#bose and mika fanfic

[dollmelaniee]

just a friendly reminder. dear eleana exist. if u havent read it, go read it. ITS SOOO LIFE CHANGING.

[bomikalover]

Scrapped Fanfic me and my friend Lee made called "Puree Passion." Wrote 3 chapters and decided to post one of them lol. LMK if you want the other two and I'll gladly post them! K Bye!

Chapter 1: Le début

It was a bright and breezy day on a regular Sunday afternoon at the beginning of summer. Bose walks into Man’s Nest with a grin on his face and a pep in his step. He was so joyful today, and no one knew why, which is one of the many mysteries of Bose O’Brien. The others sat on the Man Couch, curious as to why the young boy was so happy today.

“Someone’s feeling cheery!” Mika teased.

“It's disgusting.” Chapa sneered.

“Let the boy be happy!” Miles defended.

“So are you guys gonna ask me or what?” Bose questioned.

Bose joins the others on the couch.

“Do we have to-”

“What got your spirits so high?” Miles asked while cutting off Chapa.

“Ok, since you guys are dying to know…I got a summer job!” Bose exclaimed.

Chapa gave him a semi-smirk of pride, Miles applauded while cheering him on, and Mika flung out of her seat, jumping for joy, almost sonic screaming out of excitement. The others looked at Mika with confusion. You would have thought she was getting the job.

“Sorrieee, I’m just excited.” Mika says sheepishly while sitting back down.

Chapa leans over to Miles, whispering. “Some of us more than others.”

Miles cackles like a witch as Mika continues the conversation.

“Anyways, where are you working?”

“That's the best part! It's Hip Hop Paris!”

Mika’s smile faded. She must have been hearing things.

“Do you mean Hip Hop Puree?” Mika questioned.

“No. I mean Hip Hop Paris; Becky recommended it to me.” Bose answered.

“Becky? You mean Becky Butler? The Becky Butt!” Mika stressed.

“I thought she moved away?” Miles questioned.

“She did…to Paris!” Bose replied.

Mika sighs while rolling her eyes. It was already bad enough that he was going away to Paris for the summer, but he would be working with Becky. They all knew Becky was bad news…at least Mika did. She couldn't comprehend why Bose would ever listen to Becky…like it’s Becky.

“Not that I care, but why can't you work here in Swellview? You know at Hip Hop Puree?” Chapa asked.

“Well, Hip Hop Paris pays way more than Hip Hop Puree, and now that I'm getting older, I decided that I wanted to be more independent. All I know is Swellview, and this might be my one opportunity to get out of here.” Bose explained.

The others knew what Bose meant. Out of all of them, Bose will be the one stuck behind fighting crime with Ray. Not that being stuck with Ray is the worst thing in the world, but there are always better opportunities out there. Miles could sense the heavy vibe surrounding this conversation.

“Well, I'm happy for you. Hopefully, this is a small stop on your path to greatness.” Miles said.

“Yea dude, that's sick.” Chapa praises.

Bose smiles at his friend's support, but he looks over at Mika as her opinion means the most.

“So Mika, what do you think?”

Mika looks up at Bose, breaking out of her gaze. She plasters on a fake smile.

“Yeah, it's great.” Mika lied while nervously giggling.

Bose sensed something was off with her but brushed it off as he didn't want to upset her. Mika wasn’t just upset. She was confused, sad, and most anxious. Bose was going to work with her academic rival for an entire summer in the city of love. Yeah, no biggie.

“I’m so happy you guys are so cool with this, especially since I leave tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow!” The group screams.

Bose jumps back in his seat, not expecting such a big reaction.

“Well yeah. We’ve already gone through the first day of summer, so if I want to have a good head start, I need to leave for Paris tomorrow. I’m sorry, I didn’t know I would leave so soon either.” Bose explained.

The silence drew over the group. How could you be happy for your best friend but sad for yourself? Since they were 12 years old, this quartet is all they've known, and they wanted to keep it that way. But the other three knew that this would be good for Bose, even if it sucked for them. Chapa wasn't one to openly feel for people, but Bose was like a little brother to her. He drives her insane sometimes, but she would kill for him. She knew Bose could protect himself, but he was too nice to even hurt the meanest of people, besides villains, of course. So she always did it for him, not realizing how self-dependent Bose became because of it. Miles didn't like the thought of losing their best friend for a summer, but they knew they couldn't interfere with their friend’s path. If his path went to Paris, unfortunately, they couldn't stop him. Mika felt defeated. She’s losing her honey for an entire summer; even worse, he’ll be closer to Becky Butler. What if that vicious snake of a girl poisons her sweet Bosey with her malicious ways? Mika couldn't allow that to happen.

“Well, I'll gladly teleport you there.” Miles voiced.

“And we'll be there to send you off.” Chapa added.

“Yeah, we wouldn't let you go without saying goodbye.” Mika says while placing a hand on his arm.

Bose smiled as his friends were being really cool about this. It almost made him think that they were happy to see him go…but they still wanted him around, right? Bose was just overthinking; his friends were not his parents. They actually like having him around, unlike his parents, who don't even care if he moves to Paris for the rest of his life.

“Thanks, guys, you're the best. I'm going to go since I have to start packing, but I’ll see you guys tomorrow!” Bose said while leaving down the tube.

Once Bose was out of sight, Mika slouched into the Man Couch.

“What’s up with you?” Miles asked.

“Isn't it obvious? Mika’s loverboy is leaving her for some chick in Paris!” Chapa pointed out.

“Chapa, how many times do I have to tell you that I am not in love with Bose!”

“Yeah, okay.” Chapa said while getting up from the couch to grab a snack.

“Chapa!” Miles warned.

Chapa raised her hands in defense while leaving the room.

“I'm just looking out for Bose; I know Becky, and she's bad news!” Mika warns.

“You know 14-year-old Becky, the one that moved away and you haven't seen since freshman year. We're going to be juniors now; maybe she’s different.” Miles argued.

“Once a snake, always a snake.” Chapa says, walking in while munching on Choco Crocos.

“Whose side are you on?” Miles asked.

“Nobodies, that's the fun of it.” Chapa joked.

The twins roll their eyes at Chapa’s teasing manner. Chapa was the best at stirring the pot; she couldn't care enough to actually pick sides. Plus, someone always ends up hurt when you choose a side, so she never did. Plus, she thrives on making things harder for people.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bose packs in his room, and hears a knock on his door. It opens to Celia coming into his room.

“Oh hey, mom.”

“Bosey, what are you doing?”

“Packing?” The boy questioned as if it wasn't obvious.

“Yes, I see that. But why?” Celia questioned.

“I'm going to Paris, remember? I told you two weeks ago!”

“You did?”

“Mama, I literally told you about how Becky was helping me find a job, and of course, you weren't listening.” The boy complained.

“I was listening!” Celia argued.

“Oh really, where am I working?”

The mother was stumped. She was listening, but Genuine Moments was on, so she might have blocked Bose out just a little bit.

“Umm, a surgeon?”

“Really? A surgeon? At 16? I'm pretty sure that's illegal, mama.” The son stated.

“You got a driving license at 12, so anything is possible!” The mother debated.

Bose rolled his eyes in annoyance, an emotion he’s portrayed more as he got older and more aware of how irritating some people could be…including his mother. He loves her, but she could be a little dim sometimes, and that’s coming from Bose, of all people.

“Look Mom, I’m going to Paris to work at Hip Hop Paris with Becky for the summer, and I leave tomorrow. Whether you care or not.”

“I care, Bosey, I do.”

The boy scoffed as he went to his dresser to get more clothes. The mother knew she wasn’t the best parental figure, but she did love and care for her son. She just needed to show him that.

“Bose, sweetheart, I’m sorry for not listening to you, but trust me, I’m trying my hardest to be better. Because I love and care for you, you deserve to go to Paris and begin your journey of becoming an independent young adult.”

Bose smiled at his mother’s efforts. He knew she was trying her best, and he wasn’t always the perfect son either. The boy walks up to Celia, engulfing her in a hug. The mother hugged back. Her baby boy was growing up on her.

“You’re gonna do great, Bobo; I just know it. I’m gonna miss you, but I know you can handle yourself. Try not to get into too much trouble; I know your job is to save lives but think of this summer job as a vacation, ok?”

“I will, thanks Mom.”

And there’s her sweet Bosey. The duo breaks apart from their hug.

“You’re welcome. I have got to go with Vicey on some business trips, so I won’t be here to send you off. But I love you so much, Bobo, and be safe.”

“Of course, love you too.”

The mother places an arm on his head, caressing it before smiling and making her exit. Bose keeps packing his bags with a happy heart, knowing his friends and family are supporting him.

The next day came rather quickly as the kids already stood outside Swellview Airport to send Bose off. It was bittersweet, they didn’t want to see him go, but it was time for the baby bird to leave the nest.

“Thanks for coming guys.” Bose thanked.

“Of course.” Chapa said.

“We wouldn’t miss it.” Miles voiced.

Mika was relatively quiet for obvious reasons. She still wasn’t grasping the fact that Bose was actually leaving for Paris. She was more focused on figuring out a loophole that could keep him here, but she kept drawing blanks. She watched as he briefly talked with Chapa and Miles, hugging them separately before moving on to her. He stood before her, smiling gently, but his eyes spoke volumes. He was going to miss Mika the most, to no one’s surprise. Everyone knew how bad the duo suffered when being separated. During the Thousand Pranks War, Bose couldn’t help himself and snuck out to Mika even though their cities warred against each other. Mika being from the rival town and pranking Bose herself, should have been enough to push Bose away, but it didn’t. He stayed by her side. It was even worse when their moms kicked them out of Danger Force. He only saw Mika in school, which wasn’t much since their schedules differ and they both have extracurriculars. But even then, he sat with her every lunch, walked with Mika to her locker or class if he could, and even got to school extra early to spend time with her. He always made time for Mika. And Mika never shoos him away. So being countries apart might be challenging, but I doubt Bose O’Brien would let that get in his way of making time for Mika Macklin and staying by her side…whatever way he can.

“Hey.” Bose said.

“Hi.” Mika voiced.

They both had so much to say, too much, actually. Mika teared up, with Bose looking back with teary eyes as well. Mika wraps her arms around Bose’s torso, her head against his chest, and Bose’s arms around her shoulders. They would have had more time to depart if Miles could teleport them there, but of course, Becky got Bose a first-class flight there and will be waiting for him at the airport. Bose swayed them slowly, neither having the courage to let go. Their friends watching them felt for them, knowing how important they were to each other. Chapa looks at her still outdated phone, checking the time.

“Bose, you have to go now if you still want to catch your flight.” Chapa announced.

Bose went to let go, but Mika squeezed harder.

“Don’t let go, not yet.” Mika whispered.

“I wish I could hug you forever, but Chapa’s right. I got to go.”

The duo gradually loosened their embrace, Bose taking hold of Mika’s hand with his own.

“I’ll call you as soon as I get situated in Paris.”

Mika smiled, squeezing Bose’s hand right before he let go.

“Alright, I’ll see you guys.”

Bose grabbed his suitcases, giving one last look to his friends, Mika’s lasting the longest. Then he turns around, strolling towards the airport and farther away from his home. Chapa walked over to Mika, putting an arm over her shoulder. She knew her friend needed some comfort right now.

[spicywriter202]

You won't remember

Volt goes after (Y/n), Ray's daughter and her (ex?) girlfriend, not knowing the real reason why she ran away.

(Y/n) ran up the upstairs from her apartment. Not ready to face the one person she couldn't face. Her 'friends'? Not a problem. Her bastard of a dad? Would love to beat him black and blue. But her? Never.

"(Y/n)! You can't run anymore!" She yelled. Her red suit tightly hanging onto her figure.

"Just leave me alone, Volt."

"No can do. Your dad aka my boss says your to come home to Swellview."

"He isn't my dad!" You yelled, your powers getting out of hand. You didn't even notice until Volt got into a stance, with her electricity getting ready to attack.

You flinched at the sight of your own powers. They honestly terrified you. And you never told your dad about them due to your childhood with him. You only told your uncle showoz and you begged him to make some power suppressants.

You put your hands down and started to speed walk towards your bathroom. Volt following you. "We need to talk about this!" you quickly opened the door and slammed it shut.

"there is nothing to talk about!"

"you have powers! Why didn't you tell me?!". Volt said, starting to bang on the bathroom door. "At least tell me why you left me!"

"I didn't leave you!" You yelled, putting on the bracelets that showoz made you. Keeping your powers in. However your eyes were telling a different story then your tone. They were full of tears ready to spill.

Volt on the other hand already had years flowing down her face. "You said you wouldn't leave me, but you did! Why would you come back?!"

"Because of him!"

"who?!"

"Captain Man! My dad! You have no idea what it's like growing up with the man! He ruined me, lula."

You heard some chewing and a pop go off. You assumed she transformed back into her normal attire. "please, come out. I swear, I don't have anything on me. I want to talk, not to some girl I'm trying to bring home as Volt. I wanna talk with my girlfriend as her hot-head."

You stood up. Your girlfriend was so sappy when it came to times like this. It made you even more saddened because of what you have to do.

You opened the door but only opened it so you could slip your hands through. Your and Chapa's hand holding each other.

"Why won't you come home?"

You didn't answer. Breathing in and out. You gave in, you know what you would have to do. You opened the door so she could see you. You didn't do anything but what would break your heart.

You pulled chapa into a kiss.

'I have to do this, for my freedom."

You undid the bracelet and slowly brought your hands close enough to her temple.

Your hands glowed a dark purple. Grabbing her head, she pulled by and groaning in pain.

You had tears streaming down your face. "I'm sorry."

"(Y/n) please."

"You won't remember our times. I was nothing but a friend to you. All our dates and romantic wasn't there. You won't remember (Y/n) Manchester as your lover."

Chapa passed out when you let her head go. You moved and laid her down in your bedroom.

You grabbed your bags and left the apartment knowing that the rest of Danger Force will be here soon.

You gave Chapa one last glance before leaving on the next bus out of Swellview.

Disappearing from Danger Force's radar until you set foot in Swellview again.

However you would never know what your powers didn't work.

[boseobrien]

Thinking about them.

[tactlesstuesdays]

sad bomika hours </3

[mirrorballmika]

we’ll make it beautiful (ao3)

(or, a fic from the hero!mika x civilian!bose dystopia verse that lives solely in my brain)

There’s a certain order for nights like these. A set of steps. Step one, Bose hears Mika’s key turn in the lock and immediately turns off the TV. He gets up from the spot on the couch and stretches himself out, pretending like he’s spent the past three hours doing something other than anxiously watching the news.

Step two, he makes his way to the door as Mika unlocks the second lock. He quickly looks down at the third floorboard from the door and thinks about the gun that’s safely stashed beneath it. It’s been 189 days since he last took it out. He’s hoping they at least make it to two hundred.

Step three, he opens the door and smiles at Mika so that he doesn’t scream. That’s one of the most important things he’s learned so far. Whatever you do, however bad it is, you don’t let them see you panic.

If he’s doing a bad job at it, she doesn’t tell him.

“Evening,” she greets hoarsely, her hand pressed against her side. The mask is gone but the lines will remain until morning, cutting in around her cheekbones and into her forehead. Strands of hair stick to her face, slipping out of the tight braid she had when she left, and a heavy flannel jacket conceals most of her clothes. It doesn’t, however, conceal the white in her knuckles as she grips the doorframe, her body slumped to the left. Her smile melts off her face in seconds and her hand moves out from her chest to reach for him.

He takes it, and she all but falls against him. He catches her just in time and sucks in his breath as her body trembles against his. His arm around her waist and her head on his shoulder, he carries her inside and nudges the door closed. He does a quick survey of the area beforehand, not wanting an intruder to add to Mika’s injuries tonight.

They’re silent as they make the quick walk down the hall to their small kitchen, the lights dim and flickering overhead. He needs to get those looked at. Mika slides into a chair at the table, her sigh heavy as she gets off her feet. Bose drops a kiss on her head before heading to the cabinet. He has to wiggle it around before it opens on one hinge. He needs to get that looked at too.

He takes a quick look over his shoulder while he reaches for the first aid kit. He’s fetched it so many times he doesn’t need to actually look for it, especially not when the light barely touches it. The good news is that Mika has definitely looked worse. She’s conscious and breathing and knew who he is. All things that used to be standard but now he’s actively grateful for. The bad news is that her breathing is shallow and careful and her mouth is tight like she’s holding back a scream. The bad news is that she might be conscious but she has to make an effort to keep her head up and as he gets closer, he sees her hand shaking on the tabletop.

Tomorrow, they’ll eat breakfast at this table as if nothing happened. Striped cereal bowls and slightly-stale Count Chocoula.

“Okay,” he sighs as he pulls out the seat beside her. A bottle of water is tucked into his elbow and he wants it over to her. He puts on a smile, the one that’s designed to put people at ease. “What’s your damage, Heather?”

“Not much,” she says quietly. She gasps the moment she says it though, the sound quick and high-pitched, and her hand curls into a fist. She squeezes her eyes shut for a second, her breath leaving her mouth in a slow, steady stream before she whispers “ribs”.

“Had a feeling that was the case,” he says. “Off with the shirt. Let me have a look.”

“My my, Bose O’Brien,” she teases through a mouthful of fabric. “Bet you say that to all the girls.”

He laughs, but it dies on his lips when he sees her chest. Shades of purple and black spread across her chest, weaving in and around her ribs like ivy. He waits for her nod before gently touching her skin. Heat tickles his fingertips, a worrying contrast to the iciness of her palms when she held him. Her chest moves carefully beneath his hand, like her lungs house precious china and she’s afraid to break it.

“Okay.” He breaks a cool pack from the kit over his knee and holds it against the worst area. He watches Mika’s face as it slowly begins to soften and takes it as a sign. One hand holding the pack in place, he pulls the medical tape over it twice and secures it against her. He sits back a little and breathes for half a second. Enough to stop his heart from racing, not enough to make him actually think. “Okay, what else?”

“I think that’s it,” she says. He doesn’t need to verbally respond, just raises an eyebrow and she caves. He doesn’t have time to spiral about why she keeps trying to lie to him, he’ll do that in a few hours while she’s asleep. For now, he lets her sheepishly show him her hand and forces the freak down his throat.

He has no idea how he didn’t notice when he let her in. Dimly, he realises it’s the hand she kept against her ribs and slid beneath her coat, but that only does so much. What he does know is that Mika’s middle finger sits crookedly at an unnatural angle, and as he slowly turns her hand he finds the skin shiny and bronze in colour. He, of course, hears her hissed breath and lessens his grip just enough. He looks up at her, a silent ‘what the fuck’ burning in his gaze, and her guilt is visible even in the half-light.

“It wasn’t a person,” she tells him. “I had to punch a door down.”

Somehow that doesn’t reassure him. Especially not when an old, old memory pops up and phantom pain flashes across his knuckles. He grits his teeth and gets the bandages out of the first aid kit, wrapping them around her first two fingers.

“I could have screamed it down,” she says quietly. “But…” She shrugs. She doesn’t need to finish. The scratched and cracked sound to her voice, sounding like it’s just now crawling back to her, speaks for itself.

Tomorrow night, he'll scream at himself again about how they're nineteen and they're too young for this and when did this become their life and why and when did they agree to this. But for now, there's work to be done, and he can only hold so much at one time.

They sit in silence as he wraps the bandage around her finger and carefully applies the splint to it. The only sounds in the apartment are the rain outside and Mika’s shallow breathing. She lets out a whimper as he comes close to finishing, her hand jumping onto his leg and squeezing tight. He whispers words of reassurance to her, telling her that it’s okay and she’s fine and he’s here. He doesn’t know what good it would do, to know that she has a bumbling ex-superhero who’s just barely doing his best in her corner. But it does something for her, so he’ll keep doing it.

He gives her a quick kiss before going and grabbing two mugs from the cupboard, dropping a green teabag in one and two spoonfuls of coffee in the other.

One day, he’ll investigate the relationship between his relocation to Dystopia and his late-night caffeine cravings.

A chair scrapes behind him as he watches the kettle boil, and soon two arms snake around his waist. The smile is tender as it spreads across his face, the tension in his shoulders dropping in the time it takes him to breathe. His hand comes up and rests on hers, his warm fingers sliding between her cold ones. Her smallest finger reaches down to the hem of his shirt and brushes against his bare skin. He chuckles at the sensation.

He didn’t realise you could be grateful for a sound until now.

“Aren’t you meant to be resting?” he murmurs, swaying softly. He worried, once, when it started to get bad, that he’d forget how to be playful like that. Of course, he didn’t, and while Mika won’t admit it, she’s part of the reason why.

Mika murmurs into his shirt and presses a kiss to his shoulder. He doesn’t need to turn around to see the slight grin on her face that she reserves for him and only him. He feels it in her touch, her kiss, the nuzzle of her forehead against his neck.

“I am,” she whispers. “You’re my pillow.”

He laughs again, louder this time, as the kettle switches off. He fills their respective cups, and Mika only leaves him for a second to grab the sugar and the oat milk. She presses against him as he hands her the tea, a kiss on the cheek acting as thanks. Their mugs warming one hand and his free one holding hers, they walk to the couch together. They fall onto their mountain of dollar-store pillows, careful with their drinks and Mika’s ribs. His arm brushes against the cold pack and it’s almost enough to make him jump. Almost. Their legs tangle beneath the blanket, and Mika positions herself with her back against Bose’s chest. She pulls his arm around her waist and he happily obliges, kissing her head as she flips through TV channels. A movie tonight, they agree. Something cute. Something fun.

“Something happy,” Mika mutters. He wonders if she meant to say it, or if he was meant to hear it.

Here, they aren’t heroes or vigilantes or kids wondering if their best will ever be enough. Here, despite the broken bones and tired eyes, they’re still two barely adults who worry their parents with how stupidly in love they are. Outside it might be pouring rain and rolling thunder and danger lurking in shadowy corners, but inside they have blankets and hot drinks and each other, and for tonight it’s enough to put everything else to rest.

Tomorrow will be whatever, but now the fight is over, and all that stops Mika from shaking is Bose holding her tighter.

[onlybomika]

i would kill for a villian! bose and mika au pls why hasn't anyone done that??

[illcitaffrs]

i randomly want to write florist Mika and coffee shop owner Bose

for some reason, it just makes sense??

[rayylock]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Danger Force (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Chapa (Danger Force TV), Miles (Danger Force TV), Mika (Danger Force TV), Bose (Danger Force TV), Ray Manchester, Schwoz Schwartz Additional Tags: POV Third Person Omniscient, i think i'm a little funny, just a little, ongoing

Summary:

The hero groans in annoyance and gestures at the villain, seemingly signifying “just a minute.”

“WHAT?” She shouts, hand on an earpiece and the other on her hip.

“Volt! We… Arson Boy has… get over here!”

“ALRIGHT, jeez! Tell AWOL to give me a minute, I’m busy,” she states, rolling her eyes. They glance at the guy on the floor who’s hand is now clutching his chest, relief washed over him. “Co-workers, am I right?”

They laugh a little to themself, so the guy on the floor joins in, thinking it might help him escape. It won’t. The laughter dies down with a mutual sigh.

“Ok, we’re done here,” ZZAP! ____________

Or, days in the life of Danger Force. How fun!

(Title: Waves - Chloe Moriondo)

[dollmelaniee]

i might be working on something…..

[bomikalover]

I was randomly thinking about how Bose and Chapa are like Ray’s long-lost kids then I thought what if that was the spin-off? Ray discovers he has 2 kids who are the same kids who helped him save Swellview and the ones he accidentally gave powers to! Ray has to juggle being Ray Manchester, Captain Man, and a Dad/Boss of 2, mixed with Bose and Chapa’s amateur power-using and their big personalities plus the Macklin twins as a side or main characters! It's giving Andi Mack meets Danger Force and I am living for it! I would pay money to watch this but I kinda already am 😂

[boseobrien]

ALL TOO WELL IS SO BOSE AND KATE WTF- GOSH I COULD DISSECT THIS WHOLE SONG AND RELATE IT TO THEM, (I will be doing that now)

[tactlesstuesdays]

i have indeed changed my mind again on what i shall post for christmas day, it will still be chiles (i love and miss them too much not to) and not at all christmassy, well i haven't really decided that yet.

but anyway as you wait for the day of the fic and jesus' birth, and the s3 promo STILL

have this scrapped edit i made, idk how long ago

[mirrorballmika]

midnight rain (3/5) ao3

rated teen for violence. 

She’s got them.

Rain falls in steady sheets in front of her, splattering the top of the wall and running off the back of her cloak. It gives her excellent cover, as does the dark blanket of the sky around them. The street lights glow a few feet below her, casting weak yellowish shadows onto the alleyway below. She can see almost everything, but she's practically invisible up here, tiptoed atop the high wall. No one could spot her, not from the ground.

Even so, she sucks in her breath when she hears the voices. She presses her back against the iron fence behind her, her free hand curling around the chainlinks. All the intel she’d gathered directed her here, and it still felt like she was working off a wing and a prayer. She’d waited here until her legs shook from the effort of keeping herself upright and listened out for the news reports. Doubt had crept in, as it so often does, and if she were wrong, she’d have at most two hours to hit up three other hiding spots across the city. 

But now, as three vaguely familiar figures lead a group of stumbling, blindfolded people into the alley, that part of the battle is over.

The civilians are pushed against the wall, and as she peers closer she sees the shackles linking them together. A shudder threatens to run through her body, but she forces herself to be still. The last group she found didn’t have shackles. There had been rumours about the Gulls tightening up their security after she’d freed that last group, and if they’re as smart as their reputation claims, they won’t be ordinary shackles. Reinforced steel, most likely, which means her usual cutting tools won’t hack it, and her lockpicks failed her last time-

Stop a voice inside her commands. Focus. She nods, not sure who to, and redirects her attention. One of the Gulls is bent down and pulling something out of his pocket, while two others survey the area and the last two inspect the prisoners one more time. If she’d followed her train of thought any longer, she could be too late already.

“Game on,” she whispers. It’s freezing out here, the coldest winter night she’s felt thus far. But her breath doesn’t form in front of her. 

Her back straightens, her shoulders roll back. It’s a dance she performs alone, one that puts her in a prime position. She spent months, years even, perfecting this technique, and now it comes naturally as breathing. A slight bend in the knee, pushing (not throwing) her weight forward. And then, she’s falling through the air, curled into a crouch to keep her centre low.

And then she’s landing on the ground, soundless as a single raindrop on the sidewalk.

Her aim could’ve been better. The circle of light made by the streetlight stops just a breath from her hand. Her movements are slow as she straightens up, controlled. Guard number one stands on the other side of the light, his back thankfully turned to her. 

A disc slides from her sleeve to between her fingers. Another appears in her other hand. She gives them both a quick, soundless kiss and with a single jerk of her arms, lets them fly. The figure before her falls as one sinks into his calf. Before he can shout, another buries itself in his back, and he crumples. This time he does shout out, and his friend turns just in time to get one in the chest. 

Dark blood spurts from his mouth then. It oozes down his chin, and it almost makes Mika feel bad about sending a second disc to his stomach.

(Almost, because she looked at the row of prisoners to her right).

“Donnie?” a voice calls from the shadows. Mika stands to attention, prepared to lose the element of surprise. Someone, the other Gull, comes out of the shadows. His hair gleams dark blue under the street light. Mika steps back and skirts the side of the light as he comes closer. His friend coughs and the pavement is speckled with crimson.

Just come a little closer, she thinks, as if she’s willing him to. He obeys her, whether he knows it or not, and a tight-lipped smile spreads across her face. He takes another step into the light as she secures her position; opposite him, just to the left. One more, she urges, one more.

One single scream sends him crashing down the alleyway. Surprise isn’t on her side any more, but she doesn’t need it. She throws herself into a roll and runs towards the first guard. From there, she steps on his stomach and launches herself up. For a few seconds, she sails upward, but then she throws herself down and comes down on the Gull on the other side. A sickening pop fills the air as her boot collides with her shoulder, and she lands with her knees on either side of them and their braid in her hand. The prisoners against the wall have different reactions; some stiffen, some turn their heads helplessly, and some shriek, convinced she’ll be coming for them next.

She shakes her head, and then, pulls hard on the girl’s braid. To her right, she hears the sound of a pistol cocking, and then the last gang member steps into the light. He’s tall and pale, with a sheaf of dark red hair and the Gulls’ tattoo on his neck. He sneers down at her, and then there’s a gleam of recognition in his blue eyes.

“You’re her,” he says. “The Screaming Shadow.”

“What gave it away?” she replies. “Was it the fact that I just knocked your buddy out with nothing but my vocal cords?”

He brandishes the pistol, and she presses down on his friend’s broken shoulder. A strangled cry shakes through the alleyway, and she flashes him a grin. The Gull doesn’t lower his weapon, but he doesn’t fire either.

Mika lets go of the braid and flashes one of her knives at him instead.

“Now that you know who I am,” she says steadily. “Let’s attempt some civility.”

“You ruined our job at Bane Harbour.”

“You mean the job where you tried to take fifteen people out of the city?” she asks. She raises her eyebrow and presses the blade to the Gull’s throat. Her second one sits comfortably in her sleeve. “Taking them out to Conway?”

The girl beneath her stiffens, and Mika grins.

“That’s right. We know about the operation you’re running out of Conway. Smuggling people down there, testing your little science fair projects on them.” She forces herself to stay still, to not baulk at the stories she’s heard from those who escaped. “Tell me, how many lives have you ruined to get your stupid results.”

“So that’s your play?” the boy asks. There’s a condescending edge to his voice that makes Mika almost forget herself and rise to punch him. “Appeal to my better nature?”

Patience the voice tells her again. You can punch him all you like later.

“I’m not dumb enough to assume you have one,” she replies. “Otherwise we wouldn’t be here, would we?”

“No, but you’re dumb enough to think we’re working out of Conway,” he says. She frowns.

“I know a bluff when I hear one,” she tells him coldly. “Conway’s the only place with enough empty warehouse space to do what you need to do.”

The body beneath her laughs, the sound vibrating against Mika’s leg. She grabs the braid again, the threat evident in her touch. The Gulls are a fearless lot, so she slides her knife beneath the girl’s throat. 

“We can build our own freaking workshops, little songstress,” they tease. “And besides… space isn’t the issue. Power is, and Conway isn’t nearly capable of providing it.”

“Power,” she echoes. She looks up at the other Gull. The gun is still pointed at her, but he won’t shoot as long as she’s got a knife pressed to his friend’s neck. The Gulls are a loyal group too.

Fortunately for her, they’re also prideful, like all gangs in this city. And that makes them really, really stupid.

She flashes a smile, and her fingers work their way into the girl’s hair.

“Thank you,” she says sweetly. “That’s very useful information.”

Then, everything happens at once. The boy’s eyes widen. Then, she takes the thick pin from the girl’s hair and flings it directly into his gun, jamming the barrel. She buries her knife deep in the girl’s right leg and her other knife into her side. 

She rolls off the girl and springs to her feet. Her knives are still in the girl, but she doesn’t need them. The boy is pulling at the pin in his gun, his efforts punctuated by pained grunts. He looks up at her, eyes blazing behind his hair. His hand moves, but before he can anything, she lets out another scream. It’s a little softer than the last one, but still enough to send him down. She stalks over to him, briefly sidestepping his friend, and crouches down. Up close, she can see he’s a little older than her. She can also see the snarl on his face and her fist clenches.

“Gonna hand us over to the cops then?” he asks. She shakes her head, and it’s only then she realises her hood has fallen.

“Not after what happened last time,” she says. She slips out another knife and traces his spine with it. Just the right level of pressure against his skin. “But I’m guessing when you run out of money to bribe them, they’ll be a little less forgiving.” She casts her eye up to the row of quaking prisoners against the wall, and her jaw sets. Twelve people, she counts. They must have been promised a nice sum for all of them. 

“What are you going to do then?” he asks. Slowly, he tries pulling himself to his knees. All he gets is her cold gaze and the knife pressing into his skin, and he sinks back down. “You can’t sit out here all night.”

“No I can’t,” she says. “Fortunately, I don’t have to. We’re in Black Hornet territory. I’ll let them deal with you.” 

He stiffens, and that’s when he lets the mask slip. He shoots to his knees, not caring about the slash her knife makes in his back. Or the pain no doubt shooting through his head. 

“You little-”

“Listen, you’re the idiots who tried to use the enemy territory to smuggle your kidnappees to your base,” she tells him. “If you ask me, you were asking for this.”

“Was I asking you though?” he asks. His lips curl up, and a surge of fury runs through her body. He goes to say something else, but her fist connects with his cheek and he drops. 

She shakes out her hand. These gloves do a lot for her, but the lack of shock absorption is a kink she’s yet to work out.

That can be another day’s problem.

She twirls the ring of keys around her finger. She slipped them from his belt while her knife was pressed to his back. It’s an old but vital rule; keep their attention away from the mark. She marches up to the wall, where the prisoners still stand. They’re all shaking now, and their rain-soaked clothes stick to their skin. She approaches the one at the front of the line, a girl with a dirty blond ponytail, and lowers her voice.

“It’s okay,” she tells her. “You’re safe now. Just give me a minute to figure out which key it is…” She jabs at least six keys into the lock before finding the one that fits. Heat tickles her cheeks, and she’s just glad for the low lights and blindfolds. No one needs to see their hero blush. Certainly not over something as stupid as getting the right key.

The handcuff clicks open, and the girl tugs her blindfold off her face. She can’t be much older than Mika is, blue eyes wide and terrified. Her skin is pale, and either raindrops or tears run down her cheeks. 

“Here.” Mika hands her the key. She blinks, unsure, but then takes it in her trembling hand. “One turn counterclockwise unlocks both wrists. Once you’ve unlocked them, tell them to go down the alley, take a left and keep going until you reach midtown. From there, you should be able to get a bus or a train to get anywhere in the city. Do you understand?”

The girl stiffens. She gapes wordlessly at Mika. Her eyes flit up and down her body as if to make sure she was real.

Mika on the other hand, fights the urge to roll her eyes. She waits until her head is bent over the shackle of the person beside her. Then she repeats the same thing to them, and it seems to stick that time around.

Despite that though, she repeats herself at least three more times, shouting the getaway instructions down the line as she examines the corner where the brick sidewall meets the stone wall at the back. This is where that lead Gull kid had been standing, and from what she saw, he was looking for something here. And if she’s going to keep up her lead against the Gulls, she needs to know what.

It’s easier said than done when she’s glancing up every few minutes to get on the prisoners and repeating the same instructions. She also keeps glancing at the five bodies on the ground, counting every time to make sure. In the first week in Dystopia, two got away. She doesn’t know what they did in the three weeks before she saw them again. All she knows is the way they laughed at her the second time, and how she kicked them with a little more force than necessary.

She’s not making the same mistakes twice. That’s what she’s getting at. 

Fortunately, the most movement these guys make is a slight shift before hitting the ground again. Another one of her discs appears in her hand, just in case, but she never has to throw it. A quick surge of pride runs through her, and she twirls the disc between her fingers. She watches as the line gets smaller, groups of two or three running down the alley and skidding left. There’s less of a need for her to tell them again, they start whispering it among themselves. As they run, they avoid the bodies on the floor at all costs. Some press into the wall to get away from them, and some just run as fast as they possibly can. 

It’s moments like this where she considers breaking her own rules and calling the police. Then she remembers what happened the last time, and why she’s not calling the Dystopian cops again until she knows none of them are being paid off.

(Knowing this city, it’ll be a while)

As the civilians flee the scene, and none of the incapacitated gang members are moving, she turns her attention back to the wall. She grabs the flashlight from her belt and switches it on. The light is intense, and she blinks and squints until she adjusts. 

It seems like there’s nothing; just an ordinary meeting of two ordinary walls. Logic would tell her to leave it at that and go the hell home, but she can’t. There’s an itch in her brain that she can’t ignore. The Gulls wouldn’t lead their victims into a dead-end alley. And the red-headed one had been standing around here just before she ambushed them. There’s something about here, and if she cracks it then at least she can make life a little harder for them.

She looks upward as if the answer could be there. Unlikely, given the height of the wall and the number of prisoners they had. No, scaling a wall with them would be next to impossible. She moves closer and crouches down, shining the light against the wall. The image in her head is fuzzy, obscured by darkness. If only she’d been able to see better. Maybe she should’ve set up on this side, she thinks bitterly. Less coverage, but a better vantage point. Or maybe she should’ve waited-

Wait.

The gravel crunches beneath her as her knees hit the floor. She peers closer to rule out it being a trick of the light. It’s not, and her heart thuds. Slowly, she rises and then creeps toward the wall. There, where the back wall meets the side wall, is a black crack, running from top to bottom. It could be anything, a crack in the plaster, a gap created by an underpaid city builder. But, she thinks as she presses her hand to it, it’s not.

No, it’s definitely not. Warm air tickles her gloved palm, and she breaks into a grin.

She’d first heard about it from Henry; how Dystopia is basically a bunch of concealed tunnels and secret entryways with a city built over them. How she’d bristled with excitement, back when she first heard it. Then she came here and saw it all for herself. Something lurks beneath every street corner and every alleyway. It’s what let all these gangs spring up and all these little wars start. It’s how people disappear, whether they want to or not. 

The wall door groans as she pulls it. She digs her boots into the ground, her teeth clenched to keep the grunt firmly inside of her. Pain spreads across her shoulders like ripples on the water, one pulsing after the next. The length of the past couple of hours comes back to her at once, and her arms begin to shake. She grits her teeth and keeps going. It doesn’t have to be all the way, she tells herself, just another few inches.

A heavy groan rips from her body when she lets go. The spent effort pulses in her arms, and she flexes her fingers in her black gloves. She thinks vaguely that she’ll need a hot shower tonight, then pushes that aside. She can’t think about that now, not when she’s finally gotten the step ahead she needed.

And honestly, it does help her forget about how crap she feels. Stretching out before her is a dank, grey-stone tunnel, lit by dull, flickering blue lights attached to the sides. For months, the two biggest blocks were how the Gulls were getting people out of the city and where they were taking them. Mika had staked out the harbours and the train stations and asked every contact she had. She’d chased her tail for weeks, all while more missing person posters appeared on lamposts.

Well, now she knows. And she’s kicking herself for not knowing. These tunnels, the ones that are still open, can take you right out of the city. Where no Dystopian cop could be bothered to chase you. That’s how the Gulls got away with this for so long.

Until now.

She takes a deep breath in; the air tastes like cold water, tinged with smoke. She might not be able to destroy the Gulls’ entire operation in one go, but breaking this tunnel could put a real dent in their work. If nothing else, it’s one less route they have.

Her scream is short but powerful. She feels it building inside her chest, like a car engine revving, before she sends it down the tunnel. It reverberates off the stone walls, shaking the foundations tunnel’s structure. She still feels it linger, and then she watches with relief and pride as the walls crumble and stone fills the gap. Another scream sends the ceiling tumbling on top of it, and then there’s a pile of rock and brick blocking her path. Even if they manage to clear it, it’ll likely be a while given her intel on the Gulls’ resources. And in that time, their diversions could make them sloppy, as these things often do, and she only needs one of them to slip up for her to catch them.

“Nice work.”

Her smile drops. She whips around, and her knife slides between her fingers. All at once, the warmth drains from her body. She’s as cold as the rain around them, and she feels the body behind her rather than seeing it. 

Ask questions in a minute, she tells herself, over the dozens of scenarios rushing through her brain. Make sure you don’t die first.

Her arm collides with something else. Her knee hits nothing when she brings it up. Her first options are gone, she shifts her weight back, ready to lunge and go for his ankles. But then one of the streetlights flicks back on, and what she sees makes her drop her knife.

Soft brown hair, now slick with rain. A head and a half taller than her. Clear skin, a button nose, and freaking dimples in his cheeks. A hand wraps around her wrist, and it’s the softest thing she’s felt in… well, probably over a year.

“Bose?” she asks.

He laughs, a little awkward, and his smile flashes in the dark.

For a second, she can’t feel anything, but static in her brain. Then it’s like she tunes into reality and it bursts through; Bose freaking O’Brien is in Dystopia, smiling at her, and every nerve in her body stands on edge.

“Hi, Mika,” he says. “You look good.”

[onlybomika]

girls will literally read bomika fanfics first thing in the morning and before they go to bed like damn babe did u even try to be happy today💁‍♀️

[boseobrien]

I love this whole enemies to lovers Bomika agenda we got going on.

enemies to lovers bomika??? yes. 

i miss them so much is not even funny anymore��