided they were sick of it. God knows she was. This behaviour was beneath her, almost sickening to her stomach. Sitting up a little straighter in the squeaky chair, she readjusted the typewriter and continued. Not before looking around the room to herself. Her peripheral vision was never to be trusted, especially given the fact she was truly loosing her mind. Let alone his presence, it never stopped weighing on her. Playing tricks, as he always did.,

My point is, you know why I’m writing this. You feel this burning in your stomach the way I do, don’t you? This is no trap, before you begin to plot your averagely mediocre revenge you won’t carry through with. I mean it, about both of those topics. There is a bond that has been forged, and it disgusts me and intrigues me at the same time. Like the most beautiful blade stabbing through a jugular before it can be properly awed over.

She references the bond in question as her teeth catch her lower lip, until it punctures and slowly drips blood down her chin. It does not phase her, she thinks she can feel it dry on the pale skin in stark contrast. Maybe the scent of it will bring him closer. Out damned spot. How did he look nowadays? Was he more monster than human? The thought sends a pleasant chill down her spine. As much as Tyler was sweet, that was all he had to offer. Wednesday has never been one for a sweet tooth. Not to sound interested in the monster only, but the mixture of these two very separate entities created a specimen that Wednesday couldn’t help but obsess over. And that, is truly scary. She cannot stop thinking.

She wants to spectate his darkest horrors. Watch him sleep. See his eyes as he awakes and looks upon her, looking up to her.  She assumes through second-hand knowledge on such species similar, that when forced out of a domestic environment that a Hyde should typically reign in control of the host. Nature v Nurture, in some form. And looking at facts, nobody would willingly harbour such a beast. No friends in Jericho, or Nevermore. Not even his father would want to see his face. So why does she ponder on it so often? She should despise it, feel ill at the thought of him dripping with blood with that look in his eye. The twitch in his typically never-faulting smirk. She wishes she could pretend it didn’t send a lurch of something through her veins. She pushes on, refusing to name the rush.

I feel you pulling me. I hate to say it as much as you will hate to hear it but, I cannot be near you. Will not be near you, let alone return your clear displays of affection. By the way, I would appreciate it you returned the belongings you borrowed. 

Okay, even Wednesday was quick to admit that stalking was never a good  display of affection. It’s a bad trait even for her to admire. She believes he wears “I would kill or be killed for you, in a second’s hesitation.” very, very well. The thought of him, sitting all alone, watching her intently as his only form of entertainment was a good enough punishment, and sated whatever she still clearly felt for him. Knowing she was still on his mind somehow made her feel more powerful. He would praise her, whether she allowed it or not. But then he begun pushing. Entering her room as she attended class, smelling things, putting his Hyde-y claws all over her belongings. She felt the presence, saw when her Cello was a centimetre out of place. It wasn’t welcome, well that was what Enid heard of it anyway. She enjoyed he was becoming braver, but she would’ve preferred the danger toward Enid’s safety. She was on his List too.

I could have forgiven murder, Tyler. I probably would have enjoyed it if I’d have been given the chance to, you know that. But, what you did to Eugene was unacceptable. And for all things Unholy, you tricked me. As disgusted as I am to admit it, I was somewhat impressed. The knife wound in my chest that you have left is dreadfully infected at this point, but then again you never truly cared for me. Only what your Master required me for. It’s just typical, the one time I let my guard down. You will not be as lucky next time. Lesson learned, Galpin.

Yes, lesson truly learned. Next time a sweet, boy-next-door type begins to remember her coffee order and look at her the way he did and takes her for dates in crypts in order to steal and manipulate- she’ll remember to blow him up with the largest grenade she could possibly source. God- she’s still proud! This is what she deserves. The crushing torture, being so close yet so disgustingly far from her goal. From her possession. 

You’re probably the only person for me- and that’s the thing that’s the most crushing. Take yourself out of the equation and assume it’s literally any other person with somewhat murderous/psychotic intentions, and this would have been perfect. Incredibly so. But the facade no longer holds itself the way you could have held me. I am truly meant to be alone. If I ever thought of a way out of this measly problem- it could have been you. But this is His way, I must walk alone. Like Goody, to the dark hallway at the end of the tunnel. 

Her eyes feel wet- how strange. She hadn’t blinked, she was sure. That impulse to blink, let alone cry, was wiped years ago. It was unneeded, and how much do you think you miss in the blink of an eye? More than you’ll ever know. But that’s a different can of worms on Wednesday’s shelf. Goody was right, most definitely. This silly little dalliance she felt with potential romance was nothing more than that- silly. That was not the path paved for her, and since when had she been interested in staying on a single path? Love was far too committed, far too all-consuming. But then the question is poised, why was it so enticing?

When Wednesday loved, she loved hard. She loved Nero, took so much prides that the walks they took together faced him with his untimely death. She loved her family, maybe that’s why they were so off-the-wall. She loved Tyler the most though. The way she thought about him late at night was nearly surgical, imagining where she could take her scalpel to his skin. What colour he would bleed, if any blood emerged at all. How would he react to the blade, would he hiss in pain? Or would he whine, push into the pain until it mixes with pleasure and-

 Wednesday’s spiral into insanity was sure to be more timely, all because of some silly little Hyde. She didn’t even want to think about the Laurel of it all, him having a Master all that time. The fool had the sole of Wednesday’s boot destined for her fate- she just wished she had more time to be creative. It wasn’t something we wanted to expand on, once again so she didn’t loose her fucking mind, but she deemed Tyler hers. Her property, her boy.

Anyway, I must go, I have various other mysteries to solve and many other coffee shops to scout out since the Wethervane lost its interest. However, if you do read this, know my brother has an indescribable interest in Psychopaths but has worn weary of his discoveries of me. He says you’re welcome to come to our home, so he can discuss the topics with you personally. Mother and Father agree it could be good to give him a new role model. I’m backed into a corner. 

If you do show up to this invite, please know I will be waiting for it. For you. With my sharpest weapon, every poison you could imagine, and only the heaviest lust to see your head placed on our welcome gate.

Yours. 

Ripping the paper from the typewriters’ gasp, Wednesday wants to throw herself from the large window to her side and twenty feet down into the concrete sea of stone below. She’s disgusted in herself- then again, when isn’t she?

Looking to the window once more, a shadow slinks into the corner of her eye. Slowly turning her head, Wednesday discovers this shadow has a body. Tall, scrawny. Turning her intense stare upwards, meeting the glass panes, she sees a set of eyes in the fogged window. Glaring. Yearning. A look of undeniable excitement, and disconcerting insanity. There’s that pull again.

Speak of the devil and he may appear. 

[beyond-the-mirror]

Music of the Night (V x Reader)

Well this chapter took longer than expected! But it’s finally done and I hope it’s up to your expectations.

Tagging @thedyingmoon​ and @minteyeddemon​ since they were very interested in the concept of this fic. Please enjoy!

Warning: Child abuse, please read with caution. If this theme makes you uncomfortable you can skip the first part in italics.

............

Chapter 3: Songs of Innocence and Experience

“Gather round everyone! Come to our Freak Show and see! Bear witness to the most shocking collection of human abominations on earth!��

A rather tall man shouted at the top of his lungs, inviting the crowd into a rather dull tent situated behind him.

Fortuna’s local carnival was definitely not the most impressive touristic attraction the city had to offer, located in a barren terrain at the outskirts of it. The rides barely received any maintenance, small piles of garbage accumulated in some corners, and the stench excrement coming from the pet zoo impregnated the air. As unappealing as the entire carnival looked, it still offered the commoners a chance at having fun for a very few coins.

The announcer, known by the many staff members as Mr. Buoncuore, kept beckoning at the passersby, some of them feeling curious about what lurked inside the mysterious tent that housed the Freak Show, and paying him for an entry ticket. After enough people had gathered around to form a small group, the man flashed his rotten teeth. 

“Welcome ladies and gentlemen, prepare yourselves to witness our fascinating collection of nature’s most bizarre wonders. Please come in, let our tour begin.”

The inside of the tent was poorly lit, only a few lights worked and they hardly illuminated anything. Mounted walls divided the ample room into narrow cubicles where the “freaks” were showcased, at least the stage lights in each cubicle did function properly.

Unlike the jovial environment outside, the interior of the installation was rather gloomy and almost depressive. As the group was guided through the pavilion, they were introduced to the freaks displayed, which included a bearded lady, a pair of conjoined twins, a man covered head to toe in dark thick hair, and many more. Some performed small circus acts to entertain the spectators, others simply sat in sorrowful silence as they were being watched. Poor unfortunate men and women whose only sin was being born with a malformation, condemning them to be mere exhibitions to the morbidly curious side of mankind.

At the farthest end of the pavilion, a single cubicle mounted over a short stage platform and hidden behind a red velvet curtain stood out from the rest. Many believed this one to be the final and most important specimen in the freak show, and couldn’t wait to find out just what was hidden behind the fancy curtain.

Finally reaching the end of the tour, Mr. Buoncuore gathered everyone at the front of the small stage. Many whispered voices expressed their intrigue at the mystery behind the curtain. And soon enough, Buoncuore made an announcement.

“And now, we shall reveal to to you our final and finest specimen of our valuable collection. Prepare yourselves to be amazed, for this is no ordinary freak after all, one so outrageous that mere words can’t describe its cursed existence.”

The crowd stared in complete suspense at the cubicle. After a brief pause, Buoncuore continued with his speech. “I present to you, an unfortunate soul forsaken by God, a soul marked by demons themselves since the day they were brought to this mortal world. I present to you… Il Figlio del Diavolo! The Devil’s Child!”

Immediately the curtain was pulled up, revealing its interior. The crowd gasped at the sight.

A little boy, only five years old, was chained to the floor at the center of the cubicle behind a set of bars. He seemed malnourished, his skin a sickly pale color, and his long black curls were dull and unkempt. The infant wasn’t wearing a shirt nor shoes, only an old, torn pair of pants that reached bellow his knees. Several bruises and cuts covered his fragile body, some were already healed, others were still fresh.

However, what caught everyone’s attention were the deep dark markings that covered the child’s entire torso and arms. Swirls of black ink coursed through the boy’s skin, reaching up to his neck and the tips of his fingers in intricate and surreal paths and patterns. The ink had such a saturated color, an unnatural aura in them, it was obvious they were no regular tattoos; in fact, many swore they could see the ink actually moving on its own.

The sight was so surreal, so unbelievable…

“I-I-It’s a demon! A demon!” One of the spectators yelled at the sight before him. Other voices soon accompanied the first comment. “A demon has claimed this boy!” “That child is not human!”

Uncertainty and confusion took over the small crowd at the sight before them. They pointed at the boy, looked at him in utter disgust, mocked him, whispered profanities and insults at his tiny figure.

And yet the child simply laid still where he was chained with a vacant stare, the spark in his green eyes long lost.

Empty eyes, devoid of any hope.

“Take this you monster!” a teen member of the group picked up a pebble from the dirty ground and threw it at the imprisoned child, hitting him on his head and making him flinch. And soon enough, the rest joined the teen, throwing pebbles at the poor creature, who simply retreated back as far as his shackles permitted and curled up on the ground. Although most of the pebbles couldn’t reach him thanks to both the distance he kept and the bars blocking him, a few still managed to hit their target, leaving another set of cuts and small wounds on his already scarred skin.

The crowd continued their assault relentlessly while Buoncuore simply observed the scene in amusement, his fingers tapping at the handle of the silver cane he always carried pridefully with him.

Tears started to run down the child’s soft face, whimpers shaking his minute body.

“I-I’m not… I-I-I’m not a monster… P-Please stop… I b-beg you…”

He prayed for salvation, for mercy. Every single day, he prayed and prayed…

… But nobody came to save him.

............

His eyes shot open, heavy pants leaving his lungs in a desperate attempt to recover oxygen, a thin layer of sweat covered his face and body making his skin glisten in the dim light of his chamber.

The man sat up on the mattress to try and compose himself, taking deep breaths to calm his racing heart. He ran a hand through his ebony locks, a habit he regularly did when feeling anxious in general.

It was merely a nightmare. One he wished he could forget, but kept coming back to haunt no matter how much he tried.

After a few minutes passed and his body finally relaxed, giving him the chance to stand up from his bed and lightly stumble towards the bathroom. Finding purchase in the old porcelain sink, he opened the tap, letting out a sigh of relief when a stream of clean fresh water managed to come out of it. At least the well that provided for the house hasn’t dried up yet to his fortune.

The man proceeded to wash his face and hair, hoping that the cold water could give him at least a sense of tranquility from the turmoil his unsavory dream caused in him.

Closing the tap, the man looked up and stared at his own reflection in the mirror in front of him. The ethereal markings on his partially nude body greatly contrasted with the almost sickly pale skin, looking almost alive as if the were made of slithering wisps of smoke and ashes. Rising a hand towards his face, he once again slicked his hair back, examining the now uncovered part of his visage. New lines had begun to appear, where they would stop at his neck now they started to crawl up his jawline, through his cheekbones and up into his hairline. Some stopped right below his left eye, others seemed to have redirected towards the bridge of his nose.

This new changes were not unusual though. It had been a long time since the lines had last developed after all.

What would happen if they managed to cover his entire face? He didn’t know. All he knew was that the markings will not stop growing. All he knew was that, although he was indeed intrigued by this phenomenon,

a voice deep inside his head assured him… he would not like the answer at all.

............

“We are starting with ‘Lo vidi e ’l primo palpito’. On your positions now!”

Tech rehearsals had begun for ‘Luisa Miller’, the next play to be performed at the Opera. As the current choreographer and dance captain, Trish strived to make rehearsals flow as smoothly as possible. Major setbacks were inconceivable for her, and with a personality as fierce as a lightning bolt, no one dared to challenge her authority nor her decisions.

All the backup dancers and extras took their respective places, their blocking already approved and stablished with no further changes. Meanwhile, Madame Carlotta beckoned her assistants to fetch her prop bouquet and apply some throat spray to her before starting a few vocal warm-ups. After readying herself, she signaled for the maestro to start the aria.

“Non temer: più nobil spirto, alma più calda di virtù non mai vestì spoglia mortal. M'amò! l'amai!”

As Carlotta paced around the stage, the backup dancers began their routine. You twirled around gracefully, perfectly following the path you were instructed to as the scene required. This was Luisa Miller’s, the main character, first aria. A serenade was brought to Luisa in celebration of her birthday, the townspeople gathering and dancing joyfully around her before settling down and letting her continue her song.

“Lo vidi, e 'l primo palpito il cor sentì d'amore; mi vide appena, e il core balzò del mio fedel.”

Once again, the dancers began moving, this time in line to present Luisa their gifts. Carlotta moved between the townspeople, bowing at each one and receiving her gifts. However, you noticed that her steps were longer than necessary, making her invade the blocked paths of some of the dancers. One misstep from her and she was suddenly right in front of you, completely oblivious to her current position. You tried to step out of her way but-

“Quaggiù si riconobbero nostr'alme in rincontrarsi formate per amarsi Iddio le avea in- AHHH!”

You moved a bit too late. Next thing you knew she had collided against you, which caused her to trip and fall backwards.

“Cut the music!” at Trish’s orders, the conductor and the orchestra immediately stopped. The actors and dancers looked distraught at what just happened, worry visible on their faces.

“I’m so sorry! Are you alright?” You immediately reached out and offered a hand to Carlotta to help her get up, but a quick slap against your palm was the only answer you received.

“What the hell is wrong with you?! Don’t you know how to move across a stage you amateur?” Carlotta screeched angrily at you while her assistants rushed to her side to help her stand on her feet. Some of the actors as well as Nico ran to your side as soon as they noticed how hostile she was acting towards you.

“But I was just following the blocking! I swear I didn’t mean to-“ You tried your best to defend yourself, you were completely sure you had been in your assigned space and you had even noticed how some of your fellow dancers had trouble maneuvering around Carlotta.

“Oh shut up you-“

“Enough!” Trish interrupted Carlotta’s rant, the entire theatre going dead silent at the powerful tone of her voice. She calmly strode towards you both, a composed but stern look in her eyes. “What exactly happened?”

The moment you opened your mouth to explain, Carlotta interjected furiously. “This girl did this on purpose! She stepped out of her place and because of her mistake I tripped. It’s obvious she hasn’t learned the choreography properly, you must place her at the back of the stage right now!”

Before she could continue further with her rant, Trish silently raised her palm ordering her to keep quiet, then turned to you. “(Y/N)?”

Taking a deep breath, you calmly offered your side of the story “… I’m sorry Madame Trish, but I’m pretty sure I was following the steps correctly. I did my best to avoid running into Carlotta but I couldn’t do it on time.”

Trish acknowledged your words before stating. “It seems this was merely an accident and gladly nobody got hurt. Carlotta, please remember that your blocking hasn’t been stablished as of yet and that we could always modify it to grant you more movement and better avoid this kind of incidents. Alright everyone, on your positions once again!”

With a loud clap from Trish, everyone hurried to their respective places. However, before she could leave the stage, she faced Carlotta once more “As for your request, I’m afraid we can’t grant it. Not only is the blocking already approved, but these last seasons (Y/N) has proved to be an excellent dancer and actress, surpassing by far all our expectations. Now please return to your position.”

Carlotta was fuming, her poor assistants trying their best to calm her down.

At that moment, you began to fear that working with her wasn’t going to be easy at all.

............

Unbeknownst to everyone, the Phantom stood hidden at his usual spot in box number 4, his deep eyes watching over the rehearsals taking place at the stage bellow him. As the backup dancers started their routine however, his gaze was fixated on you right away. He observed carefully your graceful moves, your perfectly calculated steps around the stage.

You looked ethereal, beautiful, marvelous…

“AHHH!”

His eyes widened at the incident that just happened before him. The newest soprano had collided against you, her prancing around the stage careless and imprudent. You offered the woman a hand, only for her to swat it away rudely.

“What the hell is wrong with you?! Don’t you know how to move across a stage you amateur?”

Taken aback by the rather explosive words, he was suddenly filled with rage and anger. And the more he watched the scene bellow unravel, the more furious he would become.

He witnessed you trying to help her, trying to defend yourself from her cruel and harsh words. How dare this woman do this to you? You who were a marvelous dancer, you who worked hard to get to where you were now. Hellfire couldn’t compare to the wrath that was coursing through his veins.

“Enough!” The choreographer, Madame Trish as he recalled, stepped on stage. She calmly listened to you both, and rightfully acknowledged that what happened was only an accident and that it definitely wasn’t your fault.

Carlotta was left fuming, even though she requested for you to be moved to the back of the stage, she was denied much to his amusement. He lamented that such an awful woman had to be hired as the lead singer, especially since the former one was wonderfully skilled and kindhearted.

Letting out a sigh, the Phantom continued supervising the rehearsal in secret, wondering if this Carlotta woman would pose a threat to the success of the opera house due to her harsh personality.

One thing was certain though. If she dared to hurt you in any way, he would have to teach her a lesson.

This opera house was his sanctuary, you were his angel of music. And let God and Lord Sparda know, he was willing to defend both from any harm at all cost.

............

“I… I wish to show you something (Y/N)…”

“Huh? What do you want to show me V?”

The boy retreated back briefly through the trapdoor next to him before reappearing with a few objects in his arms. One was a leather-bound book and the other was a long silver cane.

He stood before you awkwardly for a moment, a blush adorning his soft cheeks, before sitting on a wooden crate nearby and patting the spot next to him, silently inviting to take a seat.

Once you settled by his side, he handed you his book. “It’s a book of poetry, an anthology of William Blake’s works. My… my mother gifted it to me. She used it to teach me how to read.”

Your tiny fingers gently traced the details on the cover. Golden lines and ornaments decorated the leather in gorgeous patterns, forming a “V” at its center. Opening it, pages covered in exquisitely handwritten letters and breathtaking illustrations were revealed to your eyes. You could see why V loved this book so much, both the poems and the drawings were absolutely delightful, not to mention that you now understood why V would talk in such a polite and proper way.

“V… this is so beautiful!” you smiled at him and he returned the gesture with a timid one too. Carefully placing the book next to you, you turned to eye the cane still in V’s arms. “May I see that one too?”

The smile vanished from his face. He hesitated a bit, but eventually handed it to you. It was splendidly crafted, its form elegant and the handle had many pretty and mesmerizing details. However, unlike the time he lended you his beloved book, he remained silent.

“Would you tell me more about this cane?” V’s eyes widened, his adorable smile long gone now and his eyes now expressing worry. “I… I don’t know why I have it…” he quietly replied. “The only thing I know is that it’s important for me… but I’m not sure why…”

He looked away from you, and for a moment you thought you saw a small tear forming at the corner of his eye. Quickly placing the cane on the box, you pulled V into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry V… I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry for making you feel sad.”

At first he tensed when he felt your arms wrap around his form, but soon melted into your warm embrace and returned the hug. When you finally pulled away, you returned him his book. “Let’s change the subject. How about you read to me?”

Taking the book, his eyes immediately lit up. “Um… I still have some trouble pronouncing certain words, will it be a problem?”

“Not at all! And don’t worry, if you have trouble with a word I can help with it if you like.”

Once again, his lovely blush decorated his cheekbones. You read together, taking turns with each poem. When you both reached one titled ‘The Divine Image’, V asked you for a little help since it contained two words that still gave him a little trouble.

You patiently recited the poem first and then let him repeat it again until he could get it right.

“And all must love the human form, In h-het… heathen, Turk, or Jew…”

Although he was very eloquent when speaking, V still struggled on how to correctly pronounce a couple written words. Still you would always encourage him to keep trying, that one day, he will have no problem reading at all.

“You’re doing great V. Almost there, you can do it.”

“Where Mercy, Love, & Pity d-d-dwell, There God is d-dwelling too.” He gave one last sigh after finishing the poem.

“See? I knew you could do it!”

And for the first time since you met him, V let himself laugh. It was such a lovely and heartwarming sound, one full of joy and innocence that you could never get tired of hearing.

............

In a dark, candlelit room, the Phantom sat in front of his desk. He was working on a particular opera of his own creation, a project he started many years ago and yet it seemed to be nowhere near completion.  Along the years the Phantom wrote many musical pieces, songs and poems, but this particular one was the most important of them all.

This one opera would be his Magnum Opus, his greatest masterpiece.

And once he finished it, he would finally consider his life accomplished and let the darkness take him away.

As his eyes skimmed through the page, he suddenly paused. His gaze turned to a leather-bound book on the desk next to his many drafts and notes. Picking up the book, he let himself rest for a while, opening it and reading its contents once again. The poetry and the illustrations in the book brought some memories back, ones he will always treasure with great joy and nostalgia.

His thoughts wandered back to you, his angel of music. “My angel… La mia angela… I promise to hold you and protect you always…

Just like you held me and protected me many years ago…”

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Flames of Desire

Chapter Two

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Dad!Loki Laufeyson x OFC, Astrid Laufeyson  |  Word Count: 4735 Warnings: fluff, smexy, angst

If there was one thing Loki was good at, it was patience. He had eons of time to live and learn and study, so rushing to judgment was not something he did.

In that way, he sat back and watched Alexa. He watched her with his daughter. He watched her with the team. He even watched her when she was unaware he was watching.

She settled in, grew close with Stark and Banner. She intrigued the Captain and Barnes for she was completely different from any woman they'd ever known. Lang spoke her language when it came to engineering, and Wilson hit on her without mercy only to be denied. Alexa called him Birdboy, amusing Barnes to no end.

She was friendly with Wanda and Natasha, but apparently more comfortable with the men. Vision was taken with her, her talented mind fascinating to him, and though he wasn't around as often as he used to be, Clint had discovered Alexa was proficient with a bow. Something another of her relatives had taught her.

But it was Peter and Astrid she bonded with, and Loki whom she teased.

He enjoyed the nights she had them over and was almost convinced she truly meant no harm when small incidents began happening.

Nothing malicious, just… interesting.

In February when everyone began making doe eyes at each other and preparing for the love fest the humans called Valentine's Day, Alexa retreated. She became reclusive, avoiding movie and game night, and spent much time alone. Her clothing grew progressively heavier. The sweatshirts and hoodies getting thicker and baggier until they hid her frame completely. She wore sunglasses on even the cloudiest of days claiming headaches and migraines plagued her and avoided physical contact with people.

But it wasn't until the day Daniel and Maria, both from research and development, two of the people making the biggest and most disgusting display of affection toward each other, got into a full-blown screaming match that the strangest thing happened.

Alexa knew them well having worked with them for weeks and was drawn to the fight no different than the others who had turned into spectators as the couple shouted at each other. After a moment’s contemplation, she walked between them and placed her hand on each chest.

“Petty disagreements mean nothing if you love each other. You do love each other, don't you?” Alexa asked, peering at first one and then the other over the top of her glasses.

Loki was certain he was the only one who noticed when the azure of her eyes glowed pink, for within moments Daniel and Maria were clinging to each other, apologies falling from their lips as Alexa pulled her hood farther forward and slumped away.

Then, a day before Valentine's, she retreated to her room and refused to come out. She was ill, she said. A fever and chest cold. She didn't want anyone else getting sick, so she locked the door and denied everyone access.

Loki didn't believe it for a moment, especially as he’d watched her rebuke three male callers and one female when they'd expressed interest in a Valentine's date only the day before by telling them she already had plans.

That night he waited until Astrid slept before cloaking himself and shifting himself to Alexa’s room. Being of two minds, suspicious and concerned, he used the excuse of checking on her welfare as his reason for invading her privacy should he, somehow, be caught in the act.

At first, he found nothing amiss until he inhaled and the scent of wildflowers nearly knocked him to his knees. It was heady, heavenly. Sweet and rich and intoxicating. It was like a drug and filled him with desire.

But then, the quiet sound of distress hit him, and he turned toward her bedroom. He'd sworn he wouldn't invade her inner chamber, that was going too far, but hearing her cry did strange things to his heart.

What he saw through the open door did strange things to the rest of him. Alexa was changed before his eyes. He could not see her face, but the tumble of flame-bright hair which usually flowed down her spine had become the pale pink of a maiden’s first blush and the silver of a full moon’s beam. A pure white shift had replaced the black of her clothing, and she lay curled away from him on her bed, sniffling and sobbing.

He hated it. Hated whatever pain had caused her to fall into this state and was but moments away from going to her when he remembered he was not supposed to be there at all.

Instead, he sent the smallest trickle of magic toward her to her to push her tumultuous mind into dreams, then left as swiftly as he’d arrived.

He did not see her sit up and whip around to scan her room with fear now darkening her azure eyes.

***

Once Valentine's day passed, everything returned to normal. Or as normal as could be expected in a compound full of superheroes. Alexa burst forth from her room, her hair the vibrant fireball of before, her smile wide, and band shirts back on display.

She said nothing about her “cold”, but Loki could not forget. He could not forget the sound of her anguish, nor the scent of her, nor the color of her hair. Not when he’d gone back to his suite and was forced to take himself in hand and relieve the ache in his loins like a youth of a thousand years.

He chalked it up to having been without a sexual partner since before Astrid became his life and not the sudden deep-seated desire he was feeling for the fire wench.

No. Not fire wench.

For Alexa. He could no longer hold disdain for her because of her abilities with fire. He was far too intrigued by her instead. But still, he had to be sure of her motives before he let these emotions get the best of him.

A few weeks later, he was presented with his opening. It was near the end of March when he found himself tasked with an assignment. Infiltrate a suspected Hydra fundraiser, upload a virus to the second-floor laptop, and get out without getting caught.

Child’s play.

But…

He turned to face Stark and Rogers. “I wish Alexa to accompany me.”

“Pardon?” Steve blinked at him.

“Captain, you know how I hate repeating myself,” Loki huffed.

“Why?” Steve asked instead.

Loki decided to be deliberately obtuse. “I find it aggravating when people do not listen the first time.”

“No. Why do you want a partner?”

He held back his smirk. “Because I do.”

“But Natasha usually goes when you need back up. Why Alexa?”

“She is unknown in the field and will not require a Halo, so there is less chance of discovery. What little tweaking her disguise might need, I can provide.”

“You hate having a partner,” Stark muttered.

Loki rolled his eyes. “You are asking me to walk into a black tie event without an escort. It will seem suspicious if I go alone, and I cannot be worried about maintaining an illusion when I am busy elsewhere, holding my own glamor, and dealing with your confounded technology.” He no longer had an issue understanding Midgardian technology, but he refused to allow anyone to know it. Complaining was part and partial to the fun of his job.

Stark looked at the Captain and shrugged. “She’s been itching to get out of the lab. Might be a good trial run. We know Laufeyson won’t let anything happen to Astrid’s new favorite person.”

Loki huffed a snort and walked away. “I would never allow harm to come to my partner. Even if that person were you, Stark,” he quipped.

“Ha! We all know you like me,” Stark called out.

Loki waved a dismissive hand. “I will inform Alexa of her involvement.”

“I can do that,” Steve offered.

“It will be simpler if I do it. We can discuss her role in the event.” Loki walked away without further comment, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart.

As the fundraiser was in Paris, they would need to leave early and be away for a few days. He would make arrangements for Astrid to stay with Natasha while he was away. But first… Alexa.

Loki made his way through the compound outside to the shop Stark had built to house the forge Alexa had talked him into building. The woman could do amazing things with metal and flames, but Tony had gotten tired of the fire alarms going off every time she heated something to red hot. This way, she could work, Stark got his hands on the fruit of her labors, and Alexa was happily playing with fire in her forge.

At the door, Loki paused and pressed the buzzer. She tended to send fire winging through the air, and he had no desire to get burned by walking in at the wrong moment. It took a few seconds before she arrived to pull the door open. Heat billowed out past her causing Loki to flinch and cool himself substantially.

“Loki. To what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked, leaning against the door jam and crossing her arms.

As she was in the smallest tank top he’d ever seen, the action lifted her lush breasts to swell above the collar. Her azure eyes were bright, the pleasure she took in her work evident. Sweat made her skin glisten, her tattoos colorful as always. Soot and ash darkened the flesh of her arms and that of her legs, bare below the hem of the tiny shorts she had on.

He’d once questioned the sanity of that action, wearing such little clothing to work in the heat and flames. Of course, it only amounted to amusement on her part when she’d rolled a flame over her knuckles without comment.

“I am going on assignment.”

“Ah,” she hummed and walked back into her shop. “Do you want me to watch Astrid while you’re gone?”

“That would be impossible as you will be accompanying me.”

She stopped dead in her tracks. “I’m sorry, what?”

Distracted by her legs, he hummed softly before finding her watching him, her brow arched in amusement. Had he been anyone else, he would have blushed for getting caught, but Loki was not so easily rattled. “The mission requires an escort. I need, hm… what is the term Lang uses? Ah, arm candy.”

This time both brows lifted as she gaped at him in shock, and apparently, some insult. “I beg your pardon?”

Loki flicked his wrist to cool the room as he made his way closer. “Did you or did you not wish to… stretch your Avenger wings?”

“Well, yeah. But arm candy? Loki, come on!” she huffed, pulling metal hair sticks from the knot which held her wild mane off her neck and sent it tumbling down her back.

“You may be playing the part, Alexa, but it is still a SHIELD-sanctioned operation. I need assistance, and I am asking for yours.”

She blinked at him for a moment before a slow smile spread across her face. She took a step his way and shook out her hair so it swirled around in waves and curls. “So you want me to be your arm candy?”

When she stood but inches from him, Loki shrugged, reached out, and lifted a handful of her hair. “I will have to do something about this, though. It is rather,” he slowly shifted his gaze to her eyes, “memorable.”

Alexa tsked softly. “Really, frosty? You think I can’t change my own hair?” She rolled her eyes and ran hands full of flames through it. “Better?”

Dark burgundy, nearly blood red in places. It was beautiful, but it wasn’t what he was used to. Nor was it the pale blush and silver of Valentine’s day. Again he took a handful and rubbed it between his fingers. “This will do.”

She grinned and spun away, her hair returning to the flames and fire of before. “So, where are we going? What are we doing? Who are we taking out?”

“We are going to Paris.”

Her face paled. “Why?”

She seemed terrified. Loki followed her and took her by the hand, disliking the look on her face intensely. “Alexa? What is it?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. Bad memories.”

They were more than merely bad. Loki could practically feel the fear pour from her. “I can ask Natasha if you prefer to sit this one out?”

“Don’t you dare!” she snapped. “It’s fine. It’s only a city. I will be fine.”

“Alexa.” Loki tugged at her hand and pulled her toward him. “Is there something I should know before going to Paris?”

“Nothing important.”

The lie rolled smoothly off her tongue, but she didn't fool him.

“I trust you will have my back on this assignment.”

“Of course, Loki. After all, I’m just there to look pretty,” she quipped and smiled, but it was sharp, and the scent of her fire and brimstone smoldered in his nose.

Again she pulled at him like she had that fateful Valentine's night. Before he could consider his actions, he took her chin in his hand and tilted her face up to his. “I would not ask for you if I did not think you capable.” She stared up at him with her mouth slightly open. “Your brief is in your room. Learn it. I will see to the rest. Be prepared to be gone for a minimum of three days.”

Loki released her face and turned away, wondering if choosing her for this was a mistake. He’d only taken three steps when he was enveloped from behind by her arms, followed swiftly by the contact of her body against his back.

“Thank you for trusting me,” she breathed against his spine.

He closed his hands over hers, a pang of emotions he couldn’t decipher aching in his chest. “Trust is earned, Alexa,” Loki said softly before pulling her hands away and striding out the door.

She had to stop lying to him to earn it fully.

***

Alexa started out the window at the view of Paris and the Eiffel Tower in all its splendor as Loki, looking nothing like himself, tipped the bellhop and sent him on his way.

It had been a whirlwind moment since late last night when they’d quietly boarded a private plane to jet their way to France for their mission. Once on board, they’d sat to go over the plan a final time.

They would be posing as a couple, Thomas Byron and Virginia Collins. Thomas was, apparently, an alias Loki had been cultivating for years, one of old money. He did his fair share of spending and philanthropy, at least on paper, and was known as generous but reclusive. Though raised in London to an early age, he’d moved with his family to America at ten where the family had been struck by tragedy, leaving Thomas an orphan, albeit a wealthy one. He’d grown up under the tutelage of nannies and bordering schools, finishing at Eaton where he developed his love for English literature. He collected books of rare quality, paintings of eclectic tastes, and traveled extensively around the world, working with not for profit organizations in every field from medical care to clean water.

As Loki had put it, Thomas was a good man but a bit of a bore.

When he did attend an event, gala or fundraiser of this nature, it was almost always solo, or the woman on his arm - usually Natasha in disguise - had a different name and face each time. This time, however, he wanted her along, and though she still wasn’t sure just why that was, Alexa wasn’t looking a gift horse in the mouth. She’d wanted out of the lab, and now she was.

The event they were infiltrating was one raising funds for clean water programs in Africa, but really was a front for Hydra financing. The big wigs and mucky mucks could donate large sums, and no one looked too hard at their ‘charitable donation’.

However, it appeared someone had been digging into Thomas’s background with a bit too much vigor, for now, Loki was under scrutiny in his guise. Too many of these fundraisers had come with SHIELD investigations attached when he’d attended previously.

Initially, Loki had gone in as Thomas, transferred his donation electronically, and SHIELD had followed the path the money took from there. This time, with suspicion already on Thomas, they were going to go in through a backdoor on Philippe D’Amour’s server. He was the money man for Hydra as far as they could tell, but he was too slippery to have ever done anything to have him detained. The best they could hope for was a surgical strike directly at the heart of Hydra’s funds.

If they happened to find other damnable evidence against D’Amour at the same time, so much the better.

Alexa would be playing the part of current fling to the wealthy English bachelor. Virginia Collins and Thomas had met when he’d arrived at her Doctor’s Without Borders camp in Uzbekistan, and he’d followed her home to America when she’d firmly rebuffed his advances while abroad.

Once back on familiar soil, she’d finally given in and agreed to a date with the charming rake. Thomas had swept her off her feet, and at the time she’d still been on sabbatical for a few more months after her experiences abroad, he’d convinced her to travel the world with him until she grew bored. Six months later, they were still together and flying into Paris to attend this fundraiser in support of clean water for all.

Still a little shocked at the depth of their backstory, Alexa had been flicking through her new social media profile created by Friday when Loki stood and excused himself. She’d been staring in awe at the life she wasn’t living when Loki, no longer himself, returned from the back of the jet.

He’d damn near given her a heart attack for she’d thought someone else had appeared on board. A somewhat tricky feat at thirty thousand feet above the Earth and somewhere over the Atlantic.

A short crop hair of messy gold curls had replaced his long dark locks. His skin had taken on a distinctly darker tan, and the eyes of green she found so appealing had become a stunning crystal clear blue, enhanced by the blue suit and crisp white shirt he now wore.

His quip of, “Close your mouth, darling,” had her teeth clicking together.

He looked hot. Scratch that for he always looked hot, but where before he’d been dark and broodingly sexy, Astrid’s incredibly good looking papa, now he was movie star - let me sweep you off your feet and make you moan my name while I screw you in my trailer between takes - hot!

Then he’d smiled, and it was the same as always, dispelling a little of the illusion and allowing her to breathe again.

“So, should I call you Thomas or Tom?” she’d asked, getting up to take a closer look.

“Either is acceptable, though if you wish to add to the mystique of our, hmm, relationship, you could always say you save Thomas for the bedroom,” he purred.

She’d refused to acknowledge the sizzle of heat in her belly. “I may just do that… Thomas.”

“You’re new clothes await beyond. Best get used to them now.”

He’d waved her off with a chuckle, and thus she found herself in cream-colored dress pants and a cashmere sweater in eggplant purple, wearing a pair of heels so tall she’d gained three inches, bringing her forehead about even with his chin.

When the plane had landed, they’d been shown to a waiting car which had brought them to the posh Hotel Plaza Athénée on the prestigious avenue Montaigne. Thomas, ever the gentleman, had assisted her from the car, tucked her possessively into his side, and escorted her through the doors of the Hotel with such confidence, Alexa would have thought they really were a couple.

There had been no waiting in line in the lobby. The manager had welcomed Loki as if he saw the God of Mischief every day, and escorted them without preamble up to their suite.

The Royal Suite.

It was an apartment with four bedrooms and four bathrooms each equipped with a Jacuzzi and a steam room. She’d counted. The wardrobe and two separate dressing rooms were bigger than her apartment back at the compound. There was a kitchen, dining room, and two living rooms, as well as the balconies which seemed to surround the entire suite, giving them stunning views of the tree-lined street and the Eiffel Tower.

It was beautiful but ridiculous for just the two of them to occupy for what should only be three days.

She tuned back into the conversation in time to hear Loki tell Marcel, the day manager of the hotel, they would require the Signature Eiffel Suite’s terrace for a private dinner that night, with pre-drinks in Le Cave, also to remain private.

Marcel flinched before nodding. “Time, Monsieur Byron?”

“Seven for drinks, Eight for dinner. You know the menu I prefer.” Loki dismissed him with a waved hand.

“When we heard you would be arriving so early, we took the liberty of setting out breakfast for you and the lovely mademoiselle on the terrace as soon as your car arrived.” Marcel motioned toward the doors closest to Alexa who peered out onto the balcony.

“How nice,” she said softly, smiling for both the manager and Loki. “I could use a coffee.”

“Merci, Marcel. That will be all for now,” Loki said graciously.

“Monsieur.” He gave a short bow and left swiftly.

Alexa stepped out of her shoes with a heavy sigh. “I thought he’d never leave.”

“Indeed,” Loki hummed.

She reached for the handle of the terrace door only to find herself pressed bodily against the window panes, Loki wedged up against her in a rather suggestive embrace.

“Are you really so thirsty for your coffee, my little yank, or could I interest you in a tumble before breakfast,” he breathed against her cheek. “I’ve been dying to have you again since the plane… Virginia.”

Alexa was halfway between seriously turned on and flipping confused when the false name registered. “Here, Thomas? What if someone sees?”

“Come now. Did I not have you on the balcony at the Peninsula in Chicago? No one noticed then.”

His voice was sinful, wicked and sexy in her ear, doing things to her body she hadn’t know possible. Alexa wasn’t one to get lost in the drug of desire, but right now, she could feel it pulse through her body like a lick of fire.

“It was dark then, Thomas. And my dress hid much when I sat on your lap.” If he wanted to play with fire, she’d gladly singe him a little. “Maybe you should take me to the bedroom.”

He growled, and the shiver it sent through her body was not contrived. “But which one, sweet Virginia? Or should we test them all?”

His hands were running up and down her sides now, snaking beneath her sweater and climbing dangerously close to her breasts. She whimpered and sucked in a breath. “All, definitely all!” she moaned and shoved away from the doors to turn and face him.

Hot hands went to her bottom and lifted her effortlessly. She wrapped her legs around Loki's waist and arms around his neck. His blue eyes were slowly turning green, and Alexa knew it wasn’t all an act on his part. He wanted her, really wanted her.

She buried her hands in his crop of golden curls and tugged, baring his throat for her teeth which she attacked with vigor.

He snarled a sharp, “Fuck!” and slammed her back into the closest wall where he dragged her hands from his hair and pinned them above her head. Then, he ravaged her mouth. There were no other words for the vicious attack of his tongue and lips and teeth, taking and drinking and stealing the air from her lungs.

He tasted like winter. Like frost and the snowflakes she'd caught on her tongue as a child. He even smelled of it, crisp, cold air. But beneath it, around it, through it, she could smell her own smoldering desire in hot flames and the crackle of wood fire. It made her think of winter cabins, snowed in with the fire blazing, while he had her on the bearskin rug before the flames.

“Oh, god!” she cried when he broke his assault to let her breathe.

“I got them,” he panted, resting his forehead on hers.

Alexa could only blink in confusion. “What?”

“The cameras and recorders. I got them all. Sorry, it took so long.”

“Oh… oh, right.” She felt like an idiot as she released him from the tight grip of his thighs and he let go of her hands. Her feet thunked to the ground when he stepped back. "All an act."

"The cameras are now under my control, and they will see only what I want them to see, but they are likely watching the hotel as well."

"I see." Her knees wobbled but held as she brushed past him on her way toward the master suite.

“Alexa?” he called softly. “Are you alright?”

“Fine. Everything’s fine.” But she didn’t dare turn around to show him the intense red of her cheeks or the tears which threatened. “I’m going to have a bath seeing as how we're supposed to be occupied for the next hour or so. Do a girl a favor and magic her some coffee to go with her bubbles, won’t you?” Especially as he was leaving her high and dry, clearly not inclined to finish what he’d started.

“Of course,” he said quietly. “Take an hour. Then we’ll go out.”

“Out?” she called, striding into the suite the hotel considered the ‘master’.

“Shopping. It’s Paris, and we are staying in the center of the French fashion district. It is expected. Besides, Stark is paying. So we will see and be seen, and play tourist as I show my lovely guest a good time.”

“Well,” Alexa forced a smile, “if Tony’s buying, how could I say no?” She shut the door to the bathroom and leaned heavily against it.

She was so screwed. Three days with the object of her affection playing the attentive boyfriend was going to kill her. Especially knowing just what kind of dynamite resided inside that sexy as hell suit.

“Shades of Olympus… kill me now,” she whimpered and went to run a bath.

***

Loki waited only until the door shut before turning on his heels to march into another bedroom and closed the door to his own bath. He divested himself of his clothing with a thought and stepped beneath the icy spray of the shower, but it was of no avail.

Once again she’d left him hard and so fucking aroused it took no more than a dozen strokes of his hand and the scent of her fire and wildflowers burning in his nose to have him spilling his seed against the stone wall.

“Norns take me,” he hissed softly. “She will be my death.”

He wanted her with every fiber of his being, but until he figured out what it was she was hiding, what lies she kept protecting, he didn’t dare give in. He couldn’t take it if he trusted her to that extent only to find out she’d played him. He wouldn’t survive the betrayal intact, and he must be intact to comfort his daughter should Alexa prove herself a traitor.

But Flames of Valhalla he wanted her.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever get the taste of her out of his mouth. Spicy heat and soothing warmth.

She tasted like love felt.

How was that even possible?

Closing his eyes, Loki let the spray wash over him and prayed it would return the ice around his heart Alexa had begun melting months ago.

Next Chapter

[tako-kola]

Battle of Assholes

((A splatoon fanfic, written by yours truely.))

((Featuring Arnick and Tetrox from @cafe-cardamari | @tamarinfrog))

((Taking a small break from re-drawing my OCs, how about another fanfic. Featuring Dewey and Arnick, duking it out. They're both assholes to begin with. As always, enjoy this fanfic reading.))

Arnick and Tetrox were shopping in Arowana Mall, again on a Saturday afternoon. Arnick was rather embarrassed after the visiting a women's underwear store. He doesn't want to be called a pervert, twice.

"C'mon, Nicky! Don't be such a grump!" Tetrox was snickering, while carrying her bag of purple underwear.

Arnick didn't respond to Tetrox. He was blushing, madly after he rushed out of the store. Sooner or later, he would hear whispers. Other squids might recognize him from Paradise Reef when he took a beating from a really pissed waitress.

Tetrox would cheer him up some more, but she heard a sweet melody. The music is coming from the music store in their direction. The purple octoling listened to the faint music with an intrigued expression on her face.

Arnick heard it, as well. He has good taste in classical music. From nostalgic songs from Mozart or Beethoven. He was no longer grouchy and listened some more.

"I know this tune.. Isn't that Moonlight Sonata?" Arnick asked. This song was one of Arnick's personal favorites.

"Moonlight-what now?" She turned to look at Arnick with a confused look on her face.

Arnick sighed and started to explain about this song. "It's a song, written by the name of Ludwig Van Beethoven. In human history, he's a talent composer and pianist. The legend still lives on to this day."

Tetrox was not listening to him, at the moment. Any kind of history such as humans, were very boring to her. Her face, brightened up with a toothy smiled. "C'mon, sugah! Let's get a closer look!" And with that, she grabbed Arnick's hand and towed him towards the music store. The music was getting, a bit closer. Several squids were watching the musician, playing Moonlight Sonata a electronic piano.

"T-Tetrox, hang on!" He cried, having his arm tugged away like two kids, fighting over a small toy.

The two, made to the small crowd of people in the store. Tetrox wanted to get to see the player. The person who is playing the piano was a pink inkling, sitting in front of the crowd. He was wearing a Classic Straw Boater hat and a Squidstar Waistcoat. Judging by his appearance, he's a 17 year-old high school student.

"Wow.. This kid is really talented.." He thought to himself. Arnick stared at the musician with a look of amazement. He'd admire a pianist with such great talent in music. Tetrox would share the same amazement as Arnick.

Once the song ended, everyone including Tetrox and Arnick were applauding. Tetrox was whistling, as she cheered him on.

The pink inkling seemed surprised on how, Tetrox acted towards him. He'd appreciate Tetrox's enthusiasum and bowed to the crowd. "Thank you all for listening. My talent is superb above all others, I know." He bragged.

Arnick stared at him with a blank expression on his face. He somewhat, reminds him of a certain enemy of his. The thought of Petal Splash's captain, Jonquil still disgusts Arnick to this day.

The crowd left the store, leaving Arnick and Tetrox with the pianist. Tetrox walked up to him with a grin on her face. "You play some nice music, sugah!" She complimented him.

"I'm honered to meet a new fan. What's your name, miss?" He asked. He was fixated on the octoling and not paying attention to Arnick who is standing, behind Tetrox.

"Th'name's Tetrox, sugah!" She extends an arm for him to shake. "Pleasure to meet ya!"

"Dewey. Dewey Berri." He would shake her hand, but he smooched Tetrox's hand and looked at her with a kind smile. "The pleasure is all mine."

Tetrox's eyes went wide, followed by a light shade of purple on her face. "M-My, my! Quite the gentleman, are you" She giggled, cutely.

Arnick was taken aback by the sudden approach from Dewey. It's not like, he's jealous or anything. But, it's bothersome to him.

"AHEM!!" Arnick cleared his throat to draw their attention to him. "I'd hate to interrupt, but we were just leaving." Sounding disappointed, Arnick pulled her away from Dewey.

"Nickyyy!! Don't be so ruuuude!!" Tetrox whined.

Hearing about Arnick's pet name, Dewey lets out a chuckle. "Yeah, Nicky. Lighten up."

Arnick glared at him. "The name is Arnick! Not Nicky!" He corrected him. He hated that nickname, worse than "Nice Ass". Whatever nickname it is, he still hates all of them.

"I know, who you are. You must be the Bamboozler that my team captain warned me about." Dewey leaned in further. He's very smug in person. "Tell me, Mr. Stilton. Grabbed any waitress's asses, lately?" Dewey also saw the video that Fynn showed him. It went viral for a whole year.

Tetrox couldn't help, but snicker like someone told her a really hilarious joke. Tetrox is the one who started the whole incident at Paradise Reef.

Hearing Dewey's question, Arnick was fuming. He wished, he could ignore the music store but he couldn't escape Tetrox's grasp. "Let me remind you that it WASN'T ME..!" He gritted his teeth, angrily.

Dewey seems to believe him. But the gossip is inescapable, today. "Whatever you say." Dewey shrugged. "So, what brings you two here?"

"We're just shoppin' for clothes." She still held out the bag of lady's underwear, which made Arnick blush in embarrassment. "After that, we're going to meet with Bella. Y'know, splattin' down every team in the Turf League."

Arnick cleared his throat. "Day after day, we haven't screwed up a single match." He proved his point.

"Of course, I've seen your playstyles." Dewey stepped closer to Arnick. "Especially, when you carry that dried-up plant with you. Pardon me for being blunt on other people's weapons."

"I beg your pardon?!" Arnick said, sounding very offended. "This dried-up plant is a legendary weapon! Unlike whatever weapon you use, this one is a fine work of art!"

"Unless, you have what it takes to prove me wrong." He stared at Arnick, face to face. Dewey is a bit, younger than Arnick. He'll mostly step to someone, bigger than him. "So, how about it? Wanna have a 1-on-1 duel?" He asked.

"But, where...?" Dewey pondered on which arena, they would battle at. With a snap of his finger, he got the ideal arena. "Ah, I know! How about, out there?" Dewey pointed out the outside arena in Arowana Mall. Then, he turned to Arnick. "I have to remind you, I use long-ranged weapons. You probably won't get close to me, on your own. But, it's worth a shot." He shrugged.

Arnick glared, back at Dewey. He can get closer to Dewey with his arms, tied behind his back. If he's correct, Dewey might be referring to a Charger. He stopped glaring at him. He extends a hand for Dewey to shake and he sealed the deal. "Fine, I accept your challenge. But, don't expect I'm going easy on you." Arnick still kept his unimpressed expression on his face when he looked down at him.

"Funny. I was thinking, the same thing." Dewey shook his hand, before letting go. Their faces were both in serious mode, while Tetrox was going to text Belladonna.

Standing outisde, Dewey was readying his Custom Jet Squelcher. He's going to keep Arnick at bay as best as he could. Dewey gazed into the middle. He felt a slight breeze through his tentacles.

"Who does he think he is..? Insulting such a legendary weapon... OH, the nerve..." Arnick was grumbling on the other side.

Tetrox was sitting on the spawn point. She bought some popcorn, before she went outside with him. "Well, he's not wrong. It needs some waterin'." Tetrox pointed it out, while snickering.

Arnick, quickly turned around and glared at Tetrox. His eye was twitching, slightly. "Who's side are you bloody on, anyway?!" He said, feeling more offended.

After making preparations, they were ready to battle one another. Once the referee blew the whistle, two squids except Tetrox rushed out of their spawn points.

The rules are as simple as Turf Wars but with a change. Whoever gets the most splats within 3 minutes, wins the match. Dewey made it to the middle, first. He did say, Arnick wouldn't get close to him. He covered the entire middle in pink.

Arnick was coming up from the left and spotted Dewey. "Think you can camp from me..? I'll have to teach you some ma-" As soon as he finished his sentence, Arnick was greeted by a Burst Bomb to the face from Dewey. Followed by getting shot from the distance. He burst into a puddle of pink ink, leaving his clothes and Bamboozler MK II behind.

Dewey had already predicted Arnick's approach from the side. "1 point for me, Arnick for zero." Dewey said, blowing the smoke away from the nozzle of his Custom Jet Squelcher.

Arnick rose out of the spawn point, gasping for air. He turned to look at Tetrox, who was still eating popcorn and spectating by the ledge. She saw the whole thing.

"Well, this Dewey fella ain't too bad." She used a pair of binoculars to see Dewey from afar.

"Grrrrrrr...." Arnick growled in annoyance and dusts himself off. "Fine then, Dewey. If you wanna play dirty.." Arnick held up his Bamboozler with a sinister grin. "I'm game.." He said, before heading back to the middle.

Dewey inched in closer to Arnick's territory. He made sure that he gained some distance, once Arnick heads to the middle. He'd soon notice him, before he could keep him at bay.

Arnick had been cleaver enough to strafe from Dewey attack. Even when Dewey tossed another Burst Bomb, Arnick kept strafing. This was the perfect chance to fight back. He fired a few shots at Dewey, until he was splatted.

Before he was splatted, Dewey realized that he was running low on ink. That was his mistake to not conserve his ink compacity right away.

Dewey respawned, afterwards. He looked, very surprised as before. He took Arnick for granted about his Bamboozler skills. "Touche, Arnick." Dewey nodded in approval before heading back. The real battle has just begun.

Tetrox was enjoying the view. She kept munching, happily until her bag of popcorn was empty. Her eyes were attached to the binoculars, while the two battlers were cancelling each other out.

Splats after splats, Arnick and Dewey were equal. The battle rages on for two minutes until they were tiring each other out. They were both drenched in sweat, after a ton of strafing.

Dewey stared at Arnick, catching his breath. "He wasn't kidding... Damn.." Dewey said, while panting. He's dealing with one of Belladonna's teammates. He can handle one-on-one with Arnick, but just image going up against the entire team.

Only 30 seconds on the clock and Arnick was no where to be seen. Dewey kept calm and readied up his Kraken special. He's saving it as a last resort, before the timer drops to 0.

Dewey kept searching for him on the left passageway to Arnick's spawn point area. That's when Arnick was hidding in a plant. He tossed a Disruptor at Dewey's back.

".......?!" Dewey was caught under Arnick's disruption. He could barely move at this state. He slowly, turned to see Arnick. His grin was very sinister, but it didn't faze him.

"Couldn't move, huh? That's too bad." Arnick said with a slight chuckle. He won't delay, too long as he aimed at Dewey. "Any last words?" His aimed, directly at Dewey's head.

Heh... Yeah.. I win.." A glint appeared in Dewey's eyes.

Arnick looked kinda confused by Dewey's answer. "I beg your pardon?" He'd soon noticed the glowing the tentacles on Dewey. That's the part, when Arnick's heart sank to the floor. "Oh... no..."

Dewey tranformed into a large Kraken. He's free from the disruption and able to move, freely. Since he's extremely close to Arnick, Dewey drilled through Arnick. Splatting him, instantly.

Tetrox looked thrilled, after Dewey's last second splat. She turned her back to the spawn point. She walked back to see Arnick, respawning from his point. "You alright, Nicky?" She said with a bit of concern.

Arnick looked at Tetrox. He wasn't angry, just... impressed. "I'm.. fine.." After that, the referee blew the whistle. The winner was decided and it was Dewey, who broke the tie.

Dewey stretched his arms, once he went back inside. The match was a close call to begin with. Suddenly, Arnick caught up with him. He must've ran to get to him.

Arnick cleared his throat and stared down at Dewey. He extends a hand to Dewey with a respectful smile. "Even thought I'd hate to admit defeat, but good game. You have my respect, already."

Dewey smiled and accept the handshake. "Thank you, Mr. Stilton. You've proved me wrong about your weapon. You certainly are the real deal." He'd hate to admit it, as well. In the end, it was a good match.

Tetrox popped in between the two. "That was the most entertainin', sugah~!" She hugged them, both.

"H-Heh, your girlfriend seems very enthusiastic." Dewey chuckled, feeling the embrace of the octoling.

Arnick blushed, deeply and shook his head. "S-She's not my girlfriend!!" He cried.

"Yeeeeah, suuuure" Dewey, smirked.

Tetrox lets them go and walked close to Arnick. "Welp, we better meet up with Bella and Cyanthia. Otherwise, she'll have our hide."

Arnick realizes, what time it is and he starts to panick. "Bloody hell!! We better get a move on, pronto!" Arnick grabbed her hand and escorted her out of the mall. Once he did, Tetrox waved good-bye to Dewey as she was whisked away.

"Take care, sugah!" Tetrox called out and they were no where to be seen.

Dewey watched the two, leave the mall. He reached for his phone and called Fynn. Once his captain answered with a tired voice, Dewey spoke up.

"Sorry to wake you from your nap. I guess, you have a reason to get beauty sleep." As snobby as he sounds, Dewey continued.

"I think, we should watch out for Toxink.. Arnick is one formiddible foe.." He talked with Fynn for 5 minutes, until he hung up. He found himself, a worthy rival to tangle with.

THE END