#black cell makarov

[x3no9]

FINALLY had the time to thoughtfully cosplay as Makarov as seen in the BLACK CELL content. I couldn't find the exact mask, so I borrowed Nolan's. I also didn't have anything that would create a black to gold effect so I'm all black-ops here. I am thinking the skin is def OG Makarov, but a little undead. Who wants to be my Yuri? I won't hurt you this time.

Side note: I most likely won't do any unmasked cosplay on the net unless I break down and do Graves. And just because someone was impressed with my eyes, this is how I do it: eye-black (standard kind) and then apply black eye shadow with a WET brush, dab it and it literally wipes a lot of features.

добрый день!

[siilvan]

bloodsport – I

prologue | next

characters: vladimir makarov

summary: day one of your imprisonment brings you face-to-face with the enemy.

genre: angst, slowburn, enemies to ?, fem!reader (callsign: petra, no desc.)

warnings: semi-proofread, cursing, canon-typical violence, minor descriptions of blood/injuries, light manipulation?, makarov fucks w/ reader's head (╯д╰)

word count: 3.3k

note: listened to makarov’s voice reveal while writing this and felt my brain chemistry change immediately <3

the first thing you notice after waking up is how uncomfortable the bed you're sleeping on is. the mattress is thin and bare, sitting low to the ground on a wrought iron frame that had seen better days. your body aches, muscles burning and begging for reprieve as you pull yourself up to sit. you carefully swing your legs over the edge of the bed and wince from the effort.

you're not in a hospital, not even a temporary clinic set up for emergency treatment. the walls are made up of weathered stone and brick, akin to an old prison built to withstand a siege, and the iron bars across the room confirm your suspicions.

you've been captured.

the air surrounding you seems to grow thicker, heavier, threatening to steal the oxygen straight from your lungs. during your career, you've dealt with a great number of challenges: being shot, stabbed, abandoned, betrayed, and even nearly killed. you've been captured as well, but only for planned operations. torture was never a threat.

several parts of your body are neatly wrapped in surprisingly clean bandages, reminding you of the incident that led to your capture. the missile, konni's presence in the city, makarov. did he take the sergeants captive, as well? are they here with you?

you force yourself to stand and try to ignore your knees almost buckling as you cross the room, heading towards the door. a glance through the bars provides little information - the cell across from yours is empty, and the only sound you can make out is meaningless chatter between the guards patrolling the hall. they're speaking in russian, preventing you from eavesdropping on their conversations. it's probably nothing important, anyway. while searching, you start to consider the worst case scenario.

soap and gaz may not be here. they could be lying dead in the sand, either killed by their wounds or by the enemy.

you shake your head and step back into the middle of the room, not even daring to entertain that train of thought any longer. you can't afford to doubt your team at a time like this. they're alive, either in cells of their own or recovering somewhere else.

the voices in the hall suddenly go quiet. they're soon replaced by footsteps, languid yet purposeful, expensive shoes padding against the stone floor and steadily drawing closer. your eyes stay glued to the door, unmoving from it despite your instincts telling you to run. you have nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. your only option is to face the person approaching directly.

advice from your team swims through your mind. although the sergeants have never been locked up and tortured, price and ghost have. you can remember price's stories clear as day, as if he told them only yesterday. ghost was more private about his experiences, but after las almas, he slowly began to open up about his past. the two echoed the same advice to the sergeants and yourself.

do whatever is necessary to make it out alive.

you squeeze your eyes shut and inhale deeply, attempting to calm your buzzing nerves and racing heart. panic will do you no good in this situation. when you open your eyes, you're immediately greeted by one of the guards - a man in black clothing and gear, his face obscured, unlocking the door at the far end of the room. he steps away a second later, leaving you staring at the man you dreaded meeting through the bars.

his gaze is trained on you, dark eyes burning holes into your skin, rendering you immobile. you try to maintain a confident demeanor nonetheless, refusing to give him the satisfaction of intimidating you.

"turn around," he says, his voice flat as he gives you the simple command. "hands on the wall."

you hesitate, pride briefly overtaking your rational senses. after a short-lived staring contest, however, you silently concede and turn to face the wall. you press your palms to the cold stone and listen as the door creaks open and shut. gloved hands wrap around your wrists shortly thereafter and pull your arms backwards, forcing them behind your back. cold metal replaces his touch and binds your wrists.

"seems a bit excessive, don't you think?" you ask. your voice wavers just slightly, hoarse from lack of use. "i'm already out of commission, thanks to these injuries."

he gives you no response, though you catch a glimpse of his apathetic expression when he reaches past you to grab a metal chair that rests in the corner of the room. it scrapes across the floor as he drags it away, and you turn once more to watch as he sets it down a few feet from the side of the bed.

"sit down." he looks at you and motions to the bed. you wordlessly follow the order and stumble forward before settling on the edge of the mattress, hands clenched into tight fists. he sits on the chair across from you and leans back, looking completely at ease while taking in your current appearance.

"do you know who i am?" he speaks again, eyes flicking back up to meet yours. you feel like a prey animal locking eyes with a predator, waiting for them to tear you apart. you don't dare to look away.

"makarov." the name leaves your lips in a low murmur. "leader of the ultranationalists. konni's commander. the 'world's biggest threat,' according to some. i've heard plenty about you." you stiffen as the edge of his mouth twitches, an eerie smile playing on his lips.

"i'm sure captain price had a great deal to say, lieutenant." he folds his hands in his lap, nodding towards your bandaged body. you're still in your uniform, albeit without your dirty and damaged outer layers, and your gear is long gone. you feel vulnerable under his gaze. "my men found you in quite an... unfortunate state. i must admit that i'm impressed. surviving a direct missile strike is no small feat."

"where is my team?" you demand, fighting against the restraints. they don't loosen in the slightest, of course, and makarov merely tilts his head to the side at your struggle. "there were two men with me. where are they? what did you do with them?"

he blinks at you, refusing to respond. you open your mouth to repeat the question, before he interrupts you. "they didn't put up much of a fight. it was disappointing, really." his hands unfold and he shifts in the chair, chuckling to himself. "i expected more from price's so-called 'elite task force.'"

his comment pulls an involuntary gasp from you, a stuttering breath falling from your lips. "they didn't... you killed them?" you ask, voice dropping to a near-whisper. it can't be true. soap, gaz– surely they're still alive. they have to be.

"i never said that," he replies, shaking his head in a low-effort attempt to placate you. "whether your teammates still live is not my concern. my men left them to their own fates."

your eyes narrow, though your shoulders slump just a little at his answer. they could still be alive. "what is your concern, then? i doubt you've taken me captive just to talk." you remark, racking your brain for any reason why he'd take you over the rest of the team. convenience, perhaps? you were defenseless, and of the options readily available, you held the highest rank.

"nothing gets past you, does it, lieutenant?" makarov leans forward, prompting you to sit up straighter in order to keep a comfortable distance. his voice lowers, as if he was hiding his next words from any curious souls just outside the room. "i think we can help each other. i have information that you need, and your allies have the resources to take care of a constant thorn in my side."

"are you saying we have a common enemy?"

he nods, reaching into his pocket. "it appears we do." he pauses, pulling out a cellphone and scrolling for a moment before turning it towards you. you lean closer, studying the image on the screen as he continues. "this should look familiar to you."

you furrow your brow at the blurry picture, but the subject still stands out. it was a man laying dead on the ground, wearing combat fatigues that looked out-of-date, surrounded by several corpses dressed in similar, yet mismatched uniforms. their bodies have no visible identification, reminding you of the americans you encountered working with konni and al-qatala.

"i remember them. we thought they were random mercenaries hired by your men," you say, shifting your focus back to makarov. "i take it they're not working for you?"

"the men you encountered were not mercenaries. they worked for a man, not a company. your team knows their employer well." he pauses long enough for you to nod your head, urging him to speak. the satisfied smile that briefly crosses his face is enough to make your blood boil beneath your skin - he's enjoying making you beg for information. "the american general. shepherd, was it?"

"what?"

"did you really believe that you could trust him, petra?" he asks with a quirked brow. hearing him utter your callsign in such a casual tone only serves to make you feel hotter, practically burning with rage; at shepherd or makarov, you're not sure.

the situation doesn't make any sense. why would shadow company launch a war with konni, only to ally with them in secret? based on the intel that laswell gathered during your time in las almas, about shadow company losing the missiles to the group, shepherd should want to burn the organization, not assist it. you frantically search for an answer, but come up with nothing. grudgingly, you look to the man sitting in front of you.

"tell me more." you mutter, managing to subdue your anger for the time being.

instead of elaborating, he stands from the chair. you watch him cross the room and stop in front of the door, casting a glance in your direction. "we can discuss the details in due time. for now, come."

you stare at him, confused, before rising to your feet and following him. he leaves the cell and starts down the hallway with you in tow, doing your best to keep pace as the momentarily forgotten pain quickly settles in again. a pair of guards follow the two of you from a small distance, close enough to intervene in an emergency but far enough to not indulge in your discussion.

if you can even call this a "discussion." a madman and his captive audience is a more accurate description.

you try to take in your surroundings. the corridors greatly resemble the cell you were in, dark stone and brick walls that looked in dire need of repairs. the barred windows you pass look out onto different fields, courtyards turned into vehicle and weapon storage. you have to restrain yourself from gawking when you see a small collection of tanks in one area, accompanied by smaller APCs scattered about.

makarov has a small army that somehow slipped under your radars. you're well aware of konni and his affiliation with other powerful groups, but you've always assumed they were disorganized, using guerilla tactics and thrifted gear. this is something else entirely, you think. he's preparing for war.

you hear a soft rumbling in the distance. at first, you mistake it for one of the vehicles, until the sound disappears. it reappears seconds later, and you quickly realize that it's thunder.

"petra," he addresses you suddenly, drawing your attention. "tell me, do you consider yourself a good person?"

your brows knit together at the question. it feels out of place, and you wonder for a moment if you misheard him. your step falters, causing one of the guards to grumble something about "keeping up" until you catch up again. "i, uh– i guess i do, yeah. what are you getting at?"

there's a storm approaching, the thunder sounding closer now. the sky grows dark as grey clouds begin to form and block out the sun, casting shadows across the exterior grounds. it's a melancholic scene, although fitting considering your circumstances. you reach a set of doors that another pair of guards pull open, allowing you to step outside.

a cold breeze sweeps past you almost instantly, forcing a shiver down your spine as goosebumps rise to the surface of your exposed skin. makarov says something to the guards that you don't quite catch and the doors shut behind you, leaving you alone with him. you're standing on a small balcony overlooking a bustling area full of soldiers and mercenaries alike, training and organizing their forces.

"you consider yourself good, even though you're responsible for innocent lives being lost?" he remarks, stepping towards the balcony's edge and placing his hands atop the stone ledge.

"innocent lives– you are the one responsible for that!" you exclaim, striding across the balcony and glaring daggers at his profile. "my job is to save people, and that's what i do. i've spent years hunting down threats just like you with the sole purpose of making the world safer for the innocents!"

he turns to face you with the same apathetic expression as earlier, when he first entered your cell. he doesn't look at all affected by your words, dark eyes staring straight through you. if you didn't know better, you'd think he was seeing into your very soul. his response - or rather, the lack thereof - is enough to make you go quiet. a beat of silence passes between you, only broken by the encroaching thunder and sounds of his soldiers training in the field below.

"what of the missiles used by your allies? the ones that they lost." he mutters, earning an exasperated sigh from you.

"you mean the missiles that your men killed them for?" you flex your hands in the restraints and shake your head. "i'm not allied with the shadows or their commander, but even if i was, those missiles were going to a good cause."

"and, where were they going?"

your eyes flit from his own, focusing on the distant horizon. you can tell exactly where he's going with this line of questioning, but the frustration continues to build up inside of you.

"if i had to guess, they were probably heading straight for your doorstep." you grumble, shifting from one foot to the other. standing for so long is nothing short of agonizing, given your current state.

he clicks his tongue, making a 'tsk' sound at your reply. "you cannot claim to be fighting for a good cause, if said cause considers civilians another price of war." makarov huffs. from the corner of your eye, you can see his gaze still firmly locked on you. "the lives that you save will never outweigh the damage you've done. they'll never cleanse your hands of the blood that stains them. every time your allies fire off a missile to kill someone like me, so, too, are they killing innocent–"

"you're one to fucking talk–"

the words tumble from your lips as your back is slammed into the wall, your skull knocking against the stone from the force. you wince, eyes temporarily falling out of focus and head spinning from yet another injury. makarov leans in dangerously close, one of his hands wrapped around your throat uncomfortably tight, restricting your airflow. you can still breathe, but just barely, sucking in short gasps of air.

"watch your mouth."

the warning is a low growl next to your ear, his voice dripping with such an intense venom that it makes your skin crawl. you try to nod your head despite his hold, finding it impossible to form any words with your lack of oxygen. your brain is firing off warning signals, desperate pleas to eliminate or escape the threat in front of you.

after a couple seconds, his grip loosens, allowing you to fully inhale and exhale, chest heaving with each ragged breath. he's still standing unbearably close, enough that you can feel the heat radiating off his body. it's an unwelcomed reprieve from the damp breeze that makes your weary bones ache.

finally, he releases you and steps back, giving you space to come down from your brief adrenaline rush. you blink away any remaining disorientation and fix your gaze on him, sinking down on your heels and slumping against the wall.

he looks completely calm - a stark contrast to his demeanor from just moments ago. an uneasy feeling settles in your stomach as you watch him collect himself, fixing the rolled cuffs of his dress shirt and straightening his suit jacket.

"you wanted to know more about general shepherd." he mutters, eyes finding yours and holding your gaze. you worry the inside of your cheek and nod in return.

"the men working for him are not mercenaries, nor are they from any private military group. they're ex-soldiers." he begins, crossing his arms behind his back. "operatives from the CIA, to be precise. he has attempted to send several men undercover, and he's failed every single time. once discovered, they are... taken care of."

you lower your head and squint, struggling to follow. "i understand sending one man undercover, but why more? what is he trying to accomplish?"

"come on, you can figure that one out."

you want to sneer at the condescending tone, but instead you close your eyes and try to think. shepherd is still in the wind after las almas, and the only person that has a chance of knowing his location is graves. judging by the latter's cooperation with urzikstan, however, you can safely assume that shepherd is lacking in resources.

"he's attempting to start a war. reestablish himself and shadow company as an invaluable military asset," you mumble to yourself, suddenly feeling apprehensive about revealing this to the man in front of you. "if he can prove his worth, he can find forgiveness for his crimes. he'll try to use his position to pin it on the one-four-one, too."

"very clever, petra. i'm impressed." he chuckles at the glare you shoot his way, clearly annoyed with his praise.

you bite your tongue and push yourself off the wall. "i need to relay this to my team as soon as possible. shepherd can't be left to his own devices." you roll your shoulders back and mentally prepare for the uphill battle that the you'll be facing. the one-four-one's relationship with shadow company is already fragile, and you're left to ponder if graves knows about this plan. he could very well be involved.

"no need to fret over that. i have people for matters such as this."

makarov saunters across the balcony and places his hand on the door handle. you narrow your eyes at him, confusion plainly written on your expression.

"i thought you said we could help each other."

"haven't we?" he asks, swinging the door open. "ah, i can see what that pretty little mind of yours is struggling to understand. you believed i was going to let you go, didn't you?"

a bright flash emerges from the storm clouds blanketing the sky, illuminating the crooked grin on his face. you stumble towards him, fatigued body threatening to collapse under its own weight. you should have known better, you shouldn't have trusted that the situation would end in your favor.

"you– you fucking asshole–"

before you can lunge at him, use the last of your strength to do something, the guards from before appear in the doorway and restrain you. their hands dig into your skin, aggravating fresh wounds and setting your sensitive nerves ablaze, ripping a pathetic pained whimper from your lips.

"as much as i would love to stay and indulge myself," makarov starts, stepping aside to allow the guards to force you back inside the stronghold. "i have somewhere i need to be. as do you."

"go fuck yourself–!" you snap, fighting the guards in a last-ditch effort to free yourself. as they drag you down the hall, back to the prison cell you had already grown to hate, he keeps his gaze on you.

"i look forward to getting better acquainted with you, lieutenant."

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[kiliinstinct]

Chapter 31

Rating: R Pairing: Nalu FF.Net || AO3 [Ch: 1] ||| [Prev] | [Next] Happy Birthday to me! Here’s an Update! Remember to thank @phoenix-before-the-flame for their Beta work! May Update: 17th See This Post For News About Future Updates

Levy squinted through her reading glasses at the paper she worked on, fighting off the beginning of a headache. The soft flickering of candle light was too bright for her tired eyes. If she kept at it, the small headache would blossom into a migraine, but she stubbornly continued her work. There was simply too much for her to do and not enough time to do it in, especially now. 

Her beautiful archive was still a hazard to traverse. It was covered in precarious stacks of books and tomes, piled higher than her head in tight, winding walkways. All thanks to the story she painstakingly searched for in an excited haze. That same story still rested atop one of the covered tables, tightly bounded and shielded by charms and protective spells.  It was a mess she needed to fix, but hadn't had the time to attempt in weeks.

But she itched to return to her safe haven— to tuck herself into the comfort of her well filled den, longing to rest and reorganize in peace. Unfortunately, she was bound to her duties set upon her shoulders by Makarov.  Noticing a small mistake in her writing, she resumed her work, quietly chastising herself as the quill moved across the paper with a quick correction. 

Levy couldn’t afford to mess this up as it was another enhancement spell to help bolster one of Freed’s many barriers.

She'd been at this for four days; Kage's cell was more than fortified now. He had yet to try anything.  Levy doubted he had the strength to attempt his barrier breaking stunt with her and Freed’s current adjustments, but it was a risk the rune mages weren’t willing to take. They made certain that no loophole or crack could be found, tightly interweaving their codes in a cycle to keep the incarcerated Roma’s abilities useless. The strain this caused on Levy’s mind and magic was immense, making her feel stretched to the ends of her very being, but she couldn’t rest. It didn’t feel right to back down while her partner remained diligent in his duties.

The small Romni was no stranger to the pinpricks of jealousy that occasionally stabbed at her, but watching the smooth actions of Freed from his corner — scarcely taking breaks and working through his written codes at a steady pace— was a sight to behold. It outshined her best efforts despite him still in recovery. She gnawed her bottom lip as envy swelled in her chest like a rising tide, only to be quashed down beneath her guilt. His stamina was something to be envied and she would do all she could to match it.

Their magics were similar and possibly branched off from the same family. She knew if she dug deeper she might find greater connections, but a part of her didn’t want to find out. Not when he outclassed her by such a wide margin.

Refocusing her attention, Levy pushed the errant thoughts aside. There were more important things to focus on: like the new barriers she was working on. 

Kage’s original containment was a matter of the past after the explosion of rage Natsu had caused two days prior. Levy and the others were lucky enough to get out with hardly a singe to their clothes. Everything else had been consumed by the black flames. The intense heat had burst through the windows, shattered stone walls and twisted angrily towards the sky. So large was the blast, it cast a darkness upon the northern sector of the villain that seemed to devour the sun itself.

The villagers were sent into a frenzy, reminded of the previous chaos that had ruined the festival. It was natural for the guards along the border and many of the denizens inside to take up arms and amass themselves to the keep, prepared for a battle against any enemy they’d come across.

But there was no invasion. There was only a decimated keep and a wounded Makarov. The Chief met the horrified crowd, remaining tight-lipped as they pressed him for answers. He’d sworn Lisanna, Levy and Freed to secrecy before the crowd crashed upon them. It was a promise that made tears brim in her eyes but Levy still followed it to the letter. She was a witness to Natsu’s meltdown and the situation was greater than she could imagine. It wasn’t ideal, but she understood why Makarov chose to keep the information quiet for the time being.

Another tick of her quill against parchment and Levy sighed. These calculations were almost complete and she resisted the urge to yawn, having gone without a full night of rest the day before. 

”Perhaps a break?“ Freed suggested softly from his corner, eyes lifting from his own line of work to peer at her exhausted form, ”I can handle the rest if needed.“

Shaking her head wildly, she dismissed the gesture, ”And let the man who’s still recovering finish up all my work? No way. The only way I'm taking a break right now is if you take one with me.” 

The green-haired rune caster blinked owlishly at the response, lips quirking up after a few seconds of consideration. ”Fair enough, my hand was starting to cramp a bit.”  He twirled his quill deftly between his fingers before setting it aside in its inkwell. He shook out his hands and eyed her expectantly. She noticed a rare gleam of mischief twinkling in their depths. “Well? Aren’t you going to set yours down?“

Wait, Levy flushed, she had intended for him to leave her be as they continued work, not take her up on her bluff!

”But-“

“Quill. Down. Please.” 

Her expression soured, but she relented, drying the tip to set it aside as she idly mirrored him, shaking free the cramps that had settled in her wrists. Not only did it help bring feeling back to the tips of her fingers, it defused the nervous energy still rattling in her bones.

How was she supposed to take a break where there was still so much to do?

One of the barriers — the one surrounding Natsu’s hut— had yet to be finished. Its new codes were mixed in the messy stack of charms to her left. (Or was it on her right? She wondered.) They waited patiently for Levy to review and refine them before joining Freed to set them back in place. 

Before that, though, they needed to ensure Natsu could remain in control; Enough to trust him in his quarters. It was a shock to see the last one completely burned away, as if it had never been there to begin with. If he had another outburst like the one at the keep, neither she nor Freed could assure a new one would hold. 

Natsu’s home, the keep itself and new cells for their current prisoner. So many enchantments to make as soon as possible. 

Then there was her own home: That cluttered, blissful archive she so desperately wanted to dive into. It would be her safe haven from this confusion, her escape from the world to the quiet monotony of cleaning to clear her mind and prepare for Summer. She could enlist help, maybe. Anything to distract herself from the current events weighing on her mind.

And Jet and Droy, her closest companions. Levy bit back an exhausted groan. She’d skipped dinner with them for three days now. While they understood she was busy, Levy still felt awful about it. 

“If you're that restless,” Freed’s amused chuckle dragged her from her mind. His stretches were long finished as he now propped his chin on one hand, watching her patiently. “You could talk to me, you know. We are clansmen after all.”

Heat blossomed down her neck in embarrassment and she folded her arms, effectively hiding her face, “Is my thinking that obvious?”

“Only just a little, but it's fine. There is a lot happening. It’s natural to be thrown off by it all.” 

Levy respected his calm temperament as it was a welcome balm to her frazzled brain. Her shoulders sagged as she sank further into her chair, burying her face deeper into the crook of her arms.

“I just don't understand what's happening,” she admitted quietly, voice muffled, “Natsu’s always been wild but he’s never gotten any of us hurt. I’ve seen his black fire before, when we were kids, but never like this. But the Chief –” She sucked in a tumultuous breath, eyes stinging, “It’s been day’s and his wounds don’t seem to be doing much better under Porlyusica’s care. I heard Lucy healed slowly, too, but somehow- Makarov looks… so much worse.” 

Pausing mid-rant, she peeked her eyes upward over the curve of her arm, looking for reassurance from Freed. He was quiet, but his gaze never left her, listening to her every word. Despite their possibly distant blood relation, Levy had never sat down and just spoken with him for more than a few minutes at a time since he'd joined. She was on uneven ground, uncertain how he’d react, but realizing he intended to let her unload was as welcome as it was surprising.

How had Laxus of all people befriended such a guy? She'd question it later, if she ever had the time; Or if the nosy need for information gave her the courage to ask, whichever came first. Clearing her throat, Levy let herself sink even further into her bones, secretly enjoying their little break. 

“And then there's the new guys that I can't figure out at all….”

Levy removed her reading glasses with a swipe of her hand, rubbing the bridge of her nose. She recalled seeing Lucy sprinting towards them as she was first pulled from the broken keep. Pale from worry and fright, Levy had been too busy assuring through her own daze to take notice of the man beside the blonde. He had watched, wide-eyed and slack jawed as Lucy and Erza both sought to help the others. 

“The Erza knows, Jellal I think? He seems alright. And I think that he has some relation to Lucy which I hope is a sign that he isn’t trouble but…”

Here she paused, thinking back to the other two. She never cared for Kage, knowing that he was hunting Lucy was enough to distrust him. After the damage he caused, she had the quiet, bitter thought that she'd prefer him rotting in his cell over anything else.

This wasn't a thought she felt should be shared. But that left her with...  

“That other one. Gajeel, was it? The Draconis. There’s something off about him. He feels dangerous even when he's not moving. Like something is just crawling up my back preparing to strike from behind. It's so uncomfortable and yet here we are, locking Natsu up while he's practically roaming the halls freely now-“

She had to stop again, sucking in a quick breath after realizing she hadn't breathed once during her rant. Peering back to Freed, she worried her lip between her teeth until it felt raw.  

None of it felt right to her. That's what she wanted to say, what stuck to the tip of her tongue and refused to fall. 

The fallout had been ugly. Struggling to stay on his feet, Makarov made Natsu his first priority. He doled out orders through seething teeth, Lisanna was sent out to manage the crowd racing up to them while Free and Levy carried Natsu to one of the many rooms that were still intact. It was all such a rush and Levy had moved on reflex more than anything else in those terrifying moments. 

“Keep him contained,” Makarov had said, “whatever spells you have, use them to keep him in before heading outside. And no matter what, speak not a word of what has transpired here to anyone. Now go!”

They scurried off as fast as they could, leaving their chief behind as he breathed heavily and fought the pain lacing through his body. Levy caught a glimpse of Gajeel as they passed. He hadn’t moved an inch, not since knocking the fire draconis out and gone was his earlier cocksure attitude. His expression was impassive, blank, even as the chief spun to him with a hiss of orders Levy failed to catch.

When she finally returned outside, she didn’t have a chance to breathe or help poor Lisanna who still struggled with the frenzied crowd. Instead, Lucy had come upon her, begging for answers she was sworn to hide. The strange man, Jellal, was still  by her side, but neither he nor Erza pressed her for answers. Instead, they watched the crowd and waited for Makarov.

It was only when he emerged from the ruined keep, aided by Freed, that the crowd stilled in abject horror. It was rare for the Fairies to be so shocked to silence, but no one dared speak over the Chief’s shaky voice that once boomed across the crowd. Now it struggled to carry to one person.

His words held no substance. They were carefully chosen, hiding the truth behind a carefully constructed lie. His assurances were empty to the disbelieving crowd who any other time would shout back in defiance, demanding better answers. They couldn’t then, not when their leader, a man many saw as their own parent, was barely able to stand.

A few brave members had run off to fetch Porlyusica but many still lingered when the crowd dispersed. Their eyes observed what was left of their ancient keep, horrified.

Fires still burned along the walls, but the embers slowly faded along with the smoke in slow ebbs and curls. Natsu was someone who normally would stand front and center at such a scene, demanding answers and sniffing out his own, but he was nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t hard for the remaining crowd to piece together that their favorite Draconis was involved. 

Levy remembered the way the blood had drained from Lucy's face as she caught Makarov on his way back inside.  There were tears in her eyes as she demanded to see Natsu, only to be denied. Jellal had stepped in, requesting an audience as soon as possible with the surprising request that Lucy be allowed to see the other, but it too had been denied. 

Something was going on, and no one had all the information to piece it all together. Whatever secrets this Gajeel and Jellal had, it pricked the back of Levy's mind and wouldn't let her go.

“... why hasn't Makarov told us anything?” She bemoaned, finally getting to the meat of the matter, “everyones being so secretive and vague and I just... I want everyone to relax again, is that so bad?”

She realized then that tears trailed down her face as tiny hiccups shook her frame. All her emotions were boiling over and she desperately wanted to grasp her quill to get back to work. Anything to stave off the helpless feeling weighing her down.

But Freed remained still, his expression twisted to a somber, sympathetic stare. He reached across the table to grasp her hand and squeezed, voice lowering to a quiet whisper between the two of them.

“You're not alone,” He assured her, while strands of his long hair fell to cover his face, “I feel the same. We all do. This, I'm certain.”

A shudder passed through her, one that dispersed the heavy weight holding her down. Levy returned the squeeze and allowed a tremulous smile to pass her face. “Thank you. That... that helps.”

Perhaps they really did need that break after all, she looked back to her work and shook her head. “... I spent a lot of time ranting there, is there anything you need to get off your chest? A bit unfair to just have you counsel me, after all.”

He withdrew his hand with a kind shake of his head, “No, you've pretty much covered all of my present thoughts as well.” When her eyes narrowed he waved a hand in the air and laughed, “I mean it, I swear. What other issues I might have are things that can't be solved through airing it out.”

Levy snapped her fingers and pointed, ”ah, but that means there IS something.“

She laughed at his expression, mouth slightly agape as he brushed the hair from his face, laughing, ”Stubborn. All of you. My own concerns come from my previous failures with Kage and worrying about my comrades, there's nothing deeper than that, I assure you.“

”... but no one could predict Kage had the ability to hack barriers with his magic,“ She recalled, nose scrunching as if she'd smelled something foul. ”Nope, permission denied. You're not allowed to feel guilty for that.“

”E-excuse me?“ Freed asked, baffled.

She nodded, picking up her quill to spin it between her fingers. When it stopped spinning, she aimed its tip at his befuddled face. ”You heard me. You're already a genius as it is, and you’re out pacing me with the rune magic even though you’re still not at full strength.” She cut off his denial with a sharp wave. 

“It’s only been a few weeks, no one recovers from magic drainage that quickly. It was something out of all our hands. Blaming yourself for it is silly. Therefore,” She beamed,”No self blaming is allowed.” 

They both looked to the other in a silent battle of wills as he attempted to find any weakness in her expression. Levy gave him none, confidently dipping her quill back into the ink well as her attention stayed in place, stubbornly matching his own. As the candles nearby flickered and melted just a bit more, he laughed and shook his head.

”All right all right. I suppose you win,“ He conceded, pushing back the stray locks that had fallen into his face. 

Levy cheered, ”Good! Now let's get back to work.“ Without a second though, she began to write once again, only to blink in stunned silence when the parchment beneath her fingers was whisked away, ”H-hey! Wait just a minute-“

Freed set it carefully atop the nearest stack and swiped the quill out of her fingers.  She watched, dumbfounded, as he grabbed her spare hair tie, twisting his own hair into a high ponytail and stood in one fluid motion.

”I do believe,“ He said, lips curved smugly, ”I said we should be taking a break and we've hardly relaxed at all, have we?“

He extended a polite hand for her to take, ”Come now, we're due for a walk.“

”But we-“

His eyes narrowed, ”Levy.“

He didn't need to repeat himself as she took his hand and quickly followed him out of the room.

“You can be really pushy sometimes, you know?”

“Only sometimes?” He mused, locking the door as they went. “ Perhaps I ought to try harder then.”

While the two walked outside for well needed fresh air, the Keep was filled with an uncertain tension. Kage, now sitting in a partially busted Cell, stared  hopelessly at the cracked ceiling and debris littering the room. He listened to the strong buzz of the newly enacted barrier, sizzling with magic and sighed. Days blended together with his time in the dark, but he still felt the trembling of the Earth that had pulled him from restless dreams days ago.

What was happening up there with  Gajeel? Was there an attack or some other plan afoot? Anxious thoughts floated in his mind, shaking his bandaged legs while nervous eyes flitted from each broken stone in the once closed dungeon. 

And far above Kage, paced a fire breathing Draconis. His own binding spells had dissipated a day ago, allowing him free movement in the room. The irony was not lost on him. This was just like his house, wounded and stuck. Now, with his wounds mostly healed, he was more prisoner than patient. He could smell Freed’s magic, but didn’t bother with testing the fresh runes buzzing along the door and windows. 

They were right to keep him contained. While his muscles ached with the need to stretch and run, Natsu saw no reason to leave. So he paced. Back and forth with footprints burning into the floor as he waited for any kind of news.

He was far from the only restless person, dying for answers. Down below, ducking into shadows, as Lucy, quickly making her way towards the destruction with tenacity leading the way. She was going to find answers, whether the others wanted her to have them or not. 

It didn’t take much consideration over her dinner to make this decision. She was resolute in her desires while she slinked off without notice. Circling through the village, she dared to pass by Natsu’s home, hoping that her suspicions to his current whereabouts would be proven wrong. Unfortunately, that hope was dashed in light of his empty house, urging her onward to the keep.

Along the way, she spied Freed and Levy walking by, too deep in amicable conversation to notice her as she ducked inside an open door. 

Down the first floors, unbeknownst to anyone Lucy poked her head inside, checking the messy unkempt halls with a scrunched nose as she considered her trajectory before tip-toeing her way towards a set of stairs

Further inside, far from Lucy, laid  Makarov, unmoving as he rested on a round chair full of feathered pillows, his body freshly cleaned and rebandaged by Porylusica who'd rushed from her home to sit by his side, worrying over him like an angered hen. She clicked her tongue and shuffled around to ensure his leg was held up,  muttering curses beneath her breath as she did.

“I can't believe you let yourself get injured like this,” she spat, taking a drink of water to cool herself down, “Not just the leg, but your hips and torso at that. You’re lucky you can move.”

Makarov wriggled his nose and grumbled, “I appreciate your faith in my abilities, Porly, but this is not something I wanted.”

“You expect me to believe that brat caught you off guard? Truly?” 

“Did you not see the damage done to the keep, woman?! It’s a miracle I'm still standing!” He snapped, rubbing the bridge of his nose in consternation, “It was all Freed and I could do to hold him back and ensure the others weren't injured.” 

Sucking in a deep breath, he motioned for her to sit down. “I'm sorry, but until I've finished with what needs to be done, I have to ask that you stay here awhile. Wendy can't be expected to keep a constant eye on me after all, and I would hate to put her through so much stress.”

Porlyusica rolled her eyes. “And what- I can? I’m not your personal nurse.” 

“Certainly not. But I'd like to think of it as keeping your medical skills sharp in your old age.”

At the old womans scoff, he gave her a curious look, but no other words passed between them. She'd been a part of the Fairies for quite some time, long enough to have aged right by Makarov's side. He'd seen her long before she willfully locked herself away on a hill just as she'd seen him in his youth. In all things she was his closest confidant, but her ire over injuries left much to be desired. Not to mention her bedside manner that seemed to have worsened ...

As if sensing his wayward thoughts, Porlyusica sent him a terrifying glare that left the old Chief swallowing thickly and looking anywhere but her. Which was perfect as he had other things to focus on after all; and one of those things stood at the entrance to the meeting room- Makarov's current place of residence far from his office - , waiting with arms crossed and a food tapping impatiently.

“Ah, Laxus,” Makarov greeted, “Right on time. I trust the others are with you?”

His grandson nodded, kicking open the door behind him so others could file inside. Jellal and Gajeel came first, with one wearing a bemused expression as he examined the room before settling on the Chief whilethe draconis looked too relaxed as he strolled in. Raising a brow at Laxus, he  snorted as he sauntered past. The two claimed a seat side by side at the table.

Erza brought up the rear, sharing a nod with Laxus who stayed by the door, watching her and the others take their seats. She pointedly set her seat between the men and Chief and settled down with an intense gaze. Her eyes were sharp and focused as were Laxus’, whose gaze burned holes into the backs of the stranger’s heads.

The old chief felt a swell of pride watching them. While they were on their best behavior, and Erza adamantly affirmed her trust in the celestial man, she still kept to her duty, prepared to fight at a moment's notice.  Likewise, Laxus managed to curb his own temper, listening in rather than reacting on impulse.

Yes, most of his children had grown well, now if only he could get to the bottom of everything else happening around him. That would be nice. 

“Considering Gajeel has done as I asked and not riled Natsu up any more than he has,” Makarov pointedly started, casting a glare at the bulky draconis who shrugged non committedly, “It seems pertinent to have our meeting now that everything has calmed down. Now both of you, I want no vague mysteries, no secrets, no lies. If either of you want to realize your separate goals, then I'll need absolute transparency. Am I clear?”

There was no true power in Makarovs words. With Gajeel and Jellal being outsiders, they weren’t beholden to listen if they chose not to. But they were still in his territory, and he was still at the head of this clan for a reason. His wounds did not leave him frail and vulnerable as much as others would believe and the power that flared from his body at his question was testament to that fact. It shook the floor and made the table quake, vibrating down the halls in warning. 

Jellal and Gajeel felt it, instantly stiffening as they looked between each other and him. The others, unsurprised by the strength of their leader, merely looked on, waiting for the time to spill their own thoughts. What those opinions could be entirely depended on what Makarov was soon to learn this very day.

“Well?” He prompted. Gajeel grunted, far less amused today than he'd been when riling Natsu. Jellal, however, cleared his throat and nodded.

“I’ve no secrets to hide ,” He admitted, glancing back at Erza, “She has been my friend for many years and I would be a poor one in turn if I continued to rouse your suspicions.”

“Pretty words,” Makarov said, “let's see if you can back them: you may go first. What is it that you wanted to speak with me about that's so important?”

It was then, Gajeel chose to interject, lips sneering as he grumbled, “First you gotta understand, old man, he ain’t got anything to do with my clan.”

“I'm sure he can answer for himself. You've done enough damage.” Was Makarov's snapping rejoinder, gaze bearing down on Jellal in interest, ”Besides, I'm already aware he was incarcerated by Jose. Erza's more thorough than you give her credit for.“

If Jellal was surprised to know Erza had already told the chief what she knew, he didn't show it. Instead he cleared his throat and withdrew the book he'd been reading from his sleeve, ignoring the raised eyebrow Gajeel gave in the process. 

”This may offer a few answers in regards to Lucy.“ He began. He offered the book to Erza, who set it before Makarov. ”I don't know how this came into Gajeel’s possession, but I assume he took it from Jose. It holds everything you need to know about why the Phantom Clan has been apprehending or killing any Celestial Roma they can get their hands on. It’s my belief that their search would end if they were to ever get their hands on her.“

The iron draconis whistled lowly, ”Gihee, so ya got your confirmation then? Ya sure it's wise to say that with me here?”

”Considering you set me free,“ Jellal pressed on, not bothering to look Gajeel in the eye, ”I doubt you have any plans to send her Jose’s way. So I'm choosing to take this risk and believe that those here would defend her if you choose to prove me wrong.“

When he didn't reply, Jellal continued, watching as Porlyusica snatched the book from the table and handed it to Makarov unceremoniously.

It held an unexpected weight as he turned it over with mild disgust in his tired eyes. The cover was covered in a high, cracked with age, and yellowed bones lined the book’s spine. He held it gingerly as the aged leather felt different from any leather he’d seen before. At Jellal’s beckoning, he eased it open, spying the unusually thick pages falling open with a heavy slap.

”There is a ritual,“ Jellal explained. ”One that states it can imbue entire groups of people with unparalleled heavenly power. It is said to give all who participate longevity and magical strength far beyond our imagination. I can't attest for how accurate this supposed ritual is, but Jose believes in it enough to have scoured the lands for what it requires.  He has gathered everything needed so far. But it’s all useless without the key to bring the  ritual to fruition. That being the right Celestial to sacrifice.“

Erza leapt to her feet in protest as Laxus stepped away from the door with venom in his eyes. They were furious at the implication this meant for Lucy. Even Porlyusica’s expression soured.

Before they could form a question or demand more answers, Makarov lifted his hand, urging them to fall quiet. 

“And what, pray tell," he said, voice quivering in a quiet rage, "makes you believe that our Lucy is the celestial that Jose truly requires?"

Jellal fell silent, considering his words as he folded his hands within his sleeves. He sported a calm facade within the quiet room as they waited. Away from their eyes he gripped his arms tightly, tight enough for the knuckles to turn white. 

How best could he word this truth he'd been hiding from Lucy the moment he knew she could hear the stars with little effort? 

”My clan and its sister branches all share the same legends and culture,“ he murmured, voice a low drawl, ”and with it came the knowledge passed down through generations that one of our clans would someday give birth to the original starseeker:The origin of our clans. It is my belief that Lucy is this origin and her clan realized this. Our travels north were merely in a bid to bring her to safety before others learned of her existence and sought her out.“

He withdrew his hands from his sleeves and held them aloft. His fingertips were glowing with a soft energy, calming pinpricks of light that grew to shape themselves into a star system resting within his palms. He stared intently at its depths. It didn’t match the skies above but swirled lazily as he pondered it with a furrowed brow. 

Erza broke the silence before anyone else, voice harsher than intended, “And what is so important about this origin?”

“The importance, my dear Erza,“ He said gravely, ”Is that she is most likely the spiritual embodiment of the Moon itself.“

The room became deathly silent before erupting into tense shouts. Porlyusica had to grasp Makarov's shoulder to keep him from jumping from his seat, her grip so tight the elder chief paled and coughed into his hand. 

Erza recounted the story of Lucy's clan in her mind. While she had not been with the camp when Lucy originally spoke of it, Levy's transcription was expertly done and easy to read. She remembered perusing it, feeling as if there was something there to explain Natsu's odd fascination with the girl, only to be mystified when she found nothing.

But this? She whirled on Jellal, eyes blazing fiercely, “You must truly be mad to give us this information while a man of Phantom sits beside us!” Before he could reply, she held a hand up, silencing him, “don't repeat yourself! I don't care about your reasoning, confirming this with him in the room is foolhardy!”

”If he's correct, you mean,“ Laxus added, having stayed put at his chosen post, but the stiffness of his jaw spoke volumes towards his racing thoughts. 

”What are you implying?!“

The larger man shrugged, ”Just that there's no proof.“

She didn't know who to direct her fury to. Towards Jellal for his seemingly poor decision making, or Laxus for doubting his assessment. The clan would never understand the trust she'd formed with the man through the years, not with him being an outsider and yet the logical skepticism infuriated her. 

Surprisingly, Gajeel also shot up to his feet, brandishing his arm before a baffled Jellal as if protecting him from the others' scrutiny. ”Maybe ya' should let the man finish before jumping to dumbass conclusions, eh? Have I even tried to touch that girl since coming here?“

“No, you only showed that you could if you really wanted to!” 

Erza and Laxus both answered, voices echoing off the walls in angry snarls. Their feelings suddenly matched, both upset at the recent events forcing one of their own to be shut away.

“Your attempts at baiting Natsu is enough reason to doubt your motives!” Erza opined, voice trembling with unconcealed rage.

Jellal cleared his throat, batting away Gajeel's arm from his face as he thought over his words, ”As awful as his methods are, I'm sure Gajeel had his reasons, Erza. Like I had mine when speaking with Lucy.“

It was then Makarov chose to interject, ”If you children are finished arguing,“ glaring at Porlyusica for holding him down as he grunted in slight pain. His voice turned their attention back to him, all having the decency to look sheepish under his scrutinizing gaze, “I'd very much like to hear these reasons properly. From both of you.”

The return to topic was enough to settle Erza back in her seat, but her blazing, ferocious eyes never left Gajeel's as he reseated, a fanged grin splitting his face. It raised her ire like no other as she fought the urge to sink her fist in his face.  But Makarov wanted answers, and she would hold herself back long enough to get them. 

“To be frank, Lucy's abilities are similar to my own, but vastly different,” Jellal muttered, glancing towards the metal draconis and back again, “All Celestials— regardless of clan, have the ability to read and listen to the stars, but not without extreme focus and intent. For the most skilled it can take hours of meditation and high concentrations of magical output to achieve results. For others it takes weeks to commune; often being done in groups to share and strengthen the magic.”

“... that sounds,“ Makarov's nose twitched, imagining the amount of work invoking a celestial's power took, “very involved.”

Jellal nodded, “It is.  I myself boast other abilities outside of that, but even so Lucy's own connection to the stars is quite different from what I know it to be. She confided in me that she can hear them speak to her at any given time, day or night.” He paused, taking in a breath as his words sank in, their weight filling the empty air with a harsh tension. 

“The last known Celestial to do this was our origin: the half of the moon struck from the skies to live on Earth. It is said she's been reborn countless times, but this is the first time her spirit has returned to a celestial tribe in centuries. And whether or not you believe what I say, without a doubt Lucy is far more powerful than she’s aware of. If Jose is aware of this he will not stop hunting her until she is in his grasp.” 

”And that-“ Gajeel interrupted, his harsh voice cutting through the tension as he smacked a heavy hand on the table, eyes gleaming, ”is where I come in. He can keep the Blondie with his stars and moon talk. But that hothead that’s been hiding in your clan is why I’m in this mess. And he’s only gonna get worse before he gets any better.”

Laxus's laughter boomed through the room, the man of thunder and lightning hunched over with shoulders shaking, “What? Are you gonna say he's the sun next? I expected a serious meeting today. Not this sudden show and tell of children’s myths-”

“Pfft, you kiddin’ me?” Gajeel cackled, fangs glinting, “Sure we got our stories, but we ain’t as hide-bound as the celestials are. He aint no Sun, he's just a brat with an overheated bloodline.”

“Meaning?” Laxus prompted, his laughter cutting short as if he hadn't been struck dumb with hilarity moments before. His gaze grew cold, calculating and sparks of magic danced across his skin.

Leaning forward, Gajeel tilted his gaze to Makarov and clicked his tongue, creating a metal clanking in his mouth. He spat a fully formed nail that embedded itself in the otherwise pristine table. “Back home’s a fuckin mess. It’s been that way for as long as i’ve known and for as long as he’s known it too.”

He jabbed a thumb at the ceiling in Natsu’s general direction. “ Fire Draconi have been the top dogs for generations. That one up there was next in the line of succession before some got it in their heads that they’ve had enough.  They decided to give someone else a go at the throne.”

He paused, giving the others a chance to take this in. Reading the minute changes in their expressions as they were reminded of what Natsu truly was. Whatever front the pyro had put up all these years was obviously a good one if it was so hard for them to wrap their brains around it.

He smirked, “Little Princey’s my one shot at going back home. I got sent out to make sure he was actually dead all this time. So I've been runnin’ all around sniffing out the truth so I can go back. Gotta admit though, findin’ out he’s still breathing does put a kink into things for me.” His smirk grew to a malicious smile, “one that I find hilarious.”

“Your sense of humor is a foul one given the trouble it’s already caused for the boy.” Makarov muttered. 

Gajeel pulled the nail from the table with his pinky, playing with the metal as if it were clay and paid the Chief’s intense glare no mind.

“If I walked in here and said your boy was royalty would you have believed me from the get go? Ain’t no way he’d give up the truth. I had to worm it outta him first for ya to see before I said my piece.” He said easily, “the black fire got your attention didn’t it?”

Makarov’s brows furrowed together in thought. Right, those dark flames…It was abnormal, the iron user said it before, which mirrors Jellal's findings about Lucy. The parallels were starting to give the chief a headache as he tried to connect the dots. “When you spoke of the fire before you made it seem a rarity even amongst your clan. That it carries severe implications. Was there any truth to that, or was it all talk and bluster to rile up Natsu?”

”Tch, no bluster about it,“ he snorted, nodding at Erza, ”Your friend has reincarnating moons but the royal draconis line always has one with anger issues and black flames pop up every now and again. It never ends pretty for ‘em. They always go mad and fuck things up for everyone.”

Throughout the entire discussion, Porlyusica had remained quiet. At Gajeel’s blaze explanation, a snarl finally escaped. Makarov almost jumped at the vicious sound, eyeing her from the side. True anger transformed her features: color flooded her pale eyes as the pupils turned to slits while she bared her fangs. Her irritation was palpable. ”To think I've been gone from the clan for so long only to hear the rhetoric of the usurper in my home. What are your actual intentions regarding Natsu, boy?”

Gajeel's demeanor shifted, eyes widening in surprise as he finally recognized the older woman for what she truly was. He straightened in his seat looking her over, almost dumbfounded. “Well, shit, this place is just full of surprises. I knew I smelt draconis on ya but it didn’t click ‘til you spoke.  You look just like-”

“Enough!” She barked, voice hissing into a quiet rage. Harsh winds ripped through the room, rippings papers and books from their shelves and tossing her hair in her eyes. Rising to her feet, she was calm in the growing storm as she stalked over to the younger draconis, towering over him.“Answer my question or I'll have Makarov lock you up as good as that shadow fool!”

“You think you can hold me as easily as him?”

“No.” Laxus said, his voice carrying over the heavy winds. “ What he got is child’s play compared to what we’ll do to you.” 

Erza also rose, hand poised, ready to draw her blade that hummed with power. Jellal tilted back in his seat, just enough to stare at Gajeel in disbelief, “Do I need to remind you of whose side I'll choose if you act out, Gajeel?”

The room felt too small for the lot of them, with magics so strong they filled the empty spaces to almost suffocating levels. Makarov stayed in place, watching and waiting, confident in his children's abilities to incarcerate Gajeel if need be. His interest, however, followed the outlines of Porylusica's paling face, sweat dripping from her brow as her magic surged from unused depths.

The wild man threw his hands up and shook his head, “Fine! Seriously, I can't have any fun here, can I? Yer all a buncha stiffs.“ He nodded towards Porly's chair with a rumble in his chest, ”Sit down old lady, I don't wanna see you have an ulcer over nothin'.”

She stayed in place, gaze darkening and he continued, ”Augh, fine, if it'll get ya' to sit down. I’m not here to kill him-”

“-could’ve fooled me.” Laxus muttered.

“-my only intention is getting his ass back on that throne. You might’ve run off but I like my home. And I'd like to get back to it before it implodes from civil war, happy?“

.

.

.

The keep was ancient. 

Lucy recognized that within days of her arrival. Pieces of it were no longer serviceable to living with bits of wall and roof crumbling inward. Even fewer areas remained intact after the incident. Lucy remembered the gaping maw that was now the outside of the keep. It was a horrifying sight as the remains of fires crawled along its ancient body.

The halls that were usable smelled faintly of musk, a cloying mix of old sea salt and dust. At first, she found the smell suffocating— enough to make her eyes itch— but with the windows open to the Spring air, it had a refreshing taste to it.

But the walls quaking as magic surged beneath her feet down below, made her all too aware of the fortress' age. It rumbled up and along the walls, shuddering dust and old cobwebs from the ceiling above. It brought a shiver down her spine as she paused, carefully listening for further vibrations. 

What had them so riled up down there? she wondered. Lucy knew of the meeting being held, was accustomed to the fact Makarov saved those meetings for his closest confidants unless he felt others were needed, but her curiosity pulled her to retreat back to the lower floors. Perhaps, if she was quiet enough, she could sneak up to the room and listen in, much as she heard many others had done in the past.

No, she shook her head and finished her climb up the last set of winding stairs, she could think about that later. She had more important things to focus on.

Jellal had looked mystified when Makarov refused visitation to Natsu. Lucy's plea to see him, keep him company -anything- had fallen on deaf ears. When his hand fell upon her shoulder in quiet support, urging the Chief to reconsider, she had looked to her kin with a raised brow, curious towards his motives, but the blue haired man wouldn't meet her eyes. She tried to ask, and he pressed a finger to his lips to silence her.

”Do what you feel is right,“ He told her, voice so quiet, Lucy felt the words were being spoken directly into her mind, ”he can forgive you later.“

Before she could think of what to reply, he'd been whisked off alongside Erza for their meeting, leaving the blonde behind with a whirling, conflicted mind.

A conflict that lasted for all, but two minutes before her expression steeled, her mind made up. She would see Natsu for herself when the moment presented itself, whether Makarov agreed to it or not. She was tired of asking permission. 

Which brought her here, with more questions than answers, her legs sore from the flights of steps as gentle magic braced her weaker leg. The meditation Jellal taught her helped, and she proudly made it to the west wing without a single stumble.  

But now she had to figure out which room belonged to the very Draconis she sought out. Each door was shut, some with rotted wood barely hanging on their hinges. Natsu wouldn't be behind those. Others looked pristine and new. She wondered how often they attempted renewing the keep, and what made them stop. 

The hallway was eerily quiet as she sought out her trapped friend. The sounds of the world below didn't make it through such thick stone, and the magic tremors from before had dissipated. It left her feeling isolated, and uncertain if anyone truly was up there.

”I can't believe he'd be left alone like this,“ She muttered to herself, fury rising in her veins, ”it's horrible.“

Why did Makarov think this was necessary? The thought burned in her mind, almost distracting her from a faint glimmer of purple out the corner of her eye. She stopped, doubling back to stare at the familiar magic that coated one of the doors: Freed's runes. She stared quizzically for a time, felt it through the air with her own senses, and lifted a finger to push through as a test.

Nothing happened. Was it there to prevent escape, rather than entry? Settling her nerves with a deep breath, she rapped her knuckles against the hardwood. She felt warmth spilling from the cracks beneath the door. He must be in here right?

No sound.

No reply.

She tried again, hard enough to make her hand sting, ”... Natsu?“ she whispered cautiously.

Suddenly there was nothing but noise. A curse, the sound of a body flailing from a bed, the old frame clacking against the wall as fabric and body tumbled to the floor. All this followed by the hurried, padded steps of bare feet as they ran to the door.

It swung with her hand still in the air, hanging frozen as she stared wide eyed at the most bedraggled Natsu she had ever seen, gripping the door like a lifeline. A wave of heat brushed across her face as all contained in the room rushed out through the chilled hall.

She had gotten so used to seeing bandages wrapping his body in the past weeks. He looked bare without them now. He was always picking at them. Without the watchful gaze of a healer or a guard, he must have given in to the temptation to release himself from his bindings.

Pale scars stood out from the familiar brown as they criss-crossed his body. No part of him was unmarred and guilt rose in the back of Lucy’s mind at the sight. The healing gouges where Kage’s magic sank into his skin, the dark lines that cobwebbed down his side that she knew were the remains of the lightning’s path when it flowed through his body: they were all there because of her.

Her stunned gaze fell to his neck and she had to struggle not to cry. It almost wrapped his whole neck, the fragile healing tissue raised and warped. It was a permanent signifier to how close she came to losing him. 

His naked chest heaved as he sucked in heavy breaths of air and steam poured off his skin. Disbelief covered his face as Natsu’s gaze met hers.

”Lucy…?“ A hoarse, tired voice crackled from his lips. She spied the dark circles under his eyes, peering between sweat-slick bangs.

”What ... .what are ya' doing here?“

The question was an obvious one, but Lucy couldn't reply, too stunned by the look of him. Her fingers shook as she reached out for him, flinching back from the heat as she noticed the embedded, charred imprints of his feet in the stone.

Suddenly, her voice, and all manner of reasoning, left her and the romni struggled to remember why she'd come in the first place.

“I- I just,” She stammered, attempting to grasp her words as her eyes continued to examine him from head to toe. "I couldn't just leave you alone...”

Self-doubt reared its ugly head, smashing into her as she chewed her bottom lip, questioning her motives. Maybe Makarov was right, maybe she should have waited. He didn't look like he wanted to -

All thoughts flew from her mind as the heatwave that surrounded Natsu was extinguished in an instant. The burning on the floor turned to smoke and the waves of emanating magic sank within his skin as Natsu watched her with jaw slack and brows disappearing into the fringe of his sweat-slicked hair.

An arm engulfed her like a viper strike, dragging her in and against him, crushing Lucy in a hug tight enough to make her bones pop and the other slammed the door shut behind them. With face buried into her neck, Natsu's hot breath fanned across her skin as his body slumped against her, relaxing considerably.

He said nothing regarding her surprised squeaks, only pulled her further into the room,  stumbling over their feet all the while keeping her flush against him. The edge of the mattress connected with the backs of his knees, easily falling to it with Lucy in his lap struggling to make sense of the situation. Her cheeks burnt brightly as the sudden turns of the room left her head spinning. 

His arms encased her, but Lucy managed to ease away just enough to peer at his clouded eyes. He shivered as something not quite human gleamed in the depths of his pupils. As if he wasn’t all there.

“What are you doing-”

Yanking her back down with a hand behind her head, cut off her words as lips fastened against hers. Breathing harshly through her nose, she gasped against his chapped lips as a firm hand rested against her hip. It was sudden. Quick. And stole her breath as her mind screamed in a myriad of confused emotions from the action.

Reflex and instinct kicked in as Lucy bit down on his lip hard. A surprised squeak of pain left Natsu, his grip loosening just enough for her to scramble off at the first opportunity. Giving no time to recollect himself, her palm connected with his cheek in a resounding slap! The harsh sound reverberated around the empty room and echoed in their heads like an alarm.

Natsu’s eyes shifted between clarity and confusion as he held his now swollen cheek. Lucy shakily stood with her hand still raised for a second strike, shaking and tense. Her heart pounded hard and fast, as if attempting to burst from her chest and her lips felt swollen and raw. 

“It's about time you got here,” He rasped, gaze burning straight through her soul.

Lucy blurted the first thing that came to her mind, “What in the HELL is going on here?”

[blackskorpi0n]

When you get this, list 3 facts about your favorite sim and send it to the last 3 people in your notifications! Let's get to know each other's sims! <3 (no pressure ILYSM MWAH!!)

3 facts about Nadia

Has purposely went to prison to kill a target, then escaped leaving the target dead in his cell 😁

Her signature weapon of choice is a customized, silenced Makarov pistol, expertly modified for precision and reliability

She has 2 pets, a pitbull and a black cat. Their names are Maxx and Hela

[thelaisydazy]

The Banshee Calls - Chapter 1

John "Soap" MacTavish x Aoife "Banshee" Finny

Next Chapter

One year ago, Johnny woke up in a hospital room, his mind foggy and his head throbbing with pain. He’d been confused, lost.

His lieutenant had been waiting with him that day, shocked but relieved. No one thought he would ever wake up, ever recover. Johnny couldn’t remember Ghost ever sounding so worried in the years they’d known each other. That’s how he knew just how fucked he was.

The last thing he remembered was storming an underground metro to intercept a bomb set by Vladimir Makarov, a Russian ultranationalist hellbent on starting another world war. Him and the rest of the 141 had been hot on his trail. Soap had been working on disarming the bomb with Captain Price when they were face-to-face with Makarov and his men. It had been a short firefight but when Soap pulled Makarov off Price, everything went black.

Now he was sitting in hospital, hooked up to a series of machines that beeped every so often. Ghost had told Soap he'd been shot in the head, somehow not only surviving but avoiding major brain damage. Nothing short of a miracle.

Johnny had wanted Ghost to joke about him not missing many brain cells, but the seriousness in Ghost's voice betrayed how difficult the situation was.

Soap spent months recovering in hospital, being run through test after test. He'd feared that he'd be forced to retire after all, but by some stroke of luck, he'd been told he could, eventually, return to service.

Or so they said…

---

His mind swam as he sat in the tiny, dark kitchen of the shitty apartment he’d been given by Laswell, somewhere in a city in Ireland. Johnny’s hand gripped a half full bottle of scotch, bringing it to his lips and gulping more down. He was disheveled to say the least, brown mohawk grown out and unbrushed, blue eyes sunken in.

Six months.. He’d been waiting to hear from his team for six months.. Instead he’d been left to rot in this damned apartment. He’d tried everything to reach out, to get any information. Laswell rarely checked in and when she did it was basically only to make sure he was still alive and that the apartment was still in one piece. For a while Ghost answered his texts, even a phone call or two when Johnny really needed someone to talk to, but even he’d grown silent.

A hand came up and pushed his unkempt hair from his forehead then it wiped down his tear stained face, over the stubble that had overgrown in the past few weeks.

Johnny wasn’t certain of much anymore, but he knew one thing must be true. He’d been abandoned by his team.

One bullet to the skull and he was thrown out.

Useless.. Fucking useless..

His chest ached at the idea. Sure, being a soldier was never easy work. Hell. It was the hardest work he could've found, but he'd grown to love it. In the military, Johnny could focus that abundance of buzzing energy into something worthwhile. Something meaningful. Now. Here. That same energy had nowhere to go. It just sat inside him, like a wild animal lashing out against the bars of its cage.

He gulped down more Scotch. Alcohol made the energy in his chest quieter, but it didn't muffle it completely. He could still feel it, but it was more bearable. Even if he felt like his chest might implode with every heaving sob that forced its way out.

---

“You look like shit, Soap,” Kate Laswell’s voice stirred him from where he’d passed out on the couch. She dropped a plastic bag on his coffee table with a deafening crash that made him groan through his hangover.

Johnny glared at her through narrowed blue eyes. “Some nerve ye git..” he slurred. He hauled himself into a sitting position that made his stomach lurch, still watching Kate. “Ain't heard fae na yin in weeks 'n' ye juist let yersel' in? Gang bile yer heid, Laswell.”

“Johnny.” Kate’s voice was firm and her gaze dangerous. She pointed to the bag she’d brought in with her. “Eat something and sober up. I have news and a job for you.”

He snatched up the bag and opened it to see some greasy fries that buried an equally greasy burger. He all too quickly shoved a handful of fries into his mouth. “Leid wi' that then..” he mumbled between mouthfuls of food.

Kate Laswell was quiet, standing across the littered living room as Johnny ate. He was in poor shape, he hardly looked like himself. “We have a lead on Makarov,” she said, making the man nearly choke on his food, a flash of anger in his eyes. “We're sending you after him.”

“How come me?” Johnny asked, straightening up and looking at her from his spot on the couch. “I been out for six months..”

“Everyone thinks you're dead,” she said. Kate had always been straight forward in the way she spoke. “We're setting you up with a reconnaissance specialist. You two are going undercover.”

Johnny thought for several moments as he chewed. Gaz and Roach were far from recon specialists and Captain Price was too well known to go undercover. That only left Ghost, but Johnny doubted Laswell and Price would send Ghost on an undercover operation. He had to wonder who he was being set up with.

“You're leaving in a few days,” Kate said, reaching into a bag she was carrying with her. She placed a manila folder on the table in front of Johnny. “Everything you need to know about your new identity and your mission is here. Familiarize yourself with it.”

Johnny wiped his hands on his sweats, picking up the folder. He rifles through its contents. Makarov was hiding out in America, some trashy little suburb outside of Hollywood. Ties to human trafficking. The idea made Johnny's blood boil.

“Where'd ye git a' this from?” Johnny asked, turning another page. There was plenty of information on what was being done to the poor girls being brought into Makarov's sick business venture in America, but not much on how they got there or where Makarov himself was. “Sick bastard…”

His eyes then landed on a piece of paper containing his new identity. His new name and life story. Neil MacBride.. At least they didn’t expect him to hide his accent.

“Corporal Banshee's been hard at work,” Kate answered.

Johnny looked up at that. “Banshee?” The word brought back memories, sitting with his grandmother listening to all the stories she liked to tell. The legends and myths of the isles. Banshees were probably one of the scariest things she told him about, the way they wailed and screeched.

“She's been undercover for the last few months gathering intel,” Kate continued, stepping closer. “She's expecting Sergeant John “Soap” MacTavish on this, she's worked too hard to have the operation go under now. So clean up your act and get it together.”

Johnny nodded. Laswell was right, he needed to get back on his feet for this job. “What else can ye tell me ‘bout the Banshee?”

“Irish Special Forces, ARW, Corporal Banshee's young but she's a force to be reckoned with,” Laswell said. “Works mostly in reconnaissance these days. She's currently posing as security in one of the clubs Makarov's hiding out in.”

Johnny frowned. “No name?”

“You've worked with Ghost, Sergeant.”

He couldn't argue with that, though he knew Ghost's name, it took time, but he knew his lieutenant’s name and face. Certainly the old MacTavish charm would work on an Irish lass working in America.

“I'll just have tae git her to open tae me lik’ Ghost,” he beamed. This was the first time in months he'd felt like himself. Even if it was work, Johnny was ready to get back into action.

---

“Fuck’s sake, m’ apartment is still in one piece, yeah?”

Kate Laswell sat in her office, eyes fixed on the screen of her laptop. The tiny monitor showed a young woman. She had a slim face and black hair that cascaded over her shoulders, a pair of white streaks framing her face.

“Soap’s apologized,” Kate lied. “Thank you again for loaning us the space to hide him.”

Laswell knew the young woman was on edge with a soldier she didn't know staying in her personal apartment. It was the easiest way to make sure Soap would stay, mostly, out of trouble. Drinking problem notwithstanding.

The young woman on the other end, shifted on her couch, tilting her head like she was looking around. Kate could barely see the tattoos that peeked out from the high collar of her shirt. She turned a pair of stormy blue eyes back to her screen.

“Only fur you, Watcher. Thankfully I didnae have anything there anyway.”

Kate smiled gently at the soft Irish accent coming from her speakers. “He’ll be out of there soon enough,” she said. “Three days and he's on site with you.” Laswell adjusted in her own seat briefly. “Just remember, you may have put in the legwork on this, but he does outrank you.”

“Copy that Watcher,” the young woman said. “I'll keep it tight. Professional. Just make sure he's sober, I have a hard enough time here wi’ Americans thinking all I do is drink, aye?”

“Soap's good,” Laswell said, though she had her own doubts. Johnny had looked a mess when she arrived. “I made sure he dumped the last of that Scotch before I left.”

The young woman nodded. “I been putting in word ‘bout a cousin comin’ tae visit me soon,” she said. “Gonnae see ‘bout getting him a job in th’ club wi’ me. Far as those bastards know, he’s recently divorced ‘n’ lookin’ fur a fresh start in th’ states.”

“Good, we don’t need any trouble getting him inside,” Kate said. She looked at the time on her laptop. “Almost time for you to get back to work. Stay safe and report back in the morning.”

“Roger Watcher.”

“Goodnight Banshee.”

[thehylianidiot]

TheHylianIdiot's Assortment of Brain Worms

Was tagged by both @bumblebeehug and @kiliinstinct for this one, so let's do this.

rules: share the first line (or two or more!) of every current wip you have (that you feel comfortable sharing) and tag some writer friends! feel free to add the titles of your documents if you see fit

Oops We Kidnapped the Emperor (Title WIP) (Fairy Tail)

The mission to rescue Makarov had a few hiccups.

The first of which being despite traveling across the ocean to the heart of the Alvarez Empire, storming its castle ready to get back their captive guildmaster, the designated High-Collateral Rescue Squad did not bring back their Sixth-But-Soon-To-Be-Eighth-Guildmaster. 

And as for the second well…

Erza explained it to the rest of the guild best. “We kidnapped the emperor.” 

The Other Four Idiots, Plus A Cat (Chapter 22) (Fairy Tail)

“How many people have you interacted with in your life?”

“Umm… well… I don’t have a lot of practice with people. Most are either dead or fled in the first twenty four hours.” Mavis chuckled a bit, because keeping bright and cheerful normally made things happier and not a constant reminder that the majority of her prior interactions involved the other party trying to… well… increase their kill count by one. 

Given the lady slapping her palms to her face, maybe that wasn’t the best way to put it. 

“Oh gods he befriended a psychopath,” Ultear not-so-quietly muttered into her hands.

Lost My Cap (I swear I will write this someday) (Legend of Zelda: Minish Cap)

"I thought I heard something" 

Yes. It was a frog. How that buffoon of a guard could mistake a frog for him, Vaati wasn't sure. And of course the dimwit just had to pitter patter up above like some lost pet. 

On and on he heard the aimless clank of too heavy boots. Surely the guards could find something more interesting. There were monsters flooding every inch of their precious kingdom! Didn't they have something better to do than hunt the one who opened that damned box? Like perhaps stepping away from the sewage gate? 

He breathed in a quarter second too long and nearly gagged at the overwhelming stench. Don't you dare, he told himself. No way was he embarrassing himself further today by getting caught. 

To Slay A Demon (Part 2) (Fairy Tail)

Maybe some naively optimistic part of Gray hoped Zeref was a glass canon. That after cult after cult of worshippers and thousands of demons at his command, their ringleader would be too dependent on them. 

That optimism was crushed between a fraction of a second.

And death magic flowed around like a tidal wave of sand, flinging haphazardly in a nonexistent hurricane, crashing against ice-made shield. One trickle past Gray’s defenses, and he’d lose everything.

The Little Raindrop of Magnologia (Fairy Tail)

Drip drip drop. 

Little Juvia stood alone in the pouring rain. 

Drip drip drop. 

Everyone else had long since fled indoors. After all, it was the easiest way to escape the rain creating waterfalls from roofs and rivers from sidewalks. 

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t afford that luxury. 

These Are Not the Reincarnated Immortals You're Looking For (Title WIP) (Fairy Tail)

Alios would say the evening was going surprisingly normal until the chloroform. 

But no matter how many preparations he made so he could have a decent time (for once) at his favorite author's award ceremony—working overtime that week to make enough space in his schedule and spending the better part of an hour beforehand figuring out how to wear a modern suit along with how a gods-forsaken tie worked—Alios couldn't stop his weekly kidnapping from literally any random cult in Fiore falling on that exact date.

So as the last shreds of haziness finally faded away and Alios found himself tied to a chair in a pitch black cell, his first thought was, at least they gave it a cushion this time. 

Death Swap (Title WIP) (Fairy Tail)

It started with a passing rumor. 

A local tale shrouding its details with pottery gilded in mysticism and silken rarities tailored to lure passing travelers with enough coin in their pockets and a passing interest with the morbid to pay for a souvenir. Yuri knew he shouldn’t keep his hopes up. 

Knew it was going on two years already. Knew he should be getting back home, call it a night after making sure Warrod had kept a good eye on Makarov this time and the guildhall wasn’t turned into an artistic rendering of spinach inside a blender. 

As Precht said, they were never going to find her. 

Then again, Precht spent most of his time nowadays wallowing in the never-ending stream of newfound council regulations that kept multiplying like rabbits every few weeks until he couldn’t look at a stack of paper without sweating, so what did he know? 

Tagging @classysassy9791, @xfangheartx, @pencilofawesomeness

Feel free to ignore me, nobody is under any pressure to share if they don't want to.

[fixfoxnox]

Something In The Orange - Part 10

Description: The 141 return from their mission and Roach has to deal with the fallout of Makarov's actions.

Warnings: Implied NSFW, Lots of Angst

Note: I am also uploading this to my Ao3 if you would prefer to read it there!

Word Count: 6.9k

"The devil went down to Georgia, he was lookin' for a soul to steal

He was in a bind 'cause he was way behind

And he was willin' to make a deal"

"Devil Went Down to Georgia" - The Charlie Daniels Band

Roach’s face was buried in his hand, his mind fuzzy and his shoulders feeling heavy. He was exhausted and he felt overwhelmingly guilty with all of the eyes scrutinizing him. The team didn’t believe him. He couldn’t be too surprised. 

As soon as the group had landed back at base, they’d been rushed into a meeting room with Laswell and Kamarov and, after a brief rundown from Price, everyone had started into Roach, grilling him on what happened during his interaction with Makarov. 

Roach hadn’t gotten any rest on the way back. Between the entire team’s eyes watching him closely, the struggles he was still having with Soap and Ghost, and his mind working overtime to come up with a believable lie that he could feed the team, there was no way that he was going to be able to rest. 

He’d considered just giving in and telling the team the truth, but after looking around at the group on the plane and recognizing the already hesitant and slightly distrusting looks they were sending his way, he knew that he couldn’t tell them. He couldn’t see a world where telling the group the truth would work out in his favor, so instead, he’d started looking for a believable lie. 

“Tell us again.”

Roach closed his eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. He leaned back in his seat then, looking to Laswell as he repeated, “I woke up in a padded cell. Makarov was already there. He kept saying stuff about me having been there before and how he’d been watching the team for a long time.” Roach leaned forward again, “He was talking crazy, okay?”

“Keep going,” Laswell interrupted him.

“He left the room and came back sometime later with Yuri. He said that he knew Yuri had betrayed him and that he was feeding him false information to get to us,” Roach shrugged, “Then he shot him, let me go, and left.”

“He just left?” Gaz shook his head, “He just let you go?”

“Yes,” Roach stressed, “I don’t know why he did it.”

“And he didn’t say anything else about why he grabbed the two of you?” Price was the one to ask the question, his eyebrow raised. 

Roach hesitated before shaking his head, “No, he didn’t say anything.” He picked at his nails nervously, “I thought he was going to kill me. I don’t know why he didn’t.”

After nearly an hour of grilling him, that seemed to hit the team in the right spot. He could see everyone but Price’s face soften at that. He’d been trying for nearly thirty minutes to get the group to let up and just believe him, it seemed that he’d finally done it.

“Alright Roach,” Laswell pushed back from the table, “If you remember anything else, or anything minor suddenly rings as important to you, you need to let us know.”

Roach nodded, “Of course. I promise you guys if I knew anything else I’d tell you.”

“We know, Bug.” Ghost was the one to speak, his voice soft.

“Well,” Laswell paced around the room, “I’m sorry to say that you guys aren’t going to get much of a break after this. We’re all going to be busy from here on out.”

“Yes,” Kamarov cleared his throat, “We’ve been looking through the information we got from the safehouse, no doubt only bits and pieces that Makarov wanted us to see, but good bits and pieces despite that.”

“Makarov has got his roots in much deeper than we thought.” Laswell turned the projector on. The picture that was shown to the group made Roach feel sick to his stomach, “This is Alejandro Rojas, he’s an associate of Makarov’s in Brazil. We think his company is being used as a front for Makarov to make black market deals.”

This had to be a trap. He knew that. Not only had Makarov let the team get this information, but it was information that rang as familiar to Roach. He remembered the hunt for Rojas, he remembered being separated from the squad and being forced to fight his way through dozens of men just to regroup with them. He remembered falling and being forced to make a mad dash for the plane before he would be stranded. He knew Makarov remembered too. 

“You’ll be going after him,” Laswell moved to the next slide, showing a large private estate in Brazil. It seemed that the mission would take place somewhere different, but Roach still had a terrible feeling sinking into his chest. “If we can capture Rojas, we’ll stifle any deals Makarov might be able to make. It will also put us one step closer to him again.”

“Doesn’t this feel suspicious,” Roach dared to say. He flinched away as all eyes in the room moved back to him, “I mean it just seems odd that Makarov would have left this information for us to find. What if it’s a trap again?”

“Makarov likely didn’t think this was very important,” Kamarov was the one who spoke, “Laswell had to do some digging just to find out that the two were connected, he probably thought we wouldn’t suspect anything.”

Roach didn’t buy it, but he didn’t want to keep questioning things and bring attention back to himself. After a moment of silence, he nodded to Kamarov, letting the man know that he understood. 

“Alright,” Laswell nodded, “Any questions?” No one spoke. “Good, you ship out two days from now. Go get some rest.”

Roach was the first out of the room, speeding down the hall and to the locker room. He didn’t bother taking off any of his clothes or getting ready to shower, instead, he picked up his phone and dialed a very familiar number. 

“Roach?”

“Jackson,” Roach leaned against the lockers, his breathing heavy and his eyes clouding with tears, “We have a problem.”

“Shit dude, are you okay? You didn’t get shot again did you?”

Roach didn’t answer any of his questions, instead, he said, “I saw Makarov, you know the one I told you about? He remembers. He’s like us, he remembers.” There was silence over the line, several moments of quiet going between the two. “Jackson?”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Roach took in a gasping breath and opened his locker back up. He started to gather his things, needing something to do with his hands, “He wants me to kill Price.”

“What?”

“He wants me to kill Price.”

“You would never do that.”

“I know,” Roach ran a hand through his hair, “I think he’s going to make me. He’s,” Roach hesitated, checking the door to the locker room before continuing, “I think he’s going to try to make me out to be a traitor. He’s already used the fact that I can’t tell the others to his advantage. He let me go scratch free, I already look suspicious.”

“Roach,” He could hear Jackson’s voice grow more serious, “You need to tell them.”

“I can’t.”

“He’s going to turn them against you, you need to tell them the truth.”

“I can’t,” Roach stressed, “You know as well as I do that we sound insane to anyone who doesn’t remember.”

“I don’t care,” Jackson’s voice raised, “What are you going to do if he does turn them against you?”

“I don’t know,” Roach muttered.

“How are you going to explain yourself when he keeps painting you as the bad guy?”

“I’ll figure something out,” Roach muttered, “I can’t tell them.”

“Do you hear yourself? This is self-sabotage, Roach. Don’t be an idiot.”

“I can’t tell them,” Roach’s voice rose, “I can’t risk what I’ve worked so hard to get back to.”

“So what are you going to do then,” Jackson’s voice rose too, “Let Makarov paint you as a bad guy?

Roach slammed his locker shut with a bang, “I told you I’d figure something out!” He shouted into the phone. 

“Roach?”

Roach whipped around, his face falling as he spotted the other members of the 141 standing in the doorway to the locker room, gazing at him with concern. “I’ll call you back, I’m sorry for shouting.” Roach didn’t wait for a response before ending the call. He gave the team an apologetic smile, “Sorry guys, I had planned to visit my family with the time off. Mom’s not too happy that’s not happening anymore.”

The men slowly moved further into the room, “Right,” Gaz nodded, “Why didn’t you tell us you’d planned time off?”

Roach glanced quickly at Soap and Ghost before shrugging, “It didn’t seem important with everything going on.” He reached down to grab his shower supplies. He ignored the looks he was getting from Soap and Ghost in favor of heading for the showers. More than anything, he just wanted to wash away the day’s events and get away from everyone else. He could only hope it didn’t look like he was actively avoiding conversation. 

“I’ll let you know when he wakes up,” Captain Price grabbed his bag off of the locker room bench. “Kamarov says they’ve transferred him to a better facility and that he’ll be able to talk to Laswell and I when he wakes up.”

Roach nodded, “I appreciate that Captain, thank you for letting me know.” He was genuinely relieved to hear that Yuri had made it out of surgery perfectly fine and that he was expected to wake up soon. He didn’t know how he would have felt to find out that the man hadn’t made it. 

“Of course,” Captain Price turned to leave, but stopped in his tracks only halfway to the door before turning back around, “Roach, you know you can tell me anything, right?”

The words sat quietly between the two for a moment. They were the only ones left in the locker room, Price had stayed behind so he could update him on Yuri’s condition. The words he spoke left Roach feeling guiltier than before. He swallowed hard before responding, “I know.”

“I mean it,” Price took a step back towards him, “If something happened on the mission that you’re too afraid to mention, you can talk to me. I won’t judge you.” 

Roach diverted his gaze to the ground before nodding, “I know Captain.”

Price seemed to hesitate, as though he wanted to say more. After a few moments, he offered a simple, “Alright,” before grabbing his bag and leaving the locker room, likely to get a glass of whiskey and smoke a cigar. The thought put a small smile on Roach’s face and briefly, he wondered if Price would be willing to share with him. He could use a drink.

He shook his head at the thought and went back to tying the laces on his boots, ready to go back to his room and take a long nap. 

“Roach.” 

He felt his heart come to a stop for a moment before he worked up the courage to look up and meet the gaze of Soap. He was standing in the doorway of the locker room, his arms crossed and his gaze serious as he looked at him. He and Ghost had stepped out several minutes earlier, but it became clear to Roach that the man hadn’t actually left, and instead waited until he could catch him alone with no escape.

“Soap,” Roach responded nervously. He stood from his seat then and grabbed his bag, “Did you need something?”

“Come with me.”

“What?”

“Come with me,” Soap fixed him with a demanding look, “I just want to have a quick chat.”

Roach closed his eyes, taking in a deep steadying breath before giving a short, curt nod. 

He followed Soap down the hallway, sticking close beside the man as he led them toward his room in the building. There were several times that he considered turning off and making a mad dash for his room, but every time he did Soap would turn back to make sure he was still there, giving him a look that told Roach that he knew exactly what he was thinking. 

When they finally made it to his room Soap motioned for him to open the door, standing off to the side to let him enter the room first, “Go on inside. I’m right behind you.” Roach recognized that the move was to stop him from running, he tried not to shake from nerves. 

He pushed open the door, feeling his heart leap into his throat as he immediately met the gaze of Ghost. The man was looking at him with soft eyes, but a grave look on his unmasked face. Roach had to look away quickly to avoid the feelings that sprung up. He tried to back out of the room but was stopped by Soap who was looking at him expectantly. It was then that he realized he’d essentially been trapped by the two men.

After a moment of pause, he stepped fully into the room, making sure to stay away from where Ghost was sitting at the edge of Soap’s bed. He heard the door to the room close and the lock on the door click with a sense of finality as he awkwardly shuffled his feet and avoided the gazes of the two men in the room. 

After a moment, Soap broke the silence, “Roach, why don’t you sit down.”

“I’m okay standing,” Roach responded quickly. 

There was a small groan from Soap before, “Okay, let’s clear the air. I know that Simon kissed you.” 

Roach’s head shot up, his eyes meeting Soap’s and his cheeks going bright red. He opened and closed his mouth for several moments before settling on an apologetic, “I’m sorry.”

Soap’s lips quirked up into a bit of a smile, “Roach, I knew he was going to kiss you before he even went to see you. We talked about it beforehand. I’m not mad.”

Roach’s eyes could have popped out with how wide they went. He looked back and forth between Soap and Ghost for several moments, trying to wrap his head around the fact that not only was Soap not mad that he’d kissed his boyfriend, but he had actually known that the kiss was going to happen. “I’m,” Roach shook his head, “I don’t understand.” 

“We’re not very good at explaining ourselves,” came the response from Simon, his mouth also quirked up into a small smile, “And to be fair you’ve not exactly given us the chance to.” 

“That night at the bar, that entire day actually,” Soap moved over to stand next to Simon, leaning into the man as Simon wrapped an arm around his leg, “We were jealous. First, there was your ex, Jackson.” Roach had to stop himself from laughing at the fact that they had actually believed Jackson’s teasing, “then the guy at the bar. We reacted poorly.”

“Wait,” Roach shook his head, “You were both jealous?” 

“Hard not to be when someone’s flirting with the person you like,” Simon chimed in. “And yes, that means both of us.”

“But you’re-”

Roach was cut off by Soap, “We’re still very much in love with each other,” he motioned to their current position, “Obviously. But we’ve grown pretty fond of you too, Bug.” 

Roach still couldn’t wrap his mind around what the two were saying. He took a moment to think, his mind running in circles with conflicting thoughts of delight and confusion, “I still don’t understand.”

“You were mad at Simon that night,” Soap pointed to him, “We knew we needed to explain ourselves, so we talked it over and decided that rather than coming at you at once, Simon would go by himself and try to explain things to you. Though I will admit he did muck it up a bit.”

“Careful Johnny,” Simon playfully nudged Soap. 

Soap shrugged, “You were supposed to explain everything before you kissed him. I know he’s adorable when he’s angry but I expected a bit more self-control.”

Roach felt his face go bright red, his heart picking up speed in his chest. “You guys both-” He managed to squeak out, his voice getting caught in his throat as he looked between the two. 

“Okay well that's adorable too,” Soap shook his head as though trying to clear his thoughts, “We were going to try to explain to you the next morning, but you were avoiding us and we never managed to corner you.” 

“Which is why we’re here now,” Simon said, a small devious look in his eyes, “Explaining things and hoping that the little looks you’ve been giving the both of us for months mean what we think they do.”

Roach felt cold embarrassment pour over his system as he realized that he hadn’t been so slick with his staring recently. “You guys noticed that?”

“Hard not to notice, Bug.”

Soap nodded, “So, you gonna let both of us kiss you whenever we want?” He let out a yelp as Simon slapped his leg. “Shite!”

“Don’t ask like that,” Simon pursed his lips, “He already thought we were being dicks.”

“Fine, fine,” Soap held his hands up in mock surrender, “We’re asking if you’d like to date us.”

Roach actually sat down at that, his entire body thrumming with shock, joy, and, oddly enough, adrenaline. He took a moment to just stare at the ground as he tried to work through what he was hearing and accept the fact that yes, this was real and he wasn’t dreaming. 

“I think we broke him,” Simon whispered to Soap. 

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Came Soap’s response. After a moment, he hesitantly asked, “Roach?”

“Yes.”

“Yes? Like yes to the dating thing? Or yes to your name being called?”

“Yes.”

“Okay well, that doesn’t really help-”

“Soap, Simon,” Roach looked at the men, “You both can kiss me whenever you want.” The grin that took over Soap’s face was immediate and bright, a small whoop coming from his lips. Simon’s reaction was much more contained, though Roach noted it was definitely a good one, his lips curing up into a satisfied smile and his eyes lit up with affection. He couldn’t help the laugh that came from his lips. “Don’t let it go to your head though So-”

Roach was cut off by Soap stepping forward to rather quickly press their lips together. The kiss was definitely messier than the one he and Simon had shared, but the energy behind it was undoubtedly Soap. The rough press of lips and slight clacking of their teeth together betrayed his excitement. After a moment he pulled away from Roach, “That’s John or Johnny to you Bug.”

Roach laughed, knowing that his face was probably bright red and not caring, “Would it be wrong of me to say I would probably prefer it if the two of you kept calling me Roach?”

“Whatever you want,” Came the reply as Johnny nuzzled his face into Roach’s neck, placing soft kisses along his neck as he did. 

Roach didn’t even notice that Simon had moved until he was right in front of him, a hand coming to gently guide his chin, “Agreed. Whatever you want bug,” With that he leaned down to connect their lips as well. 

Roach took in a deep breath of cool air, feeling the slight chill of the morning prickle his skin. He ignored the ache in his legs and the likely obvious hickeys on his neck from the previous night's activities to step outside of the building on base. He wanted to watch the sunrise. 

There was a small smile on his face as he felt the warmth of the sun's rays on his skin, his mind blessedly clear for what felt like the first time since he’d been reborn into a new life. There was nothing but a hazy feeling of joy thrumming through his body and the warm ache of pleasure that stuck around to thrum through his legs. 

The sunrise was beautiful that morning, yellows, pinks, and oranges melding together to light the sky into a soft blue. Roach could hear the beginnings of birds chirping and the fading of the night's choir of crickets and frogs. Dew began forming around him on the grass, and he knew he’d want to step back inside and return to bed soon, but for now, he simply took in the morning air. 

His mind felt blissfully clear. After days of being on edge and having thing after thing pound into him, he felt like he could finally take a moment to breathe. Even if it was only one good thing in a sea of bad, he intended to cling to it. 

“Yuri woke up.”

Roach pushed down the brief shock he felt to turn to Price, the man was leaning against the doorway to the building, a cigar hanging between his lips. He took a moment to push past the nerves that struck his system. After a moment he crossed his arms and nervously looked at the man, “Oh really?” 

“Yes,” Price took the cigar from between his lips tapping off some of the ash from the end. His face looked grave and Roach noted nervously that he had a pistol strapped to his hip. “Laswell and I already spoke with him. He told us his version of events from the safe house.”

“Yeah?” Roach took a step away from the man. Price’s eyes watched him like a hawk, “I imagine it matched mine?”

“Yes,” Price nodded. Roach let out a sigh of relief, “But there was something else.” 

“Really?” Roach felt his nerves shoot back up, “What did he say?”

Price pushed himself off of the wall and Roach watched as he snuffed his cigar out and tucked what was left of it into one of his pockets. He felt his nerves singe even further as Price took several careful and calculated steps toward him. He tried not to back away. “He said that Makarov seemed to have a keen interest in you. Said that the two of you seemed to know each other.” 

Roach shook his head, “I’ve never met him before, like I said Makarov was talking out of his ass.”

Price raised a hand to silence him, “He also said that Makarov spoke like you worked for him.” In a second Roach had a pistol pointed at him. He raised his hands on instinct and took several fumbled steps back, Price followed him. “Do you work for Makarov?”

“No,” Roach shook his head wildly, “Price I swear.”

“Did you make a deal with him then?” Price’s face was twisted into a scowl and his finger hovered just by the trigger on his gun. Roach’s breathing grew heavier, “Is that why he let you go? Because you made a deal.”

“No!”

“Then what is it?” Price yelled, “Why does Makarov know you?”

Roach considered his options for several moments. He could try to lie. He could try to convince Captain Price that Makarov was just crazy and that this was some sort of ploy to turn them against each other. But he knew that wouldn’t do anything. He knew that Makarov would keep playing the angle and keep stirring the pot until the entire 141 viewed him as a traitor and he would have no one to turn to. No one to turn to but him. 

His other option was to tell the truth. To admit everything to the man in front of him and hope that Captain Price would be willing to listen long enough and believe him. He knew the reality of that option. He’d been to the doctors before when he was young. He knew that people didn’t believe him. 

He had a choice to make and, as Captain Price stepped closer to him, he knew he would have to make it quick. 

He’d fully changed by the time Soap and Ghost woke up, thanking the heavens that he’d still had his go bag from the locker room with a fresh set of clothes waiting for him. He was sure he looked like a chicken with its head cut off in the way he scurried about Soap’s room, dropping to the ground on occasion to search for an item of his clothing. 

“Roach,” Came the groan from Johnny when he noticed he wasn’t in bed, “What are you doing? We have the day off.”

“I know,” Roach’s nerves were still fried and he’d been on the move since his conversation with Captain Price that morning. “But Laswell wants to go ahead with our briefing for the mission tomorrow.” He hopped on one foot as he shoved his shoe onto his foot. “And, no offense to you guys because it’s very tempting, but I really don’t need to stay in bed all day.”

Simon sat up at that. His hair was tussled in a way that had blood rushing away from Roach’s head and his eyes were watching Roach closely, almost too alert for someone who had just woken up. Johnny, on the other hand, sat up with his hair mussed and his eyes hazy, a yawn emerging from his lips as he gave Roach a tempting pout, “Come back to bed.”

It took all of Roach’s strength for him to shake his head. He made his way over to Soap’s bed. The mattress was really far too small for the three men to share, but they’d made it work. He crawled over towards the two men and gave Soap a playful scritch on his chin before pulling the man into a short kiss. Simon met him when he pulled away with a kiss of his own. 

The whole interaction set his heart fluttering in his chest and he could have wept with how happy the casual intimacy made him feel. But, his mind supplied, he had things to do and he could not spend all day in bed with the two men. Quite a tragedy for him. 

“I have to make a phone call before the meeting,” He told the two, “It starts in thirty, by the way, so you might consider getting up yourselves.”

“How did you find out about this meeting?” Soap yawned and collapsed back against the bed, “I don’t remember Laswell mentioning it at the briefing yesterday.”

“I saw Price this morning,” Roach crawled out of the bed, “Sorry, I was hungry,” he gave the two men an apologetic glance. “He told me about the meeting and asked me to tell the two of you,” His face went red and he added in a nervous hum, “Which reminds me that he definitely knows what the three of us got up to last night.”

“I’m not surprised,” That was Simon, his voice still holding that deep scratchy sound that told Roach he’d only recently woke up. “The man knows practically everything.”

Roach nodded with a hum, “Just thought I’d warn the two of you.” He turned back to them, giving a manufactured grin that he hoped would be enough to hide the conflicting feelings in his chest. He blew them a kiss, “I’ll see you guys later, we can get lunch after the meeting.”

“Right,” Soap waved to him, “Lunch. Then back to bed for the rest of the day.”

That pulled a chuckle from both Ghost and Roach. Roach opened the door to Soaps room, “Then back to bed for the rest of the day,” he confirmed with amusement before stepping out into the hall and closing the door behind him. 

His smile dropped almost as soon as he was out of the room, that sense of franticness that took over his bones when he’d returned to the room had come back to him now and he grew serious. He turned away from the door, meeting Price’s gaze from where the man had been waiting for him outside of the room. Price gave him a look of pity. “Are you sure about this?”

Roach gave a deep sigh and started walking, Price following at his side, “What other choice do we have?”

Price was quiet for a moment, “I still don’t like it. You understand what this could do to your relationship with them? I don’t think this is fair to you.”

Roach gave a snort, “Life hasn’t been fair to me since the moment I was born,” he gave Price a glance, “It’s not going to start now. I have to play the cards I’ve been given.”

“Alright,” Price nodded to him, his face turning serious, “No backing out.”

“No backing out,” Roach confirmed as he and Price neared their destination. He paused when the two reached the doors to the cafeteria, hearing a large majority of the base inside milling about, “Give them a good show, yeah?”

Price nodded and hardened his gaze, “Will do. Keep your head on straight for me. I’d hate to lose mine.”

He gave a dry chuckle, “That won’t be a problem.” The two paused, Roach, working up his nerves and Price watching him closely. After a moment, Roach gave him a nod and stepped into the cafeteria, knowing that in a few moments, he would follow after him. He could only hope that they would put on a convincing show. 

“What the fuck is wrong with the two of you?” Laswell slammed her hands onto the table. 

Price paced around the room rapidly, his face twisted into anger. Sitting around the table, Soap, Ghost, and Gaz all looked more than a little concerned. Roach, had his head buried in his hands, shaking lightly as the yelling continued, “What the fuck is wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with me,” Price stopped and pointed at Roach, “He lied to us, Laswell.”

“I didn’t lie!” Roach tried to object.

“There he goes again!” Price spit out, “He’s what’s wrong with me Laswell? I can’t even trust a member of my own team!”

“You can trust me!” Roach looked up desperately, his eyes scanning everyone in the room for help. Gaz was the one to sit forward.

“Sir, what’s going on? What do you think Roach lied about?”

The entire rest of the team had already been waiting in the meeting room when Price and Roach had been dragged in screaming at one another. Price had a bruise forming on his cheek where Roach had managed to clock him and Roach himself had a cut along the side of his face from where a piece of silverware that Price threw at him had struck. Needless to say, the entire team had been shocked. 

Price stopped pacing to settle his hands on the back of one of the chairs, “Yuri woke up, he told us what happened on our last mission. Roach made a deal with Makarov!”

All eyes in the room moved to him in shock. He shook his head and tried to deny the accusation, “I didn’t make a deal with Makarov! I swear I don’t know what Yuri told you but it isn’t true!”

“Oh really?” Price took a threatening step towards Roach, “So Makarov didn’t take the time to remind you of what you’d ‘discussed’ before he let you go? He didn’t admit that he’d been trying to find you using Yuri?”

Roach opened and closed his mouth for several seconds, his eyes wide as he tried to search for a response. The members of the team watched him, Price with smug satisfaction and the others with the beginnings of distrust growing on their faces. “Roach? What is he talking about?” Ghost was the one to ask, his voice hard and harsh. There was no sign of any of the affection he held for Roach. 

Roach closed his eyes and shook his head, “I didn’t make a deal with Makarov,” he repeated, “I swear to you guys. Makarov just said that he’d been watching the 141. He tried to make a deal with me. I said no.”

“What did he want you to do?” That was Laswell, her face serious as she looked down the table at him.

Roach hesitated, glancing at Price for a split second before admitting, “He wanted me to kill Price.”

Price paced around the room again, a look of rage on his face, “I knew it,” he muttered to himself, “I fucking knew it, you bastard.”

Roach shook his head, “I said no! I swear to god I said no!”

“Why did Makarov let you go then,” Gaz had a hard look on his face, “Why not torture you after you said no.”

“I don’t know,” Roach shook his head, “Maybe he thought he could change my mind or maybe something scared him off.” He paused to look around at the group, “Please, you guys have to believe me.”

There was a pause as the room devolved into a thick and heavy silence. No one would meet his eye. Despite knowing this would happen, he still felt a heavy feeling settle on his chest and shoulders. 

After another few moments of silence, Soap quietly asked, “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Roach’s eyes shot to his, pleadingly, “What?”

“Why didn’t you tell us? Yesterday.”

Roach looked away from them and pursed his lips, “I was scared.”

“Scared?”

“Yes,” Roach placed his face in his hands again, “I’m sorry I just, I knew how crazy everything sounded. I didn’t want you guys to think that I’d betrayed you.” He looked around at the group, “But I swear to you, on my life and the life of everyone I care about, I did not make a deal with Makarov.”

Silence hung over the room for several seconds before finally, “Alright.”

Roach looked to Laswell in surprise, “Alright?”

Price seemed upset at her words, “Laswell-”

“We’ll talk about it later John,” Laswell silenced him with a look, “But I trust Roach. For now at least.”

“Thank you,” Roach let out a sigh of relief, “Thank god.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Laswell stopped him in his thanks, “I still don’t fully trust you. But, we can use you on the next mission. And it will give you a chance to actually prove yourself.”

Roach nodded rapidly and sat forward in his seat, “Of course, anything!”

Laswell nodded to him and opened her computer, setting up her presentation for the next mission. After she had it set up fully, she fixed her gaze on Price who was still standing and glaring daggers at Roach. She waited for a moment before, “Sit down, John.”

Price gave her a harsh look before begrudgingly pulling a chair out and plopping down into it. He sent one last dirty look Roach’s way before focusing on Laswell. Roach stared after him for a moment, feeling a deep pit of anxiety settle in his stomach, within the next few seconds he too was looking to Laswell. 

“Alright,” Laswell sighed, “We’ve gotten the schematics for the building and, after reviewing them, I think your best bet is going to be a nighttime break-in.” She showed the schematics for the building, “It’s Rojas’ private estate, so it’s heavily guarded, but there are a few noticeable weak points in the security when it comes to the night watch.”

Laswell walked the team through what she’d been able to learn about Rojas’ private estate, noting several weak points along the large gate that surrounded the estate as well as several weak points within the home itself. The whole thing seemed, once again, too easy to Roach. 

“This is where you’ll have to split off,” Laswell pointed to an area inside of the home. “Here is where Rojas will be. Soap, Ghost, Price, and Gaz will push in here.” She looked at Roach pointedly, “Roach will split off and move up here.” She pointed to a separate room on the map, “This is where we think his security system is hooked up as well as the master control for his computer system. You’ll move in and plug into the system while the rest of the team take Rojas in. This way, we’ll get some intel and you can prove that you’re still loyal without putting the rest of the team at risk.”

“He shouldn’t be going with us at all,” Captain Price hissed. 

Laswell sighed, “John I know you’re angry, but we have to give him a chance.”

“Yeah well,” Price stood from his seat with a huff, “You can bet he won’t be watching my six on the mission. I’d hate to get shot in the back.” With that, the man stormed out of the room. There was silence for a few moments before Gaz was standing as well. 

“Laswell,” He acknowledged. He didn’t even look at Roach before following Price out of the room. 

“Right,” Laswell sighed, “It looks like the meeting is over. You guys head for the base tomorrow at 1600 hours, don’t be late.” She gave Roach one last look of pity before gathering her things and leaving the room, only Roach, Ghost, and Soap were left behind. 

There was quiet for a moment and Roach kept his gaze glued to his hands. He didn’t want to look up and see the look on either of the men’s faces. He didn’t know if he’d be able to handle it. 

He still didn’t look up when Ghost stood from his seat or when Soap did a moment later. He stayed quiet as the two made their way to the door. If he could, if it wouldn’t ruin things, he would tell the two of them the truth. He couldn’t do that though, instead, he had to let them leave with the belief that he could potentially be a traitor. 

Even with the knowledge that he needed to let them go, he couldn’t stop himself from calling out to the two just before they left, “I promise I’m not a traitor.” He still refused to meet their gaze, but his face was serious. “I swear it.” 

There was no response and, when Roach looked up, he realized that the two men were gone. 

The man sat at his desk, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips as his eyes trailed over the file in front of him. It had to be the hundredth time he’d read it, but it never stopped him from sitting at his desk at the end of the day and looking it over once again. 

Occasionally his eyes would flicker up and around the room nervously, as though he expected an ambush to happen at any time. His hands shook as he went to type and it was only another drag from his cigarette and a sip of scotch that could stop the movement. 

The house he’d taken over was well guarded, and he knew an attack wouldn’t be made on the location until the following day, but still, his nerves grated on him and his mind supplied the sound of gunfire, the smell of smoke, and the sting of a rope around his neck. His hand came up to rub the skin against his throat, acting almost as a reminder to him that he was still living. 

He jumped when the phone on his desk rang, and it was in that temporary fear that he picked it up, his tone biting as he answered, “What?”

“Sorry sir, apologies sir, I have news.”

Makarov relaxed back against his chair at the voice, “Speak.”

“Your plan is working.” 

Makarov leaned forward in his seat, excitement thrumming through his bones at those words, “Yes? Tell me.”

“Yuri woke up, he told them about the exchange you had with the Sergeant.” A grin slowly began to grow on Makarov’s face, “Just like you thought, he didn’t tell his team the truth. He and Captain Price got into an altercation in the Cafeteria this morning.”

“And the others?” Makarov implored, “What of the others?” 

“They don’t trust him either,” The words sent a shiver of delight down Makarov’s spine. He loved when a plan came together. “Even the two you were worried about, they’ve avoided him since their team meeting today.”

“And? Their raid tomorrow, on the estate?” 

“They’re splitting him off from the group. Sending him to the camera room.” Makarov stood from his desk, feeling a sudden leap of energy at the news. Things were working out perfectly, if he played his cards right, which he always did, Captain Price would be dead by the end of the following night and he’d have gained an extremely skilled and extremely desperate little soldier at his beck and call. 

“And you’re sure of all of this?” He asked after a moment. He had to be certain that the team truly had lost trust in his little insect friend. 

There was a pause on the other end of the line before, “He and Price got physical during their argument. The Captain is sporting a bruised face because of it.” 

There was a deranged sort of joy that made itself known in his laugh. He didn’t bother to say goodbye to his informant, instead slamming the phone down as laughter continued to wrack his system. 

He sat back down at his desk, a delirious grin on his face. Things were going to go his way in this lifetime. He was going to win. He stared delightedly once again at the file in front of him, his eyes tracing the features of the man in the picture. He let out another laugh. 

Gary “Roach” Sanderson was exactly what his file said he was. Skilled, smart, and loyal. It was a good thing that Makarov knew how to make even the most loyal of men break. 

Prev: Part 9

Next: Part 11

[babygirl-riley]

Meetings and Greetings

Task Force 141 is sent to Russia to start taking down Makarov. With the new member on the team. Allison also has nightmares, having Simon notice that something is wrong with her.

Warnings: Angst, Swearing, and Violence

Running. That’s all that was happening. Running and darkness. I couldn’t breathe, the air was dark, thick. Fire? No. Fog? No. What is what could it be? There was whispers everywhere around me. Failure. Killer. Monster.

Growling on the side of me, red eyes following me, beside me. Teeth snarling, salvia following the opening of the mouth. I stopped to pull out a weapon. No surprise nothing. I panicked and slapped areas where I would have my weapons. Naked? I was naked.

My bare feet on dirt, grass, and branches. Forest? I snapped my head up and the black air clearing up to show the darkness of the trees. The snarling animals turned out to be three men. Shepard. Graves. And Hassan. My fist curled.

“Hello Lawson.” Shepard said pulling out a knife as did the other three.

Graves smiled. “Can’t wait for the fun.”

2230, that is the number I am waiting for, when I grab my army bag and get ready to leave for Russia. I watched the digital clock in my room, the red dim illuminating the room. A Nightmare haunting my dreams once more. I don’t know how to stop them let alone deal with them. It’s the same one, being trapped in a cell with Hassan torturing me, raping me, and eventually killing me. Or running away from the three men that haunt my dreams.

I knew he was dead, at least two of them but the dreams felt real. After the debriefing I was able to have 24 hour surveillance on my mom and uncle. Laswell told me that my little sister, Kaitlyn, was going to be under one as well. I could tell Laswell wants to say sorry or have pity on me with Joseph, I only knew him for a couple months but I kept pushing it away that there was nothing I could do.

Joseph was dead and I am here. I sighed laying on my back looking up at the ceiling. I started to scratch at my thumb nail with my other thumb. A new habit. Nervous tick. It has got to the point where I nicked myself, it bled a lot. I huffed and sat up running my fingers through my hair. I got up and left my room going to the bathroom that was shared amongst us. It was quiet and the lights were more dim, usually they are at this time due to lights out at 2100. It gave me a eerie feeling still. Anyone could pop out and take a stab at me or strangle or…I bumped into someone having both of us huff.

“Shit sorr…” I said looking up, it was Yuri.

“Sorry,” He whispered. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

His thick Russian accent was definitely noticeable but his English was good. I smiled at him. “No worries man, I wasn’t paying attention either.”

He just chuckled and nodded. “Can’t sleep either?”

I shook my head. “No.”

Yuri looked around. “I was about to go to the cafeteria to snag food,” he smiled. “Wanna join?”

I nodded my head. “Yeah, I need some coffee anyways.”

We both walked towards the cafeteria, no one would be in there so it was easy to just hop the counter and grab a few things. Yuri choose just some already cut up melons and filled a solo cup of them. I grabbed a small bit of coffee powder put it in a styrofoam cup with hot sink water. It wasn’t the best tasting thing but I didn’t want to make a whole pot. Plus it did its job. Keeping away the nightmares.

We sat at a table in silence for a while. I was looking down into my coffee, the steam coming up in my face smelling the roast.“Так ты знаешь русский язык?” (So you know Russian?)

I perked my head up looking at Yuri and smirked. “Конечно, это красивый язык.” (Of course, its is a beautiful language.)

He chuckled. “That it is,” He grabbed a melon and plopped it in his mouth. “Do you know other languages?”

I nodded taking a sip of my coffee. “ASL and Spanish.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Trilingual? Didn’t think an American would do such a thing.”

I have him a questioned look. “I’m a rare one.” He chuckled at that nodding. “So what’s your background.” I asked sipping my drink once more.

He hesitated for a moment before taking another melon. “Well I am a loyalist to my country and served for her for many years,” He began running his fingers on his shaved head. “My family is no more, due to wars and such. Your Watcher found me and recruited me and now I am here.”

I nodded listening to everything, I didn’t trust him but hell last time I let me guard down his whole fucking company came after my team and I. So trust is not that easy to come by. “So no family?”

“Нет.” (No.) He sighed.

“I’m sorry,” I said chugging the rest of my coffee. “So you are part of us now?”

“Yes,” He said quickly then scrunched his face. “Well at least right now.”

I half smiled before giving my hand out. “Welcome to the team then Yuri.” I said he looked down at my hand then shook it.

“The pleasure is all mine Fox.”

We sat there until we had to go, talking about nonsense, our favorite war stories. History about war. We are soldiers after all. Talking about weapons and war is something easy, he never asked about my family, past, or anything personal. Which gave me ease of comfort but also cautious. It didn’t make sense why he wouldn’t but maybe that is just the way Yuri is.

Once my watch went off we both headed back to get everything ready and head to the plane. Put on my sweat shirt, vest, weapons, jeans, and combat boots. I had a small mirror on the wall to slick my hair back and put it in a bun, pinning it, making sure it wouldn’t go flying everywhere. I sling my backpack on both shoulder and grabbed my rifle. I opened my door and watched as Ghost came walking down the hall.

I felt that same feeling I always get when seeing him. Butterflies. I forced back my smile. He walked up to me and walked with me out of the building. “Get any sleep?” He asked lowly.

“Yes,” I lied, I didn’t want anyone to know that I couldn’t sleep or have terrors at night. Unfortunately Yuri was the one who caught me with my frustration of not sleeping. “Not enough though.” Not a lie. “What about you?”

“No, it wasn’t worth sleeping for a few hours.” He quickly said as we approached the plane.

Nikolai was standing next to Yuri and Price, they were loading a few boxes in the plane. “Of course it’s you two who are not late.” Price said passing the last box to Yuri. “I am expecting Soap to be however.”

2255, that’s what my watch said, it wasn’t too early, it’s better to be early anyways. “I give him 2310 before he actually shows up.”

I packed my things in the plane and Ghost did the same. We stood in the plane for a moment. “Allison,” Ghost whispered. I glanced up at him looking into his painted eyes. “Your fly is down.”

I gave him a questioned look before looking down at my jeans. “Fuck,” I zipped it up and turned to him. “Thanks.”

He nodded and walked out. I watched him walk away before I huffed. Don’t be sensitive. “Tha a fuachd fuilteach.” (It’s bloody cold) Soap mumbled as he walked into the plane.

I chuckled. “What Mactavish?”

“It’s fucking cold,” He shivered placing his stuff down. “Texas shouldn’t be ya?”

I shook my head. “No,” I stood there for a moment. “You might be getting sick?”

His eyes widened. “No,” Price, Gaz, Yuri, Nickolai and Ghost. “Where’s Laswell?”

“She is gonna meet us there.” Price answered going up with Nickolai.

We all took out seats as the plane started up. “Russia is a beautiful land,” I said, strapping in. “Excited to see your home Yuri?”

“More than you know.” He answered back.

I nodded smiling at him and looked over at Ghost who was staring at me. He observed me looking me over before he snapped his head over to Soap as he said something to him.

I placed my head back and listened as the plane lifted up. I closed my eyes as the memories came through, the skin on skin, the feeling of extreme heat, fuck his mouth on mine, the roughness of his but fuck the taste of him. That night was a different feel, we said no string attached earlier in this…situationship? Friends with benefits?

I couldn’t help thinking of that feeling I would get when he looked at me. When I would see him. Hell the voice of his makes my stomach do flips. I told my mom about my team and when I mentioned Ghost she called me out about how red I went. I told her it was complicated.

“Aren’t they all?” My mom said placing her hand on mine.

I shook my head standing up. “No mom like we are just colleagues nothing more,” I didn’t want to tell her that we were fucking. That it basically was a situationship. A delusion to think it would go anywhere else. “Besides I don’t know much about him.”

My mom hummed before looking up at me. “Silent man.”

“Mhm.” I ran my fingers through my hair.

“Your dad was.”

I scoffed. “He was deaf.”

She cackled actually laughed for several minutes before stopping. “That didn’t matter, once he opened up, he wouldn’t stop talking.”

“That’s different.”

“Is it? How does he look at you?”

“Look at me?”

She gave me an expression like “bitch be for real.” She only does that when we should know the answer to. “Baby,” She started as she stood up. “The eyes and just the windows to our true feelings. Your mouth could say one but it’s the eyes that matter.”

I smiled and placed my hand on her cheek before leaning a bit down to kiss her head then signed. “I love you mama.”

She signed back. “I love you most.”

I tried to hold back the tears as the memory kept replaying over and over again. I should have stayed just for one more day but I knew it would have been pointless. Besides they could have been in more danger for me to be there. My sister is there as well, so my uncle and mom would have double protection anyways. Triple if I was there.

I sighed opening my eyes to see Ghost looking over at me. “So Fox,” I looked over at Gaz. “Once we get settled in the deck of cards have been calling for you to come back.”

“Is that so?” I asked folding my arms across my chest.

“Aye,” Soap started smiling wide. “Ghost has been throwing out asses everywhere. It would be about time for him to get his handed.”

I have a quizzed look at Ghost. “Guess I will have to beat that streak of yours.”

“You wish Lawson.” Ghost quipped back leaning back in the plane.

“What card game?” Yuri asked as he looked back and forth between us.

“Poker or blackjack,” I answered then smirked. “However we are not allowed to play Uno anymore.”

Soap snorted looking over at Ghost. Ghost looked between the both of us and rolled his eyes. “No, it’s a stupid game and you all know it.” Trying to defend himself.

“Says the guy who literally threw a chair cause he couldn’t even get to one card.” Gaz mumbled smirking.

Ghost snapped his head and glared at him. I giggled and looked over at Yuri. “You’ll enjoy blackjack the most. At least I do.”

“That’s cause you bloody cheat!” Soap pointed a finger at me.

“You wish I was, it would give you a better excuse of why you’re a poor player.” I shot back laughing after.

“She has a point there Soap.” Price said, walking in and taking a seat next to me.

Soap gasped and mumbled something I couldn’t hear. “It’s alright Johnny,” Ghost replied. “Not everyone can count.”

Soap shot his head over. “Like toddlers.” I added and he shot his head over at me before flipping me off.

I just chuckled and leaned back, folding my arms. Ghost didn’t say anything after that, but the occasional jokes that Soap would beg for him to tell Yuri. To catch him up. Yuri would be shocked for a moment and either just not laugh or chuckle. I fell asleep listening to all the laughter and yelling.

………………………………………………………….

It was dark, I couldn’t see anything besides little tiny holes. There was mumbling in front of me, I could feel my chest heaving, trying to get the air in my lungs. It stung, the air? No no I was stabbed. Was I? When the bag was ripped from my face, it was bright trying to adjust the new brightness.

When I opened my eyes, I wasn’t in a basement like I thought I would have been. No I was in a…meadow? I felt the breeze hitting my face with my hair flowing around, it was peaceful. The long grass and the trees surrounding the clearing. The flowers…no I know those.The lilies. Lilies. I tried to stand up but I was tied to the chair. I tried to fight the ties looking anywhere.

Panic started to bubble up in my chest. Lilies. I cried out with no sounds coming out of my mouth, I kept screaming. Started to rock the chair without it hitting the grass. Help someone please.

“No one can,” That voice, no not again. I felt a sting on my cheek closing my eyes from the pain and opening them again. I noticed I was in a cement room. The man standing in the shadow area of the room. “No one will.” Hassan.

I glared at him and spat at him but went past him. “Ya know Foxy Lox,” I shot my head to the side to see Graves. “It’s unfortunate that I died. We would have been a fantastic team.” He pulled out a knife and looked over at Hassan standing in front of him.

I glared back and forth to them then I felt hands on my shoulders. “The best.” Shepard.

That’s when he pulled me back forcefully as Graves put the knife to my cheek slicing it down. I squeezed my eyes shut from the pain. He then put it to my throat and put pressure. “See ya in hell.”

Wake up. Please this has to be….

………………………………………………………

I jolted as I felt someone’s hand on my shoulder, I frantically looked around to find them, I slapped the hand away and stood up. “Fox,” My blood that was simmering stopped. “You’re fine, you were sleeping.” When I turned, Ghost was standing still with his hand out.

I looked over towards the ramp. The snow. Snow. I noticed I was panting by the air leaving my lips. I felt my clothes clinging onto my body from the sweat. I shot my head back at him, still staring. My heart beating faster harder than I ever had felt. Am I having a heart attack? Stroke? I snapped my eyes at his searching for an answer. His eyes, oh those brown eyes, it made me crave his eyes more for me to just keep staring. Calm was starting to set in for a moment.

However I was too embarrassed, I could feel the heat hitting my cheeks. “Thanks.” I muttered, grabbing my things and walking out to set my foot back on Russia land.

[x3no9]

OG Makarov is brought back to life to stop the current Makarov. Graves uses Black Cell to bring him back from a pile of bones.

Makarov sees Yuri and falls completely in love with him. It isn't just a second chance for him, he adores this beautiful and alluring man. Who also happened to have betrayed Makarov 2023 and is on the run. Will OG Makarov protect Yuri or go back to how he was in his previous life and snatch up the chance to take down Makarov 23 and regain his throne?

[crucifixes-and-chrysanthemums]

Dream journal, prior dreams to 10/11/23.

7/29/23

Dreamt I was at this big party at Nan and pap's but not their real house. Anyway a bunch of people I didn't know were there including some people for OpChan. The pary is fun and eventually most people go home so I'm still there cleaning up. I find Hendrix has bitten one of his claws off so I take him inside and get some paper towel cleaning off the blood and tell him to relax. Eventually as I'm walking around outside one guy I overhear is waiting for his wife to bring something. He's really upset so I give him a $2 bill from my wallet. He gives me a hug and says thanks, then I head a burning noise and he's beating up heroine on my shoulder to snort. For a second I'm shocked just that it's happening and he tells me it's cool and relax he just needs a bump. I pull back and get just enough space to wind up and punch him right in the face as hard as I can manage. Then Biff, who physically resembles a professional wrestler, flattens him. Fin.

8/3/23

Dreamt I was back in school. For some reason my sister was in the same class. It was laid out weird with students facing each other. Anyway the teacher was just walking around the room because class hadn't started yet. Someone said something about my sister's jacket, then another person pulled one of those one piece motorcycle suits out of the closet and I was thinking how much I'd like one. We all had big travel mugs (all without lids for some reason) full of pop - mine was Coca Cola.

8/5/23

I'm going through this big massive and I mean huge hospital that's also a theme park. I was there as a patient or something when I tan into Logan. He was also being discharged so we hung out. We eventually start walking around and we've gotta get past this big roller coaster. We think of just walking along the tracks but there's a section where they bend and we realize we couldn't get past that pet so we get down and go under. I realize that a bunch of people are losing their phones off the coaster and joke that you could make a decent living scrounging cell phones from here and re selling them. As I crawl around I find an Alton helmet and a Makarov too. Soon after logan walks away and I'm standing down the room as a black guy (looked like zeb c from work but wasn't him in the dream) comes around the corner. He asks me soemtning and pulls a gun and I return fire. We miss all our shots so I close knowing I've only got the one mag. I fire five shots point blank, all of which bounce off him (I knew this was a thing that could happen for some reason, like I was in a video game). I start running when he pulls an electric corded drill that's plugged into nothing but still works. I put on my Alton helmet and start running when I see an unloaded SKS. I grab it as I run and turn around and stick him with the bayonet but he's still coming. I get under a section of rollercoaster and use it like a wall as he keeps coming after me and I stab at him from under it. He produces an axe or machete and I dodge his swings as I keep stabbing. I'm yelling for Logan but he's long gone just walked away. Prior to this I was making some chicken sandwiches at home but home was sort of circular - like the rooms were all in a line around something. Like the outside of a spinning top toy. The fighting part was very tarkov like I guess?

8/20/23

awoke from a nightmare in the first time in I can't remember when. I was working at some fast food joint. I was helping in the dishwashing for some reason or something like that when some people arrived. One of them, a woman, kept making weird comments like she was gonna do something bad to me. Eventually she does that thing cops do where they put like one arm behind your back and keeps firmly telling me to "mix with the floor" while she's trying to push me down to make me part of the floor. Woke up with an actual "aah!" Prior in this dream I saw a friend I hadn't seen in a while (he moved).

8/22/23

Last night I dreamt that I was talking with some people (I can't remember where - I think it was a classroom) and I said that most people shouldn't climb Mount Everest, and that because it's such an exceptional mountain, only the most exceptional of climbers can climb it, and that's why the only people who've climbed Mount Everest that anyone should bother talking about are people who did it without oxygen tanks.

8/28/23

I was in some sort of steppe town or something. It's sort of segued from another dream which is important to know. I was me but my family wasn't my irl family, and the family I was visiting were some sort of semi distant relation (I'll say cousij for the sake of brevity). Anyway, I'm told that my little cousin is being bullied really badly by these other kids, and the family are sort of known assholes. The village is really hill-y, almost like something out of mount and blade. So I'm walking up the steps to assholes' house and the family patriarch is this guy I know named Art. I tell him very nicely because art is a nice guy that his grandkids need to be nicer and he throws his hands up and says "oh great just kill me now, they're so damn dramatic just talk to them yourself" so I say okay. My cousins' bullies are all like ten years old but they're little fucking shithead half breeds. Im with my baby cousin telling her to fight this one kid giving her trouble. She won't because there's like four of them. So I'm somehow now upstairs in these people's house and I'm talking to them. I'm there by myself, my cousin is back out in the car. I pulled out my carry gun and dropped the mag, cleared the chamber and held one in my hand and said "This is a 115 grain hornady critical defense hollow point. That means when I shoot you for fucking with my cousin more, this little thing makes a fist sized hole in your mongrel nigger body (these people all looked vaguely Asian so I don't know why I called them niggers). I would really prefer if we could solve this all peacefully. We don't have to love each other but I don't want to have to kill you." So the little shit kids sorta grumble and leave and one of them who's sorta their leader I guess gets all shucking and jiving and pulls out a weird ass pistol magazine but no gun and then leaves. I immediately interpret this as a threat. I go downstairs, recalling I have an AUG in the car which is a lot hotter than a handgun. As I get Downstairs I run into my irl friend Dalton who's just like, coming into town or something (I think the bully family lived in the Inn or something idk). Thankfully Dalton is based and I tell him I may be in deep shit, "might have to kill a motherfucker today," and need him to watch and cover me while I get to my car. Just have him watch and be looking for trouble, not actually drawn and firing the whole time. He goes fuck yeah dude anything you need and I say thanks. So I take a deep breath and walk outside down the little hill and get into the back of the car (me and a couple family members were traveling together I guess). My AUG is right there in the back seat so I somehow roll the back window down, tell them to drive now, and watch out the back window with the rifle as we drive away. I vaguely recall how I got the AUG. in the dream before this, I was in some sort of big war. It was weird because I knew it was video game like, but it felt like it was still important. Like we respawned and everything but it was still real war idk. I had a basically bone stock AUG after trading a comfy-to-me decked out M4 for it (which is odd because I wouldn't do that). Then the game ended and I sorta got in my car and left and that's how I ended up visiting my cousins or whatever in the steppe town.

8/29/23

Dreamt I was spending some time with Katharina. She says we have to "have a hard conversation." Oh no. She then goes on to explain how every paycheck, we'll each put $50 of it into our savings accounts. Several minutes later I ask her "I don't mean to sound like an asshole but I'm not sure I understand how that counts as a difficult conversation; could you clarify for me?" And then I woke up.

9/4/23

Dreamt I was watching a pro wrestling pay per view with two friends both of whom are women. One who I could see a future with, Katharina, that would be very good and the other who's just hot, Adina. Katharina tells me she's gonna head out, aww but okay. Adina tells me we can get the PPV at her place and go back and watch it. Oh yippee. Start heading back to hers but to get there we have to go through this massively convoluted public transport thing. I'm talking like one of those weird ass paintings with upside down staircases. Also includes you know that brand lime? In my dream they own large spaces people need to get through so they create floors with sections that move in opposite directions and you pay to make them stop, but only for you somehow. I just ran over it and kept myself from falling. Some old lady told me I should've paid and I called her a cunt sucker (as in a cunt and a sucker). Got separated from Adina somehow but I figured we would just meet back up. All of a sudden Kat taps me on the shoulder and says hi, weird seein each other here still. Says she got turned around at one of the stations and finally got back on the right staircase or whatever it was. I'm telling you this public transport system was fucking nutty. I say let's walk together, we're going in the same direction for a while. She smiles and says sure, sounds nice. So we do and she says something about how it's so nice to see me again and I say likewise. We kiss out of nowhere as we walk and keep doing so. We make it to the next stairway (still going same direction) and walk by it and sit down at this little bench next to it and I sit down and she sorta stands in front of me but leans against me. We both start to cry and say we love each other. Kiss again. Then I woke up.

9/18/23

I was walking around some sort of big grocery store with James and Alex and someone else. The other person mr and James had shopping carts Alex was doing his own thing. I kept telling the other person to slow down. I finally gave her my cart since it had nothing in it and took hers which had stuff in it and moved my few things from her cart tto mine since I had a few things in her cart. I told her to slow down and I don't shop so fast. Then I can't remember what happened to the cart but I was running around this giant open air freezer action ice skating on my feet and saw Alex and said hey.

My sister had built a set out of foam cups and craft supplies. It was just her and the cats and me. We were playing dungeons and dragons but I didn't know. For some reason I smashed it once. She was very upset. The next day I was fighting with the cats about my behavior and I told them I would not be lectured to by a fucking cat. I sat down with my sister and smashed something again. This was because nobody had told me we were playing a game and I can't understate how much that fucked with me. She was even more upset this time and I couldn't find her to apologize. We were in some sort of temple and somehow playing that DND game was going to get us a scroll. One of the guys I was playin with said I didn't deserve to get the benefits of tnt a roll because of my behavior and I agreed. They were runes they taught us about elemental bending in them and I was sort of like the avatar I think. I didn't get the benefits of it and instead the camera zoomed out and I saw him give someone the tubes for death instead of earth.

9/30/23

I was walking through this sparse woods (low density of trees but still not a clearing or anything) to find my friends with an AK. I was just looking for them because we got separated but I wasn't anxious or anything. So I'm walking with the rifle slung with one hand on it just to keep it from banging into me as I walk and I get to a small ridge overlooking a valley. (The more I think about it, the more I think I actually know this place - it's a few mile hike behind my house.) So I get to the ridgeline and look down and my friends are just chilling in the valley sitting down maybe 70 yards away. Before I can call out this bear walking on two legs runs into the camp and starts trying to kill them. I lay prone and dump the rifle at the bear and kill it. Drop the mag and reload, scan for a second, and it's clear. Scoot down the ridge to my friends and despite the bear at one point having someone in its jaws swinging them around everyone is unharmed and super chill. Not denying it happened but like "yeah it's over so everything is cool now. "Oh and I found it weird how everyone was so chill, but I sorta figured "well yeah I suppose it is over with so no reason still being anxious about it"

10/3/23

First I'm out hiking with a friend. I'm standing a few steps up on the stairs to this fire tower almost with a ranger and my buddy Griff is walking a bit away. Suddenly this rabbis opossum looking thing comes up and starts trying to attack us. I look at the ranger and he's all sad but says I've gotta shoot it. I do and feel bad so I decide to bury it. Ranger says he doesn't have a shovel but there's a trowel somewhere so I walk his little campsite complete with garden and try to find it. Eventually I do right as Griff gets back.

Next thing I'm on some sort of military base with friends as a civilian. At one point there's this really nasty ruck sack, but like a framed one, that has a port in it that everyone is laughing at and smelling because it smells horrid. We're all hanging out in this almost loading dock type area having a good time with a woman loads up and smacks me across the face hard. I ask her what the fuck and she says we've all got to LEAVE! There's suddenly an alarm blaring and nobody has any idea what's going on. I turn back after a few steps to make sure I've got my CC but I don't find my keys. We're all separated in the exiting but brought back together outside the building. Nobody is told what's going on but a bunch of people exiting the building are wearing OD T shirts and multicam pants, some of whom it looks right on and others it doesn't, and issued weapons. Nobody I know is part of that group including some people I know either in the dream or in real life are good at that shit. So we're all sort of milling about trying to figure out what's going on when my friend Griff gets mad at being so bored and takes a stick and throws it. He's sort of a floor above me but it's this weird construction site type deal where there's a bunch of it as like, scaffolding. But the good metal scaffolding. So I look up and he's part of a chain of people. He asks if I know jiu jitsu, and I say only what I've seen on UFC so no I don't want to be a part of. Whatever is going on because I'll just hold people back being unable to hold my own. He goes nah don't worry it's not like that, we're just having some fun so I say fuck it sure why not. Next thing I know a bunch of us are standing on a big circle drawn on the ground. Were told that we each have to push one person out of the ring using whatever fighting style we want. Everyone is on their own and everyone starts at once and the round ends once half the players have been pushed out. First bell rings and I don't have a target at the beginning but nobody's going after me. I pick out one kid, middling thin Asian guy, and bull rush him, grab him by the waist in a bear hug, and basically just keep bull rushing him out of the ring. Easy peasy. Bell rings and that's the end of round one. Those of us who won return to the circle line for round two. The whole time there's this sense of... Dread. Like we're playing games in a death camp to pass the time, but not so certain. More of "what the fuck is going on we might as well find a game to play because nobody is going to tell us anything." I remember in the dream having this feeling of a bomb, and the date having something to do with 9/11 but not being 9/11 - maybe it was just "is this going to be another date like 9/11 that people just know". Anyway, right before the bell rang for round two, I woke up.

[softcallofdutyimagines]

Over You | Chpt 2

Makarov x fem!Roach reader

Chpt 1 | Chpt 3

After days of waiting, you begin to wonder if your circumstantial friend has any plan of escape at all. But after a stroke of luck (or was it careful planning?) the tide might have just turned in your favor.

Tag list: @smokeywhalee

I'm just going to act like I never heard Makarov's voice before and make him a new, hc'ed one. Let's all pretend he has a sexy accent and a hissy, intimidating voice instead of literally sounding like Ben Shapiro, ok? 😭🙏🏻

Tw for violent scenes and more swearing

This story takes place before the events of No Russian and is canon divergent. Makarov is just starting to make a criminal name for himself and this will be an enemies to lovers fic.

---

God, how many days has it been? The only way you're able to keep track of time is when the guards remember to bring your meals.

They only let you outside once in a while, but definitely not each day. However many days it has been, you and Makarov have been turned out twice.

And yet you still have no escape plan.

You think perhaps he's just biding his time, getting a lay of the land, but... You're growing impatient.

"I say next time we get outside, we pick a fight with one of the guards and start a riot. That'll give us the cover we need to steal a vehicle and escape"

"No. You assume the others will help us fight? Take some advice, the only person you can rely on is yourself"

He has such a way of irritating you. It's almost impressive. You narrow your eyes and uncork your agitation, "Well I don't see you coming up with any fucking plans! You want me to rely on you, but you have nothing!"

Makarov is entirely unreactive to your anger. He huffs a laugh, "You have no idea what you're talking about"

"What's the matter? Not going to tell me to 'wait' like you do every other fucking time?", You mock his voice and raise yours as you speak, hoping to get some sort of response from him.

He looks at you from the corner of his eye, a tiny smirk playing at the corners of his face. Makarov holds a single finger up to his lips to shush you, "Just wait"

That does it. You jump up off the bed where you've both been sitting, "You think you're such hot, bloody shit! Are you even trying to escape?"

"Hey! What's all this about escape?", a guard making his routine rounds bangs against the cell gate.

Suddenly, Makarov springs to life. He points at you accusingly, "It's her, she's trying to start a prison riot!"

You don't know why you're so stunned, but you can't believe this betrayal, "You fucking snake!"

The guard calls for his friend and the two quickly make haste to pry you off of your cell mate. Makarov still has a bruise from where you choked him with his tie, now he has some scratches from your nails to boot.

Once you're off, it would appear they plan to beat you into submission once more before separating the two of you.

One holds you still while the other readies his baton. In one last attempt to fight, you flip the guard holding you over your shoulder just like you've trained for. You expect to deal with the other one, but your arm is yanked to the side before you can do anything.

You're about to scream some profanities at the filthy criminal... Until you see him jump the other guard from behind and snap his neck.

It all happens so fast... You hardly even hear him yell at you to take care of the second one when Makarov decides to take action himself.

Makarov snatches up the dead guard's baton with his free hand and slams the tip of it into the other one's throat. The man instantly starts gasping for air and clawing at his neck. He falls to the ground, running low on breath as Makarov slowly stalks closer, breathing hard.

He teaches down to cunclasp and remove his helmet. The guard takes thin, ragged breaths, looking up pitifully as he lays at Makarov's mercy.

The last thing he sees is the black baton smashing in his skull.

Makarov tosses the weapon aside and wipes his brow dry before immediately going to raid the body. The only thing holding him back is you and the stunned expression you wear.

He grits his teeth and yanks you over by your chained arm, "Take their armor and out it on fucking useless idiot!"

It feels... Wrong. But you bring yourself to comply.

Is this the escape plan? This is all chance, there's no way this was his idea all along. You shake yourself out if your daze and dedicate your mind to that narrative.

Yes, this is all lucky coincidence. You'll need your wits about you to makes sure there's no fuck ups. Especially with him in tow.

The two of you armor up in the disguise as best you can. If you walk side by side, you manage to slip past some distant guards. But you can't keep this up for long...

A deafening alarm blares all around you. The dead guard's have been discovered at last. No matter. Makarov has found what he's looking for.

He breaks the fasteners holding the service vent shut and hisses at you to get inside. It's a bit of a squeeze, but you manage. Makarov covers your tracks and replaces the grate before shoving you further along.

"Move!", he hisses at you in a hushed whisper, before awkwardly squeezing his way into the lead. It's a long, long three legged crawl. Your arm is stretched out straight in front of you with Makarov's wrenched behind him as you slink through the vent one after the other.

The crawl may be long, but at least you have Makarov's ass to mesmerize you. At this point, you're thankful for any distraction. The amount of times you've been yanked around and backtracked is too many to count.

It's clear he doesn't know where he's going any more then you do.

Dust and filth gather around your sore hand and knees as you go. It's at least an hour until you see a change in events. Makarov stops and informs you of a vent leading somewhere down below. It's hard to see anything, but he believes it leads to a sewer drain. Lovely.

He puts his all into opening the rusted old latch, but opts for breaking it open with the baton still attached to your armor.

At last it gives way with a screech and a clang. Makarov scopes it out, then turns to you over his shoulder, "It's just a little drop, but I can make it. Lean over the edge of the hatch, so you don't rip my arm out", he orders.

"Wait, how am I going to get down?"

Makarov looks back at you with frustration, as though he was hoping you wouldn't bother him with such things. He rolls his eyes, "You can stick the landing, can't you? Now get over here!"

He tugs you forward and hops to the other side of the opening. Makarov doesn't bother to spare you a look. He says something in Russian, makes the sign of the cross, and jumps.

You clench your teeth and brace every muscle in your body, fully expecting his calculations to be incorrect. You're already laying on the edge of the vent at about your waist. Even still, you feel a dangerous tug at your chained wrist.

Panic instantly takes over you. You topple down head first from the vent with an exclamation of surprise and tense once more, preparing for a rough landing.

The wind is nearly knocked out of you as you and your shackled arm awkwardly crash land onto Makarov's shoulder, but he miraculously manages to catch you nonetheless.

He to exclaims, partly in surprise and partly in exertion. For a moment, he holds you up there until he can catch his bearings. Then, he of course immediately dumps you off of him.

You land seated into the small stream of mystery water while Makarov growls and stands intimidatingly over you, "I gave you one job! Can you not wait one fucking minute before nearly breaking my neck!"

"Well maybe if you weren't so fucking short, you wouldn't have yanked me down after you!", you pull yourself up and fire back at him. He stares at you somewhere between furious and indignant, but fails to come up with a response.

Instead he seethes and shoves past you, muttering again in Russian.

For now you accept your small victory and follow him quietly. The water is flowing down this way towards what you're both hoping is an exit. Shouldn't be far now.

Just one more corner and there, at long last... Streams of daylight flit through the bars of a sewer grate. You're so ecstatic, you feel like running. Makarov is nothing more then a secondary thought as you bolt towards the light.

He grunts in surprise and a bit of pain as you drag him after you, but he's certainly not complaining.

When you reach the grate... It's locked.

"Fuck...", Makarov rattles the large, rusted gate viciously, "Fuck!"

"Give me that!", he whips around and snatches the police baton from off your belt. With two hands, giving no regard for the shackles that connect you, he smashes the club against the padlock as hard as he can. He jerks your back and forth like a fish on a line, as he exerts himself with the effort.

You yell at him to stop. Not only because he's injuring your wrist, but he's not making much progress on the gate either.

Makarov throws down the baton and paces in agitation, his hands clawed into his scalp as he continues to drag you around.

"That's enough!", You give your hand a good yank and rip his out of his hair. Makarov turns to face you once more, eyes wide and wild. He opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off, "If we do it together maybe we can break it"

Makarov glances at the lock. It's old and rusted beyond count. You may be right...

"Fine. On my count"

You walk over together and brace your shoulders. Makarov stares you in the eye, nodding his head as counts, "One... Two... Three"

Clang

Nothing.

"Again! One... Two... Three!"

Clang

"Harder woman, for fuck's sake! Three!"

You give it your all one last time and at long last you're rewarded.

The gate makes a terrible grinding noise as it clatters open, but open it is. You are free.

[the-original-b]

Archangel: For the Good of the Public, Part 3

Format: Prose / Fiction, multi-entry

Part in Series: 3 of 3 (Part 1 | Part 2)

Word Count: c. 4,700

Premise: She’s an assassin--one of the finest in the world--which gives her the right to ask for vast sums of money to do what she does so well. But every so often there comes a job she’s happy to do for free.

Warning(s): blood, graphic violence

Seza remained in her car after Teller dismissed his staff for the evening, tucked out of sight to observe the Pehle Avenue office from behind her dashboard. When the last person in the building left that night, she waited for an additional half-hour before exiting the car and heading back to the building.

She tapped the keycard she lifted earlier that afternoon on a reader next to the front door to gain entry to the space, then headed up the stairs adjacent to the elevator toward Teller’s office. Luckily for her, he hadn’t locked the office door on his way out so she wouldn’t have to pick the lock; she turned the doorknob down and walked right in, heading straight for the desktop computer and moving the mouse to wake it from sleep.

She remarked to herself about his lack of security on the device and combed through the documents on Teller’s desktop, eventually finding a staff directory that listed the names, home addresses, and next of kin for his top lieutenants. Seza retrieved a USB flash drive from her pants pocket and plugged it into a port, then executed a copy-paste command to transfer the information to the drive.

Moments after the transfer was complete, she heard the elevator doors open across the hall. She yanked the USB drive from the computer and sprang to find cover; the keys fumbling in the already-disengaged lock gave her just enough time to put the computer back to sleep and tuck herself behind the doorway.

She watched a distraught Chris Teller stagger through the office doors and make his way to the desk. He hung his coat on the rack then took a seat and immediately rested his face in his palms, his shoulders heaving as he wept.

Then Seza realized, circumstance hadn’t given the man the opportunity to mourn his wife. Silently, she sidestepped to the office door and let herself out, allowing him to grieve properly. Then she headed back down the stairs to the lobby, and then her car to return to her safe house.

Once there she headed for the kitchen area to lift a piece of the flooring loose and inspect the weapons she kept cached away there—a .380 Makarov clone and a V40 fragmentation grenade. She slid a magazine into the Makarov and placed it into a specially designed holster before returning it to her cache, then undressed and headed to her bedroom to steal a few hours of sleep. When she awoke, she decided, she was going to study those documents, then use them to tear Chris Teller’s enterprise down.

~~~~

The man in the hospital bed blearily opened his eyes to the quiet, high-pitched beeps of the equipment he was tethered to. He felt the poor state of his ribs and face despite the pain killers coursing through his bloodstream and groaned weakly, barely able to move with all the tubes coming out of him.

He felt a sharp pain under his jaw when he tried to get more comfortable, but this one was different—it was cold. He tilted his gaze downward to see a Ka-Bar knife resting on his throat, and the ice blue eyes of woman holding it in place. The beeping of the monitoring equipment started to quicken.

“Make a sound,” Seza said, “and you die.” She had her hair tied back to keep it out of her face, and wore dark tactical pants, boots, and a black commando sweater under a pale gray swing coat. “You were there the night Scarlett was moved from the warehouse,” she continued in her native accent, “yes?”

The man gestured the hospital bed with his eyes, trying to communicate to her I can’t move.

Seza got the message. “Blink once for yes… twice for no”

The man blinked once.

“Good. You’re going to tell me where she is.” She circled to his right, keeping the blade against the man’s neck as she moved, and took a seat on a stool while she unfolded a public bus map with her left hand. “Point it out to me on this,” she ordered, holding it under his right hand.

The man followed her with his eyes, and studied the map. He was able to identify the waterfront, Park Avenue, and the warehouses out of which Teller’s entire operation was run. He rested his finger on an area near North Bergen.

Seza followed his lead. “The Pier?”

He blinked twice.

She looked back at the map. “The park, then?”

He blinked twice again.

Seza thought back to the documents she studied earler and recalled a house in North New Jersey, reserved for what were described as special conditions. She took the map away from his hand to find where the house would be, near a park in North Bergen. “Is she here?” she asked, indicating the intersection mentioned in the stolen documents.

The man blinked once.

She had a location now, and a plan for eliminating everyone in the organization who could ever threaten the girl again. “How many men are guarding her?” she questioned.

The man looked blankly at her.

Seza sighed. “You don’t know, do you?”

He blinked twice.

“I see.” She took the knife away from his neck and returned it to its sheath, inspecting the area of his neck it rested on for any marks that would give her away to hospital staff. “Thank you for cooperating.”

An attending physician entered the room with two nurses on either side of her. “I’m sorry miss,” the doctor said. “Unless you’re family, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Seza straightened up immediately to address them. “He’s my brother,” she returned in her false accent. She subtly pulled her coat together to conceal her attire from them. “I heard he was hit by a car, I had to see him..!”

“I understand. But you’ll need a visitor’s pass if you want to stay.”

Seza looked down at her coat, feigning guilt. “Oh, I’m sorry. I must have walked right past the check-in. Which direction is it in?”

“Down the hall to your right,” the doctor said. “Past Physical Therapy.”

“Perfect, thank you.” She flashed the doctor and nurses a warm smile before heading down the hallway. She of course turned left toward the exit, making a note to be better prepared the next time her work took her to a hospital setting. She headed right for her car and started the engine when she entered it, putting the car into drive to head to where the first of Teller’s lieutenants lived, squinting in the early morning sun.

By late that afternoon, she had successfully dispatched all but one of her targets. Her burner phone buzzed in her pocket as she descended the steps of the apartment complex in which her most recent victim resided. She retrieved it to read a text message Teller sent to all of his top lieutenants, calling a meeting at 5pm that day.

She turned her wrist upward to glance at her watch, deciding she would have to intercept her last target at the office along with Teller himself. She trotted back to her car and started the engine.

 ~~~~

Running her fingertips over the grenade in her coat pocket, Seza watched the building from her car parked in the shadows, waiting for the last of Teller’s lieutenants to arrive. When he did, he quickly scanned the area for the others, but headed inside when none were there to meet him. She waited in the car for a little while longer, then stepped out of the vehicle to half-run up to the building and navigate between the arrays of flat desks set up throughout the lobby to meet him.

“We’re already late,” he said to her. “Are we it?”

“Do you think we should wait for the others?” She addressed him with her American accent, trying to mimic his air of bewildered concern.

He shook his head. “No, it’s bad enough we kept him waiting this long.” He gestured the elevator. “Let’s head up, maybe we can reach them later.”

She followed him into the elevator, and look a place behind him to his left.

He sighed and retrieved his cell phone from his coat pocket. “Let me see if I can get a hold of one of them—”

Seza interrupted him with a kick to the back of his knee to drop him to the floor, then wrapped her left arm around his neck and pressed it harder into her arm with her right hand. “That won’t be necessary,” she said, reclaiming her native accent.

When she felt him lose consciousness in her arms, she moved her hands to either side of his head and twisted it to break his neck. He hit the floor just as the elevator came to a stop. “I know,” she said to his lifeless body as she stepped over it into the hallway. “It’s not fair.” She quietly made her way to Teller’s office and stepped through the door. Knowing nobody else would be in the room but the two of them, she stepped up to the direct center of the office, opposite Teller on the other side of the desk. The man wore a black waistcoat and slacks over a white shirt, his collar was open.

He looked up at Seza, befuddled. “Where are the others?”

Seza shrugged, taking a moment to switch back to her false self. “They’re not coming.”

“Like they have a fucking choice..?” He retrieved his cell phone from his pocket to reach one of his lieutenants.

“You mistake me,” she clarified. “They’re not absent by choice.” She pressed down on the Makarov in her holster, freeing it while disengaging the safety and chambering a round at the same time, and raised it one-handed to hold Teller in the sights. “They’re dead,” she continued, finally dropping her persona once and for all.

Teller’s eyes narrowed as he slowly put the phone down and made sense of the events of the last few days. “Is that how it is, then?” he snarled. “You come here with that looking-for-work shite just to kill me..? Is that what they hired you to do?”

“No. I’ve been hired to return Scarlett to her family. Killing you,” she added as she took aim. “That’s a bonus.”

She squeezed the trigger once just as Teller made his move, catching him just under his right collarbone. She kept the gun at the ready as Teller fell backward, landing behind his desk and hiding there.

Seza figured he was waiting for her to get closer and confirm the kill to lash out and counter-attack, at a range where the handgun would be useless. But she thought ahead—backing toward the door, she fired again and again over the desk to keep Teller behind it as she fished in her coat pocket for the small grenade and retrieved it. She held the pin in her teeth as she fired her seventh and eighth shots, then yanked the explosive away from her face and pitched the device over the desk as she backed out of the office and shut the door behind her.

She backed away from the door and held herself against the wall, holding her breath as she waited for the boom of the grenade.

It came three seconds afterward, shaking the hall and causing the lights to flicker for a short while.

Seza let herself breathe again and headed for the elevator. She hit the button for the ground floor—her empty Makarov still in her hand—and leaned against the wall as the elevator descended. She took a breath to calm herself before reengaging the safety on her handgun and placing it back into the holster. She could relax now; Chris Teller was dealt with, and in just a few hours the girl would be safe with her family again. She breathed a content sigh as the elevator doors opened, and she stepped off to head for the exit, past the stairwell.

The stairway door flew open just as she walked by it, and she registered the glint of a fire axe swung in her direction at eye-level from behind the open door.

She threw her head backward to avoid the blade with such force she landed flat onto her back just as the axe buried itself into the wall to her left. She crawled backward away from Chris Teller and his axe, distancing herself from the giant man as he wrenched his weapon free and turned to pursue her, murderous intent in his eyes.

She scrambled back to her feet and slid behind one of the desks in the lobby to break his line of sight, and Teller bounded over to the table in pursuit.

“Come here you slag!” he barked. “I’ll split your fucking head open..!” With his left hand he turned the table over and raised the axe with his right, but stopped when Seza wasn’t there. He returned both his hands to the axe as he scanned the other desks in the lobby, and stalked around the space looking for her. “Come on,” he challenged. “Come and get your bonus..!

Seza peered around the corner of a desk to keep him in sight. She tried to slow her breathing but her fear betrayed her. Teller was twice her size, armed, and angry; without a way to tip the advantage in her favor she wouldn’t stand a chance against him in a one on one fight. She knew she had to even the odds somehow, and with her knife in the car she had no choice but to slowly reach up above her head to grab hold of the only weapon readily available to her in the space: a ballpoint pen. Silently, she broke from cover and moved to attack.

She kept a few feet distance from her prey as she followed him; she had to be close enough to strike while leaving enough room to comfortably avoid his weapon if she had to. She maintained her silence as she slowly closed the distance between them, then jammed the tip of her pen into the back of Teller’s right knee and pulled it out just as quickly, with just enough time to duck out of the way of the axe as he swung it backwards and chipped the floor.

Teller released a pained groan as he collected himself. “Okay, Jane…” he growled. “You want to play!?” He swung the axe across to his left, destroying one of the desks, and then swung it to his right one-handed to bury it into another.

That’s good, Seza thought. Tire yourself out. Keep your heart rate high. Bleed faster. From behind the corner of her desk she watched him move further from her, destroying the tables one by one to eliminate her cover. She couldn’t allow that—she had to draw him to her, and weaken him faster.

With her foot she slid a chair backward, making just enough noise to get his attention, then moved into position.

Teller turned over his shoulder in response to the noise. “Ready or not,” he said, half-running-half-limping toward the distraction, “here I come..!” He raised the axe above his head with both hands and brought it down onto the table top, nearly obliterating it in a single blow. His anger began to build and swell as he sorted through the rubble.

Seza sprang out of cover behind him and jammed her pen high into the inside of his left thigh, then rolled into cover to avoid his gaze as he turned around and brought the axe down again into the floor. He collapsed to his knees this time as he released all his rage.

“Where the fuck are you!?” he roared. He braced himself against the axe with both hands to stand up again, and supported his weight against it like a cane as he slowly moved through the lobby to search for her.

Seza looked on her prey from behind cover as she assessed the state he was in—he had a .380 in his shoulder, a puncture wound in each leg, and was bleeding profusely from all three places. He was leaving bloody imprints of his shoe treads wherever he stepped, and his breathing was labored.

This is the time, she thought. She darted out of cover and leapt toward him with the pen in her hand, targeting the side of his neck.

She would have landed her strike if Teller hadn’t heard her coming and jerked his right arm backward.

A freight train barreled into Seza’s ribs, and she was sent back several feet landing flat onto her back. “Found you!” Teller exclaimed. He looked down at Seza, still stunned from the blow, and chuckled venomously. “Not bad, Jane,” he said. He let go of the axe handle and shuffled over to her. “Not bad at all. You really had me going, there.” He sank his weight down onto her and wrapped his left hand around her neck. Then his right, and began to squeeze.

Seza couldn’t escape him, no matter what she did. She tried in vain to peel his hands off of her, but there was nothing stopping Teller from squeezing the life out of her.

He maintained his vice-like grip on her. “You don’t get to die quick,” he taunted as his lip curled into a sinister smirk. “No, I’m going to take my time crushing your windpipe…”

She kicked her legs out underneath him, trying to throw him off balance as darkness narrowed her vision. She found herself counting each breath she tried to take under him, anything to keep her mind in the moment because to fall asleep now meant death, and probably something worse along with it. She gurgled defiantly under him, denying him the satisfaction of seeing her fear.

“…and I am going to savor every second of it..!”

His arms were longer than hers, and he was much stronger; she couldn’t break his grip even if she targeted his elbow to weaken it. Her only hope lay in the destruction around her. She held her breath and reached down by her side with her right hand, and when she felt her sliver of salvation her fingers wrapped tight around it and jammed the point of her pen into the crook of his left elbow. She did it again when he only cursed in response and didn’t move. She stabbed his arm three more times before it finally bent, then pushed his elbow to bend his arm further and bring his head within reach. Then she inverted the grip on her pen, held the back of his neck with her free hand, and drove the point of the pen deep into his neck right where it met his jaw.

Teller stopped applying pressure immediately, in shocked disbelief at what just happened. He freed Seza’s neck and put both hands around his new wound, trying but failing to stop the bleeding as he fell onto his side.

Seza clutched her own neck as she gasped for air. She rolled onto her elbows and knees as she took deep breath after deep breath to fill her lungs with fresh oxygen and regain her strength. Fortunately for her, she was able to act before Teller’s attempt on her life left any visible marks; after a moment she was able to slow her breathing to a normal rate and collect herself.

“Who was it?” Teller hacked “Who sent you to get the girl?”

Seza looked over her shoulder at Teller, dying in a puddle of his own blood next to her. When she was sure enough of her footing, she exhaled and stood up to retrieve the fire axe a few yards from them. She picked it up by the far end of its handle, allowing its head to drag behind her as she returned to Teller.

“Was it Cross..? That skinny bitch on Sixth Avenue..?”

Seza rolled him onto his back with her foot, and adjusted her grip on the axe to carry it with both hands.

“Did they have Maria killed to get me to give her back? Tell me, Jane,” he entreated weakly. “I have to know…”

“My name is not Jane,” Seza finally said. Then she swung the axe over her head and brought it down onto Teller’s, landing the blade between his eyes and upper jaw.

She let go of the axe, where it remained embedded in him, and took another set of deep breaths to slow her heart rate and allow the adrenaline to filter out of her blood. She leaned back against one of the intact desks in the lobby area as she did and, looking down at herself, observed Teller’s blood all over her coat. She stood up and calmly headed to the restroom to clean herself.

She removed her coat to place it in the trash bin and washed the blood off her hands and face, scrubbing it out from underneath her fingernails. Then she inspected the janitorial closet for cleaning supplies, finding a Sodium Hypochlorite solution. She took a paper towel from the dispenser to grip the handle and another to open the bottle, then poured half of its remaining contents onto her coat in the trash receptacle.

She carried the open bottle into the lobby to empty the container onto the axe handle and Chris Teller’s remains, then discarded the bottle before leaving the building and heading to her car. She started the engine after she sat down, then took a moment to load her Makarov with another magazine from the center console, where she kept her Ka-Bar knife as well, then headed off in the direction of the house where Scarlett Marlow was being held. She learned her lesson after today—she would never again allow herself to be unarmed while on the job.

 ~~~~

Seza pulled her car up to the Calloways’ front door that night, Scarlett in the back seat. She unlocked the doors to let her out as she stopped the car and removed her handgun holster from her person. She stepped out of the car and rested the gun on the dashboard as she walked around to the passenger side, looking on as Scarlett threw her arms around her mother just outside the house. She leaned against the hood of the car and watched as her father and the dog rushed up to greet her as well. She couldn’t help but smile at the tearful reunion.

Mrs. Calloway looked up from her daughter at the woman who promised her safe return, and with tears in her eyes broke away from Scarlett to wrap Seza in a warm embrace to express her gratitude. Seza, taken aback at first, returned her hug.

“How can I ever repay you?” Mrs. Calloway asked her, letting go.

“You don’t need to repay me,” she said, resting her hands on Mrs. Calloway’s forearms.

“You gave our daughter back to us..! There has to be something we can do for you, anything.”

“It’s fine,” Seza reassured her. “Really. It’s enough to know she’s safe. And that those responsible can’t hurt her again.” She broke away from Mrs. Calloway. “Good night,” she bid them all. Then she returned to the driver’s seat of her car and started the engine, pulling the car out of the driveway to return to her safehouse. She recalled her own experiences when she was barely Scarlett’s age—the hard floor of the dark cellar, her bound wrists—and took solace in the fact that she was able to spare one innocent girl that fate.

She found herself revisiting those memories as she lay in bed that night, and couldn’t help but wonder how many other innocent girls and boys were out there sitting on cold cellar floors that night with their wrists shackled. She considered the number of families who weren’t as lucky as the Calloways—the Marlows—were to have their children delivered to them.

 ~~~~

The following afternoon, the proprietor of a bar in Downtown Jersey City a half-hour’s walk from the waterfront held a phone to his ear as he read the words crawling across the television screen in the corner of the room. They detailed how alleged crime boss Christopher Teller was found violently murdered in an office building in Saddle Brook. The news report continued by saying investigators found a discarded coat near the crime scene, but that it and the murder weapon were soaked with bleach to the point that no intact DNA samples could be recovered.

“Have you turned on the news today?” he said onto the receiver. He turned away from the screen to scan the nearly-empty room. “Either that or a personal vendetta. That man made a lot of dangerous people very angry, there’s no end to that list…” He watched Seza walk in through the front door, dressed in a gray pullover hoodie with dark form-fitting jeans and sneakers, and place herself at the far end of the bar. He acknowledged her with a nod. “Sorry, I have to go. We’ll talk later, Miss Khai.” He returned the phone to the cradle then turned to address Seza. “You’re early, Shelli.”

Seza looked up at him. “Yeah,” she said. “It’s been a rough past few days. I had to clear my head.”

“That family emergency you mentioned, yeah?” He took a glass out from behind the counter and placed it in front of her, and uncorked a bottle of 23-year Ron Zacapa. “Still your favorite, right?” He poured her a finger’s depth.

It wasn’t really her favorite, she just said it was because it reminded her of him. “Yep. You can take it out of my check.”

“Nonsense. This one is on me.”

She smiled warmly at him, taking the glass and holding it gently with both her hands. “Thanks, Horace.” Absentmindedly, she ran her fingers along the edges of the glass as she played the events of the last few days over and over in her head. She considered what could have happened to Scarlett if she hadn’t decided to take the job, and remembered that was the reality for thousands of others across the country and around the world. “My cousin,” she lied, “went missing the other day.”

“Oh, wow,” Horace lamented. He leaned on the bar across from her. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“We got her back, thank God. But guys like the ones who kidnapped her… how many of them are still out there? How many families aren’t so lucky? I don’t know, I just had a lot of time to think about that lately.”

“Well, then you might get a kick out of this—Chris Teller was found murdered this morning. Somebody went to work on him with an axe.”

She looked up at him, feigning surprise. “Chis Teller the alleged gangster?”

“Gangster. Come on, Shelli, it was hardly a secret what we was involved with… looks like he made one bad deal too many. And between you and me, the son of a bitch had it coming.”

“Huh…” Seza took from her glass and placed it back down on the countertop. “Still, for every Chris Teller that gets what he deserves, it seems like two more replace him.”

“I wouldn’t count on that… I hear people talk some nights. One time they mentioned someone calling himself Nomad, saying how he was cleaning up the underworld. I don’t know how true any of it is, but they were scared shitless of him.”

Seza subtly broke eye contact as she finished her drink, carefully considering what to say next that wouldn’t give her away. “Do you think Nomad is real? Could he have been the one to get Teller?”

“I guess we’ll find out together,” he smirked. “When the folks start talking again.”

“Yeah, I suppose we will.” Seza stood up to carry her glass to the sink behind the bar. She quickly washed, dried, and returned it to where the others were kept before heading to the back room to remove her hoodie and start her shift.

(Masterlist)

[agentmakarov-blog]

Agent Claire Makarov Biography

PERSONAL/ GENERAL INFORMATION

Full name:

Claire Alice Makarov

Nickname:

Agent Makarov

Birthdate:

August 3rd

Astrological sign:

Leo

Age:

25 years old

Gender:

She/Her

Sex:

Female

Sexuality:

Heterosexual

Relationship status:

Taken with Agent Tenwire

Race:

White/Caucasian

Position in the foundation:

Mobile Task force agent/ field Agent

MTF Beta-7 "Maz hatters" 

Security clearance level:

3

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Claire is a small young girl, 163 cm tall and with an average build that her keeps a lot of attention thanks to her workouts and her fairly balanced diet.

Her skin has a normal rosy color, except for parts like cheeks, shoulders and knees that have a darker color, which almost reaches red furthermore, her cheeks are covered with a lots of freckles.

Many battle scars are present on her body and one in particular runs through her lips, "cutting" them in two.

Her eyes have a Bright light green color and her hair are brown, wavy and long up to the shoulders that often keeps tied in a small ponytail or, during the duty, in a bun or in a french braid.

Claire wears The average MTF uniform with the difference that the elmet is replaced by a gas mask.

PERSONALITY

Althought She was also born, raised and educated by the SCP foundation Claire personality is totally opposite to that of her brother Dmitry.

She is an extremely shy and kind girl Who is always available to help her colleagues or any other staff member in need.

However She has great difficult in interacting with other people, making Friends and therefore earning her complete trust will take a really long time.

She also suffers from panic attacks that She manages to keep under control thanks to the anxiolytics prescribed by her brother, She swallows the pills regularly and that helps her to keep her relaxed and with her mind completely lucid from her bad thoughts.

Her need to take the pills will disappear completely with the meet and the following engagement with Agent Tenwire, Who will help her very much in taking confidence in herself and then showing up in public more frequentely.

During her duty as Mtf She proves to be serious and very confident in what She does thanks to her experience acquired over the years and the education given by the foundation and she has no problem to shoot the class D personnel on the run or Who does not obey orders.

SPEECH/ VOICE: Agent makarov headcanon voice

FAMILY:

Mother:

Mandy Ross

Father:

Volkov Makarov

Sibling(s):

Dmitry Makarov

Daughter:

Maple Tenwire

BACKGROUND:

-Work In progress...-

HEADCANONS:

-She own a "special" black-headed parrot named Rasputin.

-the cell in which she sleeps is covered with pots with plants inside, Claire has in fact a great passion in gardening.

-Claire joined the maz hatters in particular way to help her father Volkov, a man covered in acid, which often releases harmful gases that can cause tumors.

- In future, Claire will become a MTF Beta-7 Commander with lvl 4 clearance.

Claire most of the time, during her job, wears a gas mask because no one can take her seriously because She's considered "too adorable".

The gas mask makes her much more intimidating and disturbing.

-More headcanon will added soon...

-END-

[startselectscreen]

Modern Warfare Video Game Review

3.5 STARS OUT OF FIVE

Much like a summer blockbuster movie, the Modern Warfare series has always deliver both intense edge of your seat, moments that is exhilarating. Sure, the previous Call of Duty games like WWII and the Black Ops series from Treyarch has delivered themselves that movie treatment with more of theatrical experience with its cutscenes and a cast of characters that you will always depend on in their own specific agendas.  In any case, cinematic moments aside, this reboot of Modern Warfare is extremely promising much like God of War’s soft reboot if we are putting off an analogy here.

Being a reboot, this game has some subtle references from the original Modern Warfare much like the reboot of God of War with its different universe. The campaign is pretty robust, gameplay-wise as a shooting gallery, running and gunning in that fashion. It seems they took the exciting gameplay from those last generation, Modern Warfare games on providing many shocking and intense moments throughout the game like having CD attached to RC drones to directing an embassy personnel to safely.  It’s great to see Captain Price again also, as they manage to make it more realistic rather in an action movie’s approach to the story, similar to Modern Warfare previous subject matter.

As a cinematic experience, much like the previous games, there’s an emotional toll that you and your teammates including Captain Price develop an attachment in some riveting moments throughout the game. Similar to Modern Warfare 3, there’s chemicals or Weapons of Mass Destruction from a terrorist group, again but it wasn’t done by Makarov’s ultra-nationalist group -  it’s from a terrorist cell in a fictional country, Urzikstan. It feels like a huge disappointment from Infinity Ward to profile and stereotype the Middle East, fictional or not, being very Islamophobia, reminding that anyone that practices religion to be a terrorist. It’s a shame that this game pulls this offensive route, specifically having this terrorist attack using anthrax to gas London which you may remember from MW3 after you and the SAS are preventing the shipment of harmful chemicals before getting unleashed by it in a scene where you play as some tourists with their daughter. It’s really disappointing moment, despite having these shock value moments, it is yet again fun withholding some racial parts of the game. I mean, suicide bombers!! C’mon!

Aside from that the competitive multiplayer seems more refreshing unlike Black Ops 4 with its battle royale. With team Deathmatch, Ground War and Gunfight, it feels terrific - especially with Gunfight which is a round-based experience on smaller maps. The loadout of guns are determined and will rotate again throughout the match, much like Counter Strike. Ground War feels like Battlefield where you can take control of vehicles and helicopters in a massive map of 60 plus players where you try to control a number of control points. Other modes like Realism and Hardcore mode where you take more damage and it also removes your HUD entirely as you don’t know how close to you with your ammo. Kill streaks are back where a number of kills from you can make you control a harrier jet to a RC bomb car. Unfortunately, one mode is disappointing, Spec Ops which seems to be very difficult even with four of your online buddies trying to fend off waves of attacks but it is rather mundane and there is no tactical parts involved. 

This reboot of Modern Warfare feels exhilarating indeed, from both online and offline perspective despite being Islamophobia and Spec Ops falling short of its mode. As a summer blockbuster sort of treatment, it’s just breathtaking to see it didn’t revert to rather, the Black Ops route with its Battle royale and its boring campaign but adds a sort of realism from the past games. I definitely had fun with the campaign, there are moments that are shockingly terrific in this shooting gallery type of game. Playing on a PS4, the game is also good-looking with its visuals and graphical detail through multiple locals from London to the fictional country, Urzikstan, is indeed breathtaking. 

[an-upset-librarian]

Stardust and Fire -- Chapter Seven

New chapter? New chapter! So I finally finished chapter 7 of Stardust and Fire! I finished moving into my dorm the other day, and found the time to finish off this chapter for you guys. 

Please let me know what you think, and enjoy!

AO3   FFN

“Lucy, what have I said about leaving your room without permission?” Her father’s cold voice called. Lucy, who’d just reached her fourteenth year, froze, clutching at the old telescope in her arms.

             “Where on Earth did you get that?” Jude screamed, snatching the telescope from her small arms. Lucy made a noise of protest, which was met by a fearsome glare. The girl shrank in on herself, and stifled her cries. She tried not to cry, but the traitorous tears fell from her eyes anyway.

She’d found the telescope in the attic, behind boxes and crates of her mother’s old possessions. The long dark wooden case had caught her attention, and she’d dusted it off and opened it up to see a shining metal telescope embedded in velvet. She’d hoped to go out and look up at the stars on the anniversary of her mother’s death.

             “Don’t cry, it’s unseemly. You’re too old for this behavior,” Her father snapped when he saw the tears streaking down her cheeks.

             “But I just wanted to look at the stars, like I used to with mama,” Lucy stuttered, her voice small and quivering with fear. Her father stilled, his face going blank for a moment before rage overtook his features.

             “Your mother was a foolish woman, and now she’s dead because of it. You need to grow up!” He screamed. He raised the telescope with one arm, and Lucy cried out and leapt up to try and grab the precious heirloom. She was too small and helpless to stop her father from smashing it against the floor and stomping on it for good measure. Lucy screamed, a horrible deep scratch that crawled from the depths of her chest. She pushed her father away from the crushed metal and shattered glass, then fell to her knees- ignoring the pieces of glass that dug into her skin.

             She was too focused on the broken telescope to notice how her father went stumbling a few feet back from her shove, her vision too blurred from tears to note the fear in his eyes. She cradled the twisted metal in her arms as her sobs wracked her body.

             “Get up this instant!” Jude spat, grabbing her arm and lifting her from the floor. Lucy cried out as the telescope was knocked from her grip, clattering against the floor again. She reached out for it as her father dragged her away, her fingertips just barely brushing the cool metal.

             “I think you need to be locked in the Room again. You are out of control,” He growled. Panic spread through the girl, and she fought even harder against her father’s grip. She screamed her protests, reaching out to the servants as they passed by, but none came to her aid. Instead, her potential rescuers stood as stoic witnesses to her humiliation, as always. Her father dragged her down to the basement, and unlocked a sturdy metal door with a key from his pocket. Lucy was sobbing, begging for her father to show mercy. He just wrinkled his nose in disgust and tossed the girl into the dark, small room.

             “You will stay here all night as punishment,” He said sternly. Lucy rose to her feet and ran at the doorway, but her father just slammed the door shut in her face. She blinked uselessly in the dark as her vision tried to adjust to the inky black room. Crying, she banged against the door with clenched fists and kicked until her skin was bruised and bloody. She finally stopped when her hands throbbed in pain and her screams became hoarse croaks.

             She curled up in the corner of the room, unable to even see her own hand in front of her face. Silent tears streaked down her cheeks as she stared blankly out into the darkness.

***

             When Lucy felt the pounding in her heart subside, she pushed away from Natsu and bit her lip. She looked over at the distant castle, wincing every time an attack rattled the building and sent more and more debris collapsing to the ground. Clouds of dust filled the air. She looked up at the looming peak of the tower, where she’d literally taken a leap of faith. The feeling of helplessness as she plummeted to her doom was not one she ever wanted to feel again.

             “What’s happening in there?” She whispered. Natsu rolled his neck and stretched, rising to his feet. “After what they did to Team Shadowgear, and after they took you-” his voice deepened into a rumbling growl, “-Master decided it was time to go to war.”

             “War?” Lucy exclaimed. Natsu shrugged and motioned for her to follow him towards the front gate, where most of the battle was taking place.

             “Phantom Lord has been out to get us for decades, I guess Jose finally grew the balls to come at us,” Natsu explained. She stumbled and felt her heart drop out of her chest. If Jose hadn’t been driven into an all-out attack before she joined Fairy Tail, she- or rather her father- must have been the tipping stone on the scale that made Phantom finally decide to come after her friends. That meant that everyone’s injuries were her fault, all the pain and suffering brought on by this war was her fault. She felt as though she was drowning in guilt. If she hadn’t run away from home, or joined Fairy Tail, everyone she’d begun to care for would be perfectly fine.

             As though he could hear her anxious thoughts, Natsu bumped her shoulder and said, “Don’t worry, we’ve got this.”

             Lucy gave him a weak smile. The wind rustled the grass, creating a low hum in the valley. She tucked the stray hairs flowing in the wind behind her ear and gently covered her keys with her hand. The enchanted metal pulsed with heat, as though her spirits were welcoming her back. Smiling, she absentmindedly stroked Leo’s key with her pinky as they walked. She looked back up at Natsu, who was a few strides ahead of her.

             He was bustling with barely contained energy, his muscles tensed and ready for fighting. His attention was locked onto the distant fighting, his jaw clenching when a particularly intense attack sounded from the fortress. He was itching to return to the fight and to help his friends. Lucy was tempted to let him, to tell him to go running right into the fire and burn away their enemies, but she was weak and did not want to be left alone again. She’d been in that dark, cold cell for what felt like days, but was probably only hours.

As a child, she’d been isolated from the outside world, kept restrained in her father’s manor house with only the servants to keep her company. Her father hired private tutors to educate her, and until she ran away, Lucy never knew what the outside world was like. To say it was a rude awakening was an understatement. She learned quickly that the world could be just as cruel as her father.

She was jarred out of her thoughts by an explosion that sent the earth rolling beneath her feet, causing her to lose her footing, and the towers from above crumbling down around them. Natsu shouted and dove towards her, grabbing her with one arm and waving his other to send a wave of fire to defend them from a chunk of dark stone plummeting down from above. The intensity of the blaze singed her skin and made her cry out. Natsu’s arm tightened around her and he shot her a concerned look. He pulled her along, dodging the debris left and right, until they were near the front gate. They skidded to a stop just before the gate, eyes wide and mouths agape.

Erza stood with the guild behind her, the group slowly backing out of Phantom Lord’s fortress. With her scarlet hair whipping in the wind, Erza- donned in a brilliant silver winged armor- defended her companions with hundreds upon hundreds of blades that appeared out of thin air around her.

“Take the Master and go!” She shouted. Natsu stepped forward, but paused and glanced over at Lucy. She nodded to him, telling him to go and fight. If she could, she would summon Leo, but her magic was still replenishing after being drained away by that cell. Nevertheless, she ran up to where Mira was kneeling with Master Makarov’s small form cradled in her arms. Elfman deflected any attacks targeted towards them, screaming incoherently. Lucy stopped and joined Mira, a shocked gasp falling from her lips when she saw the kindly old man.

His skin was sallow and pale, with a blue tint overcoming his features. More wrinkles than she remembered creased his skin and were it not for the slight rise and fall of his chest, she would’ve believed him dead. While Lucy still couldn’t sense aura’s very well, she knew there was something wrong with Makarov’s. He had no presence. He seemed like an empty shell that had its life-force sucked out until nothing else remained.

“What happened?” She asked. Mira, with tears running down her cheeks, just shook her head. Lucy felt a wave of heat as Natsu entered the fighting and heard his battle cry echo in the courtyard. Erza called for a retreat to the guild, her voice strained. There was a burst of light and ice and a wave of cold air washed over the courtyard as a frozen shield encased the large doors of Phantom Lord, preventing any of their enemies from pursuing them, for a few moments at least.

             Lucy helped Mira to her feet, and together they followed the flow of people running down to a distant growing doorway of brilliant light.

             The portal. She spared a glance over her shoulder, hoping to see a familiar flash of pink in the crowd, but was swallowed up by the transportation magic before she spotted Natsu.

             She stumbled across the floor as she landed in the guild tavern and crashed into the bar top. Nausea swirled in her gut and dizziness blurred her vision. She really hated that damned portal. When she finally regained her footing, and managed to focus on her surroundings, the portal closed behind Erza, who was the last to travel through. Mira was still crying, the tears dripping down her cheeks and onto the Master’s clothing. She carried him into the infirmary with most of the guild hot on her heels. When the crowd bottlenecked at the door, Mira hissed and sent everyone away. She slammed the door shut, but not before telling Happy to fly off and bring Porlyusica to the guild as soon as possible.

             The Exceed had stayed in the safety of the guild with Charle, Wendy, and a few others whose magic wasn’t suitable for battle. Wendy was pushing her way through the crowd, scanning for injuries and helping where she could. Erza waved away the small girl, saying her wounds would heal, and told her to go try and help the Master.

             As the panic and adrenaline faded away, a gloomy atmosphere clouded the atmosphere. Many were sitting with their heads in their hands, or pacing across the floor. Lucy knocked on the infirmary door, asking Mira if she could see Levy.

             The white-haired woman called for her to enter, and Lucy gasped in horror when she saw her friend. Levy, and the rest of her team, were heavily bandaged from head to toe, and had an IV hanging next to their sick beds with a strange glowing liquid swirling inside the bag, flowing slowly down the tube and into their arms. Blood-soaked rags overflowed in the trash bin and Lucy could see dried bloodstains on the floor. Levy’s normal glowing aura was dark and faded, her breathing shallow.

             Hot tears trailed down her cheeks as Lucy sat at Levy’s side, too scared to grab her hand for fear of hurting the demi-fae. Mira was similarly positioned next to Makarov.

             “I’m so sorry,” She murmured. Guilt and shame rolled in her stomach, and she was sure the nausea she felt was not from the portal. If only she’d done something sooner. Maybe if she left for the Heartfilia Manor already, her friends wouldn’t be lying unconscious and barely alive in a sick bed. Makarov wouldn’t be dying, and the guild wouldn’t be at war with Phantom Lord.

             The thought of Jose or any of the scum from Phantom Lord coming after the members of Fairy Tail again turned her vision red and made her blood boil in anger. The image of that vile man smirking at her and taunting her behind the safety of her cell haunted her whenever she closed her eyes. Breathing heavily, Lucy rose from her crouch and stormed out of the infirmary, violently slamming the door shut behind her.

             The guild was now a flurry of activity. Erza hovered above the swarm, directing the chaos. She was still donned in the shining silver armor from the battle, the glorious silver wings spread wide and taking up most of the available space granted by the high ceilings of the tavern.

             Lucy’s fists clenched tight enough for her nails to pierce her skin. She distantly felt the warmth of her blood soaking the pads of her fingers. The hustle and bustle of the guild faded away; the shouts and clamoring fading to the dull ringing in her ears, the smell of blood and sweat clogging her nose, her vision blurry. Soon she saw just imprints of color as people walked by. She felt numb. Her anger drained away, leaving nothing but emptiness in its wake.

             If she went out and fought Phantom Lord, how would she know they’d leave Fairy Tail alone? Jose made his hatred of the guild very clear, along with his lust for her powers. She knew if she told Erza or Natsu or anyone what Jose revealed to her that they would fight for her, even die for her. Despite the short amount of time she’d spent at Fairy Tail, she knew how deep the ties of friendship went in each and every member’s hearts.

             She couldn’t fight Phantom Lord without risking retribution against her friends, nor could she simply surrender and hope Jose would leave Fairy Tail alone. Plus, she had her spirits to think about. How could she willingly subject them to Jose’s whims? Her heart sank. None of her options were good.

             “..y…cy…Lucy!” A voice called. Lucy felt hands shaking her shoulders, and then the world rushed back into focus with an almost audible snap. She jerked back and blinked, relaxing when she saw a familiar pair of dark green eyes staring at her with concern.

             “Are you hurt?” Natsu asked, looking her up and down to assess for injuries. She shook away his concern and rolled his hands off with a shrug of her shoulders. “I’m fine.”

             Natsu raised a brow and she knew he didn’t believe a word she said. Lucy hugged herself and avoided his gaze. She knew that if he asked about what Jose did, she’d tell him. Despite barely knowing him, Lucy’s trust in Natsu was ingrained in her very soul. He had saved her life more than once, and had become a good friend in the weeks since she joined Fairy Tail.

             “It was a dark cell, is all,” She muttered as he inched closer, his shoulder brushing against hers and his breath fanning across her face. Memories of how her father would punish her by locking her in a tiny, pitch black “panic” room flitted through the forefront of her mind. Residual panic and fear bubbled up her throat and she felt her heartrate quicken.

             Natsu smiled down at her and slung an arm across her shoulder, pulling her along into the chaos. Lucy stumbled, but Natsu’s grip remained steady. “No need to worry about that now. My flames will always light up the darkness, and you’re back home. I promise we’ll protect ya,” he said brightly as he dragged her towards where Erza was directing the traffic.

             Lucy’s shoulders shook with laughter and she bit back a smile. Of course Natsu would have such a simple opinion. With her mood somewhat better, Lucy willingly plunged deeper through the fray until they stopped right below Erza.

             Before Natsu could call out to her, the portal flashed and a terse woman stalked into the guild. Her pastel pink hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail and she wore deep red robes. Lucy noted that since she’d joined the supernatural world, the concentration of those with wildly colorful hair had significantly increased. The woman grimaced and glared at the guild members. Everyone had stopped what they were doing and instantly cleared a path to the infirmary.

             Mirajane thrust open the door, as though she could sense the woman’s arrival. She waved the woman over, and muttered her thanks with a respectful bow. The healer, Porlyusica, just sneered and shook her head, muttering about old men with too much foolish bravado, then disappeared into the infirmary and slammed the door. A moment later, the portal flashed again as Happy flew through the doorway and crashed onto the floor.

             The Exceeds wings vanished, and he collapsed in a heap near the doorway. Natsu dashed over to his partner and carefully lifted the cat, cradling the unconscious creature in his arms. She walked over and touched Natsu’s elbow, asking if Happy was alright.

             “He just used too much of his magic at once, is all. He’ll be begging me to take him fishing again in no time,” He said with a gentle smile. Lucy felt warmth bloom in her chest at the adoration she saw in his eyes and the cautious hold he had on the feline creature.

             “Lucy! It is good to see you again,” Erza said, startling the blonde. Erza had snuck up behind her, somehow silent with her bulky enchanted armor and swords.

             “It is good to be back,” She said slowly. While she was extremely glad to be free of the dark cell and reunited with her friends, Lucy knew she was putting all of Fairy Tail at risk.

             “Do you mind telling me why Phantom Lord’s master kidnapped you? It would help me understand his future strategy,” Erza asked, stepping closer to Lucy and looking her up and down for any clues. Lucy blanched at the question. Now was the time to tell the truth, she supposed.

             “Well, it’s complicated,” she began, “but it all comes back to my father.” At the mention of her family, Natsu’s attention was pulled away from Happy. Except for what Leo revealed, and the memories of her childhood that Lucy shared with him, Natsu knew close to nothing about her family.

             “My real name is Lucy Heartfilia, and my father is Jude Heartfilia, head of Heartfilia Co. I ran away from home a little over a year ago. My father is a horrible, abusive person. Jose told me he was hired by my father to kidnap me and take me back to our family estate,” Lucy explained with a shuddering breath. “Unfortunately for me, Jose decided my magic was worth more than my father’s reward and he decided to ‘keep’ me, to use as he saw fit. I don’t know what he planned to use my magic for, but I know it was nothing good.”

             Natsu growled low in his chest and stepped closer to her, his shoulder bumping hers. Erza stared at her with a fierce intensity, then nodded.

             “Thank you. Your celestial magic is rare, so that makes sense. Now I know Jose will attack us again to try and get to you,” She said, but her gaze told Lucy that the Valkyrie would want to know more about her family and why she lied. Lucy was grateful for Erza’s patience. She had no desire to delve into her painful past anytime soon.

Every night, she was plagued by nightmares, each one depicting another terrible memory of her childhood. She’d wake drenched in a cold sweat, her sheets soaked, and a scream crawling out her throat. Most nights, she could prevent the screaming, but others she’d wake with her throat hoarse and the echo of her cries in the air, her body shaking.

             Erza returned to the air to shout out more orders and prepare for an attack while Natsu draped an arm across Lucy’s shoulders and tucked her against his warm body. Lucy tried not to melt in his arms. Now that she was finally free from Phantom Lord’s prison, the exhaustion she’d fought off with adrenaline was starting to seep in.

             “Don’t think that just cause Erza didn’t ask questions that I won’t. I don’t know why you lied, but just know you can trust me,” Natsu said, his breath tickling her ear. Lucy tensed, but nodded.    

             “I do trust you, now at least. Please believe that. I just didn’t want to risk my father finding me, which doesn’t seem to matter now,” she said glumly. She turned her head to peek at his face, and met his burning gaze. He inhaled sharply, narrowed his eyes at her, then exhaled and nodded. His breath fanned across her face, and her mouth quirked in discomfort.

             “Fine. I do trust ya, Luce. And don’t worry, we’ll keep ya safe,” He said brightly. Lucy smiled up at him and tilted her head to rest against his shoulder.

             “Oh, did you ever find out what happened to the master?” She asked as she glanced over at the infirmary door.

             “Apparently during the fight, he went to confront Jose and was causing chaos when a wizard, one of the Element Four, used some spell that sucked all the magic energy out of his body and caused an intense kind of depletion sickness,” He explained. Lucy pursed her lips in thought. After feeling the side effects of a mild case of magic depletion, she couldn’t imagine how Makarov had survived having every last drop of magic drained away.

             “Element Four,” She mumbled, “Hey is there some kind of water woman in the Element Four?”

             Natsu tensed, and she felt his skin grow hot as his magic boiled beneath his skin. He must’ve put together the same thing she did: that a member of the Element Four abducted her.

             “I think so. Someone might’ve mentioned it before, but I wasn’t really listening,” He said softly. She just hummed to herself and strummed her keys with her fingertips. While her guilt and anxiety over what path to take regarding Phantom Lord were temporarily lightened by Natsu’s kind words and presence at her side, the intrusive thoughts remained hovering at the back of her mind.

             She could always try turning herself in, but what would she do with her keys. If she gave them to Natsu, he’d figure out her plan and try to stop her. She’d stay put, for now at least. Maybe Erza had a brilliant attack plan and maybe Porlyusica would come out of the infirmary with Master Makarov hot on her heels, ready to return to the battle. Or maybe Phantom Lord would just leave them alone and her mother would come back from the dead.

             Porlyusica burst from the infirmary door, her expression even surlier than before. Erza and Gray and Elfman ran up to the healer to hear any news, and Lucy was dragged along by Natsu.

             “I’m afraid it isn’t good. The mage literally took his aura somehow. Unless we find it and return it to Makarov, he’ll die within hours,” Porlyusica grumbled. Gasps of shock and unease spread through the hall. Gray cursed and turned and punched a wall, sending crystals of ice shooting across the room. Erza showed no physical reaction, save for a slight frown. Natsu just pulled Lucy closer and growled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest.

             Porlyusica muttered some more about what needed to be done to save Makarov, then returned to the infirmary to try and keep his body alive long enough to have his magic restored.

             “Finding Makarov’s stolen aura and returning it to the guild is now our primary goal. No matter what happens, we must save the master.” Erza lifted a clenched fist and stared at the closed infirmary door. Sounds of affirmation and agreement flitted through the hall as the news passed through the guild.

             Before anyone had a chance to sound a plan of action, the upper levels of the guild and the roof disappeared in a sudden flash of purple light, the resounding boom of the magical canon deafening and the rush of air sending everyone sprawling.

             A wave of energy and heat enveloped the guild as the focused magical energy ripped through the guild. Natsu tackled Lucy to the ground and tucked her protectively under his body to protect her from the falling debris, and screams of alarm filled her ears. Lucy peeked out past Natsu’s arm and her eyes widened in horror.

             In the distance, near the riverbank a few hundred feet from the guild, stood- or rather walked- the Phantom Lord castle. The castle was perched on a chunk of earth with enormous metal limbs sprouting from below the fortress. In the center of the castle was a large canon barrel with smoke curling from the end. Lucy looked up in horror at the carnage around her. Luckily, not many were injured from the attack. The attack had vaporized most of what it touched and the only debris was from the backlash of such a powerful force ripping through the air.

             Erza was the first back to her feet, and her armor disappeared in a flash. When the light died down, she was donned in a black armor with silver accents with large bat-like wings protruding from her shoulder. Her legs and arms were covered in thick plated metal, and her stomach was left bare.

             “Good evening, Fairies!” Jose’s voice called out from the castle, magnified by magic, “That was a warning shot, courtesy of our lovely Jupiter canon! Next time, I will not miss. Bring me Lucy Heartfilia, or perish. You have 15 minutes.”

             Lucy felt everyone’s eyes turn to her, and she felt her mouth drop open in shock. It seemed that her choice had been made for her. She had no other option but to surrender herself to Jose’s whims. She wriggled out from underneath Natsu and rose to her feet, her head held high. She marched out of the guild doors, the portal broken and useless from the blast. She could feel the flickering energy of the wards surrounding the guild as she neared the edge of their protection.

             A hand grabbed her arm and yanked her back. Lucy whirled around and was about to yell when she saw Erza standing behind her, with Natsu and Gray at her sides. The three bore equally furious expressions.

             “You are a member of Fairy Tail, and no matter your past, you are family. We do not allow our family to be threatened,” She stated firmly. Erza smiled softly and released her arm.

             “Jose Porla! We will never give up one of our comrades, and you shall feel the wrath and might of Fairy Tail!” Erza screamed, the rest of the guild cheering behind her. Lucy felt her eyes well up with tears at her friend’s actions. Never before in her lifetime had anyone fought for her as valiantly as the members of Fairy Tail now did.

             “Hmm. Unfortunate. Nevertheless, I will take the girl. Sending you cursed Fairies to the netherworld is only a bonus.” Jose’s voice called. A large circular sigil appeared at the front end of the Jupiter canon, and a robotic voice said, “15 minutes until Jupiter canon activation.”

             Dark energy pooled in the center of the symbol and slowly started to grow larger with each passing moment.

             “Pshh, we’ve got 15 minutes to take that castle down? No problem!” Natsu laughed. Right after the words left his mouth, a horde of dark shades poured from the towers of the distant castle, each cloaked soldier streaming towards the guild.

             “Goddammit Natsu!” Gray cursed, unbuttoning his shirt.

             “Ah, well, now it’s really a party. I’m all fired up!” Natsu shouted, punching his fists together with an explosion of fire.

[pyropsychiccollector]

            Out in the woods, an Ice Make Wizard was pounding away at a tree with reckless abandon. If the enemy wound up finding him out here, well… At least he’d finally have something to really vent his frustrations out on. He wasn’t using any Magic, and his knuckles were beginning to bleed, but Gray Fullbuster still didn’t care. He was so pissed. He was so sick of crying, yet all he could do to take his mind off the tears and stinging in his eyes… was react in the way Natsu would. By beating the tar out of anything he could get his hands on. And since every available hand was needed for fighting the Alvarez Empire… he had to go with beating up harmless trees and rocks.

            Not that it made him feel any better.

            “That idiot…” The Ice Wizard seethed as his punches slowed down, and he dug his nails into his skin even deeper, drawing more blood. He threw another punch and panted as he held it against the obliterated tree trunk. “Were you even thinking? No. I bet you weren’t. Even if Zeref spelled it out for you, I bet you killed him with every intention of keeping your promise. There’s no way you died without knowing Zeref had done something to you… Stupid… stupid, stupid, stupid Flamebrain!”

            Gray howled with every ounce of oxygen in his lungs. He howled in anger for the loss of an indispensable rival and friend. He howled in rage at the unfairness of the world that another loved one was taken from him too soon. Perhaps most of all… intentionally or not, he howled in fury at the scarlet knight, who kept him from going after the Pyro.

            If only he hadn’t listened for once. Erza said to leave it to Natsu, to have faith in Natsu, and now that idiot was dead. Sure, he kept his “promise”, but it wasn’t worth it. It was just like when Master Ur cast Iced Shell on Deliora. Only this time, he had no inkling this would happen, even though he could have stopped this. If only he’d been ballsy like Natsu had been, going off on his own like that. Zeref remaining alive would’ve been a small price to pay.

            It was too late now. Natsu was gone, and there was no bringin’ him back. There was no use piling the blame on Erza’s shoulders, either; when they’d received the news, she had been the first to bolt off from the group. She was probably grieving just as hard, if not harder than he was. It made him and Wendy decide to deal with their grief on their own for now, while everyone else was filled in via Warren’s telepathy.

            Shakily, Gray fell to his hands and knees. The tears around his eyes swelled as they dripped to the ground. They were going to keep fighting because they had to, for their own sake just as much as Natsu’s, but that wouldn’t erase the pain. That wouldn’t bring Natsu back. There was gonna be a huge void in their lives from now on. Moving on was gonna be rough…

            Kami. He couldn’t even stomach the thought of Fairy Tail without that infuriating Matchstick. Not now… and maybe not ever.

            ~*~

            “Wendy…” Carla whispered soothingly. The girl hadn’t stopped crying ever since Gray took off. She’d put on a brave face when Grandeeney died, but that had largely been due to the fact she had friends that were now her family. They filled the void that Grandeeney had left behind, and now one of them, a very precious someone, had died as well.

            Carla understood Wendy’s pain better than anyone. Even though saving Cait Shelter from Nirvana had been a group effort, it had been largely due to Natsu’s strength that they’d succeeded. He took down the Master of the Oracion Seis. He looked out for Wendy like she really was his little sister. And most of all, after the ordeal with Tartaros and the Guild disbanded, Natsu had come looking for her to bring Fairy Tail back. It was really little wonder that he held such a special place in the Sky Maiden’s heart.

            “He’s… He’s gone…” Wendy sobbed uncontrollably, seated under a tree with her knees drawn to her chest. “Natsu wasn’t supposed to die! Nothing could keep him down!”

            Carla could only nod quietly.

            “I know, child… I know.” Closing her eyes solemnly, Carla did her best to find the words that would ease Wendy’s pain, even a little. It wasn’t easy for her, either. Though Natsu had been a ruffian that got on her nerves a lot, the Pyro had grown on her, as well. Finally, Carla reopened her eyes and spoke as gently as possible. “Wendy… I won’t tell you to dry your tears. But do you think Natsu would want you to sit here, while our friends need our help? The Alvarez Empire isn’t going to leave our shores, not after Natsu killed their Emperor. We have to keep fighting.”

            “B-But…” Wendy trailed off quietly. She knew Carla had a point. If she didn’t lend her strength, more people were going to die. Possibly more people that were close to her. And Natsu… of course he would encourage her to stand up, even now. But that didn’t make it easy…

            “Summon… your courage.” Carla told her in a heartfelt tone. “We can’t let Alvarez win. This isn’t even about revenge… it’s… Natsu might have been a fool to the end, throwing his life away like that, but we should try and appreciate that he did it for us. He believed that we could handle the rest. We can’t let him down!”

            Again, Wendy knew she was right. Painfully so. For that reason, Wendy rubbed the back of her hand over her face, drying her tears as best as she could. She still felt so sad… But for Natsu, her hero, her friend, her brother… she would pick herself back up. Because in a lot of ways, Natsu had taught her what it “really” meant to be a Dragon Slayer.

            And she wasn’t going to disappoint him.

            ~*~

            Loke let out a tired sigh as he laid Lucy against the wall, farthest from the cell that was keeping some prisoner contained. He could pick up on her distress from the Spirit World, so imagine his surprise when he popped over, and Master explained what “happened”. Loke found it difficult to believe, but also knew Makarov wouldn’t lie about something like this. Natsu was… dead. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around those three simple words. It shouldn’t have been possible for them to be in the same sentence. Not so soon, not while Natsu was still young.

            The Lion Spirit had done everything he could to comfort Lucy, but she still cried her heart out, still fell asleep from exhaustion. Cana hadn’t been much better, in her corner of the room; and frankly, Loke wasn’t better off than either of them. As a proud member of Fairy Tail, as someone who likened himself as an older brother of sorts to Natsu and Gray… this hurt. Like no other.

            In the end, he found himself sitting next to the slumbering Lucy and dwelling on all the happy times he’d had with the mouthy Pyro. Not long after, a concerned Capricorn also materialized in the human world, hovering over the both of them.

            “Is there anything I can do that may be of assistance?”

            Loke merely shook his head.

            “This one’s just going to take time to heal… Even then, there’ll still be scars.” Loke eyed Lucy for a moment. “She’ll pull through. She always does. All we can do is be there for her.”

            Capricorn looked down at him solemnly, the light of the room reflecting off of his shades.

            “And what of you?”

            Loke chuckled softly.

            “I might be spending a lot of time over here for the foreseeable future. Now more than ever, Fairy Tail needs to stick together. I have just as many responsibilities being one of them as I do being leader of the Zodiac.”

            Capricorn smiled at the Lion Spirit’s commitment. He really was an amazing leader and friend.

            “And I shall endeavor to be by Lady Lucy’s side as well.” The Sea Goat echoed his leader’s sentiments.

            No other words needed to be spoken.

            ~*~

            For the first time since Tartaros, Erza found herself overwhelmed by grief. She knew that she had pretty much abandoned Gray and Wendy to their own sadness, but the Requip mage couldn’t help it. She’d reacted on impulse. How else could she react? There was only so much pain that she could take before she couldn’t hide it anymore, and this time… just this once, she needed to be alone. Even moreso than when Jellal had been arrested.

            Because the man that had melted the barriers she’d erected around her heart… he was gone. At least Jellal had been alive, if not in a bad spot when he’d been arrested; she might have reacted violently to anyone approaching her during that time, but she would have come to accept their comfort. But now… now she was at a complete and utter loss.

            Natsu wasn’t coming back. She had stood up for him when all others wanted to run after and support him, and he… This was like a slap in the face. Everything she’d learned from him… how you lived for your friends… It felt like Natsu had spat on that. As if he’d turned his back on “finding another solution.” If Natsu’s life force was tied to Zeref, the Black Wizard would have brought that up during their confrontation, if for nothing else than to dishearten the Dragon Slayer.

            … But apparently, Natsu had been too strong in his convictions, too hung up on “keeping his promise.” As if she would have been disappointed if he’d retreated! If he’d just done that, he would have made it back alive… Or if she had gone after him, to back him up… Instead, just like so many times before, she had placed her trust in him. Even for something as miraculous as killing Zeref... she believed in him.

            But the thing about that trust was that there was also a silent agreement that he would make it back alive. That had always been the deal. He even said it himself, during the Battle for Fairy Tail, demanding that of her. The enemy had been very powerful this time, but she had complete faith in him. Because he was Natsu Dragneel, and Natsu Dragneel pulled off miracles as if they were nothing.

            There was no miracle this time. Not… Not a true miracle. Zeref was dead, but so was Natsu. Fate must have really hated her, to deal this blow. Natsu was one of two people that she never, ever wanted to lose; Gray was the other one, and he was likely venting right now. As much as she cared about Jellal, he just wasn’t in the same league as Natsu and Gray. Erza accepted that he had to pay his debts, to atone for his sins, and so she had been able to move on from the time of his arrest.

            This loss was so much worse. As if she had lost a significant part of herself in Natsu’s death. She had relied on him so much. His warmth. His spirit. His compassion… Erza was just as angry as she was sad, but it was the very thought of a Fairy Tail without Natsu Dragneel that was keeping sadness as the dominant emotion at this time. The notion itself was unfathomable, as if Natsu and Fairy Tail were one and the same.

            And so Erza wept. She wept for what must have been hours. Tears were even pooling from her right eye, but Erza had stopped noticing a while ago. She knew that she had to pull herself together, for the sake of the Guild, but she just couldn’t manage it as quickly as she normally would. This time was so very different. This wasn’t just a friend being hurt or in trouble… this was Natsu, and he was dead. Never coming back.

            “Erza…”

            The scarlet knight stifled a gasp. That voice… belonged to Natsu. Whether it was real or just some delusion on her part… it didn’t matter. All she wanted was to hear his voice. She needed this, so she listened very intently.

            “I hate to see you cry. That’s… this isn’t you! You’re as tough as a dragon, so start actin’ like one!”

            “But Natsu…!” She looked skywards and objected woefully, only to get cut off again.

            “I’m gonna tell you what Igneel told me to do… ‘Cause out of everyone, you need it most of all! GET ON YOUR FEET, ERZA!

            Erza didn’t know why she complied… Natsu had turned his back on the “Fairy Tail way”, and yet she found herself wobbling as she rose to her feet, leaning on the tree behind her for support. Her gaze was still focused on the blue skies above.

            “I probably shared more years with you than I did with Igneel… and y’know what? You two aren’t different at all! I was always watching your back, playing catch up as we trained hard, and you’re the strongest person I know! Even stronger than Gramps or Gildarts! ‘Cause even when you stumbled, you got right back up!”

            “But this time’s different, Natsu…” Erza whispered with a frown. As expected, the Dragon Slayer denied it.

            “NO! Nothing’s changed! Even now, I’m alive in your heart, aren’t I?! You’re listening to me right now!” The voice went on, even as Erza was overwhelmed with emotion once again. Though this time, there was definitely a layer of happiness in there. A happiness that blossomed in her chest. “I want you to keep on growing, you got that?! If you give up now, I’m never gonna forgive ya! Hell, I’ll count this as a victory over you! You want that?!”

            Erza released a deep breath that she didn’t know she’d been holding. She was still angry over his selfish sacrifice… still immensely sad… But she supposed that she shouldn’t allow herself to fail now. Not when the “old” Natsu would have kicked her ass for faltering now.

            The scarlet knight couldn’t fight the grin tugging at her lips. Real or not, that was exactly what she needed to hear. She would continue to get stronger, and she’d postpone his Punishment until she joined him on the other side. She’d get strong enough to make that loveable idiot regret throwing his life away… The first step to secure the future was to defeat Alvarez… and she was very easily “fired up” for that now~.  

          ~*~

Note: I just couldn't keep Erza-chan sad... She deserved some comfort, so why not have Natsu pass on what Igneel told him~... ^___^