#bunker: has enough rooms to house a small army

[woundlingus]

IT WAS SAM’S PERSONAL ROOM????? SAM WAS LETTING GABRIEL SLEEP IN HIS BED??????

[salamandergoo]

I'm having sad Steve feelings tonight, here's a scenario:

Murray meeting Steve who, isn't quite yet in a relationship with Jonathan and Nancy. They've been skirting around it, and Steve doesn't know how to bridge that gap with them. Has been so afraid of their little moments together, meaning more to him than to them. and Murray recognizes him from past conversations says an approximation of the line "we like Steve but we don't LOVE Steve" and there's recognition on Jon and Nancy's eyes and Steve just feels gutted.

God okay I’ve been thinking about this all day. I just love this because the bone deep mortification of it all…

I’m picturing this as post season 4, all hands on deck kind of thing. Everyone is not doing so hot, but they’re stockpiling resources and waiting with bated breath for a hint of what’s to come. Steve is keeping himself busy with chores, maybe it’s his house being used as a bunker, miraculously untouched by the cracks across Hawkins, there’s even running water! The heating is spotty, but a cold shower is better than none.

Jonathan and Nancy are… well, things are going with them. Secret kisses and desperately gripping to each other like they might be torn apart. This can go one of two ways. Either it does mean the same thing to them as it does to Steve. Or, well, it doesn’t. Let’s play with this.

Steve is doing okay. He could be better, but that’s the nature of the end of the world. His house is full and he can’t decide if he likes it or not, it’s such a contrast to even a few weeks ago when his biggest concern was waking up on time to drive Robin to school and remembering to keep the kitchen stocked. Now there’s people he doesn’t know that well coming and going at all hours, he’s not even sure how many people have a key.

One good thing is the proximity to Jonathan and Nancy. He’d been in a weird place with both of them, drifting in and out of their space, dancing around lingering feelings. He’s pretty sure he talked to Jonathan just as much if not more than Nancy when they were in Lenora. But now they’re both here in his house and he can’t hide from it, even if he wanted to.

He and Jonathan are sharing a room for now, Jonathan spending most mornings tucked in close to him and snoring against his shoulder in the hour between patrols and watches. They have freedom to kiss and touch and relax with each other. And Nancy will join them on the occasions where she’s free too, a tangle of limbs and mouths and hands.

Sometimes it’s just him and Nancy, paired up for supply runs and patrols. He’s got fond memories of being pinned to trees in the woods behind his house or making out in alleys of the dilapidated Main Street.

He’s kept pretty busy, everyone who is physically capable is pretty busy. There’s no real time to have an actual talk. Even the mornings, they’re all so exhausted it rarely goes past heavy petting. Even on patrols-

Okay, well, maybe there’s time for it, but none of them are too keen on being vulnerable, not when there’s so much at stake, when your darkest thoughts are weapons pointing at your throat at all times.

Between Steve, Argyle, and Hopper’s weird friend who Steve hasn’t yet met formally (he was there after the Russians- during- his memory is hazy), they’re keeping everyone fed. Every meal needs to be enough to feed a small army, the kitchen is in constant use. It becomes Steve’s escape when his head is too loud, there’s always something to chop or simmer or prepare.

It’s an unassuming night when it happens, as unassuming as things can be when monsters lurk and the ground glows orange and the hall threat of the end of the world looms a little closer every passing moment. Steve is in the living room getting his ass kicked at checkers by Nancy, Jonathan is napping on the couch with his legs thrown on Argyle’s lap, and they can hear some of the teens outside with Hopper for what was supposed to be melee weapons training but has clearly turned to a game of tag. It’s almost peaceful. So Steve supposes he should’ve seen it coming.

Nancy triple jumps to get a piece to the other side of the board, sitting pretty with seven checkers to Steve’s measly three. She’s smiling so bright, brighter than he’s seen in awhile, and he can’t bring himself to be too upset about the game. He doesn’t hear the footsteps or the creaking of the recliner diagonally behind him or the snort of Jonathan waking. He does hear the clearing of a throat, it has him sitting bolt upright and knocking out-of-play checkers off the coffee table. “What’s all this, then?”

Steve looks warily over his shoulder at Hopper’s friend- no, Murray, his name is Murray. Steve was never the best with names, but he’s trying his best, okay? He eyes the glass of clear liquid in Murray’s hand and knows it’s from his fathers liquor cabinet, he was sure he’d locked the office though…

“Just some checkers,” is Nancys airy response, her focus hardly wavers as she looks at Steve, waiting for him to make his move. But Murray’s state feels heavy, he doesn’t like that it’s so focused on him.

He doesn’t get a chance to say anything, Murray leaning in like he’s inspecting Steve for something. He tries to lean away, but between his still-healing wounds and the awkward positioning of his body between the coffee table and the couch, there’s nowhere he can push his body. A hand touches his shoulder and he recognizes Jonathan’s touch, the warmth of the pad of his thumb slipping under the collar of his shirt. His heart is racing, but the hand is grounding.

“Steve.”

“Um.” He blinks at Murray. The man seems smug in a way that has Steve’s skin crawling. It feels like when his dad’s business friends leer at him and act like they know him. “Yes? I- did you need something?” He’s poised to stand up, coiled and tense like a spring.

“You’re an interesting character, my friend.”

“Not your friend,” he mumbles, leaning into the grounding touch of Jonathan.

“You know, I’ve heard quite a bit about you. Haven’t seen much. A very busy bee, aren’t you? Always carting the children around and doing your damnedest to stay out of this house.”

Was that true? He doesn’t think he’s trying to stay out of the house. He just needs to stay busy, stay useful. Needs to help. “I don’t think-“

“It’s interesting. I had some spare time and did some digging, and you, Steven Richard Harrington, are an interesting one.” Murray leans forward and Steve wants to scramble over the coffee table to get away, can feel the weight of a thousand eyes on him. “It’s not the first time your name has come up.”

“Okay…?” Steve pulls his own gaze away and busies his hands with picking up the knocked over checkers, regrettably pulling away from Jonathan’s hand as he rubs his thumb over the textured edge of one. He spares a glance at Nancy, who is eyeing Murray suspiciously. “Did you want something from me?”

“Last time I checked, you and Miss Wheeler had gone your separate ways. Seemed like she and Byers over there were pretty comfortable.”

“Murray-“ Nancy tries.

“Seemed to me you were just an obstacle.”

“A… What?” Steve does push himself back this time, digs his heels into the floor and leans back, the table moving across the carpet. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You weren’t what she wanted or needed, you were convenient. You looked like what she was supposed to want. Good looking and popular, but nothing behind the pretty face. She liked you, but it didn’t go deeper.”

“Hey-“

“I’m just curious about what changed. Does she really love you this time? Or are you just filling space during the apocalypse? An easy way to keep the bed warm when the heat is on the fritz?”

Steve isn’t going to cry. He’s been tortured, beaten, chewed on, dragged, and covered in blood that wasn’t his own. He did all of that without crying and he isn’t going to let the way his eyes sting affect him. He blinks hard a few times and looks at Nancy. She doesn’t look back, but she’s staring at the ground, something akin to fury beginning to take hold. Jonathan isn’t looking at him either, but his jaw is working the same way it did three and a half years ago before he threw a punch. “I don’t know,” Steve whispers. He doesn’t want to look at Murray. “I just thought-“

“Shut up.” Nancy’s voice is like a blade, and for a second, Steve thinks he’s been cleaved in two. But then Jonathan’s warm palm rests on the back of his neck, fingers a little stiff as they curl around the curve of his neck. “Not- not you, Steve.” She stood up and in two strides she was practically standing over him, the hem of her skirt touching his arm. “Don’t pretend to know us, Bauman. You were right once, but that doesn’t make you omnipotent, it’s makes you some weird shut-in who had a little too much to say to a couple of teenagers a few years ago. Steve is… a very valued member of this team. He is a loyal and kind-hearted man, he’s… he’s more than you’ll ever find out from snooping through his house!”

She’s… protecting him. Physically shielding him. And be even feels safe, wants to reach out and touch her leg, just to feel a modicum of her strength.

“We love him.” Jonathan’s voice is soft, he doesn’t raise it unless he thinks he has to. “I don’t care what you had to say about him then or now. He’s changed since then, we’ve changed since then. And now we do love him. So you can back off.” He huffs and lays back down, though his arm stays stretched out to keep his hand on Steve. “Now quiet down so I can go back to sleep, I’m exhausted.”

Murray doesn’t say anything after this, just lifts his gaze away from Steve to look at Nancy. He can’t see her face, but he sees the way Murray lifts an eyebrow before shrugging. He’s still looking, but Nancy huffs and sits back down on the opposite side of the table. “Come on.” Her voice is a little softer and she nudges Steve’s leg under the coffee table. “It’s your move.”

“Um… right.” Steve turns back to the checkers game and just moves one of his pieces without really looking at it. “…I love you too. By the way,” he says quietly.

She jumps his piece easily. “I know.” Her lips quirk in a small smile, and when he looks over his shoulder, Murray has gotten up and walked away.

[crawgluvr4]

ao3

warning for child abuse.

Jack leaves Indiana the week before he turns eighteen.

His parents go to visit a family friend for the weekend, leaving him in charge of his sister. Beth walks in on him as he’s packing, and says: “Wish I could say I was surprised.”

Jack adds another pair of socks.

“So where are you headed?” She leans against the doorframe, nonchalant, but her voice is a touch too light.

“Army.” He rummages through a drawer, considers if there’s any point in bringing a hairbrush. “Out of state.”

“Smart.” Beth scuffs the heel of her shoe on the threshold of his room. “Won’t find you.”

“You can come,” Jack offers, fruitlessly. He puts the hairbrush back in the drawer.

She just smiles at him, bitter around the edges. “Did you tell Vince?”

“Couple days ago.” Jack runs his hands along the edge of the duffle bag. “I was going to tell you.”

“Were you?” Beth folds her arms. There’s a vicious red welt Jack knows extends all the way down her forearm, half hidden by her jacket. “Before or after you stole the truck?”

“Vincent is giving me a lift.” Pathetically small. “To the city. I’ve got a plane.”

Beth hums. “Suppose he hid the ticket for you?”

“Mhm.” He zips up the bag, swings it around his shoulder. It’s not even halfway full. “I better get going.”

“Ask him if he’ll set me up with his sister,” she jokes. “I’d like someone to help me out too.”

“I’m serious,” he says again. Grips the strap of the bag so tightly it hurts. “You can come with me. They let you do that.”

“No, they don’t.” She tilts her head. “I’ll be okay, Jack. I can always go stay with Gina. Her parents don’t mind.” 

Jack bites the inside of his lip, still guilty. “I’ll come back for you in a couple years, then.”

“Sure.” Beth leans off the doorframe, gestures like she’s rolling out the red carpet. “C’mon, then. No need to linger here. Nothing much to stick around for.”

“Beth…” He stays still, still with a death grip on the bag. “I don’t want you to think I’m leaving you with them. I just…”

“I know.” Her smile thins. “He won’t come near me. Mom won’t let him, you know that.”

It’s a reassurance and a cruelty at the same time. He nods, unable to find any words that sound right, and leaves his room. The door shuts - thud-thunk - behind him, and the floorboard three steps down from his room whines for the last time Jack will hear. 

Outside, Vincent is already waiting, nervously drumming on the wheel of his mother’s car. Jack knows she’s going to be furious with him, and Vincent is still here, all the same. It’s not fair; not fair that he’s doing this despite Jack breaking up with him, and leaving, not fair that he’s leaving Beth behind because he’s too much of a coward to stay, and not fair that his father - 

Beth puts one hand on his shoulder and he practically jumps out of his skin. She laughs, then shoves him forward, and he stumbles down the steps. The middle one creaks like it always has, loud enough to hear through his window.

Vincent nods at him, and smiles, waving to Beth as she stands on the porch. Jack turns - the house blocks the evening sun, and Beth is shrouded in shadow, the porch light not yet switched on. He thinks about how he may never see that porch again, and gets an odd surge of guilty delight.

“You better write,” she says, and Jack politely ignores how her voice cracks at the end. 

“I will,” he responds, sliding into the passenger seat. 

He doesn’t.

--

Jack returns to Indiana once.

He gets the call while he is, luckily, in the country. He’s asleep in Chicago one moment, then methodically booking a flight to Bloomington at two in the morning the next.

“Jack?” Gabriel mumbles, still half asleep. He pulls most of the quilt towards him as he rolls over, cracking open an eye. “You okay?”

Jack says nothing, just books the plane and saves the ticket, then puts his phone down on the nightstand. The carpet of the hotel room feels like a yawning abyss, and he pulls his legs back up onto the bed, clutching his ankles.

“Jack,” Gabriel says again, and Jack’s scrambled thoughts are cut through by a warm calm. “You’re shaking. What happened?”

Jack can’t comprehend speech, so instead he lets Gabriel share the singular thought: Beth is dead.

Gabriel pulls him back into a hug, and then he’s crying until he’s retching and aching because he never wrote.

Gabriel insists on coming with him to Indiana, so they book another meaningless hotel and Gabriel argues with someone important on the phone for a solid hour. Jack in turn insists he goes to the funeral alone, and Gabriel doesn’t argue, just sits sharing his pain, lets him know in words and thought that he understands.

Jack knows he does, but some part of him still blindly thrashes and says you can’t, you can’t. You loved your family. Gabriel hears it and pretends he doesn’t. Jack will apologize when he remembers how to feel anything other than grief. It had been the same when Los Angeles was destroyed; Gabriel stricken with guilt that he had let down people who had done nothing but love him, and Jack couldn’t understand that, could he?

Jack brushes temporary brown dye through his hair because he is technically a celebrity; Gabriel helps him style it just enough that when he looks in the mirror he barely recognizes himself, dark haired and unshaven and eyes red. Gabriel kisses him goodbye and makes him promise to be back before midnight, knowing that it won’t just be a simple in and out of the church. Nothing ever was, here.

Jack was raised Methodist. He assumes Beth either stuck with it or never wrote a will; she was twenty-five. The cities had been declared safe, more or less. It’s a closed casket service. He wonders who organized the funeral, because he was never contacted until a family friend had notified the undertaker that she did, in fact, have a brother. The priest drones about how sad it was that the Morrison family should suffer such an end, another tragic casualty of the Crisis. 

There are a grand total of twenty people at the funeral, and Jack assumes most of those missing are dead. He sits himself near the back and eyes the door, ready to hurry out in case he’s spotted. He can’t make out anyone near the front, but at the back he sees one of his father’s co-workers and nearly has a panic attack until he reasons how ludicrous that would be. So he spends the rest of the service half-dissociating, never taking his eyes off the pale wood coffin at the altar. 

People begin to shuffle out, and he dips his head to avoid eye contact, and almost everyone files out of the church without paying him mind. He barely registers one lingering figure until they sit down on the pew next to him, and he thinks, God, this is it, this is where they find me.

“Jack,” Vincent says. 

Jack just stares at him.

“Everyone else is gone,” he continues, with the gentleness reserved for those incapacitated by loss. “Why don’t we get some coffee, yeah?”

Jack nods, and they leave, and he misses the burial because he isn’t sure he can stand it.

Vincent doesn’t make idle chatter, keeping a respectful silence while they enter some chain coffee store and he orders for them both. Jack finds himself staring at a caramel latte, his old favourite.

“It’s good to see you,” he says eventually, lamely, as Vincent sips at whatever he’s drinking.

“I’d say the same,” Vincent half-smiles, “But I do see your face every day. The hair’s a good touch.”

He subconsciously reaches up to touch it. “Yeah, I did my best on a day’s notice and no sleep.”

“It looks pretty natural.” Vincent eyes him for a moment. “I think blonde suits you better, though. And don’t go any darker than that.”

“Thanks for the fashion advice.” Jack takes a swig of the coffee, and it burns his tongue. Absurdly normal. “How have you been?”

“Oh.” He pauses, looks a little skittish. “Well, okay, given the circumstances. Pretty glad Dad built that nuclear bunker, because it allowed us to stay pretty much safe for most of the Crisis. Hopefully now that’s over with, I can actually go to college, you know?” Vincent raises an eyebrow. “I suppose I have you to thank for all that.”

“Not really,” Jack says, automatically; he had received far too many undeserved thanks in the past few years. “It could have been literally anyone. I was picked up randomly from my squad and got pretty damn lucky.”

Vincent snorts, dismissive. “Still. It was you in the end, right? Well, not just you. You can thank your friends for me too.”

Jack thinks of how Ana or Gabriel would respond to that and feels almost hysterical. “Sure.”

“And,” Vincent glances down at Jack’s hands, awkwardly resting on the table. “Congratulations, as well. I saw that interview on the T.V. Gabriel, right?”

Jack remembers he’s actually wearing his wedding ring instead of having it around his neck, because there’s no blood or dirt to get stuck in it at a funeral. “Yeah. He, um, wasn’t very happy about that afterwards.”

There had been an interview after the Behemoth had been destroyed where despite Jack’s careful guidance, the host had consistently stressed how close friends he and Gabriel must have been in order to pilot together. Eventually Jack had snapped and said something vaguely obscene, and the interview had ended and Gabriel had tried to be as embarrassed as possible while also not losing himself to laughter. Their relationship had, subsequently, been the subject of several tabloid headlines that Jack wishes he could forget.

He’s smiling a little, though, and Vincent looks relieved enough that Jack decides there’s no better time to ruin it. 

“I, um. Did you keep in touch with her?”

Vincent politely laces his fingers together, expression neutralizing. The cuff of his dress shirt sticks to the table, which he doesn’t notice. “Not really. After she graduated, she left the state for a while, but ended up back here when… when John died. I don’t know where she went in the middle of a war, but she seemed to miss it.”

“Right.” Jack gets the overwhelming sense he’s being invasive, somehow. He wraps his hands around his mug. “And when my mother was killed?”

“She inherited the farm.” Vincent takes another sip of coffee, with the arm with the cuff that isn’t stuck to the table. Jack is pretty sure it’s jam. “She didn’t want it, but nobody else was going to buy a farm during the Crisis, so she stayed there. I really didn’t see or hear much of her. She kept to herself.”

Jack stares at his latte.

“...She did ask about you a lot,” Vincent adds. Some of the bubbles in the latte foam burst. “She said if I ever saw you to… say she misses you, and she loves you.”

It’s a lie. Jack almost appreciates the effort. “What else did she say?”

Vincent looks at him for a long time, mouth drawn into a line. “Jack, I don’t think-”

“Please.” The mug starts to burn his hands.

Vincent looks torn, but in the end he relents, because he had always been honest to a fault. “Beth was angry you never wrote. I’m sure you know that. When she saw you on the news, she… understood, but that anger never really went away, I don’t think.”

Jack nods. Another cluster of foam bubbles pop out of existence.

“I really didn’t keep up with her that much. I think her seeing me hurt a bit, I always got the feeling she assumed I talked to you. Which of course I didn’t,” and his voice is just a touch sad, because Beth wasn’t the only one he promised he’d stay in contact with. “But there was no way I could convince her of that without making a bunch of unfair assumptions. At John’s funeral, she gave a speech about how family had always been important to her, and repeated it verbatim at Catherine’s.”

Jack almost laughs. “I’m surprised she gave a speech at all.”

“She was pretty good at keeping up appearances,” and suddenly Vincent’s use of the past tense feels more real. Jack’s mild humour fades, and he clutches the mug tighter. “I, um, don’t know what’s happening to the farm. I think it goes to the state, unless Beth left it to you, but I don’t think she’d do that.”

“Probably not.” Jack watches as Vincent lifts his stuck cuff from the table; it is, indeed, jam. 

“Do you want to visit?” He asks. “No pressure, but it might help.”

Jack considers it; thinks about Beth standing on the porch, shadowed by the house, consuming her and never letting her go. “No.”

“Alright.” Vincent tries a smile. “Well. Do me a favour and give me some way to contact you in the future?”

Jack obligingly rattles off his phone number, and Vincent scrabbles to input it. The jam on his shirt sticks it to the inside of his suit sleeve. 

They finish their respective drinks in silence, Vincent kind enough not to prod and Jack too guilty to ask anything else. For nearly a decade he had cut himself off from thinking about his life here, focused only on war and saving the world instead. Guilt sidles up his throat and he once again has to convince himself of the absurdity of being recognized while having a public panic attack.

Vincent watches him for a minute before intervening. “If you need to leave, we can leave. I’ll drop you anywhere in the city, Jack, it’s no problem.”

It’s pity, Jack thinks suddenly. The same thing that had motivated him to drive Jack to the airport and take the fall for borrowing his mother’s car. Vincent knows nothing about him anymore aside from what’s on the television and the few snipped stories he had shared with him about his father, clipped and sanitized for public domain. And his dead sister, buried in the same plot as his parents that had cut him out of their life the moment they realized he’d escaped it.

He shakes his head. “My hotel isn’t far. I’d appreciate the walk. Clear my head a bit.”

Vincent doesn’t believe him, smile thinning, but he accepts it. “Alright. If you ever… have questions, or need anything…”

The implication is supposed to be: just ask. Jack knows he means: I’m only offering because it’s kind.

Vincent says goodbye outside the café with the same detached kindness he had at the airport ten years ago, but Jack understands it better now.

He walks around Bloomington for hours. There’s not many shops open yet, mostly restaurants and a few supermarkets, sparsely stocked. The rest of the city is shuttered and dead, and there are far fewer people milling in the streets than he remembers.

His body aches; he doesn’t remember when he last ate, and it feels like his grief overrides his enhancements. He thinks about how if he had come back for Beth she would still be alive, safe, somehow. It’s an impossible thought but he holds onto it anyway, and then his phone is ringing because it’s midnight and he’s alone cold in a back alley with no recollection of how he got there.

“It’s okay,” Gabriel says when Jack can only sob harshly into the phone. “It’s okay. I’ll come find you.”

Gabriel tracks his phone and finds him within ten minutes, only half a mile from their hotel. They sit out in the cold night on the concrete until Jack collects himself enough to walk, numbly, back to the room. Gabriel mumbles soothing nonsense under his breath and doesn’t ask where he’s been, just hauls him into bed and wraps him in the stiff linen sheets until he’s above freezing. In the morning, Jack will mechanically eat enough food for three people and spend the flight back to Chicago trying not to throw up, and he will never go back to Indiana.

--

Twenty years pass. Jack Morrison dies in August, and Soldier 76 visits Indiana in February.

The farm has been reappropriated by the state, but they have ignored the house, which stands shabby but firm in the twilight. It feels like some kind of hamfisted metaphor, or a sign, or something, but he doesn’t really care. He’s brought two large canisters of gasoline, and a box of matches. Conspicuous, but efficient.

Soldier 76 knows the middle porch step creaks loudly, and avoids it as he ascends, and the door is broken and comes off the hinges because he pulls too hard. He stares at it for a moment, then leans it against the wall and is swallowed by the house.

There’s still furniture inside, sparse and rotting but intact. He checks the drawers out of morbid curiosity, but there’s nothing left in most of them, all trinkets stolen or donated at some point. There’s some cutlery and some dishes, maybe a couple pieces of stationery, nothing to identify who once lived here. He knows he has to go up the stairs to properly coat the building, but he also knows that the room closest to the top has a floorboard three footsteps away that whines.

He exits the house, and picks up one of the canisters. It takes him a while to sum up the will to enter again, and he stops at the top of stairs and considers for a long time.

He eventually walks forward. The floorboard whines. His room is completely empty; no bed, no drawers. Scratches in the concrete walls that have softened with age. Someone was ripped from here hundreds of times, sometimes fighting and sometimes relenting. The barn, visible from the window, has long since been torn down.

He douses most of the petrol in this room alone, trailing the rest down the halls and he doesn’t dare to enter any of the other rooms. His - Jack’s sister’s door is closed, as is his parents’. Soldier 76 sloshes liquid over the handles methodically and when he returns down the stairs, the whine of the floorboard is lost in the sound of his laboured breath.

Hallway, kitchen, living room, office; one after the other. He takes a break only to fetch the second canister, discarding the first in the fireplace. His entire body stinks of gasoline and he wonders as he works if he will catch flame when he lights a match, and knows he doesn’t care. There are a few picture frames still hanging on the walls, faded photos of scenery with no human in sight. He splashes the petrol directly at them and they spit it back in his face.

The second canister empties, and the fumes are almost overwhelmingly nauseating. He throws it at the bay windows in the living room where Jack’s mother would ignore what his father was doing to him in the barn and watch the evening news. The glass shatters and the noise startles him despite his action, and he reels backwards and out the front door.

His first attempt to light a match is thwarted by the shake of his hands. He ends up peeling off the thick leather gloves and striking them bare, and some cruel miracle prevents his body alighting. He throws it in, strikes another, throws it, again and again. A hundred matches join the pyre and the smoke is acrid, thick and suffocating. Some memory dances at the edge of his thoughts; an explosion, fuel leaking on the ocean surface, white hot pain across his face - and he ignores it, because those memories are for the man who died in the Mediterranean Sea.

The blaze lights up the darkness and burns long into the night, and by the time it’s reported the sun is touching the edges of the sky, illuminating the skeleton of the porch. The fire department arrive swifter than any emergency services had in the past - two Omnics with a heat resistant chassis enter the building to search for survivors only to miss the ghosts.

Soldier 76 watches from a safe distance, where the farmland meets the edge of a small wood, where Jack Morrison would hide as a child, as a teenager, where he intended to die. The fire is extinguished, the house is destroyed, and ash sticks to his skin. The man inhabiting his body leaves Indiana and never returns.

[mila-dans]

Happy Horror Awaits: Visit to a Small Planet

Chapter one of “Happy Horror Awaits.”

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Word Count: 2787

Summary: Doing it alone is your life motto, especially when it comes to hunting. Sure it may be dangerous and sure the Winchesters might not like it but you do. Or that is at least until a certain change of events lead you to believe maybe being alone isn’t the best option.

Just So You Know: This is only my second fanfiction series so please let me know how I’m doing! Any comments, words of wisdom, or constructive criticism you have, be sure to send my way. The chapters will vary in length but do know, cliff hangers and twists are my specialty! (Gif credit to the amazing: @jarpadandjensens​ )

Deep breaths. Deep calming breaths, Y/n.

You slowly gain consciousness as you awake out of your dream.

Sweet, sweet dreams. Wouldn’t I kill for just about five more minutes? I never get good sleep. At least not in my time being alive. And that’s been a while.

You start to turn your face as you grip onto the pillow even more. As you start to adjust yourself even more, you feel something. Something on you.

Hm? What the--

You open your eyes under the comforter to see a silk lavender nightgown that you, apparently, are in.

Wh--What? What is this?

You then realize that your hands were on a comforter. A big, white, fluffy comforter. Never in your life have you ever had an actual comforter. You shut your eyes believing that you were still in a dream.

Okay. Okay, Y/n. This is the universe's way of saying, “Go back to sleep You’re still dreaming.” We don’t want to ignore the universe, do we?

You then stuff your face in a soft and luxurious pillow that, once again, you have never had before, and return back to glorious unconsciousness.

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

Sweet, sweet, dreams…

You take your hand up to your bloodied and bruised face as you walk away from the fire.

Okay… So not, sweet, dreams…

You can feel your heartbeat race as the sirens start to sound. Really? You thought to yourself. This is what I get for killing the damn monster. A broken nose and having to run away from cops. This is what tended to happen.

Hunting was a full time job. Meaning, hunting was your life and who you are. This work was no piece of cake either. Take this case for example: A simple haunting, average poltergeist. Or so you thought. Instead it was a difficult poltergeist and a ghoul that was living in the attic. Fun times. After you handled the bone muncher, Casper decided to drop in. Actually, drop in. As in drop into the body of the mailman and have him come after you. Lots of paper cuts. Realizing that the situation was the fact that the ghoul killed several people in the attic, most of which became one big collective poltergeist, the only clear option was to burn the house down. Mailman out of harm's way of course. Up in flames she went. Thankfully, it was being remodeled and unoccupied at the moment. Burn ugly grandma wallpaper, burn.

You headed down the block before the cops saw you commit the arson. You found a little shed back behind a house and stayed inside until the literal smoke cleared. Taking some supplies from a nice little first aid kit, you were able to fix the appearance of your ever so damaged face. With an hour passed, you found your cue to leave the shack and head for the hills.

You decided to take a ride in a silver Subaru as you headed back to the bunker. Boys are gonna be pissed. You knew it. You knew that they would hate the fact that you ran off again. Especially Sam For some reason, he always seemed to be more agitated by your disappearing-solo act. They don’t understand that you like to work alone. Always have, always will. True. Especially the “always have” part. The boys are brothers so they’ve had each other. Even Cas has a whole family tree that he only knows some of. None of them knew what it was like to be alone. Not like you did. You, the ever so vivacious and fun-loving you, were deemed unadoptable at a very early age. Too hot to handle. You told yourself. No family for you. No friends either. After seeing your Aunt Iris get slaughtered by an invisible force, let’s just say no one could top that story at share time. Couldn’t believe it either. No one ever believed. Luckily, one day, at eighteen years of age, you escaped from that hellhole that you were forced to call home, and sought off to find out where Aunt Iris hid her millions and why she just so happened to die ten years later after she acquired it. And a hunting we delve.

You parked the car half a mile back from the bunker and left a little note on the dash saying, “Oops. Thought it was mine. ;) ” You had always wondered what the faces looked like when they read your notes. I mean, I already stole the car, why not try and steal their hearts too? And some people say that you use humor as a defense mechanism. The only people who ever really saw through your charade were the one and only: Winchesters.

You opened the bunker door and quickly walked down the stairs. Good. No one was sitting in the library or war room. All clear. You then headed to your room, hoping that no parents noticed your previous lack of presence. It's only been three days since I’ve been gone. You assure yourself. You move past Dean’s room and very quietly, try to sneak past Sam's. You take a deep breath as you steadily crack open your door. Phew. You turn around, prepared to jump in the comfort of your not so perfect, perfect bed. Home sweet ho--

“Where the hell have you been?!” You hear a low and angry tone from the chair behind the door. You take a big sigh. So close. You think as you still continue to jump in your bed. “Really? Y/n? Not gonna answer me?” The voice continues to speak with an annoyed tone.

“Well, what do you want me to say? You’re smart enough to know that I was off hunting. Why should I hide it?” You stuff your face into the pillow as you hear the voice stand up and pull your body down towards the foot of the bed. “Really, Sam?” You say as you turn around to face the Winchester.

“Yes, really!” Sam crosses his arms and you just fall back on the mattress. “When are you gonna learn that you shouldn’t go out on hunts alone! You could get hurt and from the looks of it--”

“--I already have!” You continue. “Yeah, Sam, so what? I got hurt so what are you gonna do? Cause you can’t stop me from going out again. You never have been able to in the first place.” You give a sarcastic smile in his direction which gets met by his classic bitch face. “Listen Sam, I--”

“--No! You listen, you have been gone for days!”

“Three! Only three days, Sam! It’s not even a big deal.”

“Three? No, Y/n. How about you try five? Five days you have been gone without leaving a single trace as to if you were okay or where you were going!” Sam takes a seat in the chair.

“Sam,” you say with a stern tone, “I’m not gonna fight you about this again. I don’t need you to protect me. When you met me, you invited me to come with you and help. I did. I do! I’m still here whenever you need me!”

“But you continue to go off and leave without saying anything to anyone! Like where were you this time?! Cuba?! Canada?!” Sam says with a sarcastic tone.

“Haha,” you mock as you roll your eyes. Sam stands up from the chair.

“Seriously though, Y/n. How the hell am I supposed to keep track of you? How do I know if you’re okay or not?!”

“You don’t have to know! No one is asking you to! I am great by myself!” Sam looks at the cut on your face and you shrug it off.

“Y/n, I’m tired of you going out and hunting by yourself. You could get killed! There is a reason me and Dean hunt together. Strength in numbers!” Sam retaliates.

“Well, Sam, I don’t have a Dean. I don’t have someone that’s what like you two are to each other. I never have. I go at it alone and I like it that way!” You army crawl back up to the pillows. Sam once again pulls you by your feet back down to the bottom of the bed. “Would you just--Gah!” You sit back up.

“Who do you think we are, Y/n? The bunker residents? You think we just do our thing and let you do yours? No! We help each other out. We’re a team. A family! Why can't you get it through that thick skull of yours?!” Sam throws his hands up in the air. Thick skull? Thick skull?! You stand up and go towards Sam.

“I do not have a thick skull! You do!” You stand on your tiptoes as you try to meet his eyeline. “Listen to me Sam Winchester,” you raise your voice and cause Sam to start to back up as you press your pointer finger into him, “I do what I want, when I want! And I never will ask for your permission because it is useless! You gave me a roof and a room just over a year ago and I am grateful for that, I really am. But I don’t need to stamp a time card whenever I decide to kill a vamp or go for a joy ride!” You turn back around and back towards the bed, trying to get a handle on your frustration.

“Then why the hell did you move in?” You hear Sam say, starting to regain his composure. “Why are you here if you’re never here?” Sam moves closer to you, seemingly looking for a real answer instead of your usual quick witted one.

“I like to be alone. That’s the way it's always been!” You answer. Sam runs his fingers through his hair.

“Then why don’t you just leave then?! Clearly, Y/n, yourself, and you can’t stand it here. And you also believe for some reason that I--that me and Dean and Cas are just nothing to you. So tell me, what’s stopping you from leaving? Huh? What’s stopping you from just walking out the door right now?!” Sam gives you a look that seems to be unreadable. You stare at him for a moment. Only one thought comes to your mind and it's been your natural response for all your life.

“My cue,” you respond. You stand up and grab your go bag as Sam stands like a statue, loss for words. You pause before leaving and put your hand on his shoulder. “The show’s over.” You pat his back as you walk out from your room. “So long, Sam.” You walk down the halls as a sleepy Dean goes after you.

“Hey!” Dean calls out. “Y/n! Where are you going? Where have you been?!” Dean catches up with you in the war room. He reaches for your arm and holds you back. He gives you a confused look as he sees the faint bit of water in your eyes. “Y/n,” he says softly, “Look, whatever Sam said, he--”

“--He said that I should probably leave, Dean. So that’s just what I’m gonna do. One last order from Sam Winchester.” You knock Deans hand away and head up the stairs.

“Come on! Y/n! Don’t go!” Dean shouts. Sam joins the party and watches as you open the door.

“Y/n, I l--”

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

Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...hhhh...h… Stupid, stupid, dreams.

“Momma!” A voice says.

“Mommy!” A different voice says.

Huh? Wha… what?

“Momma!” The voice says again.

Okay...um...what?!

You rub your eyes as you feel something hitting your back and what sounds like children, calling for their mom. You just take a deep breath and wipe the slobber from your lips.

“Hey,” a deep and familiar voice says, “Come on guys, give your mom a break.”

Hm?

You slowly begin to open your eyes as much as they are willing to when a bright light surrounds the environment. The beating on your back continues.

“Guys! What did I just say?” The deep voice asks. “I said, give her a break. Not to break her!”

A sudden laughter erupts from what sounds like children and the familiar voice.

“No!” The children shout, trying to hold in their excitement. “No daddy!”

“Dadda!” A little girl’s voice calls out followed by a little squeal.

Wha?

Your eyes adjust to the similar sight that you saw earlier: a white comforter. The sun coming from a big window causes the comforter to seem much brighter than you deem necessary. You notice the window and a white wall.

Why so much white?

There appears to be some picture that you can barely make out hanging next to the curtains. There is also a nightstand by the side of the bed that you are on with an assortment of goods. A coffee cup with “Y/n” written on it. Some green books about green things. A little potted plant. A rose gold watch. And an alarm clock that reads, “8:34 A.M.” You look in the bottom corner and it says, “Tuesday. February, 28th.”

No. No, no, no, no. Nope. No. Nu-uh. It is Monday. I hate Mondays, but I know for sure that it is indeed a Monday.

You start to focus your attention back on the noises and motions that you feel on the, extremely, soft, bed. The little hits on your back have stopped but the laughter continues. As does some motion on the surface.

“Dadda! Momma!” A child, as you’ve determined, calls out.

“Shh,” the familiar voice replies, “Let her sleep, jellybean.” The motion on the bed shifts back onto you. You feel a creature crawl up on your back and pull down the covers. You shut your eyes praying to God himself that this was all just some dream. The small creature makes its way up to your head and puts its small hands on your face. You feel what you think is a toddler’s hands on your cheeks.

“Momma,” the child whispers. “Momma!” The little girl again whispers. Her hands go all over your face and to your eyes. She brings her tiny fingers to your eyelids and slowly opens them. You stare at the little girl. She appears to have hazel, hooded eyes, light brown hair and the smallest set of teeth that you have ever seen. She must be about two years old. “Momma,” she speaks again. She smiles at you and brings her hands to your forehead as she kisses it.

Uh--U--Wha--Huh--What?

She continues to smile at you until a big hand scoops her up and takes her behind you.

Okay. Okay. Jus--just stay calm. This has just got to be a dream. I mean, what else could it be? I didn’t get drunk last night. Right? Wait, did I? Wh--what? Why can’t I remember?

“Alright guys,” the familiar voice says, “Let Momma wake up on her own.”

“But Daddy!” The other child complains.

“No ‘but!’ Just go downstairs.” The children huff but you hear their feet scamper off. “Jack, keep an eye on Charlie!”

Jack? Charlie?! What?!

You remain in your still as you feel the child scooping hand rub your shoulders and back.

This is a dream. This is a dream.

The hand makes its way up to your arm. You feel a big body move closer to you. Your heartbeat rises as you become very aware of the fact that you are only in a nightgown and can feel that whoever this man was, he was muscular and shirtless. He moved his fingers to your hair and slowly brushed it away from your neck.

Um…

He leaned his head down just a bit as he kissed your neck, leaving no part untouched by his extremely soft lips. “Good morning, Baby,” he whispered in your ear. You practically forgot to breathe as he started to kiss your cheeks.

Um… Wh--What? No, seriously, what the hell?!

You decided that now was the time to face whatever dream or planet or reality that you were in. You turned your head ever so slightly as the man’s lips perfectly hit your own. You closed your eyes as the man continued to kiss you and you, unwilling to take the situation for granted, kissed him back.

Oh, wow… That was um…

You took a peak at the mystery man as your eyes grew ten times bigger. Smiling down at you, with the sun glowing on his face and eyes sparking hazel-green, he pressed his lips into yours once more. This time, you didn’t reciprocate. “Uh,” you started to mumble as he gave you a confused look. “Um…”

“What is it, Y/n?” You stared at him in shock. “Baby?” You rub your eyes again at the startling sight.

“Uh, Sam?”

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Next chapter out shortly!

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Let me know your thought and theories! Thank you for reading. Hope you enjoyed!

Tag list (is open!):

@swallow-carrying-a-coconut​ @sl33pybo1​

[susanoosama01]

Midam Headcanons part 1

Michael decides to stick around on Earth with Adam. He eventually gets a seperate vessel but neither can get used to the feeling. Adam wakes up in the middle of the night, calls out to Michael in his head and panics when he realises that Michael's not there. Michael denies it but he also feels weird if he looks in the mirror and doesn't see Adam there. In the end, they share a bed and keep each other company.

Michael sleeps sometimes. Not much but he still does. When he wakes up warm and cozy with Adam's limbs tangled with his own, he fakes sleep for a few more minutes because Adam just CAN'T wake the precious, cutie angel and he knows it.

He once disabled Adam's alarm to keep him there longer. It became a habit after that and in the end, Michael the first Archangel to come to life was sent to faux the attendance sheet of an 8 a.m. Biology class by a furious, stomping teen and he buys cookie flavoured ice cream on the way back to go with his kicked puppy look that he learned from a cheesy, evening run romance series.

When Adam is sick, he is spoiled with everything he could ever want. Like a whole tour ship in his name at first. Slowly, Michael learns that a bowl of soup and a good movie with him is enough for the teen.

Adam teaches Michael that he doesn't need to buy his love and respect. They don't do that in the Milligan House. They never did. Not when Kate was still alive, not when John was around. And they never will.

Michael likes the house bare, spacy and aired out so he opens all the windows, puts vases and decorations in the drawers, shoves the throw pillows in cupboards and hides every small trinket scattered around the house. The only thing he doesn't touch is the framed pictures of Adam and himself on the shelves and tabletops.

Adam insists that Michael should do things the 'human way' so when he forgets a book or assignment Michael runs to his classes to deliver them.

Though Adam likes being spoiled with angel magic now and then. Like when Michael makes his laptop type everything on its own straight from Adam's thoughts.

Adam makes Michael try new food much like how one feeds a baby different mashes every day. So far, Michael likes carrots, strawberries, white chocolate and ice cream. He hates brocoli and pepper. He is okay with everything else.

Adam washes the dishes while Michael dries and puts them away.

Michael once put liquid dish soap on Adam's fries because he thought everything in the kitchen in colorful bottles were those sauces Adam loves.

On stormy nights, when Adam can't sleep, he asks for stories. Michael talks about all kinds of amazing stuff like the creation of the stars, how God decided which animal looked how, how angels were assigned their duties one by one, how many species that aren't known today actually existed or how dinosaurs were actually a toddler Gabe's toys which he dropped to Earth after a temper tantrum. Rarely, he talks about his home back in Heaven and his childhood with his brothers. His voice trembles a little as he remembers the old days. Especially as he talks about the most beautiful little boy ever who had pure white wings that reflected light and who was destined to bring Gods light in the universe and into everyone's hearts.

When Lucifer comes back, Adam is the first to extend a hand to him. He talks to Michael, shouts a little at some point and manages to convince him to at least hear his brother out. Because he isn't too different from that little boy Michael hides in a corner of his heart, locked and sealed away as a fragile reminder of the past. He has done things he needs to amend. But when even the God himself turns his back on them, Michael is all he has and he is all Michael has.

The two archangels make up eventually. Winchesters want to use Lucifer against God. He refuses. Thus that spare room at the back of the flat finds its owner. The first night with a storm, they hear something breaking in Lucifer's room. Turns out the sound of thunder is exactly like how God sounded on the day he fell. So Michael turns on all the lights, Adam makes hot cocoa and they marathon ATLA.

Lucifer ADORES Adam. He didn't want to admit it at first but the kid is cool. Because a) He trashtalks the Winchesters with Lucifer. b) He obviously has a leash on Michael, commander of Heaven's army and it is hilarious. c) He is actually good for Michael. He taught Michael who had turned his heart into a stone long ago how to love again. d) They are PUBG buddies.

When Gabriel returns, he is surprised enough to accuse Adam of whichcraft when he sees his two older brothers cooking Adam's favorite pancakes side by side, dueting Let It Go.

Adam buys Michael toys when he learns he didn't have any other than the wooden practise swords. Michael refuses to be treated like a baby at first but he becomes obsessed with the remote control police car with lights and sirens for two days when Adam shows him how to play with it.

They build an actual grave for Kate. Michael visits and asks for permission before he asks Adam if- maybe they could officiate the bond they have?

Other angels despise Adam at first as he stole their leader. Eventually, they learn their lesson when Michael roasts a few who tried to abduct Adam. Somewhere along the way, he befriends them too. Some just drop by randomly and Adam welcomes them on the dinner table eventhough he can't make them eat.

Lucifer doesn’t like crumpled spaces. It takes a hell lot of effort to get him to ride a car.

Michael is great at poker but loses UNO everytime.

Michael is quite funny actually. Only Adam gets his sense of humor though. They have inside jokes that no one else laughs at. It might also have something to do with Michael's shark like smile which creeps even Lucifer out.

Adam massages Michael's scalp when he has a headache from all the whinig angels.

After they defeat God Lucifer and Micheal become co-rulers of the universe.

Lucifer makes up with Jack. The nephilim is actually very alike to his eldest uncle with his eating habits and pure power. Their wings are almost the same.

Gabriel and Lucifer threaten Michael with calling Adam when he refuses something they want because Adam is almost always on their side.

In the end, Adam makes up with his own bfothers. Michael holds his hand all the way to the bunker through all the nervousty.

When Adam graduates Sam, Dean, Eileen, Castiel, Lucifer, Gabriel and Michael are on the front row clapping. He runs to Michael who in turn throws his arms around him and softy kisses him on the head.

They console some angels, demons and other creatures after God is beaten as they spent over a millenia in Hell and they want to create a better world.

Adam becomes a doctor at Kate's hospital.

Part 2

[pigeonpartytime]

This is kinda a part two to Detritus and McCarran Meet at Hades’ Palace but like not at the same time because it’s set 17 years after. It’s a spiritual successor to the last one, I guess. But I hope y’all enjoy my orignal content of my own world. - C

Do Not Tempt the Wrath of Hades

Detritus hadn’t been down all day when they came. He was upstairs in his quarters listening to his record collection before one of his right-hand men told him that McCarran was downstairs in the throne room “with an strange man”. He said it was urgent. McCarran never came without warning so Detritus knew something wasn’t right.

He quickly did up his shirt after putting on some armour underneath. He grabbed his revolver and put it in the holster on his belt. He then grabbed his trench coat and metal crown as he walked down the stairs. In the throne room, McCarran was on his knees and his arms were manacled. A figure in a white uniform removed its helmet, revealing a pale face. Detritus glared at this man stood in his throne room with his best friend restrained under him, blood streaming down his face.

“Detritus. Or should I say Lawrence Connolly. It’s such a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.” The uniformed man says.

“Let go of my friend.” Detritus walked up to the man, towering over him. He was over 6 inches taller than him, yet he didn’t flinch, “You don’t know what you’re messing with do you?”

Detritus turns briefly to nod to one of his henchmen stood around the perimeter of the room, signalling for the army to prepare. This wasn’t going to be a polite encounter.

“I don’t? Detective Connolly. My name is Lucien Augustus. I am here from the Provadence National Laboratory to eliminate your threat to our aim of uniting and bringing peace to Terrefis. We cannot achieve that with you monsters having invaded half of this continent.” Lucien replies, a coldness in his voice that definitely didn’t go unnoticed.

“I got this land through democratic means. What you want is illegal. Even in a nuclear wasteland. And it’s Chief Detective Inspector, asshole.” Detritus growls, his voice going lower and lower with every word. “I didn’t work for 200 years for some nerd to come and tell me about the laws I’ve read over a hundred times. Now you’re going to let my friend here go and you’re going to leave my palace. My empire. And never return. Do not tempt the wrath of Hades.”

Lucien recoils slightly before letting out a long, loud, caustic laugh. His dark grey eyes staring blankly into Detritus’s.

“The wrath of Hades? What are you going to do? Send your militia up against my steel titan? You can’t scrape the surface of our might.”

“The ultimate sacrifice. It will kill everyone in this Palace and the whole citadel. But everyone from here to Natzoya will see the beacon. Do not tempt the wrath of Hades.”

Detritus grins at Lucien before clocking in the face with a fist. As he staggers, he quickly gets McCarran out of his manacles.

“You need to get out. There’s an escape out from my quarters. Get to my garage and take the fusioncycle and get as far away as possible. I’ll meet up with you to the east. The camp is just outside the blast range.”

“Blast range? You’ll kill yourself! Laurie. Come on, you have to get out as well...”

Detritus doesn’t let McCarran finish, “Dominic, I’ll survive. I’m these idiots’ god. The radiation will protect me. Now get out. The fusion cycle goes pretty fast, you’ll just need to avoid the bullets.”

“OK. I’ll see you later, good luck. And, thanks.” McCarran smiles before running out, frantically trying to get a signal from his radio but to no avail.

Detritus walks back over to Lucien, now stood back up straight, wiping a dribble of blood from where Detritus’s old wedding band cut him.

“Now. Any last words?”

“Heh.” Lucien replies with blind confidence, “Yeah. I’m taking this tower down with you.”

A large slam shakes the tower, the open doors showing the ‘face’ of the titan, a huge android battle machine.

“If you destroy the tower, everything goes down with it. Do you even know what used to be down under the crater? An army weapons bunker. And it’s filled with enough explosives to make every bit of the crater explode like a volcano. In 3... 2... 1...”

As Detritus hits 1 on his countdown, a deep rumbling makes the tower tremble in its foundations.

“Do not tempt... the wrath of Hades.”

The tower disintegrates in nuclear waste, exploding outward, destroying everything within the walls of the citadel. Detritus seems to levitate amongst the radiation. His trench coat flapping in the settling breeze. A tear streaks down his cheek as he realises everything he had made was gone. The houses. The people. Hades’ Tower. The books. The records.

A small piece of paper drifts down by Detritus. He catches it in his hand, the page reads “O brave new world, that has such people in ‘t!”. He slowly floats back down to the ground. He takes off his crown, places it on the remains of the steps into the palace before turning away and walking slowly through the ruins. Irrads and Necri litter the streets. So do synthetics.

He walks to the east, covering his eyes as the suns rise over the horizon one after another.

“Do not tempt the wrath of Hades”, Detritus whispers to himself, “I sounded like an idiot.”

So What Now?

It had been a week since Hades’ Palace fell. Since the Empire fell. Detritus had been staying at the Courier HQ for the time being but hardly left his quarters. He sat there in mournful silence, with sadness he hadn’t felt since discovering what had happened to the outside world 200 years before.

He sat on his bed, playing with his golden ring, the only memory he had left now of the world before. It was a memory that brought warmth to his heart. He remembered him as human, a young man. He wad with his wife, the two were walking down the street during the night after an evening at the bar. They stop off at a small park on the way home, sat by a pond. He feels the gentle breeze, the warmth of his wife against him.

A tear streaks down his dry cheek, the tear hurts more than the memories. He hears the door knocking as he wipes away his tears.

“Hey, Laurie. Can I come in?” He hears a familiar voice, McCarran is stood at the doorway.

“Yeah...” Laurie mumbles, snuffling.

“How you holding up? This a lot for you to take in.” McCarran comes and sits next to Laurie, putting his arm around his shoulder, “That’s a pretty ring.”

“Yeah. It was.” Laurie replies, holding himself back from crying, “I was married before the war. She was beautiful. I miss her so much.”

“Losing someone is hard enough. Then to loose everything else you have. I’m... sorry, Laurie.”

“Thanks. I don’t think I’ll really the same after this. I’m sorry as well.”

“Hey. I actually brought you something. I spent a good bit of money on this and I feel like you needed something to make you feel a bit better.”

McCarran reaches into his rucksack and brings out a square paper bag. He takes out the contents, a limited edition copy of Laurie’s all time favourite record. McCarran smiles up at Laurie as he stands up and walks over to the small record player in the corner of Laurie’s quarters.

“Do... do you want me to put it on?” McCarran asks, looking over to Laurie before putting it on.

Laurie wipes his tears from his face again before smiling slightly. McCarran sits back next to him and grabs Laurie into a tight hug. The two sit there for a while, listening to the same album they had listened to when they first met 17 years before.

“So what now? What’s next for the Syndicate, McCarran?” Laurie inquires, slight look of hope made his clouded over eyes glisten.

“I’m not sure. I got my revenge, thanks to you. I guess we just have to wait and see.”

“Yeah. I’ll be by your side no matter what. We’re gonna make a difference.”

The two sit there, listening to the album play. This was the dawn of a new era. But their work wasn’t quite finished yet. The director may be out of the picture, but the PNL was still a threat.

[billhaderlovebot]

vampire barry hcs.

@gazebros and i put together our collective genius again and created some self indulgent vampire hcs for our Babey.

after barry leaves the army, he's greeted by fuches.

a very old and very rude vampire who's never quite adapted to modern life as well as he thinks he has.

he turns barry himself, so that barry will have to do what he says. sire bond, and all that.

twilight wasn't lying about the excruciating pain stuff.

barry actually is pretty chill with being a vampire.

he's forgotten a lot of his time as a human, so he doesn't have much to compare it to.

he thinks it's cool that he doesn't have to sleep as much, and he can sleep for actual weeks at a time if he wants to.

the sunlight thing is a bummer.

he doesn't die, or anything, and he's usually okay if it's cloudy, but staying out too long in direct sunlight kinda hurts.

he's okay, apart from the whole, uh, blood sucking part.

he's okay with doing it to survive, but then he finds out what fuches really wants from him.

to kill for the sake of killing.

to get people out of the way.

and he has no choice.

he joins the acting class, he supposes, as an escape.

he hates how easy it is for him to kill.

he hates his own strength.

he's put his foot through the floor more than once while running down the stairs, late to class.

he's torn off the door and broken quite a few light switches, tearing them out of the ceiling.

he hates that he can sink his teeth into a human's throat as easily as if it were butter.

he hates that draining the life from someone is as effortless as it is. second nature.

he needs to be around humans, he finds.

he needs to remember that there's a reason for him being here.

not just to kill.

to live

and experience

and create a new life separate from the one he's forgotten so much about.

and in the acting class, he meets you.

and you're so wonderful.

you make him feel like he's alive.

his heart doesn't beat any longer, but he seems to forget about all that when he's with you.

and apparently, the thing about vampires being hopeless romantics is not a myth, because he falls for you so hard.

it doesn't take you long to figure out he's a vampire, either.

it was small things, really.

he was cold. and sometimes he didn't move for like... a solid hour.

also, um, his complete lack of reflection threw you.

but you were too far in love with him for it to bother you.

"so, were you waiting for me to ask you about your obvious vampirism?"

"huh?"

"barry, you're dead."

"oh. yeah. will you be my girlfriend, by the way?"

"fuck yeah."

the first time he kisses you, he ends up pushing you through the drywall of his apartment.

"holy shit, are you okay?"

"yeah, yeah, fine, i'm just... inside the wall."

"sorry."

"you're a good kisser."

you forget he's a vampire, sometimes.

when he's coming to stay at your house, and you go inside to make coffee or whatever, and notice that he hasn't come in with you.

he's just standing on the doorstep.

all polite and stuff.

just waiting.

in the rain.

"bear?"

"hm?"

"what are you-- oh!"

"yeah, you gotta invite me in."

"shit, sorry. come in."

"it's chill. wanna watch zack galifianakis?"

and then you spend the whole night debunking vampire myths.

it's 3am, and barry is ok because he doesn't need sleep for another few days.

you're sprawled on your bed, and he's running his fingers through your hair, and you're just staring up at him with The Biggest Heart Eyes.

and he knows he would do anything for you.

the human girl he fell in love with.

"your eyes are so beautiful."

that kinda stops him in his tracks.

"are they? i don't know what they look like."

"wait, you- don't you remember?"

"my human life is kinda... fuzzy? like trying to see through dirty water. and it's been about seven years since i've seen my own face. fuches burned all the pictures of me, all my records. took me off the grid."

and you lost your absolute Shit™

because that's fucked up.

because barry is the most beautiful man you've ever seen and he doesn't know what he looks like.

"they're blue. like, the softest blue. and kinda grey, too. and sometimes... when you laugh... you get these little eye crinkles-"

"im in love with you."

"that's the first time you've said that to me, barry."

"well, i am."

barry doesnt care much for how he looks, but he loves the way you describe him. so he lets you continue.

"your hair is brown. really... fluffy looking. i just want to touch it all the time, you really make shit hard for me."

he grins

"and my lips?"

"oh... soft."

"mhm."

and he kisses you so slow and soft and Your Heart Falls Out Of Your Ass.

barry is cold. he doesn't have blood. so. he's cold.

but he does feel it sometimes.

and there's not much he can do about it when he does.

"hi, i can't come to work today because my boyfriend doesn't generate body heat and hasn't slept in two weeks so i need to warm him up."

vampires don't sleep, my ass.

he's always falling asleep on your chest, or with his head in your lap listening to you talk about your day.

he can go without it for a long time, but he loves waking up next to you. he also just loves watching you sleep. listening to your breathing and your heartbeat. the rush of blood.

let's be real, sometimes he finds it hard to not, like, drink your blood.

but one feed and he's good for a couple weeks.

let's address the elephant in the room.

the sex thing.

y'all watch twilight and you're laughing because edward won't have sex with bella.

and barry completely has a straight face.

"no dude i could literally kill you."

"yeah, uh, that's never once stopped you."

breaking the bed Every Other Night.

his heightened senses and vampire awareness means he's So Good at sex.

his attitude to changing you is so relaxed.

he's kinda like. "yeah. if it happens, it happens. you get to be my girlfriend literally forever. that's pretty rad."

"so if you go at it too hard and snap my spine just change me quick."

neck kisses are his Thing.

they're so fucking hot.

vampire neck kisses? that's the dream.

barry can't eat garlic. it makes him sick.

apparently, he gives ZERO FUCKS.

he eats some of your homemade garlic bread and you spend half the night sat on the bathroom floor with him patting his back while he throws it up.

"barry, you stupid bitch."

he tried to drink animal blood once, too.

and again, he threw up.

"babe, i don't care if it's ethical, it's fucking disgusting."

he's always riled up when he comes home from a hit.

you can't be mad at him, because you know he doesn't have a choice.

it's considerably harder and more dangerous trying to calm down a vampire, though, so sometimes you sit there while he smashes things, and wait for him to finish so he can come and cry on you.

the circumstances under which he changes you are not pleasant.

fuches finds out about you. he finds out where barry has been hiding, and he beats you within an inch of your life.

and barry finds you in your apartment and he knows what happened.

you're beaten and broken and bloodied on the ground and he has to stop breathing because he can smell you and he could drain you right there if he doesn't watch himself.

and he's never been bothered about changing you but now it's happening.

now he's faced with your imminent death and he could very well lose you and he freezes up.

your eyes meet his frantically but he's not sure if you know he's there.

he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, and he can taste the blood, and it almost pushes him over the edge.

he dips his head down to your neck, and the rush of blood he's become accustomed to is so much weaker.

your breathing is shallow.

"im sorry."

he knows this will hurt.

and it does. he has to take you somewhere, quick. because you scream until the screams don't sound like screams anymore.

he takes you to the same place fuches took him when he turned. it's a bunker, far enough away from anyone to rouse suspicion.

and he holds you to him while you writhe in pain and beg for him to kill you as the venom changes every cell in your body.

he can't do anything about it.

at some point, he doesn't know when,

you stop screaming.

you stop moving and breathing and he's worried that it hasn't worked.

that he's done it wrong.

but the change is visible.

your features are the same, but different.

your skin is as smooth as marble and almost as cold.

the way you move and speak and hold yourself is different.

but you're still you.

and you're alive.

and he kisses the remaining life from you as soon as you sit up.

"hello."

"hey, bear. that fuches guy is a bastard."

"i know."

"no, he really ripped into me."

"i know."

"thanks for not letting me die."

"no problem."

"i love you."

"i love you too."

though barry only has eight years of experience, it's still eight more than you have.

but you adapt to vampire life very easily.

somehow, you find your feet faster than he did.

"i think we should invest in a space heater."

"mhhm."

now that barry doesn't need to hold back, you have to retire to remote cabins for days at a time to fuck. because you don't get tired easily and you're very loud.

desks and walls and bedframes being literally obliterated.

really

at one point the bed falls through the floor

with the two of you on it

and you don't fucking notice.

you keep pretending to move countries to throw fuches off your trail.

it's kinda fun, setting up elaborate scent traps and making him think you're somewhere in europe when you've not actually left the state.

everyone at the acting class begins to wonder why the two of you look so good, but also so washed out.

"they're vampires, im telling you."

"shut the fuck up, man, what if they can hear us?"

y'all are so extra. drinking blood out of capri sun pouches and going out in the sun in huge sunhats and clout goggles.

going as stereotypical cloaked vampires for halloween and spending hours freaking people out in the hall of mirrors.

soft vampire love, guys.

y'all have napped for literal weeks at a time. just holding each other.

you just love each other so much.

let vampires be SOFT.

because you are.

barry just holds your face and looks at you. he's never going to be able to get over how fucking ethereal you are, even his heightened vampire sight can't take it in

"do you think that we're going to be this in love forever?"

"yeah."

"how are you sure?"

"because i can't function without you."

[rosykims]

11 for an oc of your choice :-)

11. your OC’s description of their game’s events

Dear Aisling,

(And Mom) (And Edith) (And Uncle Callahan) (And Jamie and Susie)(The triplets will probably want to read this too, right?) (Hi everyone)

So - the elephant in the letter room. I know you’re mad – real mad, probably. I can’t really say I blame you – all the unanswered letters, the vague replies, the months I’ve spent away. I’ve taken some time trying to figure out how exactly to go about this – do I spend a paragraph on the apology, or a page, or do I mention it in passing and save the grovelling for when I’m home? Well, I think given the state of things, I might … pepper in my apologies, while I finally try explain myself. I know I owe you (all) an explanation. I’m sorry you’ve had to wait until now to get it from me.

So, basically (Aisling, can you please make sure Mom and Susie sit down?) (I’m asking you because I know they won’t do it if I ask them myself) I got shot in the head.

I’m sorry!

Now, don’t worry! (Mom, PLEASE don’t worry) I’m fine. The man who shot me, Benny, he … well, he wasn’t a great shot, as it happens. He aimed point blank at my head (Mom, I’m okay!) and somehow still only managed to graze just above my ear (Mom, I still have my ear. I’m alright). Didn’t stop him from trying to bury me, though (Mom, I swear to you I’m just fine.) I woke in a town called Goodsprings, in the home of the doctor who stitched me up before I bled out (Aisling, check Mom, please. Maybe you could all take a quick five minute break here?).

Anyway, long story shot, the package I was set to deliver was gone. Taken, I’d assumed, by Benny. I KNOW what you’re thinking – why didn’t I come back home after all of this? Well, I didn’t want to come back empty handed. We needed the caps.

I’m sorry.

I spent a good month or so travelling around towns and settlements in the Mojave. I hated it, but Aisling, I think it might suit you despite all the deathclaws. Met a lot of people – most of them weren’t all that fond of me, but some reminded me of home. Good people. My travels led me to New Vegas, were I met a Pre War Millionaire who had uploaded his consciousness into a giant terminal and was controlling the city with an army of Securitrons, and a group of powerful families who may or may not have been cannibals.

Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.

Turns out this man, or machine, or . . . Turns out “Mr. House" was the client I was supposed to deliver for. Said the package was a platinum chip – or, more accurately, a key to full control over New Vegas’ securitron army. Anyone with the key was king, essentially.

At this point, I really didn’t feel like I could turn him away even if I wanted to. I owed him, I guess. Needed to make it right for losing his chip in the first place. I’m sorry.

I confronted Benny (politely!). He got away. I got shot at, again (I’m FINE, Mom!) and then he got captured by Caesar’s Legion. (You know the stories, Uncle Callahan. Turns out they’re ever worse than anything you could’ve told me.)

With some help, I managed to get into the Legionnaire camp (awful), met Caesar (awful) and freed Benny (still awful), somehow escaping with my life in the meanwhile. He must’ve decided not to risk shooting at me again, because he gave me the chip and that was that. Small mercies, I suppose.

I guess seeing the state of things with the Legion, their cruelty and mercilessness, has put some things into perspective. Up until this point I’d been helping out Mr House, mostly because I thought it to be the right thing. It’s his property, after all - and I was hired to bring it to him. But, seeing Caesar’s people up close … slavers and murders and rapists alike … I don’t think I can just sit by anymore. What kind of brother would I be if I didn’t do everything in my power to keep people like that from living in the same world as my sisters? What kind of son would I be?

I’m fighting the Legion. I’m going to keep fighting the Legion. I’m sorry.

I ended up giving the chip to that new West Coast group, the NCR. I’m still not fully sure what the think of them, but they’re trying to make the world safe, more secure, and if nothing else, I want that for you all. Especially now. So many of my months now have been spent helping people, forging alliances and friendships with all sorts – the Khans, the Brotherhood of Steel (Dad would’ve been so impressed by their bunker, Aisling), a group of demolition experts calling themselves Boomers, and even a group of friendly supermutants! (I’m okay, Mom. Promise.)

As for how it all ended, well … that’s the thing. The big thing. The reason I’m writing this now, as opposed to before, or later. This infighting with New Vegas and the NCR and Legion … it’s not over yet. There’s still one more thing to do, one more fight, one that I’m not entirely sure I’ll live through.

I’ll be okay. Once this is over, I’m coming home – and I’m coming home with enough caps to save us. But in case I don’t make it back I love you all, and miss you all. But this is something I need to see through to its end. I can’t keep looking the other way anymore. I have to be better, for all of your sakes.

I’m sorry.

Aisling, take care of Mom for me until I get back. Mom, try not to worry too much while I’m gone. Uncle Callahan, say hello to Holiday for me.

All my love,

Winston.

(PS. Mom, I know you’re angry, but if it makes you feel any better, I’ve also met someone. His name is Butch - he’s a Vault Dweller from Washington. I thought . . . maybe I could bring him with me when I finally come home. I think you’ll like him.)

[aboyandhisstarship]

and old idea now in progress

this is a story i’ve had bouncing around for a while, and now the first part is coming. 

here we go:

Gwen woke up in her motel room in the shitty county…honestly she was a techy, Intelligence and analysis so she figured she would never have to leave the office, but nope Agent Johnson needed someone with her skills in the field and here she was, she poured herself a cup of coffee, before thinking she should probably meet up with Agent Johnson …Scott she corrected herself with a shake of her head as she pushed open her room door.

What happened next was not something she would ever forget; as she swung the door opened a lynched body moved with the motion leading in front of the FBI agent who jumped dropping her coffee. The face was burned and bloody with a black cross tattooed on his forehead…the same Tat they make the new cultists wear, but Gwen recognized the puff of blond hair, and said quietly “Agent Johnson ?” before turning around and vomiting hard.

Gwen cleaned herself up before coming to the logical conclusion “if they knew about him…they knew about me.”

She grabbed her gun with shaky hands and a sat phone and made a break for it.

Clearing an hour later:

Gwen sank against a tree still dressed in her pajamas a gun in one hand and a phone in another, she took a deep breath pressing the redial button and a voice answered “director Philips.”

Gwen took a deep breath saying “sir…it’s agent Santos…” and then started to freak out “they killed him! They lynched him! Tortured him, FUCCCCKKKKK”

The director said quickly “slow down Agent…who…are you ok?”

Gwen answered in a half shout “Agent Johnson…oh god they killed him…sir it was brutal…every time I close my eyes.”

Philips sighed “ok Agent stay calm…are you ok?”

Gwen nodded “uhh yes sir…I’m still in my pajamas…they left the body on my door step I grabbed my gun and my phone and bolted.”

Philips nodded “Agent stand by…these guys are well armed…but we can get the National Guard out there and shut them down.”

Gwen yelled “SIR YOU CAN’T!”

Philips asked “why not agent…?”

Gwen sighed “sir…Agent Johnson had my look over some Intel some locals got…it is nothing confirmed…but the cult may have smuggled in nuclear weapons.”

Philips paused before saying “Agent… get somewhere safe…we will be in touch.”

The Director hung up his phone saying “Get me the Pentagon!”

 Safe house:

Gwen supposed the word House was subjective…it was a spot her and Scott used to monitor Cult activity…no one knows about it but them, and if the cult did they would have destroyed it already…so she felt mostly safe. She had food, real clothes (Jeans, a shirt and her FBI jacket) and her bosses were getting back to her soon…hopefully with an escape plan.

Then as if on cue her phone beeped and she answered shakily “Agent Santos…”

A Voice answered “Agent Santos…My name is General Casey.”

Gwen blinked “General…”

Casey spoke simply “Agent…help is coming four of our finest will be coming in VIA parachute to assist you and any other assets in the region…this is your Mission so just point them in the right direction.”

Gwen said “Sir…I’m barely a field agent surely there is someone else for this…”

Casey answered “you have your ear to the ground Agent… these men are pro’s trust them…”

Gwen nodded “ok sir…”

Casey finished “by the way no Names Agent…the leader is a red head…call him Nomad.”

And with that Casey hung up as Gwen cruelled into a ball and cried.

 Safe house 2 hours later:

Gwen was mumbling “I have an ear to the ground…really! This Is nuts…and who on earth are they sending! No names! That can’t be good…”

She sighed “just stay cool…these guys are pros…whoever they are.”

Just then she heard a thump, followed by 3 more thumps. Gwen grabbed her gun taking a deep breath as a voice knocked on the door saying “Agent Santos?...it’s Nomad.”

Gwen lowered her gun carefully and opened the door ready to fire, what she saw was a red head about her age dressed in black, with a black hat covering his hair, he was armed with a suppressed Assault rifle and a pistol strapped to his leg, the rest of his team were dressed similarly, there was girl with a blond hair, another blond man, and burley man in the back.

Nomad smiled at her gently saying “Cool Breeze, Redcap…burry the chutes, Dirt diver your on watch.”  

Gwen nodded gesturing into the odd Bunker with the Solider behind her. Gwen tried to stay calm as she briefed “This morning I found my boss Agent Johnson…dead…the cult offed him.”

Nomad reached out gently “Agent Santos…”

Gwen said simply “call me Gwen…Nomad.”

Nomad smiled “Ok Gwen…this is hard for you…your file says you are rather new to the agency, that is part of the reason why my team were brought in so quickly. We are here to help you, but we need to know everything you do.”

Gwen sighed “right…the cult is built more like a militia…they own the entire county and have it divided into four regions one is central and where that snake Daniel is…the other 3 are run by his ministers…”

David smiled gently as Gwen explained “Agent Johnson and I referred to them simply as A,B,C the cult has some name for them…but I’d rather call them A, B,C…A is run by a punk by the name of Pike man…he was military, no idea what happened to him…but he ended up here and runs the cult training center…and they train hard. there forces are an army in every sense of the term it is nuts…B is run by an Ex Con known on the streets as dirty Kevin…he is the reason the bureau got interested in the cult to start with…we think the cult and Dirty Kevin are using his drug connections to produce and ship massive amounts of a designer drug called Haze… Haze maybe how the cult is funding there other…areas, Area C is the intro area it’s there where new cultists and brainwashed and assigned there new jobs…the region is run by Daniel wife… a woman named Jen…I have next to nothing on her…so there you go that’s the run down…”

Nomad touched her arm gently saying “thank you…our briefing mentioned a group of locals, resistance fighter’s types?”

Gwen nodded “Sleepy Peak county fireballs…local bowling league before all this… the leader is an old tough guy type…I think he was a marine.”

Nomad rolled his eyes “figures”

Gwen chuckled as she kept going “they got guns and the motives to fight the cult…and have and do…me and Agent Johnson made contact…Quartermaster likes me…I think.”

Nomad nodded “right then Gwen…just remember we are not here…that means the locals did everything understood?”

Gwen nodded “right…”

Nomad smiled “we should make contact and start coordinate…”

Gwen asked gently “I can do that…but you sure you want to go dressed like that.”

David blushed asking “do you another option?”

Gwen pointed to the back as the rest of his team chuckled amused.

David came out wearing a pair of jeans and a red plaid shirt he concealed his pistol under his shirt, he shoved his hat into his pocket asking “shall we?”

Gwen nodded stunned honestly he looked cute…enough she could almost forget he was a trained killer who was here to literally destroy an entire cult.

The pair left the safe house climbing into a jeep with David driving who said calmly “Gwen…if anyone asks my name is Michael…I was camping and came down and stumbled into you in the woods…you then filled me in on everything.”

Gwen frowned testing the name “Michael…is that your name?”

David chuckled lightly “do I look like a Michael?”

Gwen paused before conceding “No you do not…then what do you look like?”

David shot her a wink “Nomad…”

Gwen rolled her eyes “I should have seen that coming…well your entire team has cool call signs…do I get one?”  She half joked.

David kept driving asking gently “do you want one Ma’am?”

Gwen was rocked back into her new position she mumbled “right my op…uhhh do you think it is wise…Nomad?”

David slowed down slightly looking at her directly “Honestly Gwen…You don’t need to worry about our coms being tapped…and they likely already know about you…but if it makes more comfortable than absolutely.”

Gwen nodded “can I get back to you on this Nomad?”

David nodded “anytime…alright we are here…Sleepy peak…the town of.”

The jeep pulled over into the small town some locals looked at him with looks of vague fear before seeing Gwen and there expression’s turning into relief, Gwen sighed “QM should be in the local bar…come on, Nom…Michael.” She corrected herself.

David fired her a smile “relax…the others are nearby…if things get hot they will be able to back us up.”

Bar:

David walked in and made contact with the man known as Quarter master, he was older and had a hook for a hand as he drank a beer; he took one look at David and said casually “Let me guess, Force recon, no Seal.”  Opening and offering David and Gwen a Beer

David sat next to him declining the beer “No comment.”

Gwen accepted and chugged the beer nervously as Quartermaster grumbled “figures, damn operator’s, let me guess officially you’re not even here?”

David nodded “yep that’s the op.”

Quartermaster grinned evilly “Yea sounds good…so what are you called?”

David reached out to his hand “Nomad.”

Quartermaster didn’t accept the hand saying “Quartermaster.”

Gwen sighed “you made me come up with a whole story only to not even use it!?”

David shrugged “Quartermaster knows the deal…”

Quartermaster grunted “is what it is.”

David asked “so what are we looking at.”

Quarter master pushed over a file “this is who we have been trying to get at for months now and we finally have an opening.” As he took a big beer sip

David read the name “Sasha Monty…Who is she.”

Quartermaster grumbled “rich Prick of a girl.”

Gwen cut in “Sasha monty, real live daddy’s girl from California, or at least that’s what everyone figured until one day she killed her parents, burned down her boarding school and disappeared off the grid. About four months later the DEA got a tip that she was dealing cookies laced with Meth, disguised as flower scout cookies.”  

David blinked “are you kidding me? That’s a 180”

Quartermaster grumbled “they were not even good cookies.”

Gwen nodded “yep…Well naturally the DEA tried to grab her in Texas, but after a firefight she escaped to Mexico where she met Dirty Kevin…who showed her the light…now we think she is a big name in the cult smuggling operation.”

David said “so she is smuggling Haze?”

Gwen shrugged “that is what the Intel suggests.”

David sighed “alright...what do you need us to do.”

Gwen pulled up her laptop typing quickly before saying “the cult owns a rail company, about 40 miles due west of here… destroy the haze before it leaves and when Sasha comes to investigate….Take her alive if possible.”  Gwen said hesitantly

David nodded “A stockpile like that is bound to be guarded.” Addressing both Quartermaster and Gwen

Quartermaster shrugged “armed goons, likely Ak’s…”

David asked “Level of force against the guards Gwen?”

Gwen breathed deeply before saying “Nomad…I leave it to your judgement…just bring me Sasha.”

David stood up “Yes ma’am…take the Jeep back to the RV…my team and I will secure our own way.”

And with that David walked out saying “you guys hear that?”

Jasper responded “roger Nomad…we heard…we got a ride and your equipment…meet on the edge of town.”

 Tree line:

David adjusted his Jeep hat as he whispered “redcap report.”

Tabii looked up from her drone control saying “the place is woefully under guarded nomad…I see four guards AK…there half asleep.”

David nodded “dirt Diver.”

Nurf nodded “charges are ready.”

David lifted his rifle “pick your targets on my count.”

David turned his hat to face backwards as he looked down his scope picking his target “ready?”

The team all answered “yes.”

David said simply “on my count, 3,2,1, execute execute execute.”

4 suppressed gun shots later the guards dropped dead.

David moved to his feet advancing towards the depot as his team quickly swept the building before he nodded “clear…dirt diver…let’s do it.”

30 minutes later:

David hid it the shadows as Sasha drove up yelling “what in the actual fuck did you idoits do!”

David slowly pulled out his pistol as Sasha threw open the door to the burned out drug stash where David hid “where are you morons jeez.”

She was answered by David grabbing her pressing a gun to her head, she yelled “it’s me idoits.”

David answered “trust me I know.”

Sasha said “who the hell are you?”

David forced her to move “I’m your uncle Sam and we need to have a conversation.”

Sasha said fought but was forced into the trunk of a car and taken to the safe house

Safe house:

David pushed her into the small building forcing her into a small chair he aimed at her, if she made a move he would shoot her.

Gwen entered glaring “hello Sasha.”

Sasha tilted her head “Awww the FBI Hoe.”

Gwen sighed “really Hoe…that’s the best you come up with?”

Sasha scoffed “I thought we run you out when we killed that other agent…what was name.”

David could tell Gwen was getting angry as he said calmly “Gwen…”

Gwen nodded “Nomad…I got this.”

Sasha demanded “who the fuck is Nomad!?”

Gwen paused before saying “that is a fun question to answer, you see your cult buddies did something stupid…very stupid.”

Sasha shook her head “…these guys are not Swat…”

Gwen smiled evilly “oh no, they are some of this great country’s finest Special forces, and they have a single mission here…fucking up the cults day.”

Sasha looked over at David who firing her small wave with the hand he was not holding his sidearm with, Sasha sighed “killing one agent…is not worth this response.”

Gwen nodded “your right…do you know what this is?”  Plunking a picture on the table

Sasha looked before shrugging “no clue.”

Gwen said coolly “it’s a warhead, a nuclear warhead that was stolen 3 months ago…and recently popped back on our grid…can you guess where?”

Gwen didn’t wait for Sasha to answer saying “you are all a threat to national security…more than a threat really…so if you want to live you are going to start talking.”

Sasha held up her hands “I don’t know anything about any nukes…If anyone did that…it was Daniel.”

Gwen narrowed her eyes “what can you tell us?”

Sasha said “Dirty Kevin…I know where his lab is…”

[peggysousfan]

Captain America: The First Super Soldiers

Chapter 6 is finished....and it is the final chapter!!!! I enjoyed this series so much, it was fun to write. I hope you all enjoy it as well!!:)

 1 month later, SSR Bunker:

"Johann Schmidt belongs in a bug house. He thinks he's a god, and he's willing to blow up half of the world to prove it,starting with the USA." Philips says. The others are at the large,circular, meeting table. Carter, Stark, Sousa, Rogers, and the other Commandos.

"Schmidt is working with powers beyond our capabilities." Stark explains. "He gets across the Atlantic, He will wipe out the entire Eastern seaboard in an hour." Rogers and Sousa continue look at the files in front of them.

"How much time we got?" Jones asks.

"According to my new best friend, under 24 hours." Philips says. Another Agent from the crowd asks where he is, and Philips explains. "Hydras lats base is here.In the Alps, 500 feet below the surface.

"So what are we supposed to do?" Asks Morita, one of the Commandos."I mean, its not like we can just knock on the front door."

"Why not?" Rogers asks. The whole room goes silent.

"He's right, why not?" Maybe thats exactly what we should do." Peggy looks at Daniel, puzzled. He discretely reaches over and touches her hand.

"Not 'should do'. Thats what we're going to do."

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

2 hours later:

"Peggy! I got something I want to show you."

"What is it now, Howard? I'm rather busy at the moment." reading over a file for the mission.

"I know, I know, I know. Just- come look!" She breaths a deep sigh and follows him. As they walk, she begins to hold her stomach. Although she is starting to see the bump, her uniform is tight and buff enough to hide it. She and Daniel have agreed to hide the child as long as possible, and when its not...they'll come clean to the military and run off till the baby is born. When it is, Daniel wants to stay home with him or her while Peggy works. Although shes tried to argue, he insisted.

"What is it that I'm suppose to be looking at ..?" She asks as they enter Howard's lab. She has an idea, but shes afraid of his answer.

"Well what does it look like? Its a crib."

"Yes, but....Why?" Peggy tries to calm her increased heart rate because of fear; fear of what he will say next.

"Do you really think I haven't noticed? The late nights and sneaking around to see Sousa. The running away and getting sick... AND the mysterious doctor visit? I'm a genius. Its not that hard to figure out that you're -"

"Stop." She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. He looks away, ashamed.

"I'm not gonna tell anyone, Peg. I just...wanted to help out." she looks away for several moments, not knowing what to say.

"Thank you, Howard. We appreciate the thought. But..I'm barely 4 months along. We won't need it for some time, and even then...I- I don't know where to put it. I don't even have a home to place it." She sighs in defeat. While she is happy to have this child with Daniel, she is also terrified. Not only is her career on the line, but they are not married, nor do they have a house together. There will be enough gossip wherever they go about them living together, let alone having a baby in the middle of a war.

"You'll find somewhere eventually." He says. "And besides, who cares what other people think. As long as you two are happy, thats all that matters." She looks at him, shocked. "Don't look so surprised. You're not married. People will talk about anything, you just can't let it get to you."

"Valued advice, thank you."

"Just off topic here..." Peggy turns to look at him. "You do know that, uh, the army does provide- I guess you can say...protection to prevent these kind of situation." She glares at him.

"Thank you, Howard again. We had absolutely NO idea that was an option." She says sarcastically.

"Well if you knew then why didn't you-" He stops and laughs. She looks at him confused. "I get it" He laughs again. "You did use it, but the serum is just to strong to-"

"Alright thats quite enough." She raises her hand to stop him.

"Agent Carter," She turns to the door as an agent speaks her name. "Everyone's prepping for the mission. Colonel wanted to let you know to get ready."

"Of course, Thank you." He leaves and she turns to Stark. "Thanks again, Howard, for the gift. I will be sure to tell Daniel all about it after."

"Wait what mission? Should you really being doing that while you're-"

"I'm perfectly fine. I will not stop doing my job until it is impossible to move. Now if you will excuse me, I have a mission to prepare for." She starts to walk away and then stops. "And before you say anything, yes Daniel does know I am going, and no I don't need his permission to do my job. I do what ever I damn well please and need no mans approval." And then shes gone.

"I was just gonna say good luck." He shakes his head. "Women..."

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

Outside of Hydras Base:

"We all understand the plan?" Sousa asks.

"We're all good to go," Dugan says.

"I hate the fact that I'm the bait." Steve says.

"Well, you've been captured before. To them it'll be considered a win." And with that everyone gets into place. Rogers revs up his motorcycle and takes down soldiers, a tank, and drives up the wall and into the base. He fights soldiers left and right, but soon is encircled by fire and surrounded by soldiers. Hes put in cuffs and taken to Schmidt.

"Arrogance may not be a uniquely American quality trait, but I must say, you do it better than anyone." Schmidt says as he walks to Rogers. "But there are limits to what even you can do, Captain. Or did Erskine tell you two otherwise?"

"He told us you were insane."

"Ahh. He resented my genius and tried to deny me what was rightfully mine. But he gave you and Sousa everything. Tell me, where is he at this moment?"

"Don't know. I just came here to avenge my friend." Schmidt snickers.

"Mhm. So, what makes you two so special?"

"I can't speak for Sousa, but for me? Nothing. I'm juts a kid from Brooklyn." The Red Skull gets furious and punches Rogers in the face and gut, and that makes him fall on his knees. "I can do this all day." He pants.

"Of course you can, of course. But, unfortunately, I am on a tight schedule." He pulls out a gun and aims it at Rogers head. But before he can pull the trigger, the commandos zip line through the window and shoot off rounds; while Sousa tosses his shield at Schmidt and hits him in the face. The room fills with shots fired as the Commandos and Hydra soldiers fight against each other.

"Sousa! Rogers! You two are gonna need these!" Dugan and Jones toss them their shields. They say their thanks and run after Schmidt.

"You go that way, I'll head in the other direction." Steve grumbles but agrees. Daniel takes the hall where Schmidt ran, and Rogers takes the one filled with soldiers.

"We're in! Assault team, go!" Morita shouts over the radio.

Colonel Philips gets the message and he, Agent Carter, and the rest of the SSR soldiers and Agents run into battle. The Commandos take the hall Rogers did and they all fight them off, one kill at a time. As the Allies move out into the field, Peggy runs along with them; trying to keep herself together. Shes shocked to see the advancements in Hydras weaponry. With each shot fired, a blue light hits a soldier, and they obliterate into nothing. She tries to stay focused and not get hit.They make there way into the Bunker by exploding the door. The Red Skull takes a gun from a dead soldier and starts to fire as he runs away.

"Cut off one head two more shall-" A soldier begins to say, but Philips kills him.

"Lets go find two more." He says as he and his army march deeper into the base.

Sousa continues to chase after the Red Skull and uses his shield to protect himself from the gun blasts. He tosses it against that wall and it stops as the door starts to close; it keeps it held open. As a soldier advances him and uses the flame thrower that encircled Rogers, he hides behind a wall. More shots are fired and Agent Carter kills him.

"Don't touch my man." She mumbles. Daniel looks at her and smiles.

"Peg!" He runs to her and lightly touches her stomach.

"We're fine. I promise." He nods his head and looks behind her, the others are still fighting.

"You're late, you know." Daniel says, she looks into his eyes and smiles.

"Sorry. Things got a little out of hand." He touches her belly once more and then Rogers shows up. He looks between them and notices Sousa's hand.

"What the hell?" He says. Peggy glares at him and looks at Daniel, placing her hand over his.

"Weren't you getting ready to..." She gestures to the door.

"Right!" And he runs after Schmidt, Rogers follows him. SSR Soldiers shoot down the Hydra agents that were trying to board the airplane after the Red Skull. He places the tesseract in a secure box, sits in the pilot seat, and gets ready to take off. As the turbines start, and the engine goes, the Valkyrie starts to wheel out of the hanger. Sousa and Rogers chase after it, buts its no use.

"Now what?" Rogers says, looking around for another option; but that option drives up too them.

"Get in" Philips orders. He and Carter stole Schmidt's car.  Daniel stands in the back with Peggy and Rogers gets in the front. Philips hits the accelerator button and the car takes off at full speed. They stand up and get ready to jump.

"Wait!" They both look down at Peggy. She reaches up, grabs Daniel by the head, and snogs him. "Go get him." Steve can't believe what he just saw...They both turn to the Colonel.

"I'm not kissing either of you!" Daniel looks at Peggy again.

"Yes ma'am," He replies, and they jump. When they get on board and sneak on the ship, they notice the bombs on board labeled  New York. They stop when they hear footsteps and run into Hydra operatives. Rogers jumps up onto the railing and kicks one of them, and Sousa takes his shield and jabs another in the throat. They continue to fight until 2 operatives try to board the small aircraft with the bombs. Sousa gets in one while Rogers jumps on it. He kills the two pilots and Rogers makes his way onto the Valkyrie again.

"Rogers! " Sousa radios.

"Go back to base! I got this!" He cuts it off and fights the Red Skull. Daniel debates on helping, but decides against it; he won't get himself killed and leave Peggy alone with the baby. To him hes done his part, now its up to Rogers not to screw it up. He lands back onto the hanger and runs to Peggy.

"Daniel?!" She runs to him and they meet in the middle. "What happened? Why are you-" He cuts her off and presses his lips to hers.

"I've done my part, Peg. We both have." He holds her close, with one hand on the baby. She laughs and holds him tight.

"Sousa! Wheres Rogers?" Colonel Philips interrupts. He knows about their relationship, and about the baby, but he always kept it to himself; he didn't think it was worth the trouble of saying anything.

"He's still on the plane, sir. He's with Schmidt as we speak."

"Good, lets head back to the station and wait for him to radio back with Intel. Hopefully it doesn't all go to shit." Peggy laughs and nods as they walk there. When they reach the command room Daniel sits down in a chair, and Peggy sits on his lap. While the other commandos are present in the room, the two love birds don't care.  Everyone of them is aware they have something going on, and they've never questioned it; the only one who did was Steve Rogers. Peggy leans over and kisses him.

"You came back to us..." Daniel wraps his left arm around her waist and hold her, while his right holds her stomach.

"Did you ever doubt I would?" She bites her lips to hide her smile; but it doesn't work.

"Never." They snog again, but this time it isn't rushed by the need to stop a psychotic mad man from destroying America with his airplane. Instead they enjoy this small moment. Theres a commotion outside and the Commandos leave the room to fight off and apprehend more Hydra soldiers.

"Come in. This is Captain Rogers. Do you read me?" Steve finally reached the radio.

"Steve? Where are you?" Sousa says over the intercom. Peggy shoves his shoulder and glares at him.

"Let someone else handle him." She whispers.

"Sousa. Schmidt's dead. He grabbed the tesseract and...He vanished into space."

"What?" Peggy looks at Daniel and takes over. "What about the plane?" She asks him

"Peggy..." She grumbles and groans when he says her name. Daniel holds her tight to calm her down. "Thats a little bit tougher to explain." She rolls her eyes.

"Give us your coordinates and we'll find you a landing site." Daniel keeps his left arm on Peggy's waist while he looks through the maps.

"Theres not gonna be a safe landing." Daniel curses under his breath. "But I can try and force it down." Peggy looks at Daniel as if asking for help. He mumbles the word Stark. She nods her head and radios back.

"We'll get Howard on the line, he'll know what to do. He can help get it down."

"Theres not enough time. This things moving to fast and its heading straight for New York."

"Hes right. There are bombs on the plane, all labeled New York."

"I gotta put her in the water..." Steve says.

"Rogers are you sure theres nowhere around you where you can land? Maybe try getting out of there in the bombs. You could -"

"Wheres Peggy? I thought I was talking to her." She groans and takes the mic.

"Rogers-

"Peggy! Thank god." She mumbles under her breath. 'I swear I'm going to kill him one day' Daniel hears and chuckles.

"I need you to know that this is my choice." 'Obviously.' she mumbles. "And that I'm gonna need a rain check on that dance..."

"What?" Peggy says, and Daniel looks at the mic.

"I know that you have a thing for Sousa... but maybe we can-" She cuts off the radio.

"Peggy. What-" She stops Daniel from speaking and kisses him.

"I don't 'have a thing' for you, Daniel. I love you." They continue to snog in the chair until Philips enters the room again.

"What in the hell is going on in here?" They explain that Rogers had to put down the plane and he couldn't get out in time to survive. He shakes his head and walks off, the only words the could hear are' dumb ass' , 'rogers', and 'damn Nazis'.

"I love you too, Peg."

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

Several days go by, and not a word from Steve Rogers. Everyone in the SSR believed he was dead; and so did his comrades. The Commandos mourned him and Barnes at the Stork club, nursing their beers and bellowing their songs. The War wasn't over yet, but the enormous battle of Hydra was nearly won. There were still a few rats loose on the world from this gang of Schmidt followers; but the SSR was going to catch or kill every last one of them; including Agent Carter and Captain Sousa. Although Peggy Carter won't be able to fight for too much longer, she and her Captain will have another fight on their hands; a fight with a small being with both of their genetics.

Together they go to the Stork club, not to mourn like they others, but to celebrate. Celebrate a long battle one, and for the family they are starting. Howard Stark presented the young lovers with state of the art bassinet and crib, each equipped with an alarm to alert the two of them if anything is ever wrong with the baby. At first they were hesitant, but Daniel saw the benefits of it if the baby inherits the serum. Philips said he would vow for them and they can work as long as the want, but when the little one is born, one must go.

They dance and dance throughout the night, and although Peggy can't drink a real drink and Daniel can, he doesn't. Instead they enjoy their time together, talking and laughing and dancing. Around and Around he spins her, only for her to return to him. Her belly shows much more in her dress, but she doesn't care. She will build a life with the love of her life, and she couldn't be more happy about it. All of the Commandos said their congratulations, and begged to see the baby when its born; of course they two lovers agrees. The Howling Commandos are family. But tonight that family consist of only the three.

The Soldier and the Agent dancing and smiling all the while ignorant to the world around them. Her hand is in his while the other wraps around his neck, and his lays softly around her waist. They sway to the slow music surrounding them, bliss in this moment. What they are not aware of is the figure looming outside, watching their every move; his eyes staring at her growing stomach. And yet thats how they stay, until Peggy's legs get tired. Shes starts to walk away, but he grabs her hand and stops her. She turns to look at him, and finds him down on one knee...

"Peg." She gasps, and the entire room goes quiet; their fellow comrades watch intensely, waiting. Even Colonel Philips watches without making a sound. "So I know we've kind of done this backwards," She laughs, "But I don't care. From the moment I saw you on that field, radiating beauty, and then knock Hodge on his ass, I knew you were the one for me." She covers her mouth and wipes away her tears. "You have been...and idol rock for me and a nonstop supporter. No matter how many obstacles I faced, you were always there to talk me though it or to help me get there. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you, Peggy. I love you with every fiber of my being. So..." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a velvet box.

"Oh my God..." She says as she takes a deep breath.

"Margaret Elizabeth, Peggy, Carter. Will you do me the honor of spending  the rest of your life with me as my wife?" She continues to cry happy tears and laughs. "Will you marry me, Peggy?"

For several moments the room is completely silent, no one makes a sound; not even the band. Everyone is waiting for her to answer. She gets down on her knees and kisses him with all her might.

"Yes!" And they kiss again.

"YEAH!!!" The Commandos all scream and clap. Although the Colonel doesn't shout, he does smile and clap his hands. Daniel lifts Peggy off the ground and and carries her out of the club. As they leave the Commandos all congratulate them and order more drinks to celebrate. Although this night was seemingly perfect for them, they were not aware the man was still watching from afar. He follows them to their hotel room and waits.

"How long were you planning on this!?" She asks, only brifly taking her lips from his.

"Maybe... a few weeks before you told me you were pregnant..?"

"Daniel!" He lays her down on the bad and sits next to her. "You've been waiting THAT long!?"H e laughs.

"I'm sorry. I just...wanted to wait for the right time." They stare into each others eyes as she sits up. They lean forward and snog until they are out of breath; only stopping for air and then returning to their love. For minutes they are in paradise, enjoying the time they have alone....until the door is kicked down.They jump out of bed and see a dead man.

"Rogers? How the hell-" Steve Punches Daniel in the face, and he falls back.

"Daniel!" SHe runs to him and looks at Steve. "How the HELL did you survive?"

"Doesn't matter. I just did. I came back for you. For our dance."

"Our Dance!?" She fumes. "What bloody dance? I told you I was never interested. The kiss with Daniel should have been a big enough hint for you to stop pursuing... WHATEVER its was you were pursing!"

"Move out of the way, Peggy." She steps in more and shields Daniel.

"NO" She stands her ground.  He walks toward them and shoves her aside.

"Peg!" Daniel punches Steve in the gut and knocks the wind from his lungs. "Haven't you learned by now I'm stronger than you, Rogers?" As he holds his gut and Daniel uppercuts his jaw, and then he falls down. Daniel catches his breath and looks over at his fiance. "Peggy..." He runs to the bed and helps her sit up.

"I-I'm okay...We're fine.." She keeps a hand on her belly and looks at Rogers, who starts to stand up.

"Are you out of your Damn mind! Who in their right mind would shove a pregnant woman?" Daniel shouts, his hand lays over hers to protect the baby.

"What?" Steve looks down and finally notices. He balls his fist and charges at Daniel. "That should be my kid... You took her from me!" Peggy reaches over into her bag and grabs her gun, then BANG! Steve backs away, shocked. She shoots again and again, until the chamber is emptied.

“I was never yours to begin with you sickly obsessed bastard.” He stands there, holds his chest, and falls to the ground. "Enjoy your trip in hell." Daniel wraps his arm around her and hold her tight, the need to protect her and the baby overwhelms him.

"You okay?" He finally asks.

"Of course I am. I'm Peggy Carter" she cheeks, and he laughs. "Soon to be Peggy Sousa..." He stops breathing for a moment as the thought settles in his mind. She laughs at his pause and kisses him gently. "I can handle anything, Daniel. Especially with you by my side." They smile at each other and hold one another close.

Eventually Colonel Philips and the SSR are called. They inform them of Steve Rogers demise. He didn't die in the Valkyrie crash, but he did die by Agent Carters hand. He had become violent, erratic, obsessive, he harmed her and tried to kill Captain Sousa; the love of her life and the father of her child. The serum was meant to amplify everything in the human body, the good and the bad. It seemed Steve Rogers was more bad than good. For the rest of the night the SSR worked on taking care of Rogers body, and the two lovers from war set out to enjoy the little family they had started.

[annatao]

Creepypasta: The bloody judge

Kira was born in an ordinary family, her mother worked as an accountant in a small company.Kira did not even know her farher. Since childhood, the girl was one oddity in games- she tore the doll's head, put them over the experiments and laughed and played with them making crazy eyes that frightened her mother and brother. When Kira  was 13 years old,  suddenly died her older brother from a stroke that affected the psyche of girls. When the girl was 18, she moved to another city to her aunt to study time because it was not convenient to travel from one city to another. The girl has long fascinated stalker's life and has been many times at different gatherings, where she went to many places, down in the abandoned caves, bunkers, but it was not enough of the adrenaline. One day, for the next gathering, she met a guy named Alex, who was soon replaced by her older brother. After about half a year after they met, Alex was gone and now her main gole go to Pripyat and find her friend. Soon she came sms from her friend Sveta. She met Sveta  in college  from 1 year of study:

C: hi, Kira! I've something heard from  our old friend . A week later, they were going to Pripyat for a tour, but they were for the complete collection is missing two people.Do you wanna go?

K:why not? I do.

C: is great!  do not worry, all paid for, just two people refused to travel for whatever reason, and asked to give the tickets to someone.

K: well, thanks for the info

Kira  knew, it her only chance to find out what happened to Alex. Suddenly, she came to the phone SMS "help me." She is very surprised, because SMS came from Alex, but she knew that his phone is broken and lying in his house. Shrugging, the girl went home and decided to walk up to it through the forest park.  Kira entered the park with the last rays of the sun. At this point, she felt at ease the soul that seemed strange to her. Before leaving the park, she stopped and looked up at the sky, when suddenly something flashed in the bushes, like a bullet, and then there was quiet melancholy sound. On guard, the girl slowly walked out, looking around, until she again to heard rustling in the bushes, but this time the sound was close. Major tremors ran through the girl's back and out of the bushes came a quiet, but like a dead voice whispered something. For the first time the girl was scared and started running away towards the house. Arriving at the apartment and going to her room, she slammed the door, threw her bag on the floor and sat down at the table of the small workshop, where she collected all sorts of stuff for hiking or just what comes to mind. Breathing heavily, her eyes ran in panic across the table, and her heart was beating so fast and hard that smacked into her eyes. Gradually, the panic began to recede, her eyes began to complain of fatigue and lack of sleep, her body relaxed and leaned against the table. She close eyes and under the hum of the old table lamp quickly fell asleep.

A week has passed. Long-awaited day of departure is came , and her last free hours she decided to clean up in her  workshop. By removing unnecessary details, she found her first pictures with Alex, she made it on the  first joint gathering. In the production of parts and tools for their "products",she found it at the gatherings , or she worked as all. Knock at the door. Sveta, joyful impatience, came  into the room with stuffed bag . She looked and put the bag on the chair:

C:Are you ready for the tour? What are you doing again?

K:N-nothing -Kira quickly removed the photos and put them in a bag next to the clippers, -just... it does not matter...

-OK

The girl dressed in a dark blue turtleneck and black pants with the dressings on her legs, wore black ankle boots and took her bag with stalker's jacket swamp color. She   came out of the room, and then came out of the apartment. Arriving at the gathering place, Kira was surprised, that people were not enough, that encouraged girl, but it feel vanished. With Kira and Sveta went  Lena named Bayonet. She wasleader in own  "gang", she always yelling at everyone and commands, and if something is wrong, be ready for the bad joke of her. A few days later the group arrived in the Kiev region, and then the group arrived in a small village, where the live stalkers and ordinary people . The group approached the highest average body man with a small bristles on his face and a scar on his nose. He was dressed in a camouflage brown jacket,  dark green pants and army boots. Adjusting its hood, he coldly looked students:

-you that group of tourists?

Yes, and you are our guide? 'asked the world

Yes, my name is Joel, but my nickname Sacrum. Come on, I'll take you to the local "hotel" - a man for a moment, he looked at Cyrus turned away and immediately went into the heart of the village. The settlement was gray and gloomy, the sky in the clouds, the trees were dried and black and only looked away trees leaves. Many looked at the newcomers, some even shook his head, saying one has committed suicide, even though they just came for adrenaline. Once inside the building there were all renovated and they were soon distributed through the rooms. In the evening, Cyrus was not myself from the strange voices and decided to take a stroll. The street was dark and damp, and there was a small moldy mist under his feet. Heading into the heart of the village, she noticed that nobody around, except that she saw Lena, which is why it looked into the well. For the first time Cyrus felt strong anger and hatred from which it did not even notice as she came from behind and pushed her into a well. The sound of the water was not, and only stopped abruptly screaming Lena. I am realizing that she did Cyrus hiding behind the house and sat on the ground in tears, clutching her head.

What have I done!!? - She thought holding his head, but for some reason suddenly felt light and even joy in the soul, and his face COLOUR smile. "No, you did everything correctly .. remember that she made on one of the gatherings, when she locked you in the bunker, while you did not find Alex. You died then, and now you're the judge! Now you navedesh order!" Swept dead voice head girl, the same voice that had once heard in the forest park.

Wiping tears, she felt bad and slowly walked to the hotel through the dark alleys of the old houses. When they reached the hotel, she was somehow terribly wanted to climb through the window, rather than go through the main entrance. The house was small and, therefore, up to 2 floors, it is easily accessible. Noticing that her friend is sleeping, she tried to go quietly, but their rustle Cyrus still woke her:

K. Cyrus? why are you awake? something happened? -COH Light murmured, peering out from under a blanket.

Cyrus did not say anything, but just turned and looked wild-eyed holding a machete in his hand. Light was not myself from her eyes. A wide smile graced his face. Eyes mad at her. Cyrus sat down and straightened the tuft of her hair. Slowly brought it out and flick slashed her friend's neck. Blood warm rivulets ran down his neck. She wanted to scream but could not. The surrounding silence was broken by groaning from broken cords and larynx, and the head is not littered with hastily back dragging a body. Looking at the body of his best friend, she licked her lips, and without thinking twice jumped out the window. She knew that she could not be, and therefore went to Pripyat along the path through the trees. Despite the rather eerie atmosphere, she walked along the winding, overgrown path looking at the map of Alex. Soon, the old and mutilated trees became fewer and fewer, and on the horizon through the gray mist appeared the first high-rise buildings of Pripyat. Sighing deeply, she went deep into the dead city and listening to the silence of the night and then pierced someone's noises, strange noises, the cry of crows and howling wind. Turning the corner of a building and checked his map as suddenly blew strong and cold wind carrying with him a card.

F YOUR MOTHER !!! - I grumbled loudly Cyrus, but then it has attracted attention as someone's body lay in the middle of the dark yard. Deciding that it is the body of Alex, she hastily began to look into the pockets of the lamp, but suddenly heard a noise behind her. She turned at the sound, and not having time to investigate the situation was hit in the forehead. Sometimes she came to herself and only then she could see how it haul through the lanes and courtyards. Each time the landscape has changed but the same were only three dark silhouette.

Late at night she woke up on the floor in a dark and dirty room, which covered the small and the only honey. From the ceiling fell off the old plaster walls in rust and mold; on itself, she found a dirty robe and on his hands were wounds from needles and something else. Immediately she could not get up because of the weakness and severe headache, but most of all it struck mutilated corpse in the other corner. It was her friend at the gathering, but all in burns and stains in some parts of the body are the joints and bones covered with blood vessels, and in the eye sockets stuck small steel bars. Rising from the floor, she heard footsteps approaching the door:

Sir, we have taken samples of the girls and your guesses were not groundless. Compatibility for the experiment and the probability that it will survive 94.7%!

-excellent! it immediately to the operating table and prepare everything you need! I hope that the new drug will work this time.

A minute went into the room some people in tight suits and took the girl by the hand dragged her into the operating room, through the old rooms. Cyrus began to resist, but as soon as she left the room became howl and moan from burning on the face and legs. Legs did not obey, and she could not walk from the pain, all darkened and swam in his eyes. Woman Soon thrown on the table and its bright white light blinded, and his hands strapped to the table. After a moment, she felt a sharp pain in the eye and hand.

-Proklyate! urgently! an urgent need to remove her eye! and bring the anti-radiation drugs !!! - shouted someone's a woman's voice. The girl began to twitch convulsively, and she put a shot, causing the body stopped moving. The following hours throughout the labs heard heart-rending cries and screams. From shock and pain spasms girl's body arches and twitching, eye bleeding, and introduced pieces of wire sticking out of her collarbones and arms. Suddenly she felt the rope someone loosened his right hand. Deep in the subconscious mind remains of shouting to her that this is her chance. Gathered last strength, she pulled her hand with such force that it hit it on the lamp, which shines directly into her face. Sprinkle hail the girl's body, she was able to take the splinter and stick in your head to one of the captors, while the others fled from the room. Getting up from the floor, she managed to pull out a pair of wires sticking out of himself, but his body did not seem to listen and jerked her every move, as if she were allowed through the current is through the conductor. Turning around, she saw herself in the reflection: battered brown hair, pale skin was a cadaver in burns and red spots, bruises under his eyes and the wound .. cut from the glass went through the left side of the face and only one of its happy-cut does not hurt the eyes, but not the second eyes ... have to survive. Wiping the blood from his face, Kira took a small forceps and headed down the hallway to the main center.

-SSK5B02 Welcome! can you hear me?! - he shouted the doctor in the phone.

Do not worry ... no more and you will not hear, - he said quietly in a hoarse voice, stabbing him in the Adam's apple forceps and cut it up to his chin. Hands professor flickers on the table and in a desperate attempt, trying to strike the girl. Feeling with one hand on the table next to the folders souvenir dagger in a beautiful stand, he pulled the sword from its sheath, raised his hand and tried to hit the girl with a knife in his head. But it was too late. The last thing he saw was a disfigured face and a girl sticking a dagger that has passed through both cheeks. She slowly pulled out the knife and threw it on the floor. Smiling broadly already limp body of professors, Cyrus turned off the phone and went to the side of the corridor, when suddenly she saw a familiar figure, it was Alex, who was standing in the corridor doorway. He was terribly mutilated, just like the corpse in her room, and that resulted in the girl horror. Tattered clothes as myself flesh Man, no eyes, except that protruded vessels of the eye and red blood flowed. Beckoning for a man disappeared from sight. She did not contradict him and went without paying attention to what was already behind her followed him. In one of the corridors man again he appeared and disappeared through a small door next to the exit. Once inside and slammed the door, she found her things that were lying next to a shelf of strange cans, and on the floor littered with old yellowed newspaper. Looking around, Cyrus dressed, and taking his gun went to the wall where the jolly old newspaper about the loss. Hearing the corridor running away, without hesitation she climbed into an old ventilation shaft, and soon it was thrown into a large old container that was standing around the corner of the huge building. Ghost-not just to keep up, but only quietly whispered in a dead voice, as if hypnotizing and forced her to stand up. The girl ran away from the horrible place, hiding in the cloud forests.

2 months later

Evening of the bustling city. The woman returned home and changed into a warm home linen included TV. At that time she listens to the foreign news, especially about the Kirovsky district and how many people are missing, and then found the mutilated corpses, and some have been without golov.2 months ago great-niece was missing. Lisa many times punished herself and her passion, but the fact that Cyrus was killed - in it she did not believe. Lisa also supported his cousin Kate. Kira's mother wanted to sleep, and then completely become delirious. The woman managed to bring his sister back in order. But just a week before she died. It is killed by a drunk driver. The woman died at the scene from chest fractures. The car is too much a woman pinned to a tree that touched the heart bone.

As usual television broadcast about the economy, about the household councils and of the typical news about events in the city. Nothing interesting. Rising from the sofa soft woman went to the kitchen to make himself a hot tea and enjoy it with a chocolate cake. By putting a small ladle of water to warm up, Lisa felt strangely it seemed that the house has someone else. And someone sitting in Kira's room. After her disappearance she did not dare go there. She was afraid. This feeling is not lost even after dinner. After retiring to her room Lisa took a sleeping pill from the nightstands and taking pills fell immediately to sleep.

Deep night. Outside, the rain poured down in buckets that muffles the noise from cars passing by the house. Suddenly there was a creak in the hallway, as if someone had walked heavy quickly and disappeared into the next room. Lisa would have written off all its neighbors, if not distinct noises and chatter something glass. On the back of the woman walked cold shivers, and his heart pounding in his chest. Swallowing, she slowly stood up from the bed, and then wandered out of the room. The woman saw that the bloody footprints to drag out of the kitchen and ends at the threshold of Kira room. From under the door gap was evident that the feeble light was burning in the room. Wedding Crashers. The smell of blood, Hughes covered his nose and mouth. Approaching nearer and nearer, she heard the intruder something spends on steel that publish unpleasant rattle. Taking out a small basket of old cane invalid woman opened the door, and then froze in horror, but in her veins the blood froze. Under the dim light of a desk lamp and sat Cyrus winepress bloody machete. The very same girl was terribly disfigured, and her skin was putrid, like a dead man in the grave:

-davno not seen Aunt lysates cold voice, the girl said, and then looked up to the light of a desk lamp lit her face. The woman was frightened. No. This is not her niece, a mutilated monster. From fear female soul went into the heel, and then ran away screaming slamming the door behind him. Running out onto the landing Lisa began to type in the phone number of the police, who managed to take with them. But trembling hands as evil is not obeyed. Dialing a phone number, she leaned against it to his ear, and then became a heart-rending scream and cry, "Help!".

Come on, I'll help you-a woman's voice came from behind. Swing. Old wheelchair cane passes through the neck and out through his right eye.

Early in the morning to the home of Lisa Hughes came two police cars. Seizing a gun and shockers, police officers rushed to the staircase:

-bozhe my ...- probubnel senior lieutenant looking at the blood running down the stairs. Carefully lift them upward met with stony faces frightened crowd, which quickly fled their homes in panic. Arriving officers froze looking at the body of a woman lying in blood.

-Lord ..- nasty man said looking at the bloody inscription written by the victim's severed fingers - "witness".

[israelseen]

guest rooms at Arugot Farms

Steve Kramer – All Around Gush Etzion

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  Just minutes away from Jerusalem lies Gush Etzion (Etzion Bloc), nestled in the Hebron hills. It is certainly part of the Land of Israel, but it’s not run according to Israeli civil law. Instead, like the rest of Judea and Samaria, Israeli military law governs. Today the Gush has 18 communities with Efrat, a very desirable suburb of Jerusalem, the largest. Gush Etzion’s status is unusual because it was part of the Yishuv (pre-state Israel under Jewish control) before the 1948 War of Independence, but was occupied by Jordan during and after the war.

  The first 20th century Jewish community in the Gush was pioneered by immigrants from Yemen. It struggled due to economic problems and tensions with nearby Arab villagers and was eventually destroyed during the Arab riots of 1929.

  The next year Shmuel Yosef Holtzman bought the property. His intention was to establish a Jewish community in between Bethlehem and Hebron. “Gush Etzion” was chosen as the name, taken from the Hebrew translation of his own name. In 1936, during the next period of Arab riots, most of what Holtzman had built was destroyed and the inhabitants were forced to flee the area. Between 1943-1947, the Jews returned and built four small communities which were all destroyed during the War of Independence (more about that to follow).

  When Israel regained control of Jerusalem and the surrounding areas in Judea in June 1967, a new initiative was launched to resettle the Etzion area. Some of the pioneers were descendants of the people who fought and died there during the War of Independence. Today, there are about 45,000 Jews thriving in the Gush. Many of them work in Jerusalem or elsewhere, while others are employed locally in tourism, winemaking, and other endeavors. (www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org)

  Michal and I and four friends set off early (not too early to avoid the worst rush hour traffic) from Jerusalem to visit the Arugot (translation: flower beds) Farms, which is being developed by four families, including the founders of The Land of Israel Network (thelandofisrael.com). It bills itself as “broadcasting the truth and beauty of Israel to the world” via the internet and various social media. I listen weekly to their podcasts, which are presented by very knowledgeable Israelis, mostly former American men with great backgrounds in Jewish history, philosophy and religion who believe in the destiny of the Jewish State. (The terrific guide and educator, Eve Harow, is also a broadcaster.) The signature endeavor of the network is raising funds to construct Arugot Farms. This was are first destination of our day trip.

  “Founded by four environmentally conscious pioneering Israeli families who literally paved the roads to these previously inaccessible mountains, the Arugot Farms is becoming a sought after destination for both Israelis and tourists seeking to experience Israel’s magnificent natural beauty, encounter a renaissance of organic natural living, and walk through the rich history of Judea, from King David to the Maccabees, Rabbi Akiva and Bar Kochba.

Located in the heart of the biblical “Wilderness of Zif” where King David composed many of the Psalms and hid from King Saul, the Arugot Farms, in just a few years, has been transformed from a barren desolate wilderness to a Garden of Eden-like oasis, unlike anything in The Land.”

(from ThelandofIsrael website)

  We visited with Ari Abramowitz, who along with Jeremy Gimpel founded The Land of Israel Network. We had little trouble finding their location (near the small community of Ibei HaNahal) because Ari’s parents were part of our little group. Located in the desolated and sparsely populated Nahal Arugot in Judea, the “under-construction” farm/vineyard/retreat/hotel has a panoramic view which is breathtaking.

  Ari was raised in Houston in a 1950s-style Conservative family which gradually evolved into Orthodoxy. He credits his yearning for HaShem (a term for the name of God utilized for the unpronounceable YHWH) with drawing him to Israel and eventually to Nahal Arugot. In 2014 he and Jeremy joined two other partners who were already living on the mountain top to develop a touristic enterprise which includes many facets. With little or no financial backing they charged ahead, developing the project as funds were available. The awe-inspiring site is in the mountains between Jerusalem and Hebron, further “out” than any previous Jewish settlements.

  On our tour, Ari showed us flourishing vineyards, which are not quite mature enough to harvest, and fledgling forests. There is an ecologic pond, nearly finished, which Ari said fulfills a prophecy in the Bible (Isiah 35-6/7): “Water will gush forth in the wilderness and streams in the desert. The burning sand will become a pool, the thirsty ground bubbling springs. In the haunts where jackals once lay, grass and reeds and papyrus will grow.”

  We saw Jeremy and Ari’s homes, which blend into the landscape, like all the structures on the farm. We walked through the unfinished retreat center and the circular house of prayer, which is being built on the highest location with a view of Jerusalem and the Dead Sea.

  As Ari says, there is a palpable sense of destiny there. They have no fence or gate on the property for both financial and ideological reasons. Ari explained that while some communities in Judea and Samaria are heavily protected (think “gated communities” on steroids) others prefer to try to foster relationships with the Arabs in the vicinity. In fact, besides volunteer helpers in the project, many of the paid workers on the farm are Arabs from the vicinity.

  Volunteers and funds have come, sometimes when the project was in dire straits financially. Ari gave us one example: German volunteers (whose parents and grandparents were Nazis) came to help for two weeks. They not only provided free labor but also the needed materials, fulfilling their Christian belief to assist in the Jewish development of the Land of Israel. At their request, Ari taught them Torah in the evenings. One oddity which Ari described, happened when it was time for tree pruning with the Germans. Ari directed the group: men to the right, women to the left. The irony was shared instantaneously by all.

  Both Ari and Jeremy have put all their resources into the project, which is a not-for-profit endeavor. Jeremy even sold his valuable property in the prosperous town of Neve Daniel to enable their dream, bringing his large family with him.

  The construction doesn’t stop. In the two phases, the “Eco” pool, Beit Tefiilah (house of prayer), the promenade throughout the farm, the retreat center and guest residence are all in being built. Although little is completely finished, Arugot Farms is already an inspiring undertaking, which through determination, grit, hard work, and religious zeal will undoubtedly be a popular spot for tourism and contemplation.

  After our pleasant visit with Ari at Arugot Farms, which is the eco resort, spiritual retreat, and farm being built by The Land of Israel (thelandofisrael.com) ,we had to hurry to get to the Gush Etzion Heritage Center in time for the scheduled English language tour. The museum’s layout is a now-familiar one in Israel, in which a group is ushered through several rooms to watch a sound and light presentation and see artifacts from particular periods. Here, we found ourselves in a network of halls and passageways around the bunker where Kfar Etzion’s last defenders fell. The historical background:

  At the time of hostilities with the Arabs in 1947, Gush Etzion consisted of four settlements, the first and largest of which was Kfar Etzion. On January 14, 1947, more than 1,000 Arabs attacked the settlements. The 450 Jewish fighters (men and women) repulsed the attackers but their communities were devastated, needed reinforcements, and were vulnerable to a future attack. The Haganah (Jewish “army”) sent a platoon of 35 soldiers, the “Convoy of 35,” with medical supplies and ammunition – but reaching the bloc proved difficult. On their first attempt, the soldiers were detected by Arab forces and were forced to retreat.

  Impulsively, and without adequate preparation or orders, the soldiers hastily proceeded towards their endangered comrades in the Bloc. Soon the platoon was again detected by the Arabs; the commander led his troops to the top of the highest hill in the area, searching for cover. But the 35 were unable to escape and they were all massacred by hundreds of Arab militants. Their stripped, mutilated bodies were found the next day by a British patrol, but weren’t sent to Jerusalem because of the British fear of Jewish retaliation against the Arabs.

  Gush Etzion was again the center of conflict in May of 1948, when, for a period of three days, residents of Kfar Etzion were able to hold off a large Arab army headed for Jerusalem.  Eventually, despite their surrender to the Arab army, 240 residents of the kibbutz were massacred, another 260 were captured, and the settlement was razed. The prisoners of war were interred in Jordan, returning to the State of Israel in 1949. (www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org)

  I highly recommend visiting the Heritage Center. It’s an excellent introduction to the flourishing Gush Etzion. Naturally, our next stop was lunch at one of the excellent wineries in the area. The Gush Etzion Winery is situated in an area that has been recognized for thousands of years for wine growing. The climate, differences in day and night temperatures, chalky soil, sloping vineyards, and the 3,000 ft+ altitude create ideal conditions for wine growing.

  The winery’s kosher restaurant is a popular place for visitors and locals. The restaurant had plenty of choices at reasonable prices. Along with the tasty food we enjoyed a very nicely priced tasting of four wines. After sharing one dessert among our group, we were off to our last destination: Herodion National Park, built by the “King of Israel,” Herod the Great.

  In 40 BCE the Parthians invaded Judea. Herod, whose father Antipater had ruled Israel for the Romans, fled to Rome where he had many friends. There he was elevated to be King of Judea by the Senate. Within three years Herod regained military control in Judea and began his remarkable reign with backing from the Romans.

  Unfortunately, Herod was something of a monster as well as a master builder. He had his wife and mother-in-law killed, as well as his brother-in-law and at least one of his sons. When he died in 4 BCE, his three remaining sons fought over their inheritance. Within two generations, Rome turned on Judea, burned the city of Jerusalem, and banished the Jews from their holiest city.

  Herod used the great wealth generated by the trade routes which traversed Judea to build massive projects. In addition to the Summer Palace site we were exploring, Herod built the port of Caesarea named after his patron in Rome, the fortress-palace at Masada opposite the Dead Sea, and his masterpiece, the magnificent enlargement of the Second Temple in Jerusalem.

  The palace at Herodion was constructed on top of a man-made mountain, to catch the winds off the desert, as well as the magnificent views. It was divided into two sections: Upper Herodion, which contained the palace set within a circular fortress, and Lower Herodion, at the base of the mountain, which had numerous annexes for the use of the king’s family and friends. The system of water storage was very sophisticated, with huge cisterns to supply the needs of the palace, including a large pool in Lower Herodion suitable for boating.

  Since our last visit, Professor Ehud Netzer of Hebrew University uncovered the grave of King Herod on the slope of the hill, not in the Tomb Estate which Herod had constructed for that purpose. Tragically, the archaeologist fell to his death while leaning on a wooden safety rail, soon after. Because of ongoing renovations to this area of the park, we were prevented from visiting the grave site.

  Herodion was abandoned after being sacked by the Romans following the fall of Jerusalem in 70 CE, but in 132 CE it was occupied by Bar Kochba, the great Jewish general. Bar Kochba utilized the cisterns at Herodion for his guerilla attacks on the Roman army. After ascending the path to palace ruins and exploring, we made a far cooler descent through the same cistern, via tunnels inside the mountain built to enable Bar Kochba’s bands to make surprise attacks against the Romans. Tactics like this resulted in Bar Kochba’s incredibly successful, but short-lived, victory over the Romans.

  Because of that victory, Bar Kosiba (his original name) was given the nickname Bar Kochba (Son of a Star) and proclaimed Messiah by many Jews. “At the time, Bar Kochba – who was a man of tremendous leadership abilities – managed to unite the entire Jewish people around him. Jewish accounts describe him as a man of tremendous physical strength, who could uproot a tree while riding on a horse. This is probably an exaggeration, but he was a very special leader and undoubtedly had messianic potential, which is what Rabbi Akiva recognized in him.”

(https://www.aish.com/jl/h/cc/48944706.html)

  Before leaving Herodium and Gush Etzion, we enjoyed a cool respite in the excellent gift shop. This region, so close to Jerusalem and so intertwined in Zionist history, is well worth exploring. We had a great day in Gush Etzion and will visit again soon, especially to see the progress being made at Arugot Farms.

  pics by Steve: first two pics are of the guest rooms at Arugot Farms; the view towards Jerusalem from Arugot Farms; Gush Etzion Heritage Center; 1946 newspaper article about communities in Gush Etzion; a model inside Herodion ruins; inside the tunnels used by Bar Kochba’s fighters

    Steve Kramer – All Around Gush Etzion Steve Kramer - All Around Gush Etzion Just minutes away from Jerusalem lies Gush Etzion (Etzion Bloc), nestled in the Hebron hills.

[myheartrevealed]

I Will Be Here- Epilogue Part One

Castiel cleared his throat, the sound interrupting the silence in the almost-empty room. “I need to go somewhere.”

Dean looked up from his laptop and gave a halfhearted nod.

Cas was surprised by the lack of questions, but took his opportunity and shuffled out of the room.

“Oh,” Dean spoke up. “I meant to ask you…”

“What?” Cas questioned, stopping nervously under the threshold.

“Say hi for me.”

Cas whipped around, tilting his head suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

Dean shrugged and turned back to his laptop. “I think you know.”

Cas’ face hardened, but he left, walking outside the bunker before transporting away. He opened his eyes to an expansive field so vast there was no telling how far it traveled. A small cottage stood to his left, which he approached, quickly waltzing up the steps and entering.

“He always made hot chocolate?”

“Every morning.”

Cas turned the corner into the kitchen where you sat calmly at the dining table.

You were relaxed in the wooden chair. You wore jeans and a pastel t-shirt, which was probably the brightest outfit Cas had ever seen you in. He had definitely noticed a massive change in your attitude, since death. You were calmer, kinder, and just happier altogether. You tended to act that way around Jack when you were alive, but nowadays you had nothing to worry about. No more running, fighting, destiny… none of it existed anymore. And he was very grateful for that.

Across from you sat a young woman. She had dark hair and bright eyes that listened intently as you told your story.

Cas had only recently met your mother. When he took you to heaven, she was the first and only person you wanted to see. Whenever he visited, the two of you were always doing something together, the simplest of things like cooking, playing games, or telling stories- Things you missed out on when she was absent from your life. She’d laugh and tell you about things you did as a kid and you’d tell her about the rest of your life, after her death.

You turned to look at Cas as he approached. “Hi Cas,” you said with a bright smile. He returned the gesture almost immediately.

“Hello Y/N. Y/N’s mother.” He greeted you both, then nodded towards the door. “Mind taking a walk, Y/N.”

“Not at all.” You stood up and followed your old friend out the door. The two of you wandered through the field without saying a word.

“So, what’s the scoop?” you spoke up.

He shrugged. “It’s been about three months down on earth. Sam and Dean are doing about the same. They take any hunt they can find and spend their downtime looking for Michael.

You nodded. “And Jack?”

“Jack is… getting better,” Cas explained. “He tries to go out on hunts as often as possible, which is better than a month ago, when he refused to leave the bunker. He still can’t walk past your room or hear your name without crying, but he’s trying. Sam and Dean and I have tried to make it easier for him. We put anything that was yours away, mostly into your room. We’ve tried to organize the stuff a little bit, but ultimately, we don’t think we should throw anything out until Jack looks through it and he’s not ready for that yet. In fact, I don’t think Sam and Dean are really ready for it either. We went in there to put some of your stuff into boxes Jack could look through and Dean had to leave halfway through. I later found him in his room, holding a picture of the two of you. Sam also started crying, but he thought getting the job done would ultimately make him feel better. And I think it did, considering the fact that he now talks about you with a smile on his face.”

You were glad to hear that. You desperately wanted the boys to move on and be okay. Especially Jack.

“Give Jack time,” you advised. “And space. I’m sure he’ll be fine soon enough.”

Cas agreed. “Now, onto more pressing matters, we almost have Michael.”

You gaped at Cas in shock. “What? Cas, that’s great!”

He didn’t acknowledge your excitement, his face only hardening again. “A big battle is about the go down soon, though I have faith in us. Michael has been in hiding since you destroyed his army. He’s powerful, but we have both the Winchesters and Jack Kline on our side.”

You nodded, not seeing the big deal. This was good news.

“The problem is, even though I’m sure we can beat him. There might be casualties... I’m worried.”

You took in a small inhale, before realizing what he meant. “You think someone’s going to die?”

“I can’t be sure,” he admitted. “But I thought you should know, as I’ll probably bring them here first.”

“Unless it’s you,” you argued.

He bit his lip. “That’s true… unless it’s me.”

You regretted saying that all of a sudden, and tried to change the subject. “Is there anything else you wanted to tell me?”

He sighed. “Um. I’m not sure. I’m afraid that with matters as serious as killing Michael, I think there might be some involvement or at least word from my father.”

“Your father? You mean-”

“God,” he finished. “I’m not entirely sure. He hasn’t been very… interested in our endeavours recently, but… this is big. If he does get involved, he’ll want to talk to you.”

You paused. “Because I killed his children?”

Cas chuckled. “Probably.”

Fear shook you to the very core, knowing that God might be watching you.

The feeling lingered as Cas led you back to your house. You could see your mother contently putting things away in the kitchen through the front window.

You looked to Cas and smiled, wrapping your arms around him. “Goodbye Cas. It was nice to see you again.”

“You as well.”

He made to leave, but you remembered something. “Wait… you haven’t told the others about your visiting me… have you?”

He shook his head. “No. But I suspect Dean’s onto me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“He told me to tell you hello.”

[isobel-thorm]

I couldn't decide on a prompt so maybe “If you play that song one more time, I’m army rolling out of this car.” or “Really? Pinning me against a wall? You couldn’t think of anything more creative?” or “What? You’ve never seen a girl cry over macaroni and cheese before?” and Johnnic for the ship because tbh I've become such a hoe for them and your writing it's just so fantastic!!!!

For all you Johnnic hoes that give me life, another “Would’ve Been Perfect for the New Divide Epilogue But That’s Just Life” piece. Ridiculously Soft John with teeth-rotting fluff ahead.

Derived By Fools: 

A conversation with Nick gets John to get introspective, and Nic has to pull out the big guns to distract him

When little Carmina Rye’s eighth birthday rolled around, it had been a wake-up call to all of the adults that the Collapse allowed for very little when it came to celebrating a child’s birthday. Still, Nick was determined to throw the best party the New World would ever see, so he had gone as all out as he could. Most of the county had been invited. He had made the point ‘you don’t gotta bring anything, just try to make it the best day ever for her.’

Not one to do arguably nothing for her favorite (and only) goddaughter- Nicolette was determined to give the girl something. After searching for ages, she had managed to scrounge together some wood nails and paint, ruling that she was going to make a dollhouse. The finished product had come out lopsided in a few places, but it would work, function well, and it was the thought that counted, damn it.

John had come through by venturing to another bunker in the Valley where some of the residents’ including the Ryes’ old things had been dumped after he or his people had stolen them. He had found a few dolls from an early raid to go along with it, and then had found an old knit blanket that had in fact been meant for Carmina around when she was born. Whoever had made it had made it large so it would grow into it with years to spare into her childhood.

When they had shown up at the party with the gifts, Carmina had been ecstatic, more so about the dollhouse, naturally. She had immediately tugged Nicolette and Cal over to the side to play with it.

John had been left behind with Kim and Nick, considering they were far more interested in the blanket and the fact that John had been willing to risk opening old wounds in favor of bringing it.

They had explained that Nick’s mother had made it for Carmina, and she had passed not long after Nikki was born- just missing the Collapse by some miracle, even if the event itself was hardly one. Still, the sentimentality and the gesture were immense to them. Nick had yanked John into a long, quiet-but-loaded-with-emotion bear hug in response. Even Kim had joined in, but upon feeling and sensing John’s still-very-much-there issue with physical affection from people outside of his wife and son, she had backed up, patted the small of his back a couple of times and relented. It had taken Nick a solid minute extra to catch on.

After Carmina had roped Cal and Tommy Stone into playing with the dolls and dollhouse with her, the adults had gone into the Rye home- which had also remained in relatively good shape since the Collapse and was just about back to normal after repairs.

After a few minutes, Nicolette had seen Nick and Kim having a hushed conversation in one corner, muted by Sharky and Addie talking about how Xander had almost blown up the Marina because he had brought a match too close to a gas tank while drunk the previous week. She had given them a concerned look, and once Nick caught her watching, he merely winked and waved his hand dismissively before wandering over to John, who was in the opposite corner, talking to Jerome. Whatever he had said got drowned out by the other two again, and she watched curiously as Nick led John into the kitchen and out of view. She hadn’t expected to miss the openness of the place before they had to build walls to support it, but the suspense was killing her.

There was a series of metallic clanking every once in a while and Nicolette had wanted to investigate, but Sharky had looped an arm around her shoulders to relay the time that they had shot down a Chosen plane and it had gone straight into a shrine, sending the ‘whole damn thing up in the biggest fuckin’- shit, language- shit, I did it again- SORRY- blaze that you ever did see.’

It had been another few minutes before some smell that Nicolette couldn’t put her finger on wafted in from the other room. Kim came out after a few more minutes in order to get the kids to come inside.

And then the big question got answered, because Kim and Nick came into the room with a cake, and John trailed behind with a bowl of mac and cheese.

The kids merely shrieked in response, oblivious to the fact that everyone else was dead silent after seeing the mac and cheese, torn between laughing or not. They had all heard the ‘watery mac and cheese’ story. But this batch hardly looked watery at all.

Nicolette personally focused on the positive. They had included John after everything. The Ryes were making an effort to rebuild bridges. John was making an effort to atone for all his wrongdoings. Also, they had fucking made legitimate mac and cheese, which they hadn’t had in years and good God, she had missed it. She couldn’t wait to see how Cal liked it.

John caught on to the strange looks that came his way. “It was Joseph who made the batch from the barbecue,” he pointed out, but not without humor. Some mix of emotions passed in his eyes for a moment.

It took Nicolette a moment to realize just saying the other man’s name probably brought him back to weeks ago when Joseph had shown up at the Ranch, getting Cal’s attention from afar in order to bait John into leaving the house to investigate and discovering that his brother had found a way to a bunker, survived and wanted to change things between them- they were family, he needed his brother back and all that. The confrontation had almost gotten ugly, and John had lost sleep over it for a week.

She sighed, sidled over to him and took the bowl out of his hands. She passed it over to Addie, who seemed to put together that there was something only they knew that was bothering him, so she took over serving. Nicolette wrapped her arms around John and planted her chin firmly on his chest. “Hey. You good?” she leaned up to kiss him for good measure.

John sighed into it, then nodded. “I’m good,” he confirmed. He watched her for a moment and noticed her eyes were glossy side- and had been the second he had come around the corner. He stepped back in order to sit down in the chair behind him and pulled her down with him. “Are you?”

“What, you’ve never seen a girl cry over macaroni and cheese before?”

“Not at all,” John answered.

“Yeah, well, macaroni and cheese usually isn’t literal, an old favorite that the world’s prevented you from having for years. Or, ya know, a metaphor for you and the rest of these guys getting along.”

John scoffed, though there was no animosity behind it. “What’s with you, Whitehorse and the metaphors?”

“Dunno. I just get it from him.”

He scoffed again, then bumped his nose against hers in a show of affection that had everyone staring.

Hurk, however, was the only one ballsy or stupid enough to ask. “So… can I ask how this happened? Like how y’all went from tryin’ to kill each other to bein’ all in love n’ shit? ‘Cause all the people who weren’t in the know got was that ‘Joseph’s the Actual Snake’ video and like… word a’ mouth stuff.”

Addie snickered behind her glass of water. “Well, after Joseph went and betray him I imagine the turnin’ point in their relationship was their little rendezvous at Landsdowne. I mean, what could’ve been going through our girl’s head other than ‘pinning me up against that wall and fucking me, John, you couldn’t think of anything more creative’?!”

“ADDIE!” Nicolette objected over the mixed reactions of uneasy embarrassment or enjoyment the statement got- first and foremost in her brain was naturally Earl choking on whatever drink he was in the middle of taking as he finally found out the answer to the question about Landsdowne’s importance in their lives that he had wondered about for years.

“I’m right though, aren’t I?” Addie teased. “I mean, after all that cat and mouse you two boned against a wall. And from what I literally heard it was just a quickie. Sounded awfully vanilla to me after the weird piny shit you two got up to.”

“ ‘We’, hm?” John countered quickly, fully ready to change the subject by small tangents bit by bit if he had to.

“Oh, honey, you were her ‘f-word’ in our game of ‘F’, Marry-”

“Addie!” Nicolette repeated and threw an empty can at the woman for good measure.

John, however, finding an opening to avoid getting too deep into their history: “Oh, was I now?”

“You were everybody’s…’F’. Even Addie’s, for good measure. And Sharky’s, for the record. And Grace’s-”

“Mother or not, I can and will kill you,” Grace cut in from the back of the crowd.

It was enough to break whatever awkwardness had started up between everyone. The rest was broken when the kids came barrelling down the stairs, with Nikki, donned in her grandmother’s blanket tied around her shoulders like a cape, chasing the boys. She was yelling about being ‘Super Rook’ catching the bank robbers.’

Cal was very determined to make the point that ‘Super Rook’ was actually his mom so he would ‘get out of jail’ quickly.

Nicolette immediately joined in the chase, citing that ‘two Super Rook’s were better than one.’

Cal had been absolutely delighted at the betrayal.

By the time sunset rolled around, most of the crowd had dispersed, and the Ryes, Raylans, Jerome were the last ones left, crowded around the fire. Each family got one of the chairs, large enough to accept them because Nick had been determined to make adirondack chairs larger than the ones that had been at Johns ranch.

John had risked making a joke about Nick compensating for something, and Nick had come back at him by simply motioning at the Yes sign on the horizon, and that had promptly shut John up, but to everyone’s surprise it was in good humor. 

It had started off as shooting the shit with everybody about current issues before they were all a couple of drinks deep and itching to share memories from their time before the Collapse.

After a while, Nicolette had fallen asleep, leaning on John’s side and Cal was out cold draped across his chest. Carmina was curled up against Nick’s side, about to nod off herself, and the two men were just enjoying the peace of the night. Kim and Addie were on the other side of the yard, coming up with a joint travel business to get things back to normal again.

Something about the whole situation got John thinking about the past. Rescue me from all my sins, let me not be derived by fools. He had lived by that once. He was desperate to hate the woman who had forced him to quote it- to make it a mantra. The same woman who let him in; who let him love her and who let herself be loved by a monster. He had thought he was the fool once after Jacob’s death, after spending a while thinking they were the fools. He had fought tooth and nail against the love in his heart disguising itself as lust and begrudging respect. He had been right the first time. She and the others had been the fools. And they had rescued him from his sins. His heart ached in the best way and pulled Cal closer in response to ground himself.

Nick caught the look and smiled weakly. “Never thought this would’ve been a thing that happened after all this, huh? All of us sittin’ around a fire, enjoying each other’s company? Letting our kids hang out together? You havin’ a kid. With the Deputy.”

Deputy. It had been so long since he had heard that title said with such reverence. He had almost forgotten about how that was a constant in his vocabulary back then, spat with venom seeping from the word each time.

And now here the object of such strife was, curled up against him- his wife, mother of his child, his other half in so many other ways than just sharing their sin.

He hummed in agreement. 

They sat in silence for a while before Nick broke it again. “You ever miss it? Life before the Collapse?”

“I didn’t have much of one before these two, so no,” John answered. 

Nick gagged dramatically. “Don’t let Kim hear that, she’ll never think I do or say anything romantic ever again.”

“I think she’d understand.”

Nick squinted. “Hold on, you were rolling in money and you don’t consider that much of a life?”

“Nicolette never told you…?” John asked.

“Told me what?” Nick asked.

John exhaled sharply. She hadn’t gone blabbing about his childhood to anyone. There had been no sympathy gained from his history. He had earned his spot back with them, too. “I… wasn’t sober enough to remember most of the ‘good things’, and then… before I was ‘rolling in money”, well, let’s just say I wish I could forget.” He looked down at his family. Even after all these years he couldn’t wrap his mind around that word. “I owe all this to them…”

Nick hummed after a moment of dead silence, then leaned back. “You’re alright, John. Never thought I’d say that, but… Hell, you ain’t who you used to be.”

Thank God, John agreed, though he kept it to himself. After a while, he sighed. “After all this time, I’ve never apologized to you.”

Nick looked uneasy for a second, “For what?” he asked, though it was clearly more a question on what single item on a list of many he was apologizing for. He wasn’t playing stupid. 

“I… there were…” John sighed. “There are things I did back then… if I could go back, I wouldn’t change them. I’d do them again. I was… trying to make all of you see reason, to see things our way, regardless of whether or not what Joseph said ended up being true-”

“Yeah, well, look who ended up being right in the long run. That’s on us,” Nick replied quietly. 

“No it’s not. You were protecting your people,” John argued, then sighed. “That’s not- I meant… during… this one’s Atonement, I threatened you. I threatened your wife and unborn child. I didn’t… know, I didn’t understand… not until this,” he tilted his chin down at his family. “And I… I would die if anything happened to them, and I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone. Including you back then. So… that’s… if it’s one thing I’m gonna apologize for, it’s that.”

Nick stared at him for a while, then shrugged. “Well, I don’t think I could ever exactly forgive you, but you’ve made up for it by now, Partner. Just don’t fuck it up and relapse.”

“I’d rather die than do that, too,” John assured him.

“Yeah, well, don’t do that either, it’ll break Nic’s heart, and if that happens I’m obligated to bring you back to life to beat your ass back to death,” Nick countered.

“Deal,” John agreed.

Nicolette stirred and lifted her head from John’s shoulder. “What’re you roping my husband into, Nick?”

“World domination, then space travel- and space domination. Why, you want in?” Nick asked.

“Well, I mean I am the one with the resume citing taking control of an entire county,” Nicolette pointed out.

“We helped a little,” Nick teased.

“Teeny bit,” Nicolette digressed. She stretched. “We should get going. Gotta see about those new police recruits soon.”

“You mean Rook won’t be Rook for much longer?” Kim asked as she and Addie ventured over to them.

She shrugged. “Can’t be the new girl on the block forever.”

“But you’ll always be our Rook,” Addie pointed out.

“I just threw up a little in my mouth,” Nicolette replied playfully, then untangled herself from John. She gave Cal a couple of pokes on the back as she went. “Hey, Little Man…”

Cal stirred, then blinked up at them.

John grinned. “Ready to go, Buddy?”

“Do we have to?” Cal asked.

“We’ll see them in a couple of days. They’re not far,” John insisted.

“What’s in it for me?” Cal asked after a moment.

John scoffed. “You’re your mother’s son, alright. How about… a race to the car?” John suggested.

“Deal!” Cal agreed, wide awake at the promise of the game, and immediately launched himself off of his father and bolted, headed for the pickup truck on the other side of the yard.

“Cheater!” John called before hopping up to chase after him.

“There’s him being his father’s son,” Nick mused.

Nicolette beamed, and then with a quick goodbye to the rest of them, headed for the truck. By the time she had made it, Cal was already rambling on about his victory in the race, and John was giving him that same patient, loving, prideful look he usually did any time Cal did one of his rambles.

She got in the driver’s seat and started up the truck, beaming away when Cal leaned forward to give a play by play of just what he had done to ensure he won the race. Apparently John’s leg had just happened to cramp up a couple of times- John had hidden his answering smirk behind his hand at just how hilarious Cal had found his father’s completely accidental blunder.

It didn’t take much of the short ride home to have Nicolette notice just how quiet John had been once he had turned back to look at the road, though. He was clearly lost in thoughts, but troubled all the same. She had seen that look on him several times- first and foremost when he had first tried to get a confession out of her. She reached over to turn on the radio to provide another distraction.

“-keep us safe, he’s gonna march us right to Eden’s gate, Oooh-’”

Not the worst happenstance when a radio turned on with a terribly timed song in her life, but not the best either. She glanced John’s way to see the man did drift out of his thoughts, only to look murderous. “John-”

John lunged for the comm radio in the corner, turned to a different channel and leaned in.. “Wheaty, if you play that song again I am rolling out of this fuc-  car, and if the impact doesn’t kill me I’m coming to-”

“Easy, man! It was an old playlist, I don’t know how that happened, I swear! The second it came on I’ve been looking for something to switch it to.”

“Get. It. Off.”

“Okay, Okay!”

The line went dead, there was a horrible electronic crackle sound from the car radio, and it immediately switched to Bad Moon Rising.

John groaned, then shook his head. “Thank you.”

“You got it.”

The other line was silent, so John slipped the radio back into its holster.

Nicolette sighed. “Sounds like it was an accident, it’s not like he did it on purpose. You wouldn’t have known it was even on if-”

“I just didn’t need that reminder of back then after today.”

She frowned as they pulled up towards the main driveway of the Ranch. “Did Nick say something?”

“No, he didn’t. Well, he did, but… not against me.”

She sighed, letting the rest of the ride go in silence until she parked the truck up front.

Cal, upon seeing that Uncle Sharky had been back home for a while, Cal tore out of the truck, ran over and launched himself at the man.

Sharky, ever the perfect uncle and former stand-in father, caught him around the middle and brought them both falling to the ground, laughing and insisting ‘aaah, you got me!’ all the while.

She watched them for a while until she realized John still hadn’t moved. She looked back at him.  “Talk to me.”

“It’s nothing,” he murmured.

“Hey.You’re the one that said no more lies,” she insisted. 

“Nick and I talked about… before. I just thought about what could have been if some meddling Deputy didn’t decide I was going to be a bargaining chip is all.”

“Ooooh. Been a long time since I’ve heard that word come out of your mouth.”  

John scoffed weakly, then sighed. “I would’ve been half dead or worse… thrown on the ground again, half dead, and… “ he was cut off when she leaned over to kiss him, and as per usual he melted right into it.

She pulled back. “Yeah, well thank God for the Tree Incident.”

He scoffed again. It was true. Things had changed with them because of a fucking tree.  Because she had fucked up and gotten stuck- a new spin on their cat and mouse game- she was the cat that literally got stuck in a tree,  but counted on him rescuing her just to play to his audience that consisted of her and her alone. She had manipulated the shit out of his interest in her that she had known about, and he had fallen for it. And that event had stayed his hand in killing her just as much as it had hers the second she tackled him to the ground on that hill and screamed at him to stop rather than shooting him in the chest like she should’ve. 

He had never really thought about it like that. He owed being alive wholly to Nicolette, but that damned tree was partially responsible, too.

It was awfully humbling to know that one owed their life to a tree. 

It was saying something that the damned tree had managed to stay standing in those seven years after the bombs. It was singed to all hell and dead, but still there, ever resilient. There was another metaphor in there somewhere, too. Now Earl was influencing him. He didn’t mind in the least.

“Now, do I get my husband back, or do we have to tell Sharky that he’s on babysitting duty until I knock some sense into you?” she touched her forehead to his.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to other methods of convincing,” he pointed out.

It was her turn to scoff. “You know that I know you’re deflecting, right?”

He sighed, then with some difficulty maneuvered her over to him so she was in his lap. He kissed her. “I love you.”

“Still deflecting.”

“Still love you,” he countered and leaned in again. He rolled his eyes when she drew back and pressed her fingers into his lips to silence him.

“You ended up worth it. Don’t ever doubt that.”

“I owe you my life,” John pointed out.

She smiled. “And I don’t intend on collecting. So stop thinking for once in your goddamn life you owe me.”

He sighed. “Fine,” he agreed. Then, wordlessly he looped an arm around her, pulled her flush against him, opened the car door and got out, holding her to him.

Nicolette let out a noise that was half alarm, half protest. “Right, because this is entirely inconspicuous.”

“Cal’s not gonna understand, and Sharky’s seen it and partaken enough to know what we’re about to be up to. So I like the babysitting plan,” John countered. “And I have to go thank my wife for my life, anyway.”

“ ‘Can’t think of anything more creative’ to say?” Nicolette countered, parroting what Addie had made her hypothetically think earlier in the day.

“Never heard a complaint out of you yet.”

They crossed the yard, waved off Sharky’s very knowing grin and eyebrow waggle as they made it into the house.

Once they got into their bedroom, John practically tossed Nicolette onto the bed. She laughed in response, then met him halfway when he moved to kiss her again. He pulled back after a few moments and got lost in thought again when she offered him a loving look. He wasn’t sure if it was the booze or having thought about the time before the Collapse earlier, but now everything wa in a different focus. Part of him had always loved his Deputy in some way shape or form since he had escaped his bunker the first time. But she was right, everything had changed in the span of minutes over a stupid mistake, and when he thought things had gone to shit, when Eden’s Gates had been closed, he had mourned the loss of one life but gained so much in a new life.

He was barely aware of her running her fingers through his hair before she resorted to tapping him on the forehead to gain his attention. He snapped out of it.

“What happened to no more thinking?”

John risked looking apologetic before he leaned in again- only to be pushed back lightly. He arched an eyebrow at her.

She sighed. “Alright, fine. Try this on for size, considering there’s no getting through to you otherwise tonight. Was gonna tell you this in a few days but now you clearly need the distraction. You sir, need to stop with the angsty introspective stuff because we’re gonna have another life around here before long, and I can’t have all that negativity around when we do.”

“‘Another li’…?”  John trailed off. Realization set in, doing exactly what she had counted on the news doing. He glanced down at her abdomen, then back up to her.

She beamed. “You’re gonna be a dad again.”

He blinked at her a couple of times, then immediately crushed his mouth to hers quickly, before the questions started piling up in his brain and he had to pull away to ask them.  “How far… when…?”

“Couple of months, so… if I’m doing the math right, our little uh… visit to the Yes sign.”

“… Addie is never finding out about that little detail. Or that that happened.”

“Oh God, no.”

“I’m gonna be a father again…” he murmured. His heart clenched. She was pregnant. They were going to have another child. Cal had turned out to be the best accident in his life. And now another miracle in its own right had happened. And this one was more or less planned, they were actually together and not on the brink of something that was still dotted with hatred. They were continuing the New World, helping it’s future. His family was going to grow. He was near beside himself. And then it hit him. The second moment of clarity in his life. He was in love, had people to love, and he was loved. And he was happy. This was pure, unadulterated happiness. The thought that Joseph was right again drifted into his head, but even that didn’t deter the absolute high he was on. It had taken him the better part of nearly eight years to realize it, but that’s what that feeling in his chest was that he couldn’t put his finger on because it was just short of unrecognizable. He had been robbed of it for so long, and here it was, staring him in the face. And just like he had on the kitchen floor all those years ago, he laughed- but now it was for an entirely different reason. The best reason. Unable to articulate anything else, he pulled her into another kiss.

Derived by fools, indeed.

[amymel86]

BUNKER - Chapter 1 of 4: ‘Day 1′

My entry for Day 3 of the Jonsa Spring Challenge

Apocalypse au 

@jonsa-creatives

The slam of her car door still echoed in Sansa’s ears even after almost two hours of driving. She gripped the steering wheel, still feeling the tension from her argument with her father ringing through her body. Chewing on her bottom lip as she flipped the radio station over, the long empty country road she found herself on was straight and lined with tall pine trees, their branches knitting together to create a thick dark forest. Sansa replayed the stupid argument over again in her head and slowly, tentatively allowed herself the realisation that she may have over-reacted, her dad was only looking out for her – even if he was doing it in the most infuriating way.

She was 24 for God-sake! And, ok, so she was back to living with her parents after a bad break up with that knob Joff, but this ‘thing’ that she was starting with Harry was just what she needed at the moment. It wasn’t exactly a ‘no-strings’ attached kind of deal because Sansa’s not sure she could do that but equally she wasn’t ready just yet to move in with the guy or start practicing her signature using his last name. The point was, Harry is fun, Harry is always the life and soul of the party… and, yeah, alright, she’ll admit that perhaps sometimes he parties a little too hard for her liking, but he’s young, she’s young… Sansa didn’t see the problem. Ned Stark did though.

“He’s meant to be serving his country! Not drowning himself in liquor and trying his damnedest to ruin my daughter!”

Sansa rolled her eyes yet again at the memory of her dad’s words. She’ll admit that Harry Hardyng has a reputation, but in the close-knit community surrounding Winterfell Army Base, gossip gets around fast and is often something akin to that childish game, Chinese Whispers. Harry told her that the rumour that followed him with his transfer from The Eyrie Base wasn’t true. He had not gotten two women pregnant and left them high and dry. The stories was completely false and were just the product of people with nothing better to do but fabricate gossip.

Sansa’s not sure exactly where this thing with Harry is going anyway – and she certainly never pictured herself settling down with a squaddie, becoming an Army wife like her mother. Sansa wrinkled her nose and thought of how, even now, after her father’s retirement from the forces, he can’t completely leave that world behind. After Ned Stark served his country, he refused to move too far from his beloved base and settled in an area of town affectionately known as ‘Heroes Village’ where a lot of ex-servicemen now resided. He even still volunteers with supervising recruits.

No – good-time-Harry is fun to be around for now, but even as she snapped back at Ned’s warnings, Sansa knew he wasn’t her future. It’s just that it’s so infuriating to be told – especially if it’s something you already know deep down.

“I want you with someone who’ll look after you!”

Sansa’s hands curled into fists at her sides, “I don’t need looking after!” she snapped.

“I know you don’t, love. That’s not what I mean. I want you to find someone…. Someone brave… and gentle… strong too. A proper man, not this little sh-“

“Oh and where am I finding this mythical ‘proper man’, dad?” she snorted, “Harry makes me laugh. Harry takes me out places and treats me well enough.”

“Harry’s an ass. He’ll hurt you. I know it,” Ned shook his head.

Sansa groaned in frustration and cradled her face in her hands.

“Where are you going?” Ned demanded after she’d stood, swiftly swiping her car keys off the hook.

“Anywhere but here. I’m sorry that I messed up with Joff-“

“You didn’t mess anything up, Sansa! It was that little pillock that-“

Sansa held up her hand to stop her father from going off on another tangent that she had no patience to hear. “Whatever,” she snapped, lowering her hand again, “I just need to get out of here.”

She had. She’d needed some open space. Living with her parents again was stifling and she was reduced to feeling like a teenager being reprimanded for staying out late with her mates all over again. Sansa took a long lungful of air in through her nose and let it out slowly again, scrunching her brow when her car radio started crackling with static. She must’ve wandered further from civilisation than she’d realised. Come to think of it, she wasn’t completely sure exactly where she was.

Pushing a few buttons, trying to find some music for distraction, she was disappointed to come up empty-handed.

“Residents of-… tssssssssh…” Sansa winced at the loud burst of interference, “are reminded that-… tsssssssh… warning-… tssssssh.” She frowned and pressed a few more buttons to find another station. “Please be aware-… tssssh-tsssssh… calm-…”

Huffing in frustration, Sansa clicked through to play a CD instead, not completely disappointed that the only disc in her vehicle is an old Britney Spears album.

About halfway through the CD, Sansa spots a sign – Rayder’s Country and Survival Supplies. It’s a medium sized store at the roadside in the middle of absolutely nowhere.

“You’re tox-ic, I’m slippin’ un-der,” Sansa sings along as she pulls into the small storefront parking lot. There’s only two other cars that she can see and a large stuffed black bear standing on its hind legs right by the entrance. A painted wooden welcome sign hangs above the door, swinging on its hinges, but Sansa doesn’t really intend to go in to find out just how ‘welcoming’ it can be.

Whipping out her phone, she groans when she sees that there’s hardly any reception and fails at getting google maps to load onto her screen. So much for not stepping foot into the store, Sansa thinks as she turns off Britney and takes the keys from the ignition.

The store floor featured a well-worn mossy green carpet, there’s a couple of retro looking mannequins sporting some camo hunting gear stood near a small display tent. A Hank Williams song is playing its slow twanging melody in the background as the ceiling fans whir around and around. There’s no-one else here that she can see, but the bell overhead tinkled as she walked in and she hears a shuffling kind of sound coming from what she suspects is the back-room. Behind the counter is a wall display of rifles and hunting knives. A cabinet by the entrance is slowing turning, the mechanism sounding old and creaky. Little shelves house colourful fishing flies inside, along with compact first aid kits, duck whistles, hip flasks and a whole array of swiss army knives - Sansa bends to take a peek at one in particular, all it’s various tools splayed out for all to see. She briefly thinks to purchase it for her dad; as a sort of sorry-for-being-a-little-brattish-I-know-you-only-have-my-best-interests-at-heart gift, but she wonders when he might ever use a hoof-pick anyway?

A man clears his throat right behind her, making Sansa jump out of her skin. She whirls ‘round to see a head of dark curly hair, a scruff of beard, grey eyes and some seriously pouty lips. He cracks the faintest of smiles by way of apology for startling her. As Sansa gathers her thoughts, she notices the oil stains on his jeans and how snug his soft grey tee hugs his broad shoulders - rather nicely, she thinks. “Can I help you, Miss?”

“Uh, yes,” she says, fighting back a blush, “I was just wondering if you could tell me exactly where I am and how I get back to-“

Her phone starts blaring out Madonna’s ‘Papa Don’t Preach’ as it vibrates violently in her hand. She cringes and mumbles an apology that the Mr Pouty-Li[ps waves off before she turns her back to him and answers the call.

“Dad?”

“San-tsssshhh… you have to… tsssh-tsssh,” she frowns down at the phone in her hand before returning it to her ear and walking back out the door to see if she could get better reception outside.

“Dad? I can’t hear you. Are you okay?”

“-get back- tssssh… everyone’s going to the base… tssssh-tssssh… where are you?”

“I was just about to find out actually, I-“

“Sansa- tssssh… somewhere safe-… tssssh.”

Another car pulls into the lot, a dark-haired man gets out and strides towards the store as Sansa’s still out front, phone pressed to the side of her head, her other hand covering her ear in an attempt to hear her father better. She wanders around the lot, trying to find a good signal spot and doesn’t notice the icy-blue stare of the man approaching Rayder’s Country and Survival Supplies Store.

“Dad?! You keep cutting out!”

“…-don’t yet know-…tsssssh… get-… tssssh-tssssh… base-… tsssh… safe…”

The line went dead, making Sansa curse and then screw her nose up as if she were offended by the word that flew out of her own mouth. She headed back towards the store to find out the quickest way to get back home.

“And this one is for skinning, yes?” the man who had just arrived was asking Mr Pouty-Lips who now stood behind the counter as his customer turned a knife over and over in his hands.

“It’ll do the trick for rabbits, yeah,” he responded, standing with a straightened spine and his arms folded over his chest as he regarded the other man somewhat suspiciously. Sansa may have admired how the stance made Mr Pouty-Lips’ arms look, but she’ll never admit to it.

“Hmmm… and if I want to skin a larger animal?”

“Like a deer?”

Sansa’s just about to interrupt so she can quickly get directions and high-tail it out of there when a third man bursts into the shop-floor from what looks to be a stock cupboard of sorts.

“Jon!” he shouts, making Sansa jump for the second time that day. The man is much older than Mr Pouty-Lips (or ‘Jon’ as she’s just now found out), he has a grizzled sort of look with greasy greying hair and rough looking stubble. His eyes are wild as he hurries behind the counter. “It’s on the news!... Put on the radio, lad! Where is it?!” he mutters, ducking down to search under the counter.

Slamming the small ancient looking piece of technology on the surface, the man yanks up the aerial and twizzles the dial, whizzing past snippets of voices and various frequencies of static until it looks as if he’s found what he’s looking for and leans his ear down to better listen.

“…-unknown-…tssshhh… advised to find safe shelter-… tssssh… “

“It’s happening lad!” the older man exclaims, “it’s happening!”

“What’s happening?” Sansa squeaks, hugging her arms about herself, feeling altogether far too confused and a little vulnerable. Three sets of eyes look to her, one blue, one brown and one grey.

“We can’t be sure just yet,” the older man said, “but you’re a very lucky lass to be walkin’ through tha’ door today.”

Sansa gave the man a quizzical look as he went back to fiddling with the radio. Her eyes flit to the one named Jon to find him already watching her. Colour rose on his cheeks like he’d been caught doing something he ought not as he raised one hand up to rub at the back of his neck. “Can I help you with something, Miss?”

“You’re not done with me yet!” the other customer – the one with the piercing blue eyes- chided. “I’m not sure I want this one,” he said, bringing the blade down in a swift stab to the wooden surface of the counter-top. The older man tore his attention away from his radio to stare at the knife now with the tip of its blade embedded into the counter. He straightened slowly and set his jaw to stone as he stared down his customer.

“We won’t be serving you, boy-“ he grunted, jutting his chin towards the doors, silently inviting the man to leave.

“You will.”

“Jon,” the older man called over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off his difficult customer. Jon stepped up, puffing his chest and squaring his shoulders, staring intently at their now unwanted guest. “Help me see this young gentleman off the prem-“

BOOM

There was a distant rumble, not too dissimilar to thunder. The display rifles and knives rattled a little on the wall. For a beat or two everyone in the store looked to each other for an explanation.

“What was that?” Sansa ventured when no one else would.

BOOM!

Another terrifying sound, this time closer, Sansa felt the jolt of it beneath her feet.

“We need to get to the shelter,” the older man announced to the other bewildered people in his store.

BOOM-BOOM!

The noises were getting closer. “Come on!” He said and sprang into action, lifting the counter divide to slip out ‘round the other side before hurrying towards a back door.

“I’m not going anywhere with you!” The other customer scoffed, his voice uncomfortably smooth.

“Suit yourself,” the store owner comment over his shoulder, “die out ‘ere then. It’s no skin off my nose. Jon? Miss?” He looked to them both, “you can perish with this one or you can join me and live.”

“Mance,” Jon said, “what’s going on?”

“I don’t rightly know yet lad-“

BOOM-BOOM

“Some kind of attack…” Mance says staring up at the ceiling as if he could see through it to the skies above, “or natural disaster maybe. All I know is I’ve got somewhere safe to be and I intend to get there. You two with me or not?”

With that, he disappeared through the back door leaving the three of them to look to each other in confusion. Jon starts to make a move, following Mance, who Sansa assumes is his boss. He only manages a couple of steps when the ground itself shakes beneath their feet making Sansa yelp in surprise. The three of them duck, bending at the knees as shelves rattle and products fall to the floor. The lights flicker and another loud ‘BOOM’ -the loudest yet- assaults their ears.

“We have to go,” Jon says, grey eyes intent on her.

Sansa shakes her head. “I have to get home, I have to-“

BOOM-BOOM

A mannequin falls over with the last rumble and Sansa stares at it blankly as it’s head detaches from its body and rolls its way to her feet. If situations were different, she might have giggled at the fact that the thing had been displaying men’s hunting gear but the plastic face that smiled up at her featured some very 70’s style women’s make up. She blinked up at Jon, he was closer to her now, his hand outstretched, palm upturned for her to take.

“I…I don’t know-“ she stuttered, her sentiments cut off when the lights flickered, one bulb blowing with a bang and a burst of sparks followed by darkness when the other bulbs gave up. Sansa’s breath hitched in her throat. She blindly reached out and took Jon’s warm hand in the gloom of the unlit store, his thumb swept her knuckles in a strangely comforting way.

“Come on,” he murmured before Sansa allowed herself to be led out the back of Rayder’s Store.

They emerged through the door and stood at the edge of a grassy clearing, roughly 200 yards in length. At the other end was what looked like a farmhouse and two barns, one with a huge telegraph pole behind it. Sansa could just about make out the shape of Mance going back and forth between a fenced off area and one of the wooden buildings. The man they’d left behind in the store –the one who’s eyes unnerved Sansa somewhat- came and stood beside them. “What is he doing?” he asked, squinting in Mance’s direction.

“Gathering the chickens by the looks of it,” Jon answered gruffly. He turned to Sansa, opened his mouth about to speak but was interrupted by an almighty, earth-shaking ‘BOOM’, followed by the racket of car alarms screeching out front. Sansa’s heartbeat ricocheted around her ribs as she looked to Jon in a panic. He squeezed the hand she had forgotten he was holding and then the sky itself started turning black.

“Come on!” Jon yelled, starting to run towards Mance and his buildings, pulling Sansa along as her legs struggled to keep up. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d run so hard, but Jon managed to keep her steady and at a hurtling pace so fast it felt like she was flying. Her legs ached and protested but her erratic heart pushed her on. The sky rumbled loud and terrifying as she panted, nearing the barn they’d last seen Mance disappear into.

“Quickly! Quickly!” the older man ushered them into the building and then pointed towards a heavy-duty looking trap-door in the floor. Sansa skid to a halt, making Jon stop too. They panted as Jon looked to her, urging her to move. Glancing back out towards the clearing, she saw that the other man had been hot on their heels and was nearing the barn. She looked to the double doors set in the concrete floor once more.

“We don’t have time to waste!” Mance barked, walking past her and descending the steps into the floor with the last of his chickens tucked under his arm. “If yer comin’, you got to come now!”

Looking to Jon, both of them still breathing heavy from their run, Sansa swallowed before the guy with the icy blue eyes barged into her shoulder, nearly knocking her over in his current urgency to get to safety.

“Hey!” Jon warned. “Are you al-“

BOOM! The ground shook violently. Sansa yelped as they were both thrown to the floor, her breath whooshing from her lungs.

“Oh shit!” Jon cursed, scrabbling back to his feet and pulling Sansa up with him. “Are you alright?”

She was about to say ‘yes’ – despite her panic, despite the confusing and terrifying situation, despite the stinging graze she now suspects she has on her cheek from hitting the floor – she’s fine. But then she noticed the flames coming from the store across the clearing. “Look!” she pointed a shaky finger in the direction of the destruction.

“Come on!” Jon yelled, tugging her towards the trap doors.

They almost tripped down the stairs where Mance was waiting, slamming a thick door closed, sealing them inside.

“What is this place?” Sansa asked, her voice sounding every bit as shaken as her nerves whilst Mance led them down, down, down, deeper into the concrete ground, opening and then locking doors as they went.

“Our salvation,” Mance ran a hand through his greying, greasy hair, “a place to stay until we figure out what’s going on out there,” he moved past her, Jon and the other man to another door, it swung open to reveal what looked like any normal sitting room, with a sofa, tv, bookshelves, a shaded lamp, dining table, paintings on the walls and a kitchenette at one end; except this sitting room was gods-knows how many feet underground. “Our new life,” Mance declared ominously, “for however long we are in need of it.”

[theoverworld]

There Is No Such Thing As Area 51

There is no such thing as Area 51. Sorry! And the fact that it’s the golden egg of conspiracy theories worldwide is exactly what the US government wants. I’m writing this in a bit of a rush and I don’t have any of my thoughts organized, so I’m just going to break it down as follows:

Groom Lake / Paradise Ranch / Edwards AF Extension / Restricted Training Facility UX104

These are a few names for the place you know as Area 51. I don’t know much about its history, but essentially it was intended by the US Air Force to be a secret weapons-testing facility during the Cold War. It had a few on-site extensions; one of them was for developing experimental rocket and jet engines, one was for training contingents of troops for nuclear warfare and post-apocalyptic survival, etc. But much like the third Star Wars movie, the site and its purpose got out around the time of the Roswell incident, and a media frenzy popularized the base. The government tried at first to quell speculation about it, but then adopted another strategy: feed into the hype, and simply move the base a few dozen miles away.

Today, Groom Lake (Area 51) is a small but functional military airport and base. It’s got a bunch of bunkers mostly housing low-security servers, and some munitions tests are performed there. Staff are regularly moved in and out, mostly folks who are low on the totem pole and trying to climb up the ladder to the real facility. There are some very outdated nuclear fallout shelters that are still maintained and used for storage. The facility consumes an enormous amount of power, and everything possible is done to make it look like a well-guarded military base that is engaged in some huge, secret operations.

The employees really do fly there every day from Las Vegas on conspicuously inconspicuous jets marked as “JANET,” sometimes referred to as “Just Another Non-Existent Terminal.” And they want you to notice. And wonder. They want you to wonder where those jets are going.

And they never want you to spend one second thinking about where they came from.

The real “Area 51”

This is the most exciting part, because as far as I can tell in my limited and clandestine researching, nobody has ever divulged the real secret before. It’s pretty highly guarded, and they straight up murder people who are stupid enough to share it. Murder isn’t even the right word. They erase people from existence. Sometimes entire families. That’s why the government freaks out when they find that one of their employees is terminal and has nothing left to lose. It’s why if you’re an employee there, you only see their doctors, so that they know about your health before you even know about it. They want you to die real quick of a sudden heart attack, so that you never have a moment to think about how you might do a public service and air their dirty laundry. And sometimes they induce those heart attacks when they determine you to be an HMT, or “health-motivated threat.”

But I didn’t need to see a doctor to know that I am suffering from the same malignant tumor that killed my father: glioblastoma multiforme. Every three months we get a health evaluation, and every six months we get a CAT scan. I simply didn’t report the very damning symptoms this past eval, and I’ll probably be gone before they scan me next. I really wanted to do this instead. Maybe just to be the first, I guess. The only other thing I’ve ever done with my life is fix computers.

The real secret military base is McCarran International Airport in Las Vegas.

The history of the airport was always bound up in military involvement. Before and during WWII, the Army Corps of Engineers and the Air Force were building, storing, training, and doing all sorts of things there. Basically the government (and its corporate benefactors in the military-industrial complex, of course) acquired full ownership of the airport around the time Area 51/Groom Lake exploded in the public eye. It was a rush job, and a simple solution.

For all intents and purposes, McCarran is an airport. It moves civilians in and out and all over the world just like any other airport on earth, but its subterranean operations are really something else entirely.

First of all, you have to understand the structure of this military base.

Because it serves ostensibly as a business of public transportation, every single aspect of the base has dual functions. This is called “masking,” and it is deployed with remarkable effectiveness at McCarran. To name a few examples, the constant take-offs and landings of airplanes provides sound-camouflage for cutting-edge engine tests. The public completely ignores these sounds and dismiss them as the standard cacophony of airports. Some of the jets themselves are even equipped with technology under test, while others are used to transport hundreds of government employees dressed as vacationing civilians. At any given time in McCarran, up to six of the gates* (corrected by a reader; I initially said terminals) are filled with employees of the highest echelons of the US military and government. They sit around on their iPhones, dressed as college kids in their pajamas or weary businessmen. And they’re paid to look the part.

The entire base is heavily guarded by plainclothes soldiers. Military police, tactical specialists, counter-terrorism forces, and all kinds of soldiers scurry about the airport dressed like cops, airport security, and desk attendants. Their weapons are usually concealed sidearms; the real firepower is packed by the boys waiting around underground. Assault rifles and armor-piercing weaponry is stored around the airport’s public spaces in various places. It’s not hard to do, because nobody’s looking for it. And of course they hire a good number of civilians to work the TSA and other positions; this is called “mixing” and it’s necessary. What kind of airport would never post any job listings?

Have you ever watched the mechanics ducking in and out of the planes outside, or seen your luggage loaded onto the plane as you board? Well, all of that cargo transport activity acts as a cover for the mass movement of special forces, lab equipment, military hardware, exotic building materials, etc. It’s not hard to do. They drive one of those rigs by with all the luggage spilling out of it, and then you instinctively don’t question what’s on the other four rigs behind it. We even have mix-ups and spills occasionally, and nobody bats an eye.

You’re always exposed to some level of radiation while flying (and McCarran, by the way, is why the standard of safe exposure is set where it’s at), but excess radiation from weapons-testing is vented into the earth and out of the nearby desert. Having an airport to explain the radiation is an effective means of ridding the base of nosy folks with Geiger counters. But the true genius of this top-secret military installation is at the largest scale: the base was built under an airport because of the enormity of its power consumption. But it consumes a lot more power than a regular airport, so it was built in a city that consumes a tremendous amount of power – Las Vegas. So the base is hidden from view, even on the electric power grid. Area 51? Not so much. And that’s on purpose.

Inside the base

So if Area 51 is the distraction, what do we call the real one? It has many names, but it’s usually referred to as the “NEXUS.” That’s an acronym, but not many people know what it means. Not even me. Everything about the Nexus, from its operations to its structure, is compartmentalized. That means everything is need-to-know, and virtually nobody knows anything more than their own specific task. You could work in an office in the Nexus doing something like accounting, and never have one single clue what the woman next to you does. Or the guy down the hall. They say not even the President knows exactly what’s going on there, just a few generals and some dudes in the CIA.

The business culture here is insane. It’s like North Korea. Everyone is smiling, everyone is fine, and everyone is happy to say just a few phrases about what it is they do (when we’re allowed to socialize, which is not much). Every line is bugged, every room has a camera in it, and nobody knows who’s watching/listening or when. So that makes you think, nobody here is telling me the truth about anything. Not even the guy I share an office with. I wonder if any of us know why we are here. People you’ve worked with for a long time will suddenly get ���reassigned” or have a “medical emergency” and you’ll never see them again. And nobody will remember that person, no matter how many people you ask.

I actually got hired to do some programming for the Navy when I was in my early 20’s out of college, and then got sent to Groom Lake to do server tests. They liked my IT/networking skills, so after a series of strange psychological tests and mountains of non-disclosure agreements and background searches, I got offered a job “at a facility near Las Vegas proper.” Here are a few stipulations of that job, by the way: It’s a $1,500,000 after-tax lump sum plus a $220,000/year stipend, housing/car/medical paid for – but psychological breakdowns, anxiety attacks, grave health conditions, and family issues void the contract. I also sign approximately 2 new non-disclosure agreements per week, most of which read “under penalty of death” somewhere. Employees aren’t allowed to leave the grounds for 5 years, and we all live underground. Term of service is 5 years, then 4 in debriefing, wherein we get to live in Vegas but report to another facility four days a week. We are discharged and observed for the rest of their lives. Our passports are permanently void; we cannot ever leave the continental US. I heard a statistic that 20% of former employees commit suicide. I don’t know if it’s true, but if it is, I bet it’s actually “suicide.”

The base is underground. It’s a network of large structures called hives, which form what is called the “Colony” or the “Nexus.” We make lots of Resident Evil jokes, by the way. Except unlike in that movie, the government doesn’t try to make its employees feel comfortable with fake forests and windows overlooking digital cityscapes. It is a dark, dreary, Soviet-style labyrinth of halls and bunkers, replete with all sorts of submarine-like features: water- and air-tight hatches, trap doors, reinforced blast doors, etc. The only exception are the office ‘buildings’ inside where chair-moisteners like me work. They look just like the office you work in. Except the men with guns standing guard 24-7 everywhere, looking over your shoulder. Oh, and the beautiful, almost surreal glow of the cutting-edge laboratories that pock the lower levels of each building. I’ve never been in them, but I’ve passed by a few times.

There are 4 hives to my knowledge (although I wouldn’t be surprised if there were more). I work in Hive 1. I run some of the servers with a few other guys on one particular floor (there are 16 floors in our hive), but we monitor and maintain all of the servers in Hive 1 so we move around a bit. I’ve gotten to skim some of the data that passes through, and from what I can tell, we’re the most boring hive. I’ve compiled the following list based on the things I’ve intercepted on our network and also from hearsay from other coworkers. The Nexus has multiple networks and they’re all decentralized, but there are some ways in which they communicate, and it is via those lines of communication that I am privy to some sensitive information. Here’s what I know:

Hive 1: finance, accounting, operations/organization divisions, troop training/housing, and some small-scale weapons testing.

Hive 2: Chemical engineering, some nano-tech research, and “advanced psychological fitness,” whatever that means, for elite military forces. Probably black-ops stuff and how to survive thirty years in solitary confinement at a Siberian prison. I also have reason to believe this is the hive where the bigwigs meet and live.

Hive 3: Upper levels = bioweapon and disease research/testing. If the government has zombies, they’ve got to be here. I’ve wanted to make so fucking many zombie jokes over the years, but I never know which of my coworkers is a rat. Lower levels = Advanced space-travel and space-warfare technologies. Particle engines and gravitational beams and the like (guessing, no real evidence). Science-fiction stuff. I once saw an email with all sorts of coded language, marked “A-B,” which is widely believed to refer to “astrobiology.” That’s alien life. Maybe it’s just some single-celled organisms or fossilized plants from some meteor, or maybe it’s something much more advanced. Whatever it is, there must be some reason it’s not on the upper levels with all the biologists.

Hive 4: Total informational blackout. There are encryptions and firewalls and network security features protecting this hive that I’ve never seen before, not even on top-secret Navy projects I worked in the past. I’m being very nonspecific in the language I use to describe our server clusters and networks because I don’t want to tell them exactly who I am. They’ll eventually find out anyway. But there’s a widely-whispered rumor about Hive 4: allegedly, the most terrifying thing in the world is in that structure on floor 15.

There are a few unusual things about Hive 4. First of all, none of the top brass has clearance to get in there. They access it remotely via video feed in their conference rooms, and materials are often transported from 4 to 2 for physical review. I don’t know why our bigwigs won’t go into 4, but maybe it’s because it’s too dangerous? There was one guy who worked in 4 a few years ago when I first started, and he caused the first Nexus-wide lockdown I’ve ever seen. He was being escorted through 1 thumpers (what we call the squads of black-booted soldiers that grant access to different hives), and he started shrieking about IDA’s. I didn’t hear his screams, but I heard the gunshot while I was eating lunch. They put a bullet in the back of his head before he could finish his sentence. IDA’s, by the way, are inter-dimensional anomalies. I have no further information on what those are.

Another thing I’ve read minimally about are “the twins.” I don’t know who or what these are, but they’re the “above-top-secret” gem of Hive 4. It is treasonous to even correspond about them on our secure networks unless you are cleared to do so, and only four employees are. I’ve only seen a few things about them. One was a medical record. No vitals, unusual vocalizations that manifest hallucinations and psychosis in nearby employees, and skin that produces violent nausea when touched. The document was basically speculation that the skin functions much like the Australian stinging tree or a jellyfish.

I read documents about people who worked with them as well. In 4, a woman was remanded to the psychological ward after being in the same room with them, and a soldier who stood outside of the laboratory where they are kept basically killed himself. Specifically, he peeked inside during a routine access, then began bashing his own brains out with the butt of a pistol while singing an Irish folksong. The woman who was remanded to psych was even weirder: during breakfast with her colleagues, she grabbed a fork, stood up, walked out of the mess hall, stripped all of her clothes off, blinded herself in both eyes, then somehow managed to make her way all the way up to Floor 1 where the access corridor to Hive 3 is located. How she managed to operate the dozens of keycard readers, passcode boxes, and retinal scanners is still under review. Last email regarding her was sent in 2012, about how she sits in the dark of solitary on Floor 11’s psych ward with a permanent and blissful grin on her face.

One of my colleagues whom I trust told me that he saw the twins once through hacked access to a video feed. He said they are woman-like, about twice as tall as a full-grown man, with unidentifiable black growths dangling from their heads (like hair but thicker), and they basically float a few inches off the ground and drag their toes lightly as they move. They’re utterly pale. He never saw the faces, but he claims that they appear to distort reality (or at least the video feed) in such a way that space looks bent around them. Perhaps these are the IDA’s that earlier dude was screaming about.

This is all I have for now. But hopefully the world knows the truth someday about what goes on down here. We are all basically prisoners. We have very limited and supervised access to the internet, so if you don’t hear from me again, assume they figured me out.