#but it was hard cause the special clips are all scattered and not in the same clip for all so i had to search the whole list of possible on

[vonlipvig]

that's a wrap, baby!

[ineffableuser]

Hold Me Like You Did While We Were Falling

A JohnLock ficlet by Ineffableuser

Read this on AO3

The first time was fast, way too fast. John had only had a few instants to gawk at the two enchanting works of art that were Sherlock’s wings before everything had gone on.

They had started chasing the taxi on foot, quickly leaving Angelo’s restaurant behind and diving into the labyrinth of Sherlock’s beloved London. They had sprinted through the streets and the alleys, doing their best to keep up to the vehicle, but soon it had become quite clear that it wasn’t going to be enough.

“We’re losing him!” Sherlock had cried out, and in less than a moment he was leaping on a nearby dumpster as his wings appeared from beneath his coat.

It had been a mere second. John would be lying if he said that he remembered every detail of that quick, messy, marvellous second, but he definitely remembered his impression of it: long, thin and disheveled feathers pointing everywhere, oh so dark. So much that, paired with his black coat, trousers and hair and the nearby street light halo that hovered over him, Sherlock looked as if he were a fallen angel attempting to reach the heights of Heaven once again.

What was he compared to that? He had found himself wondering later that night. A pigeon, he had thought at first, half joking. A pigeon with a bloody clipped wing. But no, he had corrected himself: even if he wasn’t an angel, he was still devoted to his cause and willing to fight by his side. He was a soldier.

After a few small, barely visible feathers had scattered through the air as Sherlock soared fast above him, his adrenaline had overcome whatever had been going on in that blasted brain of his. He had followed his motions, even though while gripping the edge of the garbage can; wings or not, he was not that agile. Golden-ish brown wings had made their way from below his jacket, fully spreading for the first time in several months. His wings were quite different from Sherlock’s: less long and classy, with thicker and shorter feathers, not even groomed. A mess, just like he was.

Before he could process what was happening he had found himself following Sherlock in the air, the evening breeze bringing goosebumps on his skin as a contrast to the blood pumping at an ungodly speed through his veins. Oh, he had missed that.

He only saw them a few times after that, mostly while they were chasing criminals and such. Sherlock did most of the flying, honestly: even after that night, John had found it hard to spread his wings even to simply groom them, let alone to fly. They only seemed to work in situations of great danger or necessity.

Every time he looked at his partner’s wings, though, he would notice something new. For example, at a certain point he found out that they weren’t black as he had thought at first: they were ebony at the roots, yes, but the first time he saw them in daylight he perfectly noticed the lighter brown shades in the tips.

He had also been delighted to notice that, as the months passed since they had moved in together, his feathers had grown thicker and healthier, even shinier. He allowed himself to think that it might have been at least partially because of his presence.

As time passed, he admitted to himself that he had grown to love those wings. Come on, who wouldn’t? Even when seen from far away they looked so enticing, all dark and mysterious, then, once you get a closer look, you can see all the beauty that remains hidden when they aren’t spread for the world to see. They were special. Somehow, being allowed to see them as clearly as he did made him feel a bit special too. Who else had the privilege to see them as they truly were?

He indulged in that question more than he should have.

“Stay exactly were you are.”

No. That couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t real.

“Keep your eyes fixed on me.”

He was probably still in a coma after he had got shot. None of that was happening. It couldn’t be.

“Please, can you do this for me?

Sherlock’s voice was shaking, not only because of John’s shaky grip on the mobile. Oh, that was not happening.

“No, now you do this for me!” He heard himself shout. His voice was firm, but his nose stung and his eyes were burning.

Sherlock flinched slightly- he thinks. It was hard to say from that distance.

“No, you- you listen to me, Sherlock. Where you’re standing, that’s not a dangerous place. You fly better than a lot of people I know, you could easily land safely on the ground, so please. Please. Just spread your wings, Sherlock, let’s get this over with. Just come down.”

For a few atrocious seconds, the only sound he could hear was his own heartbeat, somehow louder than the rest of the street. Then it all happened.

“Goodbye, John.”

The sound of the phone hitting the ground resonated in his ears. Sherlock opened his arms, not a trace of the wings, not a single feather to be seen. Then he unbalanced himself.

Everything went on so fast. Sherlock was falling. John’s body filled with a sharp pain, starting from his chest like a stab wound, then quickly spreading from head to toe to the tip of his wings, that quickly sprung out of his back. It was atrocious. And he wasn’t going to stand it any longer.

Sherlock fell. John took off.

His wings were stiff and messier than ever. A trail of small detached feathers accumulated on the road as he made his way up to meet the detective midair. He didn’t notice any of these things, though: the flight was short and his priorities sorted.

They met in the middle. John almost crashed into him, but he managed to stop himself a bit before reaching Sherlock and wrapping his arms around him as hard as he could and flapping his wings towards the ground to keep them in the air. The thing about wings, though, is that they aren’t made for two.

In the few seconds before the impact, they looked at each other. A stream of tears hit his face, mixing with his own, then flowing into the air above. Struggling to hold his partner close and not letting go, the time was too little for him to notice the blue stain below them, growing bigger and bigger until the moment of impact.

“What the…”

John only had a moment to process things before they started moving. They had landed on a bloody airbag. Oh, the massive…

A dozen of people ran towards them as Sherlock swiftly got up and told them: “Lovers of Modena is go, come on.”

Lovers of what now? Oh, the man had some serious explaining to do.

The environment was still spinning a bit, but he managed to raise to his feet as some of the people carried the airbag away.

“Sherlock, what’s going on?” He asked, starting to fold his wings back in.

“Don’t,” he stopped him, “you’re going to need them.”

“What do you me- hey! Back off!” He exclaimed to some bloke who had started spraying some kind of red paint on his wings.

“Let him,” Sherlock advised as a woman started to put some of what he figured out was fake blood on his forehead.

He did as he was told, but he could feel the crippling confusion start to boil in his chest, slowly becoming something more aggressive. Was that what he had been planning to do? Fake it all? Was he not going to tell him? No, it couldn’t be.

“Hug me,” he thought he heard at a certain point.

“I’m sorry?”

“Hold me like you did while we were falling.” That sentence brought a strange sensation in his chest, something that shouldn’t have been there. Something soft and sweet that were forming both in his chest and behind his eyes, but it only lasted for a moment.

“We’ll lay on the ground long enough for people to see us,” Sherlock hesitated, his arms already extending towards him.

“They have to see me dead, John. Now, they’ll have to see you too.”

He was starting to understand. Not everything, but he knew better than not to listen to Sherlock in such a situation.

He closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around him, holding him as if he were still falling, still about to die, but he wasn’t. He was safe. He was all right. They started to lay down.

“Wait, I have an idea,” he said, wrapping one of his wings around him then letting themselves gently fall on it.

The, uhm, assistants poured some other fake blood on the ground around them, then surrounded them and started acting as they had probably rehearsed, faking shock and panic, quickly attracting the attention of others, but John didn’t pay attention to any of that.

He kept trying to focus on staying as still as he could and not getting distracted by Sherlock’s heartbeat right below his hear-which, by the way, was bloody racing, much like his own.

Minutes passed, and he couldn’t stop himself from whispering: “Moriarty?”

“Dead.” It was barely audible, but that single word managed to release an incredible amount of tension. It was over. Finally.

He let himself relax on Sherlock’s body, who clearly became less tense as well, and maybe, just maybe, his heartbeat slowed down a bit.

Wahoo! I did it-

Here’s the tag list, let me know if you’d like to be tagged in my potential future fics, added or removed:

@helloliriels @fluffbyday-smutbynight @kettykika78 @loki-lock @detafo @everyonebeatmetothegoodnames @merlynn-consultingdisaster @whatnext2020 @kquietgirl @colourfulwatson @eplapourdissant @masterofhounds

[quokkacore]

phenomena | s.jn

summary: the majority of your adult life you’ve been practically married to logic and science. until your superiors at the FBI assign you to work with special agent johnny suh on the so-called x-files project—cases that were never solved due to unexplained phenomena. as time goes by, and you chase case after case, you find yourself drifting further from logic… and closer to johnny. (part of the 90s love collab)

pairing: conspiracytheorist!johnny x doctor!reader

genre: x-files!au (with johnny as fox mulder and reader as dana scully), fbiagents!au, coworkers-to-lovers, slow burn, sci-fi, angst, fluff, comedy, crack-ish at times, fakmarriage!au at the end

warnings: language, murder, eating, blood, general violence, police presence (txf is fbi level copaganda but oh well), johnny is a low key dick initially, sexual references, general american ignorance, implied sexual harrassment in the workplace, mental hospitals, reader witnesses a distressing panic attack, guns, body image, referenced child/animal abuse, repressed memories, mentions of anti-semitism & nazism, christian allusions, occultism, mild gore, slight body horror, some 90s pop culture references, i am not !!! an fbi agent so there may be some inconsistencies, suggestive content but no actual smut, Karens being thirsty for johnny, johnny is a Single Man and is Kind of Gross, both reader and johnny get knocked unconscious Several Times

song recs: gorillaz - dirty harry // john mellencamp - martha say // elton john - whitewash county // arctic monkeys - all my own stunts // kesha - spaceship // the cranberries - dreams // exo - oasis // the cure - friday, i'm in love // billy joel - we didn't start the fire // david bowie - starman // phoebe bridgers - chinese satellite // tom petty - wildflowers // selena - bidi bidi bom bom // soda stereo - persiana americana // bruce springsteen - dancing in the dark // the cranberries - linger // bruce springsteen - human touch // r.e.m - it's the end of the world as we know it (and i feel fine) // david bowie - heroes (or just listen to the playlist i made instead)

word count: 34.3k (YOWZA u should prob read this on a browser)

a/n: a fic this long......never again

X-FILE 62-J: THE PINEWOOD PATTERN

FBI HEADQUARTERS, WASHINGTON, D.C—08:00 hours, Monday, March 16th, 1992

The morning you met Johnny Suh, his glasses were crooked. It was two years after you'd started working for the FBI, and you were 28 years old. 

You'd spoken to your Division Chief—an older, balding man named Carson Brooks—the afternoon prior, just before you left home. He, along with two other men had asked you about the man in question. 

"Agent L/N, tell me. What do you know about an agent named John Suh?” 

You had furrowed your eyebrow, staring up at him. “John Suh? He had quite the reputation at the academy. Let's see… Oxford educated psychologist. He wrote a monograph on serial killers and the occult… helped the FBI catch Ezekiel Braun in 1988. He’s generally considered to be the best analyst of the violent crimes division. I’ve never met him personally. There’s a nickname for him around the division, though. They called him that in the academy, too." You had to hold back a chuckle, "Spooky Suh."

One of the men next to him nodded—a senior officer whose name you couldn't quite remember—before leaning forward. “It has come to our attention that he’s devoted himself to a project outside of the bureau mainstream. Agent L/N, are you familiar with the so-called X-Files project?”

You looked down at your hands in your lap, trying to recall where you’d heard the name. “From what I understand,” You said, looking up at the man, “They’re cases that are related to unexplained phenomena.”

Your division chief straightened his glasses. “Agent L/N, we’d like for you to assist Suh on these files. You are to write field reports and assess the validity of his work.”

You blinked, not letting your face crack. “...Am I to understand you want me to debunk the X-Files project, sir?”

Your eyes scanned the room. So far, the third man, the one smoking the cigarette had been the only one to not speak.

“Agent L/N,” Your division chief replied with a pursed smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes, “We expect you to make the proper scientific analyses required for these cases. We trust you won’t disappoint us and will be looking forward to seeing your reports. You are to meet with Agent Suh tomorrow morning.”

That had been the day before. Now, here you were, on your way down to the basement, which was apparently John Suh's natural habitat within the Bureau headquarters. The lighting was relatively low in the hallways, shelves upon shelves of cardboard archive boxes seemingly closing you in. When you finally reached the office door at the end of the hall, you rapped your knuckles against the wood twice.

“Sorry, no one down here except for the FBI’s most unwanted!” A deep, sardonic toned voice lamented. You made an amused face to yourself, before quickly composing yourself. 

Professionalism above all else, Y/N. First impressions matter.

So you took a deep breath before opening the door slowly. Your eyes scanned the room, widening slightly despite your mantras of professionalism. The man had his back to you, so he didn’t catch it, thankfully. He was too busy studying photographic slides on a lightbox on his desk, hunched over in concentration. 

But amongst those metal filing cabinets that were all that same atrocious shade of gray, the entire room was pretty much a mess—papers scattered across the desk and pictures tacked to the walls haphazardly to the point where it was hard to tell what color the wall he was sitting in front of was. Among other things, you caught newspaper clippings, pictures of bright beams of light igniting the night sky, a diagram of the human skeleton, and in the middle, a large poster. On it, a large UFO was hovering above a pine forest skyline, the words “I WANT TO BELIEVE” printed in bold, white letters across the bottom.

The man in question turned in his swivel chair to face you. You took note of the crooked glasses propped up onto his round nose, wide eyes studying you up and down. The sleeves of his white button up were rolled up to his elbows, and his tie, just like his glasses, was crooked. Still, you mustered a curt smile, urging yourself to remain professional in spite of how handsome he was.     

"Agent Suh," You declared, holding out your hand, "I’m Y/N L/N. I've been assigned to work with you."

John shook your hand, eyeing you somewhat skeptically. "Agent L/N. I've heard a lot of things. So, who did you piss off to get stuck with this old nut?"

"Actually, I’m looking forward to working with you. Division chief Brooks has asked me to do an evaluation of your work ethic and the overall project, I’m hoping we can work well together."

He pursed his lips, obviously trying to hold back a laugh. Finally, he broke into a grin. "So, they want you to babysit."

You bit back a huff as he turned to look back at his slides. Well, yes, he was right in a way, but you weren't going to admit it. Not with the slightly condescending tone he'd taken with you. Running your tongue against your front teeth in annoyance, you did your best to remain cordial. You plastered your polite smile back onto your face and crossed your arms.

"If you have any doubt about my credentials—”

“You’re a medical doctor,” He said, pulling out a folder with a clear plastic front, “You teach at the academy, did your undergraduate degree in physics…”

He looked at the blue folder in his hands. “Einstein’s Twin Paradox: A new interpretation. Y/N L/N’s senior thesis, now there’s a credential: rewriting Einstein.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Did you bother to read it?” Your tone had a dangerous roll to it. Already you were starting to doubt how much you would enjoy this. 

“I did!” He stood up from the swivel chair, revealing to you just how tall he was. As he walked to one of the gray filing cabinets on the other side of the room, he turned his head and flashed you a crooked smile. “I really liked it, actually. It’s just in my line of work, the laws of physics don’t seem to apply.”

John walked back over to his desk, picking up some of the slides on the lightbox and popping them into a slide projector a few feet away. You stepped out of his way as he made his way to the light switch next to the door, engulfing the room in darkness except for the lightbox, which gave the room a dim, industrial white glow. Turning back to the projector, he pressed the on button, before he looked back at you. His face had turned serious, wide eyes peering at you in the dark.

“Maybe I can get your medical opinion on this.”

Turning your head to the first slide, your eyes settled on the body of a young woman lying amongst old leaves. She was in a white nightgown smudged in dirt, and her arms were spread out as if she were waiting for someone to embrace her.

“Oregon female,” John said, “Aged 21. No known cause of death. Autopsy tells us jack.”

He changed slides, and the image projected on the wall changed to a close up of skin, two small red dots puckered up about a few centimeters away from each other. “However, these were found on her lower back. Doctor L/N, can you ID these marks?”

Walking closer to the projection on the wall, you sighed softly in thought. “Needle punctures, maybe?” You asked, “An animal bite? Electrocution?” 

“The coroner wasn’t able to ID them either.” He pressed a button on the projector, and it whirred as it changed slides. This time, it was a figure of a chemical composition. You furrowed your eyebrow. 

“This was found in the surrounding tissue. How’s your chemistry?” He asked, sounding amused. You glanced at him in dislike, then at the composition, racking your head at the sight of so many cyclohexanes. 

“It’s organic… Is it some kind of synthetic protein?”

He didn’t answer, and your mouth fell open in confusion, shaking your head. “I… don’t know, what is it?”

John laughed. “Beats me! I’ve never seen it either. But it’s also been found in Amaranth, South Dakota…” He clicked the button on the projector. It changed to an image of a middle aged man laying face down in a ditch. He did it again, and a younger man appeared strewn in the middle of the desert, eyes glazed open. “...And again, in Verona, Nevada.”

“Do you have any theories?” You asked, squinting as to avoid looking at the glare of the projector, and instead stare at him. He made his way closer to you. The light of the projection caused the image to warp and distort, projected onto the right side of his face. 

“Oh, I have plenty of theories. What I want to know is why it’s bureau policy to claim these as unexplained phenomena when there’s clearly a pattern here.”

He sighed, before stepping closer to you. He wasn’t necessarily invading your personal space. But from this proximity, caught in the light of the projector you could make out the soft flecks of amber in his brown eyes, the soft curve of his lips. “So, doc,” He murmured, voice low and raspy, “Do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials?”

Oh boy, you thought, here we go. 

“Logically, I would have to say no. The energy capabilities required to travel through space, as well as the technology you're implying would exceed a spacecraft's—”

"Conventional wisdom," He said, raising his eyebrows. He crossed his arms, pointing at the projection. "Do you know that this girl in Oregon is the fourth person in her graduating class to pass away under suspicious circumstances?" 

 He shifted his weight to lean on one leg. “When there’s no logic, and there’s no convention, is it such a crime to turn to the fantastic for explanations?”

 You frowned. “She had to have died from something. Whether it was natural, then it’s possible the medical examiner missed something. If she was murdered, then maybe it was a cover-up, or a sloppy investigation.” 

Leaning your head forward towards him, you put your hands on your hips. “What I find fantastic is the idea that you would be willing to look anywhere except the realm of science for answers. The answers are there, you just have to be willing to look for them.”

    “And that’s why they put the I in FBI,” He quipped, sounding quite amused at his joke. He turned on the overhead lights, then made his way to sit down at his swivel chair. He leaned back against the black cushion. “So, L/N. You, me, a flight to Pinewood, Oregon, bright and early tomorrow at eight AM. How’s that sound?”

 You bit back a smile. John Suh was… quite the character, that was for sure. Smug. Intelligent. Maybe just a tiny bit off his rocker.

But you didn't really have much of a choice, and you were growing curious as well. 

 "Alright,” You conceded, “I’ll bite.”

 John grinned. “Awesome.”

You set your purse down next to the projector, before turning it off. “I’ll be right back,” You told him, “I need to go to the bathroom.”

He nodded, turning back to the files next to the lightbox.

 “And John?” You leaned against the doorway, watching as he straightened his posture to look up at you, expectant of your words. His eyes, from behind those crooked, round rimmed glasses, were poised on your frame. 

“Yes?”

“Your glasses are crooked.” You turned to exit, smiling to yourself when you heard him move, and softly mumble, “Oh, shit.”

PINEWOOD, OREGON—11:32 hours, Tuesday, March 17th, 1992

The plane touched down with only the slightest bit of turbulence. John Suh was sitting right next to you, snoring softly as you pored over the four different medical reports. The reports of the first three victims—Kaya Tate, Jisung Park, and Alex Gallagher—were basically the same word for word, other than specific physical details of the victims, like hair color, height and weight. All of them were found in the woods and were estimated to have died somewhere between one and four in the morning. Possible causes of death included exposure and cardiac arrest, but there wasn’t enough evidence to list anything. The oddest part was that of the three of them, all of their pupils were shrunken. That wasn’t supposed to happen.

 When a person dies, what occurs next is called primary flaccidity. In this state, all of the muscles relax—their head might fall back as the neck loses strength, the jaw falls open, fingers loosen their grip. And the pupils should dilate. But here, they weren’t. Not in the slightest.

You frowned, looking over the first three reports again. There was no sign of red marks anywhere. At the end of all three medical reports, the same signature was seen: Aaron Choi, MD. 

Flicking through the medical report of the fourth victim—Kaya Tate—you looked over the similarities of the other autopsies, and the one unavoidable difference: those damned red markings John had shown you yesterday. With a sigh, you skimmed over the report one last time, before one final difference caught your eye at the very end. This report wasn’t signed by one Aaron Choi, MD. No, it was signed by Hank Rodrigo, MD.

You didn’t have time to think over it much as the pilot made the announcement that the plane would be landing soon. John jumped awake at the sound of his voice. His eyes cracked open, and he frowned as if he were upset at being woken up. 

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” You greeted when he gave you a sideways glance. 

“And here I was, hoping for a kiss to break the spell.” He laughed sleepily, but you frowned as you pulled the reports off of the tray. You didn’t answer as you put them away and put the tray back up in preparation for the landing.

John stretched his back, inhaling deeply before staring at you awkwardly. “...Sorry. I’m being inappropriate.”

You shook your head, but then smiled. “Thank you for apologizing. Some guys at the bureau can be real creeps.”

He frowned. “...You’re trained in self defense at the academy for a reason, y’know.”

Rolling your eyes, you zipped up your bag. Still, you couldn’t let go of the smile on your face. Still, you put some sarcasm into your tone when you next spoke. “Of course I am.”

When the plane landed, you picked up the rental car the bureau had provided, and put your suitcases in the trunk before getting in. John drove, popping in a cassette of his that played some rock song you didn’t know the name of. 

Martha say she don't need no stinking man making no decisions for her

She don't need his money, she don't need him between the sheets

She ain't gonna sleep on the edge of the bed for no stinking man...

“Kaya Tate’s medical report was signed by a different examiner,” You pointed out, even though you knew that he’d already realized that.

“And there it is,” He said, not taking his eyes off of the road. “Those marks are pretty hard to miss. If they all had similar circumstances in the autopsy, who’s to say the first three kids didn’t have the same markings? And why would Doctor Choi avoid putting that in the reports?”

For a moment, he looked at you, and raised an eyebrow. You mirrored his expression at his implication. “So, you think the medical examiner has something to do with the murders.”

“Maybe?” He glanced briefly in the rearview mirror. “He’s a person of interest. Not necessarily a suspect. I’ve arranged to exhume Alex Gallagher’s body. Maybe we can come to some conclusion of our own—”

He was interrupted by the sound of the song from his cassette distorting, static blaring in between the music and the sound of the vocalist’s voice.

At first, you thought it was something to do with the cassette… until the windows started rolling up and down of their own accord, and the lights on the dashboard started to flicker. You felt the car even swerve slightly, despite John’s firm hands on the wheel.

Within a matter of seconds he managed to pull over and put the car in park. As soon as it had started, it was over, but as John turned the motor off, he met your eyes. He looked just as perplexed as you did. 

“What just happened?”

He didn't answer, unbuckling his seat belt. As he got out of the car, you did the same thing, wondering what kind of failure could cause a car to go haywire like that. 

Wordlessly, you watched as John took a good, long look at his watch, before walking over to the trunk and popping it up. From his suitcase, he pulled out a can of spray paint. He pulled the cap off of it and leaned over, aiming at the asphalt. You raised your eyebrows.

"What are you—" 

The sound of the paint can interrupted your words. You watched as he sprayed a big X on the street, right in front of where he was standing. Your mouth remained slightly open, unsure of what to say. When he stood up straight, he placed the can back in his suitcase, and looked up at you. Slamming the trunk shut, the both of you exchanged stares: his blank as if vandalizing forest streets were a part of his day to day life, and yours somewhat perplexed. 

When the two of you got back into the car, it turned on with no issue. John's cassette started up again on the same song. Again, you exchanged a wordless stare, the both of you now equally unsure.

“Welcome to the Twilight Zone,” John muttered, putting the car in drive. You didn’t reply.

 Hi-de-hi-de-hi, brother,

Hi-de-hi-de-hey now, Martha...

Ten minutes later the two of you rolled into the cemetery. It was an uphill slope, a small field atop it, connecting to the woods. John drove until a small, yellow bulldozer caught your eye and you pointed it out. He parked as close as the road permitted, and the two of you exited the car, ready to head up the hill.

As the two of you pulled out your FBI badges, an officer came running up to you. He darted between tombstones and stopped in front of you, pursing his lips awkwardly. You both help up your badges. "Special agents Y/N L/N and John Suh," You said.

The officer nodded sheepishly. He seemed young and rather inexperienced. "Officer Mitch Swenson. The chief couldn't be here right now, ma'am."

"Oh?" John continued walking towards the grave, which was fully undug. A crew was in the process of using a pulley to lift the coffin out of the ground. "Couldn't, or didn't want to? He didn't seem very happy when I contacted him on the phone. Didn't even tell me his name."

Officer Swenson looked down. "I'm sorry to say that he's opposed to this intervention, sir."

"Unfortunately," You told him, "After so many unexplained deaths, we're obligated to involve ourselves. If he has an issue with our jurisdiction then he can take it up with—"

A loud snapping noise stopped you in your tracks, and your head turned just in time to see the ropes on the pulley snap, dropping the coffin. It quickly began tumbling downhill, towards you. You barely had time to step back. Before you could be trampled by a goddamn coffin on what was quickly becoming one of the strangest days of your life, you felt a strong hand grip your forearm and yank you back harshly. 

The coffin barrelled right into the back of a tombstone, cracking open ever so slightly. Your back collided with John's chest. Neck craning back to look at him, you realized both your chests were heaving in shock. He was staring at the small opening in the coffin.

You pulled away from him, charging towards the coffin. John and Officer Swenson did the same, as well as some from the lifting crew.

As soon as you got within five feet of the coffin, a putrid odor hit your nose and seemed to hit everyone else's. John's hand went to cover his nose. Officer Swenson turned green. You held back a gag.

Still, despite the heinous stench, you leaned forward, trying to get a good look inside. Fully expecting to see a decaying corpse, you squinted, trying to make out the shape of the face.

"Holy shit," You heard the young officer say off to your left. Your eyes widened, just as you made out some features of the cadaver.

"Make sure no one else sees this," John ordered someone, as you made out a snout and very thin arms. As your eyes widened, John turned to you. You turned your head to him, and he flashed you an awkward grin.

"...I'm guessing he was no student athlete," He joked, scratching the back of his head. You shook your head in disbelief, face frozen in shock.

"I… is that a—?"

CORONER'S OFFICE, PINEWOOD, OREGON — 14:48 hours, Tuesday, March 17th, 1992

"A chimpanzee."

You didn't give John's unsatisfied tone much of a second thought, continuing to ensure you had everything ready for your analysis.

"You think it's a chimpanzee," John said again a few seconds later, snapping a picture of the body, which was spread out on a metal table. 

"Or an orangutan," You replied, not looking up from your tools. Pulling out your tape recorder, you finally met his eyes. "I was thinking it might even be a bonobo, but it's too big. Mammalian, that's for sure."

"Y/N, we're in Oregon! Where would someone get a monkey—why would someone put a monkey in some dead kid's coffin?"

You shook your head. "John, you can't possibly think this is anything other than a sick joke, can you?"

He huffed, too engrossed in taking pictures of the body. He looked like he had just discovered sliced bread.

"This is amazing. It—it's unprecedented… I want a full report," He demanded, "Toxicology, x-rays, tissue samples, genetic testing, the works. We can get those tissue samples and x-rays done now, everything else we take back to DC." 

You laid a measuring tape next to the subject's body, before putting your hands on your hips. 

"You’re kidding," You said, glaring at him from the other side of the table, "Try telling Alex Gallagher's family that his body was replaced with an alien. You'd probably lose a few teeth doing it!" 

John lowered his camera, taking a deep breath. He thought for a few seconds before answering. "I'm not crazy, Y/N," He insisted, "I have the same doubts you do." 

Flexing your fingers to see if the surgical gloves fit adequately, you sighed. 

"Please leave for a moment," You mumbled, "I need to record my observations and I can't do that properly if you're flashing that camera in my face and talking about little green men." 

He frowned, not meeting your eyes. He looked like he wanted to protest, but he shook his head to himself as he turned around. Soon, he was out the door. 

During your analysis, you made several observations: the subject was 157 centimeters in length, and weighed 56 pounds. Long limbs and fingers, and large ocular caverns that suggested it belonged to the ape family, as you'd told John minutes ago. It was in an advanced state of decay and desiccation. 

When you turned the subject over, you couldn't help but look at the lower back. Lo and behold, there and ready to give you a headache, were two bumps. They were no longer red, tinged gray, same as the rest of the body, but they were there.

Only when the x-rays finally developed two hours later did you discover the cherry on top: a small metallic implant in the subject's nasal cavity, embedded in the skin, which was extracted and placed in a small glass vial. The vial was placed in your blazer pocket, which you'd removed to put on the PPE gown. 

When you were finally finished with the report, you put your blazer back on and discarded the PPE and surgical gloves. All you'd managed to do was give yourself a migraine at all of the oddities piling up in this case. When you got back to DC? A bubble bath was in order. With a very, very large glass of wine.

As you approached the door to the lobby, the voices of two men arguing got louder and louder. Rolling your eyes, you sighed at the feeling of your head pounding. One sounded angrier, the other significantly calmer. When your hand was on the knob, you realized who the calmer voice belonged to.

"Shit," You whispered to yourself, flinging open the door. A middle aged man yelling at John—who looked very blasé about the whole situation—was waving his finger in his face. Behind him stood Officer Swenson, another officer, and a young girl dressed in an oversized windbreaker and jeans, who looked like she wanted to evaporate into thin air. 

"You people think you can march in here and do whatever you want," The man growled, "I don't see why—"

"What's going on here?" You asked, stepping between the man and John. The man scoffed at you, eyeing you up and down. 

“Who are you?”

You pulled out your badge and flashed it to him. His scowl deepened. “Special Agent Y/N L/N, FBI. I’m Agent Suh's partner for this investigation. Now, what is going on? And who are you?”

The man’s face twisted in disdain at your authoritative tone. “I’m Doctor Aaron Choi, the county medical examiner. Now, the audacity of you and your partner—”

“Dad, please,” The girl exclaimed, sounding embarrassed, “Let’s just go home!”

 The man waved a hand in her direction, tone dismissive and angry. “Lia, be quiet. I’m talking. The audacity you two have to come here and interrupt our procedures—”

“Doctor Choi, this is the fourth unexplained death of a student from the Pinewood High class of ‘89,” John pointed out, “After the county was unable to come up with any conclusive evidence, the FBI was forced to become involved. I take it you weren’t informed of the exhumation and the analysis of Alex Gallagher’s body?”

Doctor Choi shook his head. “I’ve been away with my family. We just got back.”

That explains the different medical examiner on the latest autopsy, you realized. 

“Doctor Choi, I’m sorry you feel that way,” You said, “But it’s our obligation to come and investigate. Now, I’m sorry, but it’s getting late, and we have to get going. I can give you my cell phone number if it were to make you more comfortable, but—”

“No. That’s quite enough,” He snapped. He turned to the young girl, nodding his head at the door. “Lia, let’s go.”

The girl sighed, and met your eyes before she turned to follow after him. She looked desperate; you assumed it was because of the scene her father had caused. The two officers followed after them.

As the two of you watched them leave, you turned to John. He simply shrugged, looking done with the whole situation. “Talk about a warm welcome,” He grumbled. You glared at him. 

“Let’s just go,” You huffed, rubbing at a spot above your eyebrow, “I still need to get started on this report.”

The two of you exited the building, and John explained that tomorrow, he’d arranged a visit to a mental institution in the town over. That there were two more students of the class of ‘89 were staying. Both of them were reportedly a part of Alex Gallagher’s circle of friends.

 In your pocket, the vial holding the metal implant seemed heavier than it had been when you first extracted it.

ALOYSIUS GRANT MENTAL INSTITUTION, CRESTHILL, OREGON—10:47 hours, Wednesday, March 18th, 1992

The wing where Chenle Zhong and Nancy Goldstein were staying was relatively quiet. As the nurse explained their circumstances, Nancy remained glued to a book in her wheelchair. Next to her in his bed, Chenle lay perfectly still, lips parted slightly, eyes wide and unmoving. 

You were informed that Nancy had developed delusions and become extremely paranoid as a result of post-traumatic stress. Chenle was living through something called a living coma. He never moved, never spoke. The only indication you saw that he was still alive was the constant rise and fall of his chest. Both of them had been in an automotive crash in the autumn of 1989, and had been like this ever since. 

“Nancy,” The nurse said softly, “You have guests, can they speak with you?”

Nancy lifted her head, “I can’t,” She answered, shaking her head. “I’m reading to Lele right now.”

“Does… does he like it when you read to him?” John asked, and she nodded.

“It calms him down,” She said, “It distracts him from everything.”

You looked down, thinking about her words and what she must have gone through—Chenle as well. At the feet of Chenle’s bed, you noticed odd specks of… ash? It was sprinkled sparsely in front of the bed, on what was a seemingly pristine floor.

You wanted to pick it up, but didn’t want the nurse looking at you strangely. So you turned your attention back to the conversation between John and the nurse. He lowered his voice and leaned in towards her, as if he didn’t want Nancy to hear. “Would it be possible for us to run some medical tests on Ms. Goldstein?”

The thing was that Nancy did hear, and at the mention of medical tests, her large eyes nearly popped out of her head, and she started to tremble in the wheelchair. “N-no tests,” She pleaded, before throwing her book to the side and raising her voice, "No tests! You can't take me there again!"

She began to thrash in the wheelchair, hyperventilating and begging in between breaths to not go anywhere. She threw herself out of the wheelchair but was unable to stand, and instead remained on the floor, crying. 

"Nancy, sweetie, you're going to be fine," The nurse said gently, leaning down to placate the poor girl who was shaking her head. She looked up at the both of you. "Can you help me please?" 

John leaned down to gently assist the nurse in helping Nancy up, and you picked up the wheelchair, which had fallen onto its side. You gripped one of the back handles of the chair to steady it. Your other hand smudged along the ground to try and pick up some of the powder. As the pair helped her sit down, your eyes caught something. 

Nancy's shirt had ridden up during the ordeal, and there, along the small of her back, you saw them. The same marks that Kaya Tate, Jisung Park, and Alex Gallagher had. 

When Nancy refused to calm down, wailing and begging not to be taken back to wherever she thought you and John wanted to take her, the nurse ushered you out.

 "I'm sorry," She told you, "But you're upsetting my patients. If you absolutely need to come back, then do it some other day when she's calmed down." 

The two of you set off towards the exit down the stairs, your heels click-clacking quickly along the floor as you walked in front of John. 

He held open the exit door for you, and as soon as you were out the door and headed toward the parking lot, you whirled on him. 

"How did you know she would have those marks?" You asked, almost angry at him. John shrugged. 

"A hunch," Was all he answered.

"Dammit, Suh, cut the crap. What the hell is going on here?"

"What, so you can go off and write it in your little reports?" He fired back, raising his voice at you for the first time. Your head snapped back at the sudden disdain in his voice.

"I'm here to solve this case just the same as you are," You growled, "Now tell me the truth. I think I'm entitled to it."

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his trench coat, scowling at you. He leaned closer to you and lowered his voice. "You want my honest opinion? Fine. I think those kids have been abducted by an alien force. I think that they run tests on those kids, which is why Nancy Goldstein freaked out, and why Alex's body and hers have those markings. That's what I think."

You tapped your heel along the sidewalk in frustration and thought. "John, do you realize how insane that sounds? I—Why, there's nothing to substantiate—"

"Nothing scientific to substantiate," He corrected.

"Science is all there is, John!" You shook your head. He sighed, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. The  both of you knew that this conversation would lead nowhere. Looking down, you remembered the ash smudged onto the palm of your hand. 

"Look," You said, quieter now. "This was on the floor around Chenle Zhong's bed."

"'S that… ash?"

You nodded. "I know what you think, John. Let me tell you what I think. I think those kids might be involved in some sort of sacrifice of some sort. Think about it, they're always called into the woods. The medical examiner doesn't want us looking at the bodies. And now, ash."

John's eyes darted back and forth, considering the options. He walked over to the car, unlocking it so the both of you could enter. 

"We can head into the woods tonight," He offered finally. "That way, we can both look into our own hypotheses."

"Sounds good to me," You answered, "Tonight."

THE WOODS, PINEWOOD, OREGON—20:26 hours, Wednesday, March 18th, 1992

A few hours after sundown, the two of you drove to the edge of the woods, armed with flashlights and your handguns. You'd tied your hair back and changed into a dark blue windbreaker, along with sweatpants and running shoes. It was a bit windy, and you could see storm clouds rolling in.

"Stay close by," You'd told John. "And be quiet."

"Yes, mom," He sighed. You rolled your eyes, resisting the urge to punch him in the arm. 

Once the two of you were out of the car, you split up, trying to stay within earshot of his footsteps. You spent about ten minutes wandering around, flashing your light around, taking slow steps as you scrounged for any hints. 

Above you, thunder rumbled, the occasional strike of lightning lighting up the sky for milliseconds. Leaning your head forward, you squinted in the dark. No way. 

The whole ground around you was covered in ash. If not the exact same ash as what was in front of Chenle's bed, it was very similar—sprinkled on top of the leaves and dirt. As you kneeled down to pick some up, your eyes widened at the same texture and pigment as the one of today. 

"What the fuck," You muttered under your breath, mind racing a mile a minute. These woods were creepy enough without the implication of a ritualistic cult, or close encounters of the third kind, or whatever John believed was happening. But now you had the possibility of a connection between these woods and two seriously disturbed kids.

A sudden mechanical rumbling made you snap your head up. You squinted, lifting your other hand to shield your eyes from the sudden brightness that lit up the trees. 

"John?" You asked when you heard footsteps. Your heart rate began to speed up, hand reaching for the gun tucked into your waistband. 

When you realized that the sound was coming from the direction of the light, you called his name out again. "John?"

A tall figure emerged from the light, and you soon realized what was pointed at you—a shotgun. Definitely not John Suh.

Not hesitating, you pulled out your gun. "Special agent Y/N L/N, FBI! Identify yourself!"

The figure only stopped until it was about ten feet away. You squinted, making out some familiar features. Surprisingly, you realized it was the officer who had been at the coroner's office with Doctor Choi. 

John came stumbling up to you, chest heaving. "Chief!" He sounded strangely enthusiastic. "What brings you to this neck of the woods?"

"You're trespassing on private property," He announced, seemingly unamused by John's tone. 

"We are conducting an investigation," You countered, lowering your gun. 

"You are trespassing," He said adamantly, "Now get out, before I have you both arrested."

John glanced at you momentarily. You frowned as he shrugged, obviously wanting you to stand down. The staredown continued for a solid ten seconds before you groaned softly. Tucking your gun back into your waistband, you followed the chief out of the woods, right back to your car, which was right next to his.

As John drove away, you watched as the flashing police lights faded into the distance. "What's he doing out here when he's got a whole town to take care of?"

John shook his head, furrowing his eyebrows. "I don't know," He hummed in that deep voice of his, "But I don't like him one bit."

The two of you drove in relative silence after that. The storm finally came down, drops of rain cascading angrily onto the windshield. Thunder rolled overhead, and the lightning grew bright.

In the dim light, your eyes turned to watch John, hoping he wouldn't take notice. You watched him alternate his eyes between the road ahead and the rearview mirror every few seconds. Your eyes raked over his features—a strong brow bone, a round nose, lips that seemed to curve upwards in a natural smirk.

You looked back up at his eyes, and his own gaze glanced at the watch on his wrist before returning to the road.

"You're staring," He said, sounding like he’d caught you with a hand in the cookie jar. You felt the scoff leave your lips before you could catch it, your cheeks heating up.

"I am not—"

A flash of lightning lit up the sky, far brighter than any of the other strikes. Then, an odd sensation filled your body: for the briefest of moments you felt absolutely weightless, unable to feel the carseat beneath you. Then a moment later when the light faded, and the feeling disappeared.

The car rolled to a stop, the engine’s rumble dying. You frowned even though you were glad that you’d have a chance to change the subject. “What happened?”

Johnny looked at the lights on the dashboard, and pressed on the accelerator tentatively a few times. He raised an eyebrow, looking skeptical. “Uh… we lost power.”

He seemed calm enough. Until he glanced at his watch again. Suddenly, his eyes widened, and he let out a single, excited laugh. “No fucking way,” He murmured, rushing to unbuckle his seatbelt.

“Uh, John, where are you g—”

He was out of the car before you could finish your sentence, heading into the downpour. You groaned, unbuckling hastily and following him. Already, he was drenched, and within seconds you were too. He was walking towards something on the road, a few feet in front of the car. When he turned to look back at you, he looked like a preschooler who had just discovered Sesame Street. His fists pumped into the air, his eyes squeezed shut and he began to jump up and down.

“Fuckin’—I—WOO! WOO HOO!”

“For the love of god,” You grumbled, standing right next to him despite his loud cheering, you tried your hardest to make out what had gotten him so excited. When the next flash of lightning lit up the street, plus the lights of the car helping illuminate the road, you saw it: a big, bright, neon X. Almost the exact same place the car had started acting strange yesterday.

“We lost time!” He yelled over the sound of the downpour. "I looked at my watch before the flash! It was 9:02 then, now it’s 9:13! That’s eleven minutes—GONE!”

You shook your head, stepping away. You threw up your hands in confusion. “What—John, that’s not possible! You’re saying time disappeared, time can’t—it can’t just disappear! That’s not just crazy, it’s—i-it’s a universal invariant! It’s impossible!”

John shook his head at you, eyes wide in wonder. Right before he started walking back to the car, he let out one last gleeful laugh. “Not in this zip code!”

Much to your displeasure, your headache returned soon after. You were more than content to let John ramble on while you zoned out, rubbing your forehead. What little you picked up was that people who claimed to be abductees always mentioned a bright flash of light and losing time, anywhere from five minutes to several hours.

You weren’t sure what to think at this point. You had half a mind to drive John to the Aloysius Grant Mental Institution and leave him there with Chenle and Nancy.

When you got back to the hotel, you ran straight to your room. When you tried flickering on the light, you found that it wouldn’t turn on. With a sigh, you realized the storm had to have blown the power out. Peeling off your wet clothes before you did anything else, you stripped to your underwear before pulling on your bathrobe. Shivering, you scrounged in the darkness of the room for anything, a flashlight, some candles.

Surprisingly, they did have a candle, a holder and some matches. As you lit it, and went over your bedtime routine (yes, you were a grown woman going to bed at 9:30 PM, you were tired), you couldn’t shake the eerie feeling settling in your stomach. Everything felt so off here, and there were so many things you couldn’t explain.

As much as John wanted to convince you, he couldn’t explain them either. The whole situation felt bizarre in a dreadful way. As you marched into the bathroom for a quick shower, you tried to reassure yourself everything would connect eventually.

When you took off the bathrobe, your hand went to rub at your lower back. The stiff mattress wasn’t doing you any favors. You let your eyes flutter shut, fingers rubbing at the muscle below your skin.

Until your fingers brushed over something that you knew hadn’t been there before. Your eyes snapped open, and you turned your back to the mirror, craning your neck to see. Your fingers ached to touch the spot again, but in your sudden alarm, your fingers began to shake.

There. At the small of your back, just above the waistband of your underwear, there they were. Two bumps. Just like Nancy’s. Just like Alex’s. Just like Kaya’s.

You didn’t know what overtook you. All of a sudden, you were putting your bathrobe back on and strutting stiffly out of your room. Before you knew it, you were knocking insistently on John’s door.

You didn’t stop until a very confused looking John opened up, holding a candle. “I—”

“I need to show you something,” You said shakily. His demeanor changed instantly when he saw your frantic state. He nodded wordlessly, widening the door and stepping to the side. Once the door was closed, you faced him, before untying the robe. His eyes widened slightly despite your shaking hands, and the tips of his ears turned red.

“Woah, at least take me out to dinner first—”

“Johnny, shut up!”

He froze at your tone, your slip up—calling him Johnny instead of John. You were too distressed to care, tossing the robe to the floor before turning, trying to poke at the marks on your back.

“What are they?” You asked, and John reached out a hand as if to placate you.

“Hey, hey,” He murmured, “Deep breaths. Can I get a closer look?”

Nodding, and trying to do what he said, you let him step closer, before kneeling. Tentatively, he ghosted a hand over the marks. You tried to ignore the goosebumps, shivering from what you assumed was the cold.

“What are they?” You repeated. “John—”

He spun you around, putting a gentle hand on your hip. You peered down at him, panting softly. “It’s okay,” He said softly, “They’re just mosquito bites.”

Your eyes fluttered shut in relief, putting a hand on his shoulder to steady your wobbling knees. “You’re sure?” You asked, looking down at him.

He nodded, amber eyes staring up at you. You were suddenly hyper aware of his hand on your hip, unable to break his gaze. He cleared his throat, standing up but not stepping away from you. “Yeah, I got some out there too. I’m positive.”

You put the bathrobe back on, then crossed your arms. “I need to sit down,” You mumbled. He gestured to his bed, sitting on the chair next to it. You raised an eyebrow, not wanting to impose. He shook his head, setting down the candle on the table.

“You’re shaking,” He said, “Go ahead.”

Inhaling deeply, you tried to compose yourself. Your hand rubbed at the back of your neck, suddenly feeling tense. You chewed on your lip, wondering if you should ask the question itching to come out.

“John?” Your voice was barely above a whisper. He nodded, eyes earnest.

“Yeah?”

“How did you… Why are you so interested in this stuff?”

His eyes lowered, rubbing his palms together slowly. He took a deep breath, resting his elbows on his thighs. Finally, he sighed.

“I was twelve when it happened,” He whispered. His gaze turned solemn, almost angry. “My little sister, Maggie, went missing in the middle of the night. Just… disappeared, like she vanished into thin air. No note, no phone calls, no discernible trail or evidence at all. Gone, just like that. How does an eight year old girl disappear without a trace?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, not answering. Outside, the rain had stopped, but John’s eyes were a storm of their own, several emotions swimming around in pools of golden brown.

“It tore my family apart. My parents got divorced, everyone else refused to talk about it. There weren’t any facts to confront, nothing to give anyone closure, and the search just stopped.”

“What did you do?” You asked softly. He shrugged, pursing his lips.

“Eventually, I ran away to England. Came back, got recruited by the bureau.” He offered a sardonic smile, no joy behind it. “Apparently, I have a natural aptitude for applying behavioral models to criminal cases. My success allowed me a certain amount of freedom to pursue my own interests. That’s when I found the x-files.”

“On accident?” You leaned to lay down on your side, propping your head up with one hand. He nodded.

“At first, it looked like a dump for UFO sightings, cryptids, alien abductions. Real Hollywood kind of stuff. But… I was fascinated by it all, I read all the cases I could get my hands on. Hundreds of them, Y/N. All the paranormal phenomena, the occult, and then…” He sighed, lowering his head.

“What?” You leaned toward him, trying to read his face in the dark.

“There’s… classified government information I’ve been trying to get my hands on. Someone keeps blocking my access.” He looked to the side, palms still rubbing together. “The only reason I’ve been allowed to continue my work is because I've made connections in congress.”

You shook your head, “I don’t understand, are they afraid you’ll leak this information?”

When he met your gaze, the anger had returned, now far less subdued. “You’re a part of that agenda,” He murmured, “You would know.”

Your mouth dropped open slightly, and you shook your head before scooching closer to him. “I’m not a part of any agenda,” You answered. “You need to trust me.”

He sighed, before standing up to move onto your bed, leaning very close to you. The usually playful glow in his eyes was nowhere to be seen. “I’m telling you this, Y/N, because you need to know. In my... research, I’ve worked very closely with a man named Hans Kruger. He’s taken me through deep regression hypnosis, and through my repressed memories I’ve been able to return to that night my sister disappeared. I remember a very bright light outside and a presence in the room, and the sensation of being paralyzed, unable to answer her cries for help. Listen to me, Y/N, this thing exists.”

“But how do you know—”

“The government knows! And I gotta know what they’re protecting.” He leaned even closer to you, face inches away from yours. “Nothing else matters to me, and this is as close as I’ve ever—”

   The ringing of the telephone made the both of you jump away from each other, and John stood to pick up the phone. “Hello?”

   He made a face as the person on the other side answered. “What? Who is this? Who is—”

   Pulling the phone away from his ear, he looked at you. He seemed confused, alarmed. “That was a woman,” He said, putting the phone back on the housing, “Who told me that Nancy Goldstein is dead.”

 You frowned. “The girl in the wheelchair?”

 HIGHWAY 227, PINEWOOD, OREGON—23:11 hours, Wednesday, March 18th, 1992

 Quickly, the two of you dressed. The crash wasn’t hard to find in such a small town. Surrounded by witnesses and two police cars, a large semi truck was stopped in the middle of the road. Once there you produced your badges to get past the police cars. John went off to ask one of the cops questions about the accident, and you walked over to the body, which was draped over with a white cloth.

 Right next to it, a man, who you assumed was the driver, was being questioned. Showing the officer next to the body your badge, you crouched down to peel back the cloth covering the body.     

Poor Nancy Goldstein, wet with rain and blood, lay strewn in the road. A dribble of drying blood was running down her mouth. Her once white and purple polka dotted hospital gown was tinged with red, brown and gray. You sighed in sympathy. But your eyes travelled down at the watch she had on, and the sympathy made way into confusion. The hands had stopped, right at 9:02.

You took a deep breath when you recognized the coincidence. That's all it had to be, right? A coincidence?

 "You said she just ran out in front of you?" The officer speaking to the man asked.

"Yes, officer," He answered, "Just came charging out from the trees and right into the truck."

Nancy Goldstein, running. Not even walking, no, full on running. You stared at the body, eyes travelling to her legs. Somehow, they were specked with flecks of dirt, mud and small wood chips. It was consistent with someone moving through a wet, muddy area while barefoot. You swallowed anxiously, trying to figure out what was going on in this town.

 When you got into the car with John, you raised an eyebrow at him, getting ready to speak. Before you could, however, his cell phone rang. He pulled out the device and answered the call with a tired, "Suh. Who am I speaking to?"

You watched as his face turned confused. "What?"

 You couldn't hear what he was told, but when his face twisted into disbelief, and then anger, you knew it couldn't be anything good. "Of course. We'll be there as soon as possible," He said, tight-lipped.

 When he hung up, he immediately started the car. He didn't meet your eyes. "Fuck!" He growled, causing you to jump.

 "What?" Your eyes widened at his sudden outburst, barely having time to buckle your seatbelt before he sped away. "John, what happened—"

"Fuck if I know!" He snapped at you, before shaking his head and sighing.

 "There was a fire at the hotel." His tone was softer now. Your stomach sank. "Our rooms were the ones that were most affected."

"You've gotta be kidding," You sighed. He didn't answer, simply kept his eyes on the road.Only when the two of you got there did you realize just how bad the situation was. The fire department was there, hosing down the inside of your room. A crowd had come to watch the firemen work.

"There goes my computer!" You groaned. John kicked the car door.

"Fuck! The x-rays and pictures!" He seemed just about ready to explode.

Your eyes drifted back to the blinding, orange glow of the fire, crossing your arms in frustration, exhaustion.

Suddenly, a tap on your shoulder caused you to turn. You were met face to face with a familiar looking young girl in a bright blue denim jacket. She looked just about on the verge of tears.

 "John," You called, not looking away from her. When he saw the girl, he came up to the two of you.

 He raised a finger at her. "You're Do—"

 "My name is Lia Choi," She declared, voice wobbly, "You have to protect me."

 You quickly ushered Lia into the back of the car. When you closed the door, John raised an eyebrow at you. "She might know something," He murmured.

 "I know," You answered. "She seems terrified."

 He nodded. "You hungry?"

  "Um… yeah, why?"

  "I'm starving," He admitted, gnawing on his lips. "Let's get something to eat and question her there."

 "How the hell are you thinking about food at a time like this?"

He raised an eyebrow, making a face. "What, and you aren't?"

You rolled your eyes, but didn't disagree.

 The car ride took about ten minutes, and you pulled into the small diner with little to no issue. By then, it was a little past midnight, so it was starting to empty out. It had started raining again. You sat next to Lia, as she seemed somewhat more intimidated by John. He paid for some burgers and fries for the three of you, and then Lia finally spoke.

"I… There's something in the woods."

You exchanged glances with John, who rested his elbows on the table and interlaced his fingers. "What do you mean, something in the woods, Miss Choi?"

 The young girl shook her head, looking sheepish. "Please, just call me Lia," She said.

 Taking a deep breath, you flashed him a look that said let me try. "Lia, do you know that there's something in the woods, or is it just a feeling?"

 She stared at the table, looking for words. "I've never actually… seen anything. Not really. But I… I have these dreams. They're not like normal dreams, I-I have no idea how to explain it, but they just feel so… wrong. It's like my body's vibrating the entire time, a-and when I wake up, I'm there. In the woods. Every time. They—they've started happening more and more, and I don't know what to do, I-I'm just so—"

 "Woah, slow down there, kid," John said, holding up his hands. She'd started rambling, and it didn't take a genius to say that she was on the verge of tears. His dark eyes looked gentle, sympathetic. "Deep breath, Lia."

She let her eyes close, breathing slowly. "I'm sorry," She mumbled. "I just don't know what to do anymore."

Looking at John again, you spoke up. "We understand," You answered softly, "Can we ask you some more questions?"

 As she nodded, the one waitress working the place, who looked one strong gust of wind from falling over, set down your three plates. Sticking a fry into your mouth once the waitress left, you met eyes with the young girl.

"You said, 'I've never seen anything, not really.' What do you mean by that?"

Lia poked at her fries, not seeming that interested in the food. She pursed her lips, before sighing. "I… We saw something, once. I think. My friends were all out there—celebrating graduation. It was… maybe 11:30? I-I can't really remember. But we saw a bright light, and then this huge thing flew over us. When it was gone… Kaya checked her watch. It couldn't have been more than ten seconds after, but her watch said it was almost 2 AM, and then Chenle checked his watch, and so did Jisung, and… they all said the same thing.

"I didn't think much of it. I tried not to. I thought we just missed the time going by, somehow. But then Nancy and Chenle got into the crash, and then Kaya turned up dead in the woods… Then Jisung, and now Alex…" She shook her head, blinking back tears. "It can't all be a coincidence."

"How old were you when that happened, Lia?"

 "I was 17. I'm turning 21 in June."

John stared at her for a long time. "...And why did you decide to call me when you heard about Nancy's death?"

Oh?

You raised an eyebrow to look at Lia, who looked down. "They called my dad about it, and I know that Nancy's death has to do with whatever's in the woods. M-my dad, he… He keeps telling me he can keep me safe. But I don't think he can."

"So you called us?"

She nodded, not looking up at either of you. John and you exchanged a glance.

"Lia," You asked lowly, "Do you think your father—"

Your words died when blood began to spew from the girl's nose, your eyes widening and John's expression growing alarmed. He reached for the napkins, handing them to you to hand her quickly. Her eyes shut and her brow furrowed, obviously distressed. John pursed his lips.

  "Does this normally h—"

 "Lia Choi."

The three of you turned your heads to see Aaron Choi and the police chief standing next to each other, glaring at you and John.

Dr. Choi walked over to Lia, handing her another napkin. "Sweetheart, come on, let's go home."

John narrowed his eyes. "I don't think she wants to leave."

"I don't give a shit about what you think," The man snapped. He turned back to Lia, "Let's go home. You'll be safe there. Remember, I said that Chief Zhong and I would keep you safe—"

You exchanged a glance with John. You could see the gears turning in his head. Skywalker moment. "You’re Chenle Zhong's father?"

The chief scowled at him. "You stay away from my boy. He has no business in any of this."

Dr. Choi managed to pull away, with minimal protest from Lia. She managed to give the two of you one last apologetic glance before being pushed out the front door by your father.

"You gotta love this place," John grumbled, reaching for Lia's plate, "Every day's like Halloween."

"They know." You were sure of it. "Choi's been hiding evidence from those medical reports, and Zhong might just have enough authority around here to get access to our rooms to set them on fire."

"Why would they want to destroy evidence?" John asked, but it wasn't really a question. It sounded more like a parent trying to get their child to figure out something obvious on a math problem. "What could they possibly want with that corpse?"

You looked down at the table, heart pounding suddenly. When you met his eyes again, they were burning with curiosity and determination.

"Makes you wonder what's in those other two graves, huh?"

PINEWOOD MEMORIAL CEMETERY, PINEWOOD, OREGON—01:26 hours, Thursday, March 19th, 1992

Getting into the cemetery was easy. Finding the graves, with only your flashlights in the pouring rain, was a lot harder. You pored over different headstones for almost forty minutes, until John called your name.

"Did you find them?" You asked, turning to him. He was scowling down at the headstones. You didn't understand why… until you looked down to see the dirt piled up, and the two holes in the ground.

"Empty," He groaned.

"What is going on here?" You cried. John stared at the hole in the ground, before a look of epiphany dawned on his face. He turned to you, slowly.

"I think I know who did it."

You looked to the sides in thought. "Who? The chief?"

John shook his head, mouth tipping open. You leaned forward, hoping to hear his words better over the rain.

He chewed nervously on his bottom lip. "The chief's son."

When the words registered, you leaned away. All the fight in you seemed to deflate, and your face twisted into a confused mess.

"What?"

He nodded, and you raised your eyebrows. "Chenle Zhong? The boy in the hospital. The boy who's been in a goddamn coma since 1989. That Chenle Zhong? He somehow got here, dug up these graves, and is somehow responsible for the murders of four different kids?"

John's eyes fell shut, and he took a deep breath. "Nancy Goldstein was wheelchair bound but ran in front of a car, it's not entirely impossible. All of this fits a profile of alien abduction. She was killed around 9—the same time we lost time in the car."

"A profile." You crossed your arms, trying to stop the shivering racking your body. March showers in the Pacific Northwest—you wouldn’t be surprised if all of this was just a delusion induced by hypothermia.

"Look, something happened during those 10 minutes," He insisted, "Time, as we know it, stopped, and it has something to do with the forest."

You shook your head in disbelief, unable to hold back your shocked sigh. All you could do was stare, watching as John's expression hardened.

"You think I'm crazy," He murmured defeatedly, "Just like everyone else does."

He turned on his heel, starting to walk away, when a soft scoff caused him to turn back. "What?"

You wore a smile of disbelief. "The hands of Nancy Goldstein's watch stopped at 9:02," You admitted, looking up at the sky before meeting his gaze. "I made a mental note of it because of how insane the coincidence was. But…"

"The forest is controlling the kids," John said with a nod. He sounded more hopeful now, as he took a step closer. "It summons them here!"

"A-and the marks are…"

"The remainders of some sort of experiment. They put that weird chemical into the bodies—"

"Which leads to genetic mutations, like the one we saw in Alex Gallagher’s body!"

John nodded, a hopeful grin spreading across his features, the rain causing his hair to fall into his eyes. "And the woods summoned Nancy Goldstein here tonight, but the one who brought her was—"

"Chenle Zhong," You gasped. Meeting eyes with John, the two of you exchanged surprised, awed, slack jawed smiles, before promptly bursting into giggles at how silly it all sounded, the sheer absurdity of it all. Like the plot of some crappy Fox TV show.

"This—Johnny, this is insane!"

"That’s just how all the x-files work!" He exclaimed between laughter, "This isn't even half of it!"

That did it for you. The idea that there had to be something even stranger, something that paled in comparison to this. You had to reach out for his shoulder to stop yourself from falling, bending over and clutching your stomach to the point of tears. John’s laughter never let up either, not until the two of you were panting, out of breath from cackling so hard.

"I can't believe any of this," You sighed, shaking your head once more.

"It doesn't matter. As long as we're on the same page," John said with a shrug, "It'll make things a whole lot easier. Now, let's get back to the car—"

A high pitched scream filled the air, and the two of you locked eyes before darting in its direction.

Right into the forest.

Mud squelched beneath your shoes as the two of you ran. It was damn near impossible to see anything with the rain and the darkness of night, the way your flashlights swung back and forth with your running.

Your light reflected onto a piece of black metal, causing the two of you to slow down. John flashed his own light side to side, before landing on the white door of the car, the crest emblazoned on it: PINEWOOD POLICE DEPARTMENT. You sighed at the revelation, turning slightly.

"Shit," He muttered, "Do you think—?"

"John." You took a step to the side, focusing your light onto something on the ground. "Look."

When he turned his head to look at what you were seeing, you heard him inhale sharply.

Dr. Choi's body lay strewn on the muddy ground, blood streaking down his temple. You couldn’t tell if he was breathing or not.

Another scream pierced the air, the sound distinctly female. You exchanged a brief glance with John, before nodding in the direction the noise came from. "You go! I'll check his vitals."

"Be careful," He warned before darting off. You knelt on the ground, reaching out to feel for a pulse over the carotid artery. You let your eyes fall shut in relief when you found one a few seconds later. All you needed to do now was assess his injury.

But they snapped open when the mud squelched behind you, and when you turned your head, you saw a flash of black and beige. A loud thwack! cracked against the side of your head, and you fell to the ground, vision turning dark.

When you came to, you weren't sure how much time had passed, but it couldn't have been too long. It was still dark, and while the rain had calmed, it wasn't over yet. Sluggishly,  you reached for the flashlight, and struggled to stand.

Stumbling, you tried to surmise where the noise was coming from, but the world felt like it was spinning. You were confused, disoriented, that the sudden brightness knocked you on your ass, quite literally.

Brightness?

White, seemingly industrial light lit up the forest so suddenly that you reeled back in surprise, falling into the mud. You blinked dazedly. If this were a Loony Tunes short, there would be little Tweety birds flying around your head right about now.

Still, you knew you needed to get up. So you did, still stumbling as if someone had spun you around to hit a piñata, and carried forward. The shouting had stopped now.

In the distance, where the light was the brightest, you could hear the shouting. One of the voices was distinctly John's, but as you got closer, it stopped.

And by the time you got into the clearing? The light disappeared, and so did the rain. Gone at the same time.

There were three men standing in the clearing, seemingly in a triangle. John's back was turned to you. In front of him? Someone was lying on the floor (had you not been so dizzy, you would have recognized her as Lia), and…

"Chenle?" The police chief asked, voice shaking. Your eyes turned to the young man, whose dark eyes were wide in confusion and fear. He was barefoot, clad only in a pair of gray sweatpants.

"...Dad?" He asked as Chief Zhong walked to him, before crushing the young man in a hug.

"J-John?" Your voice was small. The man in question turned to you, eyes widening at your state. He stepped towards you, face full of concern. When you buckled, he gripped you by your forearms.

"Y/N, are you alright?"

"Th-there was a light," You murmured, "It was so…"

He nodded, smiling sympathetically. "I know," He said, "But I think you have a concussion."

"Uh…" You stared at him blearily. "...You're really strong."

He held back a snicker. "Am I now?"

FBI HEADQUARTERS, WASHINGTON, D.C—10:04 hours, Wednesday, March 25th, 1992

After a stop to the emergency room, a minor concussion diagnosis, a flight home, a few days of bed rest and finally that bubble bath (sans the wine, unfortunately), you were finally allowed to present your findings to your superiors, in the report you'd written in the past few days (you were advised to rest over the weekend, and you did just that and wrote the report all Tuesday).

You marched into that office, John already sitting in one of the two seats in front of the desk. He didn't speak while you presented your findings. Again, Chief Brooks was accompanied by the same two men.

"And what of the boy?" Division Chief Brooks asked, "Chenle… Zhang, you said?"

"Zhong," You and John corrected in unison, exchanging a sheepish glance when you both realized what happened.

"He's in custody. So are his father and Doctor Aaron Choi. He claims to not have remembered anything."

"I understand you and Chief Zhong had an exchange in the woods?" The older man asked, staring at John.

He nodded. "Yes, sir. I asked him what the need was to take the Chois to the woods, he seemed desperate—said that if it got his son back, then he'd do it."

"So, what, are we to believe all of this—the abductions and the mutations and the mind control without any concrete evidence?" The second officer asked.

"There was an x-ray of Chenle’s that revealed a small piece of metal lodged in his nose, just like Agent L/N's report mentioned with—"

"The Gallagher boy's implant, yes. But that could be anything, Agent Suh. It hasn't been surgically removed so we can't verify what it is."

John clenched his jaw. "But—"

"Agent Suh, with no evidence of the implant existing we simply cannot continue to waste bureau resources," The chief explained, "The fact of the matter is the original implant, as well as your other evidence, was destroyed in that fire and—"

"What if it wasn't, though?" You asked.

It was as if all of the air had been sucked out of the room. All four men's eyes snapped up to look at you. John’s eyes were wide in shock.

You met eyes with him briefly as you reached into your blazer pocket, placing the small vial holding the implant onto the table.

"None of the tests I ran on the implant were able to reveal what kind of metal it is," You sighed, "It all came back as inconclusive."

"I—" For the first time, the third agent spoke for the first time. "How did you manage to salvage it?"

Tilting your head back and forth, you tried to sound professional. "I kept it… on my person at all times after I extracted it. I felt it was too important to lose."

The three men exchanged a silent conversation with their eyes. You looked at John, whose expression towards you had shifted from shock to awe. You offered him a sly smile.

"Well, then." Division Chief Brooks sounded frustrated—like a father allowing his children ice cream after being worn down by them. "Considering this… new piece of evidence, I—I suppose I could authorize the continuation of the project."

You breathed a sigh of relief. John’s shoulders sagged.

"However, Agent L/N, I will expect your reports on every single one of these cases within three days of them being closed, unless medically justified. Failure to do so will result in the termination of the project."

"Understood, sir," You said.

The third man lit a cigarette, before pointing to the vial on the table. "That implant will be kept with us, it's evidence now. Any and all evidence will be handed over to us," He ordered, taking a drag.

You nodded, but something told you John wouldn't approve. He didn't say anything, but you knew he'd have something to say sooner or later.

"You're both dismissed," Division Chief Brooks told you both.

Once you were out of the office and out of earshot, John stopped in the middle of the hallway. He put his hands on his hips and stared at you.

"I—That was… Wow. Y/N, how did you even do that?"

"Honestly?" You bit back a grin before lowering your voice. "...I hid it in my sports bra."

He broke out into a shocked smile. "In your—amazing. Y/N, you’re a genius."

"Am I now?" You asked, raising your eyebrows. You started down the hallway again, and he followed. "Thank you," He mumbled.

With a wave of your hand, you shook your head. "I'm just doing my job, y’know? Plus, I enjoyed working with you, John. I think we make a... decent team."

He looked down at his feet, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Well," He said, "If we are going to keep working together, can I ask you to do something?"

"Sure," You replied. By now, you were headed down the basement steps.

"Just… call me Johnny. John feels too… formal."

"Johnny," You sounded the name out, before smiling. "Yeah, it suits you better."

X-FILE 144-A: THE BELDAM'S GLENN BLOOD RITUALS

SOMEWHERE ALONG THE EVERETT TURNPIKE, BELDAM'S GLENN, NEW HAMPSHIRE—07:32 hours, Thursday, February 11th, 1993

"Brief me again on this case?" Johnny sighed as he drove ahead, "I was too tired when you explained on the flight here."

You nodded, rubbing your eyes and putting on your glasses. Outside, rain hit the roof of the car, and the sky was that bluish gray tinge of an early morning drizzle. That, paired with the soft guitar from the radio along with Robert Smith's voice made for gentle ambience.

I don't care if Monday's blue

Tuesday's gray and Wednesday too

Thursday, I don't care about you

It's Friday, I'm in love...

 Pulling out the folder from your bag. Truth be told, you were tired too—you'd been called just before 3 in the morning by someone at the bureau telling you you'd been assigned to work a murder case in Beldam's Glenn, New Hampshire. A fairly small town, less than 10,000 people.

You'd had an hour to pack some clothes, then take a taxi to the bureau to grab some things from the office and pick up the file briefing the incident. Then, just before four you arrived at Reagan International, where you met a seemingly bedraggled Johnny. His suit was a bit wrinkly and there were dark circles rimming his eyes.

By now, you'd been working with Johnny for almost a year. You'd learned in that time that he did not enjoy waking up before 5 AM. 

"Good morning," You'd greeted, and he shook his head.

"It's not morning yet, and it certainly isn't gonna be a good one," He'd grumbled in response. 

"Okay, Oscar the Grouch." 

Now, in the car, flicking through the folder, you read out loud the information. A fifteen year old boy identified as Mark Lee had been found dead in the woods, near an area rumored to be where satanic cults practiced blood magic. His eyes and heart missing, torn clean out.

"...Ouch," Johnny muttered, stifling a yawn.

You raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. Ouch."

"Any witnesses or anything?" 

"No," You mumbled, reading over more details. One in particular caught in your eye. "Huh… Additionally, animal tracks in the form of hooves, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, were found leading to Lee’s body."

Johnny tilted his head. "Hooves?"

You hummed in confirmation.

He raised his eyebrows, facing you for a second before turning his attention back to the road. His eyes were wide. Somehow, you already knew what he was going to say. "Do you think there's a small possibility—"

"No." 

Johnny huffed. "Oh, come on! Y/N, humans are innately spiritual beings. Is it so crazy to think that just maybe a creature akin to a demon could exist?"

"I don't know, Johnny. Maybe there is. But I think now that the middle ages are over and we have more logical explanations for things like this, we shouldn't immediately jump to conclusions."

For a long time, he didn’t speak. Another thing you learned during your time with Johnny was that while it was relatively easy to smother his wild conclusions during calmer discussions, it was damn near impossible to get him to let go of them completely. You knew he'd mention it again later, but for now, you were content to just drive like this with him. You were… comfortable with Johnny. 

He had a sort of dry wit that, paired with his suave persona, made him incredibly charismatic. Once you got to know him better, it surprised you that no one around your department of the bureau really liked him.

Dressed up to the eyes

It's a wonderful surprise

To see your shoes and your spirits rise...

He shrugged. "Maybe you're right. Look, there are the cop cars."

Johnny pulled over on the side of the road, one man holding an umbrella seemingly waiting for you both. You looked at the man in the driver's seat, and he nodded toward the back seat. "There's an umbrella in the back."

"Thanks," You said, grabbing the thing. You both stepped out of the car, tugging the vinyl umbrella open. You did a once over of the officer—sheriff, actually, once you saw the badge on his chest. Johnny stood behind you and grabbed the small umbrella from you, so that he could fit under it.

"You're the FBI guys?" The sheriff asked. The two of you pulled out your badges, presenting yourselves. He offered a smile, but it was obvious the middle-aged man was shaken up.

"My name is Bill McNamara," He said, beginning to walk towards the trees. The two of you followed. "Thank you for coming on such short notice." 

He led you to a spot crowded by a few more officers scattered across the space, a white sheet hiding the body, a few feet away from a large, mossy cracked tree stump, so wide it was probably older than 100 years when it fell.

"Is this Mark Lee?" Johnny asked, and Sheriff McNamara nodded. Another officer peeled the sheet back. The poor boy was, in fact, missing his eyes, and there was a large hole in his chest. Even after several years as an MD and an FBI agent, corpses still filled you with dread.

Johnny, in his proximity from behind, nudged you slightly and pointed to the ground next to the boy. 

"So," You said, turning your attention back to the officer once you noticed the hoof tracks, "Have there been any reports of missing animals in the area? Cows, sheep?"

"...Goats?" Johnny added. You nodded stiffly. Sheriff McNamara shook his head. When he spoke, he seemed resolute.

"They say this area is popular for blood rituals, witch's magic. Now, these rumors have been around for years—since I was a kid, actually."

"Any basis to those rumors?" You asked. The Sheriff gave you a look. 

"Agent L/N, just look at the body!"

"Lots of homicides involve victim desecration," You pointed out, "Is there anything else that might point to that?"

The sheriff put his free hand on his hip. "I know he and his friends listen to that disgusting devil's music."

"I didn't like Madonna's latest album either, but I don’t think it's bad enough to call it that," Johnny mumbled sarcastically. You gave him a subtle elbow in the ribs, flashing him a dirty look. The sheriff didn't seem to notice his banter.

"No, I'm talking about that heavy metal stuff. It takes root in our children, poisoning their minds."

He led you over towards the tree stump. Johnny took a more serious approach. "Have Mark Lee or any of his friends ever been spotted at any of these supposed rituals?"

"More rumors," You muttered. The sheriff shook his head, stopping in front of the stump. 

"Not that I know of," He said, before gesturing at the stump, "This is allegedly their altar. What do you think?"

Johnny's seriousness seemed to only last in short bursts, because he fired back with, "Honestly? With a few rounds of sandpaper and some cans of shellac, it'd make a pretty nice coffee table."

The sheriff replied, "Oh… Uh… Well, from the looks of this wax on it, it was probably being used when he died."

You rolled your eyes, turning your head to the side in embarrassment. But then a flash of white, and translucent pale yellow on the ground caught your eyes.

"Do you know if Lee was out here with anyone?" Johnny asked, not saying anything as you stepped out from under the umbrella. You heard the sheriff say, "We presume he was alone."

"You sure?" You asked, picking up the library card, and the piece of wet paper. "This Franklin Pierce High library card belongs to… Haechan Lee. And the paper here is torn at the stamp so that it doesn't say which library it's from, but it's safe to say that it's from there. The title at the top is torn, too, but it says '...In America'."

You stepped back under the umbrella, raising an eyebrow as you handed them to him. "I'm surprised your people missed this."

The sheriff balked, mouth opening and closing like a fish. "I'm sorry, Agent L/N," He murmured, "I'll admit, we're all a bit… shaken up here. This isn't something that we've ever dealt with, which is why I called the FBI. I'll have my men escort you to Franklin Pierce. That kid, Donghyuck Lee… He's Mark’s best friend. He's most likely there."

The sheriff stalked off, and you raised an eyebrow at Johnny before lowering your voice. "Better hide your Metallica albums… I could barely take him seriously."

He shrugged. "Well, the body's clearly displayed in a ceremonial manner. Plus, those goat tracks are highly unusual, Y/N." 

"I was under the impression he made you skeptical once he started speaking," You hummed, crossing your arms. He shook his head.

"I didn't wanna feed his imagination. Poor guy's clearly overwhelmed."

"I think he fed your imagination, Johnny. This is nothing but some murderer taking advantage of local folklore. I mean, there's nothing that odd about—"

The sound of slapping and bouncing against the vinyl of the umbrella caused you to jump back, crashing into Johnny's chest. Your shoulders tensed up as Johnny dropped the umbrella and let out a startled, "What the—"

You caught the umbrella as it fell from his hands, but it was too late for him. Something large, wet and brownish green hit him in the forehead before landing on the ground and flopping away. 

Your mouth dropped open and you met Johnny's equally shocked expression as you both registered the multitude of toads raining down on you. 

A few seconds later and it stopped, but now the ground was covered in toads, now jumping away in different directions. Neither you nor Johnny spoke for a good fifteen seconds, until he wiped his forehead free of… mucus. Your shoulders dropped slowly when he finally spoke.

"So… wanna get coffee before we head over to the school?"

Your face dropped from confusion to disbelief. "Johnny, toads just fell from the sky."

"Yeah, but I still want coffee."

PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE, FRANKLIN PIERCE HIGH SCHOOL, BELDAM'S GLENN, NEW HAMPSHIRE—09:04 hours, Thursday February 11th, 1993

Coffee on the table, you sat at a desk situated in the school office. Your laptop, the case file and a copy of today's newspaper were laying on top of it. A few feet away from you, the school psychologist and the secretary you'd borrowed the desk from were speaking to each other. You paid them no mind, looking over the file as you typed up your preliminary report.

You continued typing until the door opened, Johnny stomping in tugging a scrawny looking teenage boy—who was most likely Haechan Lee—by the upper arm. Two girls followed meekly behind, as well as a middle-aged woman, who you assumed was a teacher. All three of the kids seemed to be on the verge of tears. You raised an eyebrow at the sight. Johnny looked pissed off, and he asked the psychologist in a clipped tone, "Hey, Doyoung, could Agent L/N and I use your office to talk to the kids?"

Doyoung looked at the boy in Johnny's grip, then at the secretary, then you, before he nodded. Johnny opened the door and made a motion for the kids to go inside. "Sit down at that table. Don't speak unless spoken to," He ordered, tone stern. You gnawed on the inside of your cheek at his voice as you stood. What had gotten into him?

You pulled him away from the doorway, lowering your voice. "You good?"

Johnny sent the boy a glare before sighing. "Kid tried jumping out the window in front of the entire class to escape. I'll calm down. Just pisses me off that he thought something that stupid would work."

You bit back a smile, patting him on the shoulder. "Pull it together, Suh. He can't get away like this."

Johnny nodded, looking down at you warmly. "Ooh, last name. I'm in trouble."

"Shut up," You huffed, only half-joking. You were about to turn when you remembered something you'd read from the cover of the newspaper.

"By the way," You murmured, "National Weather Service reported tornadoes in northern Massachusetts early this morning. The toads probably got picked up from the winds."

Johnny sighed, before walking into the psychologist's office.

He turned to the woman. "Mrs. Walker, we'll take it from here, go on back to the other kids in your class."

"Are you sure?" She asked, pushing a black, stray hair back into her tight bun. Johnny nodded.

"The one day I'm called in to sub and all of this happens," She muttered to herself. 

You spared a glance at the middle-aged woman, giving her a polite smile. She did the same, and you followed behind Johnny, pulling out your tape recorder from your pocket and closing the door behind you. 

Johnny crossed his arms and leaned against the door, you standing in front of the table and setting the tape recorder on the table. 

"This is going to be recorded," You told them. None of them protested, so you hit the record button.

"So, let's get this out of the way," Johnny began, "None of you are under arrest. We just want to ask you some questions. First, I want you to state your names for the record. Understood?" 

They all nodded, and they introduced themselves: the dark haired, tan boy was in fact Donghyuck Lee, the shorter curly haired girl was named Amy Espinoza, and the taller redheaded girl was named Phoebe Howard. 

The questions were basic and thus, so were the answers. Donghyuck and Mark were childhood best friends, but not related. Mark introduced Amy to him with Phoebe's help. Donghyuck took the book Witch Hunt: A History of The Occult in America out because he and Mark wanted to make the whole thing seem legit. When asked why they really wanted to go out there, Donghyuck looked down. He held his hands together between his thighs.

"We wanted to… you know."

"We really don't," You said, raising an eyebrow. He looked like he wanted to sink into the earth then and there.

"Mark and I had a bet that whoever got past second base with the girlsfirst  would do the other's biology homework for the rest of the year."

Amy nudged Phoebe. "Told you," She grumbled quietly. Phoebe glared at her. 

You continued the interrogation. The incantation taken from the book was apparently one meant to summon Azazel. They'd gone out there just before midnight because the book said that was the best time. 

Donghyuck insisted they didn't kill him. "I'll let you search my car and everything, that's how we got there."

"Did you see what happened?"

Phoebe took a shaky breath, before burying her face in her hands. Amy nodded. "...We did. We ran but it had already… gotten to Martin."

You and Johnny exchanged a glance. "It?" You asked. 

Donghyuck nodded. "Lady, you're gonna think we're bullshitting you—"

"Language," You and Johnny scolded in unison. Donghyuck at least had the audacity to look embarrassed. 

"We got out there," Amy continued, "Martin lit a candle on the stump and did the incantation. The wind… changed. It suddenly got a lot colder and we started hearing… I don't even know."

"It sounded like, I guess what you would call speaking in tongues," Donghyuck said. "And then suddenly, there was this thing a few feet away from us. Maybe over six feet tall, and at first I thought it was a goat, but… it wasn't."

"What did it look like?"

Phoebe cried even harder, and the other two exchanged a weary glance. "It had… glowing orange eyes, and long dark hair." Amy shuddered. "It looked like it had goat legs, but a human torso. It was like…"

"It had a… a woman’s chest," Donghyuck mumbled. Your eyes landed on Phoebe, who seemed to be extremely upset. You exchanged a glance with Johnny. He seemed to understand what you were saying, and nodded wordlessly.

"Phoebe, are you alright?" You asked, feeling that something was up. She was shaking like a leaf. With a sigh, you turned the recorder off, and pointed at Amy and Donghyuck. "Both of you, wait outside on that chair. Don't move."

The two of them left, and you nodded at Johnny to sit next to you. 

"Phoebe," Johnny said softly, "Is there something going on that the other two don't know?"

She wiped her eyes, lip wobbling. You put a hand on his shoulder, taking over. "No, there isn't," She mumbled, "I'm just… this whole thing's freaked me out."

Johnny raised an eyebrow, and you sighed. She didn't sound very convincing. Something wasn't right here. Still, you knew it would be hard to get anything out of her when she was so upset.

"Alright. You—you're free to go." You took a deep breath, hesitating before you spoke again. 

"...But if you do want to tell us anything, you can come to us and we can—we'll speak off the record, if it makes you feel better."

Johnny frowned. "I think maybe—"

You flashed him a strong glare, cutting him off, before turning back to Phoebe. She sniffled, eyes darting between the two of you. When she settled on you, she allowed herself to relax a little bit more than when she'd been looking at Johnny. She nodded wordlessly, fiddling with a silver charm bracelet on her left wrist, and you gestured towards the door. "Go wash your face, drink some water. Tell your friends they're free to go. 'Kay?"

She gave a small smile at your gentler tone. Once she was gone, Johnny was on you. "We could have pressed her further. Why did you even offer to go off the record if we haven't ruled her off as a suspect, that's breaking bureau protocol—" 

"We'll talk about this later," You answered as you stood. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched the three teenagers leave.

He lowered his voice as you opened the door. "Y/N, I can't believe—"

"You're letting them go?" The secretary—Beatrice, you believed was her name—asked, glaring at you. Her coiffed blonde bob bounced as she shook her head disapprovingly. Immediately, Johnny straightened. 

"There's not enough evidence to keep them here," He said, "Besides, they're minors. It's always tricky with them."

"It's so obvious that they did it." Doyoung crossed his arms, "They've clearly been influenced by all that stuff on MTV."

You sighed. "The FBI recently concluded a years long study researching any correlation between homicides and media consumption and found that it only occurs in 0.01% of cases. If there were any it would mean thousands of people murdering tens of thousands of other people. It'd be the biggest conspiracy in human history."

Doyoung scoffed, giving you a mocking glance. "Yeah, and J. Edgar Hoover never admitted the existence of the mafia. Really trustworthy source, the FBI."

Johnny barely contained his scoff. He glowered at Doyoung as he gently pushed your upper back towards the door. 

"Our investigation is ongoing."

ROSE GARDEN HOTEL, BELDAM'S GLENN, NEW HAMPSHIRE—19:57 hours, Thursday, February 11th, 1993

Johnny's door opened to a sight of you, no makeup, in sweatpants and hair tied up. You took in his appearance. He had on a similar pair of sweatpants, and a white t-shirt. His hair was pushed back, and he was wearing his reading glasses. 

"What's up?" He asked, letting you in. 

"I found something," You murmured, holding up your laptop as he closed the door. You sat at the foot of the bed, and he sat next to you. You opened the laptop, green text flashing onto the screen. His shoulder brushed yours due to the proximity. 

"'The grisly discovery of a young boy's mutilated body in the woods in the early morning has local law enforcement worried about the organization of conspiratorial dark forces.'"

He nodded. "Okay, is that from this morning's newspaper?"

You didn't answer, but rather read another quote from the article. "'The Jew is known to sacrifice teenagers and remove their organs during their religious rituals.' This is from a Nazi newspaper, from 1934. I found another similar case from 1967, where they pinned it on LSD users. The details are always the same, they just fill in the blanks with whoever was being persecuted at the time."

Johnny met your eyes. "And this time, it's occultists."

"Maybe this is some hidden organization, but I'm not sure. But something's just… not right. I have a bad feeling." 

"Something to do with that girl?"

You nodded. "Is there anything you picked up? Something I might not have noticed?"

He chewed on his lip. "Now that you mention it, I did notice something a few minutes ago, but it doesn't have to do with her. Come on."

He stood, and you set the laptop down on the bed before following him to the bathroom door, where he flicked the light on.

"So, we're in the northern hemisphere." He marched to the sink, leaning over it.

You leaned against the doorframe. "Last time I checked, yes."

He pressed the plug into the sink drain, before turning on the faucet. "The Coriolis Effect dictates that due to the Earth's rotation, water should swirl clockwise, right?"

You nodded, having an idea of where this is going. He motioned for you to come closer. He turned off the faucet. By now, some water had filled the sink just enough. He removed the plug, and you watched as the water went down, whirlpool swirling counterclockwise. 

"Johnny—"

"Something is here, Y/N. It's strong enough to affect this, then who knows—"

"Johnny, the Coriolis Effect works on storms and large bodies of water. Sinks and bathtubs usually don't fall under—"

He groaned, tipping his head back. "Of course," He grumbled, "It's been like this since day one."

You squeezed your eyes shut in frustration. Yes, in your time working with Johnny, you'd seen some truly unexplainable things. A pyromaniac that could light things on fire with his mind, a prehistoric parasite that turned its host violent, a serial killer that entered houses by squeezing his body through impossibly small spaces like an octopus. 

But still, you always had your doubts. "Johnny, once cases are over and we have our explanations, and I've seen things for myself, have I ever not believed you—"

"You don't trust me during these cases, Y/N, that's what matters! It's always been like this, I'm always right, but you never believe me, you go off and write your little notes about me like I'm some field experiment—"

You frowned and crossed your arms. "Johnny—"

"Have I ever gotten anything wrong? 90% of the time, my conclusions are the correct ones—"

"We come to those conclusions together! Don't start taking credit for them now."

"Oh, so you believe it only when your name is also on the report, huh?"

"Don't twist my words, Johnny. You know what I mean. I believe my conclusions first, and then I listen to yours and based on circumstantial evidence and once I discard all logical scientific explanations, then I turn to the extraordinary. I don't jump to conclusions like you do!"

"Why can't you be a good friend for once and fucking listen to me—"

"Because I'm not your friend, Johnny! I'm your fucking coworker!"

The silence that filled the room once you were done was deafening. It was only then that you realized how loud you'd gotten. The shocked disappointment in Johnny's eyes seemed to be even louder, though. 

Immediately, you realized your mistake. Yes, you'd grown close to him, but that was necessary for working well on these assignments. Keeping your work life and your personal life separate was paramount for you. Evidently, Johnny didn't feel the same, and as a result, you'd hurt him.

For a long time, no one said anything. Simply staring at each other, small space ripe with tension. Your eyes softened when he looked away from you, leaning his back against the counter. You took a step closer, until he was right in front of you.

"Johnny, I—"

"Can you get out, please?"

You stared at him for a few moments, trying to think of something to say. 

Ultimately, you didn't. You took a deep sigh, and grabbed your laptop on the way out.

Being an FBI meant you had little to no personal time, working pretty much 7 days a week and being on call for anything at any time, in any part of the country. You knew that when you started your training.

You'd entered with a statement and left with a question. Could you really call Johnny a friend? You really only saw him during work. You didn’t meet outside of it—but considering how much you worked, always on call and spending nights holed up with him in hotel rooms or in your office going over evidence of different cases, at what point did you start spending more time at work than at your day to day life?

PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE, FRANKLIN PIERCE HIGH SCHOOL, BELDAM'S GLENN, NEW HAMPSHIRE—10:11 hours, Friday, February 12th, 1993

You were looking between the notes you’d scribbled down on a small notepad using a pen you’d stolen from Johnny the day before. It was while you were transferring them to the report on your computer that you jumped in your seat when the office door burst open. Mrs. Walker guided a sniffling Phoebe Howard into the room. Johnny, who had been speaking to Doyoung to ask him about other students, turned his head. 

Doyoung held up a hand, to which Johnny nodded, and the shorter man walked over to the two of them. "Phoebe, are you alright?"

She shook her head, breaking into tears again, unable to speak. Doyoung turned to Mrs. Walker, who simply patted her head. "Lab project," She murmured, "They had to dissect pig embryos. She just… broke down. I've seen it happen before. Some kids are just more sensitive than others."

"No, no, it's not that," Phoebe blubbered, "Can I…"

Despite everything that had happened last night, when you looked at Johnny, you saw he'd done the same. A tense, knowing stare was shared between the two of you, and then Phoebe spoke.

"Can I speak to Agent L/N please?"

Your head snapped to her when she said your name. You stood, and nodded.

You lead her out the door while ignoring Doyoung’s frown and Mrs. Walker's confused look. Johnny followed behind at a distance. 

The three of you went out the door, to the outdoor lunch tables. You had Phoebe sit down, Johnny and you remained standing. 

"What is it you wanted to talk about, Phoebe?" You said gently.

She took a shaky breath, rubbing her hands together. "So… Do you know who my stepdad is?"

Thinking back to when you'd made a basic profile on the three kids yesterday afternoon, you nodded. "He's the gym coach here, right? Grant Howard?"

She nodded. "So… he married my mom when I was 6. And he adopted me when I was 8. One year after that my mom got a new job, a-and she started travelling a lot, y'know? So I was alone with him a lot more. I-I don't know when it started, but…"

The sinking feeling in your chest grew as she started to cry again.

"S-sometimes when she wasn't here, h-he would invite people over. They'd come i-in with these red cloaks and they—would bring small animals. Kittens a-and puppies, birds sometimes… They would take me down to the basement, to a room where the walls are painted red and there's this dirt floor, and they would—they would stand in a circle and sing and they would give m-me knives, o-or screwdrivers and…"

You sat down next to her, rubbing her shoulder as she let out a gut-wrenching cry. Looking at Johnny, the hand that wasn't in his trench coat pocket was balled into a fist. He was looking down, eyebrows furrowed.

"I didn't want to!" She wailed, "They would hurt me if I didn't, they said they would hurt my mom if I said anything! I had to be the one to kill the animals and then they w-would drink the blood—I don't know how I blocked it out or why I never remembered it until Mrs. Walker put the—the pig on the table, and I… I… I just…"

"It's okay, honey," You murmured, nodding. She buried her head into your shoulder, sobbing freely, and you rubbed her back to soothe her. 

Again, you looked at Johnny, who didn't look at you. You realized just how difficult it would be to keep this off the record—this was something that involved a child being abused, you couldn’t let her go home to a dangerous situation. 

This just got a whole lot more complicated. 

HOWARD RESIDENCE, BELDAM'S GLENN, NEW HAMPSHIRE—15:49 hours, Friday, February 12th, 1993

Phoebe was to remain at school. Donghyuck and Amy would pick her up, and she would spend the night with Amy. She wouldn't be going home until the situation was thoroughly investigated. She'd been left with Doyoung, who would speak to her as a mandated reporter, and would later go back to attempt to finish the project. You left her your number in case she needed to speak to you again. 

You'd spoken to Mrs. Walker as her final class was out, just before you and Johnny left. The lab was spacious. A large python lay sleeping in a glass case in the corner of the room. The space was ripe with the smell of blood, which didn't surprise you, given the amount of pig embryos she was having her students dissect all day long.

The woman had a soft voice, and seemed very sympathetic to Phoebe's struggle. "I absolutely understand, I might have her do something else for her grade, but I'm afraid I might not be able to find any other activity on such short notice."

You nodded, sighing. "Of course. Thank you for considering, regardless." 

Your eyes fell to her desk, where a small basket of random items glinted with a small charm bracelet, the same bracelet you'd seen on—

"Ah, the students usually ask me to hold onto their things when we get messy like this," She said with a smile when she noticed where you were looking. "You said you're a doctor, so you understand, right?"

"Oh, yes. I can't really wear anything at all," You said with a soft chuckle.

"Not even a ring? Oh, your husband must be disappointed." 

You felt your face heat up, scratching your neck awkwardly. "I'm not married."

She smiled. “Oh, good for you then. It’s literal hell. And, you get to ogle your partner all day.”

You choked on your spit, coughing awkwardly. “I-I’m sorry, what?”

She laughed, waving her hands, “Oh, Agent L/N, don’t be so modest. You can’t deny that Agent Suh is an absolute dish. Why, if I were 25 years younger… oh my, the things I would—”

“I really must be going, Mrs. Walker,” You insisted quickly. “I’ll contact you should I have any other questions for you."

“Could I have your phone number, in case anything comes up? I-I’ll admit, this whole situation has frightened me a bit.”

You nodded sympathetically, ignoring how uncomfortable you’d felt a moment ago. Pulling out Johnny's pen and your notepad, and you jotted down your number there.

“Y/N?” A knock sounded, and Johnny popped his head in the door. “We need to go.”

“Yeah, I know,” You replied, tucking the notepad back into your pocket. You bid Mrs. Walker goodbye, and off you went, kitten heels clacking as you went.

As for your time with Johnny? The entire ride there was tense.

“Were you expecting that?” He asked a few minutes into the ride. You raised an eyebrow.

“The secret cult that forced a nine year old girl to murder puppies and kittens?” You answered in a clipped tone, “No, John. I can’t say I was.”

He hummed. "Okay… no tape recorder today?"

"I forgot it. Left it at the hotel."

He nodded, and that was that. 

Her mother and adoptive stepfather were, to say the least, shocked at their daughter's confession. You spoke to the girl's mother in the living room, Johnny spoke to her father. Mrs. Howard, whom Phoebe had insisted had never said anything was beside herself, crying as she spoke to you.

“Mrs. Howard, you’re absolutely sure you’ve never witnessed any violent behavior from your husband?”

She nodded, sniffling. “He’s always treated me and Phoebe very kindly. In front of me, at least.”

You hummed, looking down at the carpeted floor. “You said this is your husband's house, and he’s lived here longer than you have? Have you been in all parts of the house? Is there maybe an area a guest might not know about?”

She looked up at the ceiling in thought. “After hearing what Phoebe told you both, it made me realize that I’d never been in the basement. Grant’s always said that was his woodworking space, and he didn’t want anyone in there.”

With a nod, you looked at her. “Could my partner and I maybe take a look at--” 

A commotion from the kitchen cut you off.

“I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING OF THE SORT! I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE ACCUSING ME OF, SUH!”

You shot up, and so did Mrs. Howard, just in time to see Grant Howard push Johnny into the cabinet. Your training kicked in, and you stepped between the two, holding up your hands to placate the man. 

“Calm down, now,” You growled, dangerously low, “Or I will place you under arrest for assault of an officer.” 

“Grant,” Mrs. Howard called, “Breathe.”

“Leave, both of you! If you want to see my basement, get a damn warrant and you’ll see there’s nothing down there!”

You tugged Johnny away by the wrist, leaving out the front door. “What happened?” 

Johnny shook his head in aggravation. “I asked to see the basement, said that it would clear my suspicions of him. He said he didn’t hurt Phoebe, and I said I didn’t believe him. Then he snapped, grabbed me by the collar and shook me.”

He unlocked the car. “Should we try and get that warrant?”

You got into the passenger seat, shrugging. “I can do it.”

Johnny nodded. “Hopefully we’ll find—”

A ringing from Johnny’s phone caught him off guard. He fished the phone out from his pocket, answering, “Suh.”

“Sheriff, what’s going on?”

You could hear him through the speaker, and you didn't like what you heard. 

"We'll be there right away," Johnny said, face turning serious.

ROOM 471, FRANKLIN PIERCE HIGH SCHOOL, BELDAM'S GLENN, NEW HAMPSHIRE—17:37 hours, Friday, February 12th, 1993

"You're saying she just… had a seizure?"

"I was sitting at the desk, and she was about halfway through the dissection when she just… collapsed on the floor," Mrs. Walker said, voice trembling, "She was shaking and her eyes were rolled up into her head… Agent L/N, it was terrifying."

You sighed and looked at Johnny, who was speaking with the sheriff. When you looked back at Mrs. Walker, she was shaking her head. "I feel a dark force is among us, Agent L/N," She murmured, putting a hand on her chest, "So many horrible things in such a short span of time."

"Agent Suh and I are working hard to solve the case, Mrs. Walker. I promise we're doing our best."

"Y/N," Johnny called, "We gotta go."

You bid the older woman goodbye, and she gave you a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Once you were out the door with Johnny, your voice lowered. "What do you got?"

"Not a lot. The Howards have been notified, but Grant Howard isn't being allowed into her hospital room."

"Who called the police?"

"Clinton."

"Clinton?" 

He shook his head, grimacing to himself. "Shit, sorry. Beatrice Pratt. The secretary." 

You stared at him. "Pratt and Clinton don't sound alike at all."

"Well, yeah, but…" He scratched his head and lowered his voice. "The pantsuit and the bob remind me of the first lady."

You frowned. "I wear pantsuits all the time."

"Yeah, but you don't look like Hillary Clinton."

You sighed. You didn’t have time for this, especially when he was still mad at you. "Okay. Sure, whatever. I talked to Walker. I… I'm not so sure about her."

Johnny tilted his head. "Why not?"

"I don't know. I don't have a lot to go off of, but it seems just a little bit odd that she shows up the morning of Mark Lee's death, replacing a man who apparently hasn't missed a day in a fifteen year career."

"Maybe he had an emergency. Happens to everyone."

"Johnny, he contracted flesh eating bacteria. Does that sound like something that happens to everyone?"

He didn't answer. Obviously, he hadn’t been expecting that. "Ohhh-kay, then. Let's do this. The sheriff said that the warrant should be ready within a few hours. Howard would probably beat my ass if he sees me again, so you check out that basement, and I can do the background check on Walker. Sound good?"

"Actually, I don't think you'll need a warrant."

The two of you turned, stunned, to see Grant Howard standing in front of you both. His eyes were rimmed red and he was clearly restless, shifting his weight onto his legs constantly. 

"Agent L/N, I'll show you the basement."

HOWARD RESIDENCE, BELDAM'S GLENN, NEW HAMPSHIRE—18:09 hours, Friday, February 12th, 1993

"My entire life," The man said, sounding tired, "I was taught that humans are no better, no worse than animals. Do what thou willst, rather than do unto others." 

He pulled open the basement door, gesturing for you to go first. Immediately, you were on edge. If you had your back turned he could easily push you down the stairs or hit you in the head.

"You go down first," You ordered. He nodded understandingly. "You were saying?""My family has kept this religion for seven generations. My great, great, great, great grandfather was born in 1777, Agent L/N, and he was the one who brought us into it. We've been keeping it alive since, with two other families. It kept us in good health, we had no money problems."

When the two of you got to the bottom of the stairs, he turned the light on and you realized Mrs. Howard had been right, it did look like a normal woodworking space. Until Mr. Howard pulled a rug up from the ground to reveal a hatch, which he pulled up to reveal another set of stairs.

"I was raised to believe that Christianity was synonymous with hypocrisy. And for years, I believed that." He led you down this pair of stairs again, where he lit his flashlight. The room was a bit smaller than the basement but still large enough to keep a large group of people like Phoebe had said. Also identical to her story were the red walls and the dirt floor.

 "Believed?"

"Believed," He confirmed. "I believed until I saw it in my own religion as well, not even an hour ago. When I got to the school to gather my things and was met by the heads of the other 2 families, asking me to pin the murder of Mark Lee on my own daughter. That if she were permanently affected by what just happened, we could get away with all of it. That was when I knew that I was better than an animal. I need to keep Phoebe and Linda safe."

"So one of you did murder Lee," You murmured, trying to get a solid confession. However, he shook his head. "I didn't. The others insist they didn't either." 

"Who did, then?"

He sighed. "Agent L/N, you have to understand, I'm trained in these arts so I know when there’s a difference somewhere. Something is here. Something bad."

 You frowned. "Alright. Did you or did you not abuse your daughter?"

"I never laid a hand on her. The others, however… they wanted to make sure she would stay quiet through fear, and they wouldn't listen to me. We have a ritual that blocks out memories, every time we would perform that ritual when we were done. The plan was to reveal the memories when she turned 18, and then allow her to join or reject the religion. It's a rite of passage."

"Why even use Phoebe in the first place?"

He shook his head. "The magic of an innocent soul is a powerful thing. It's one of the most powerful things we could ever use in our magic. That's also why we used those sacrifices. She was the youngest of all of our children. The others were all past 11 at that age."

With a sigh, you led him up back to the main basement. "Would you be willing to give me a written statement of who the heads of these families are?"

He nodded. "Of course. I just want my daughter and my wife to be safe. They believe that whatever's here wants a sacrifice. That it took Mark Lee as a warning to us, and unless it gets a sacrifice from us…"

"It'll strike again," You finished."And it won't stop." He sounded desperate. You found your notepad, but the pen was nowhere to be found. "Do you have a—"

Your cellphone ringing interrupted you. You groaned quietly, scooping it from your pocket. "Hello?"

"Y/N?" You heard Johnny's voice say. His tone was urgent. There was a faint crackle of static, but as you listened it began to get louder. "I'm at the school. You need to hurry, Y/N, there's something—!"

The static overpowered the sound of his voice, and then the call dropped. "Johnny? Johnny! Hello?"

Your heart dropped, and you tucked the phone and the notepad into your pocket. "I need to go. My partner's in trouble."

"I'll go with you," He offered.

You shook your head. "No. You're under arrest."

"What? But—"

"You just admitted to animal abuse, your complicity in child abuse and conspiracy. If I take you to the school, how do I know you won't take the other two and bolt?" You snapped. "Against that beam, there.

Pulling out some handcuffs, you forced him against the side of the stairs, where you handcuffed him to the railing. "I'll come back for you later," You growled, "Don't move."

Rushing up the stairs, and out the door, into the rain, you ran towards the car. Johnny needed you. 

Your friend needed you.

FRANKLIN PIERCE HIGH SCHOOL, BELDAM'S GLENN, NEW HAMPSHIRE—18:30 hours, February 12th, 1993

You burst into the school, trying to keep calm despite the horrid feeling in your gut. You eyed the office, which was right next to the main entrance. The lights were on, you could see your laptop was on. But the seat was empty, and so was the rest of the office, or so it seemed to be from where you were standing. Taking a deep breath, you pulled out your gun, and entered the office slowly. 

"Hello?" You called, looking into the window of Doyoung’s office. Empty. The principal's office? Empty. Your mouth felt dry. 

Where was Johnny?

"Y/N?"

In a moment your professors at the academy would've been ashamed to see, you shrieked, and turned the gun in the direction the voice came from. But when you realized it was Johnny with a styrofoam coffee cup, whose eyes had gone wide at the sight of the gun pointed at him, you lowered it.

"Don't fucking scare me like that," You muttered as you tucked the gun into its holster. A second later, you raced forward, engulfing him in a hug as you realized that he was okay.

"Y/N? What's… going on?"

You pulled away once it registered what you'd done. "Sorry," You mumbled. "What happened? Where did the thing go?"

"Y/N, what are you talking about?"

You shook your head in confusion. "You called me. You said you were in danger. My heart fell out of my ass, Johnny, what happened?"

Johnny's face contorted at your statement. "Huh? Y/N, I never even touched my phone. I was running the background check on Walker—who, by the way, is pretty much clear in the system. But… I don't know."

Staring at him, you put your hands on your hips. "Johnny, I heard your… never mind. We have to go. Howard confessed."

His eyebrows shot up. "He did it?"

"No, but he admitted to conspiracy and has names. Come on, we have to go."

For the millionth time today, you made your way from the school to the Howard residence, where you found the door was still open. As you opened the door to the basement, you looked at him.

"He's down here."Johnny turned on his flashlight, and you followed him down the steps. The room was eerily quiet, and when Johnny flashed the light at where you said he was, it was empty.You huffed at the sight of the empty handcuffs. How had he slipped out of them?

"Y/N," Johnny said, flashing the light a few feet away, "Look."

You turned to see what he was pointing at. Your eyes widened at the sight of bones, tinged pink with the small chunks of meat still attached to it.

"Do you think it might be some kind of acid?" You asked, and Johnny shook his head.

"There's no sign of a reaction on the floor," He answered, flashing the light around the basement floor. He stopped a few feet away. You felt yourself grow even more confused.

"Is that—?

""Snakeskin," Johnny whispered, "...There's a python in Walker's class."

"B-but, that's not possible," You muttered, "It would take a snake hours to consume a grown man, and weeks to digest it!"

Johnny grabbed your wrist, shaking his head at your rambling. "C'mon, Einstein," He told you, "We gotta go pay Walker a visit."

ROOM 471, FRANKLIN PIERCE HIGH SCHOOL, BELDAM'S GLENN, NEW HAMPSHIRE—19:01 hours, Friday, February 12th, 1993

The school was a lot darker than when it had been when you had been there previously. Seeing the halls, which you'd grown used to being full and lit up, suddenly so dark and empty made you uneasy.

 It was raining a lot harder now. The sound of the rain pelting the roof made it harder to listen for anything. When you got to Walker's room, it was also dark. She said she'd be here until eight grading papers, but the room was empty. There were some broken beakers on one of the lab tables, and when you really strained your ears to listen, the sound of soft yet strained breathing could be heard behind the desk. 

"Mrs. Walker?" You called, slowly walking towards the desk. Johnny tried the light, but to no avail. The rain must have knocked it out.

The woman was on the floor, nose bleeding and leg bent at an angle at which legs weren't meant to bend at all. She seemed to have been hit in the head, a sizable lump protruding from her temple.

"Th-the snake—" She mumbled, "They took the snake—He hit me,"

"Who, Mrs. Walker, who?"

"Kim," She spat out, "Pratt. I think they—think they killed that boy."

Doyoung and Beatrice. You and Johnny exchanged glances, and you remembered what Grant had said.

"Did you see where they went, Mrs. Walker?" Johnny asked. She blinked hazily.

"Said something about the conference room," She muttered.

"We'll call paramedics for you, okay?" You stood, trying to reassure her gently. "You'll be fine."

Johnny had already picked up the phone. Thunder crackled overhead as he dialed the number, but you could hear the busy tone all the way from where you were standing

."Damn storm is jamming the signal," He said, "Y/N, we gotta go, now."

"Johnny, what about—"

"Y/N," He growled, "Now."

Something about his tone set you off, and you did as he said. He immediately shut the door, and sped up his steps down the hall. 

"What was that about?" You asked, turning on your flashlight and trying to keep up with his pace. 

"Y/N, do you have that pen you borrowed from me yesterday?" He asked, not slowing down. Thunder rumbled overhead.

"What?" He had a point, probably. He always did when he got like this. "No, I dropped it I think."

"The pen was on Walker's desk. Next to the phone. Next to Phoebe's bracelet. It was my pen."

You inhaled sharply as Johnny tugged the door to the conference room open. "What are you implying?"

"Walker was clear in the system. But when I was talking to the principal yesterday, she couldn't even remember hiring her. What are the odds that a woman pops up out of nowhere the same day a murder happens?"

You pulled a filing cabinet open, looking through random folders. "Okay, yes, we agree. But what if—"

"Y/N, did you not see how tall she was?"

You shook your head, turning to pull out some papers from a file. "Sure, she's a bit taller than average, but she's shorter than you—"

"She's slouching to look smaller. Trust me, I did that when I was younger. If she stood up straight, she would be taller than me. Donghyuck said the thing that grabbed Mark was tall, had female breasts, and had dark hair. She fits the profile."

You sighed. "I mean, maybe you—"

A thud! and a groan from Johnny had you turning your head. Your flashlight landed on Johnny, on the ground, unconscious. Your body turned cold. 

"Johnny—?"

But then you felt something hit you in the back of the head, and everything went dark. 

Your eyes cracked open at the sensation of being dragged, and as your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you realized two things. 

One, you arms and legs were bound, and there was a gag placed in your mouth. You craned your head, and Johnny was in the same situation as you, only he was still unconscious. 

And two, you were being dragged by Hillary Clinton. 

Shit, no. Maybe you'd hit your head harder than expected. Your vision cleared up further, and you realized it wasn't, in fact, Hillary Clinton, but rather Beatrice Pratt. Doyoung was dragging Johnny, and then you realized what was going on. 

These were the others that Grant Howard had been referring to. They seemingly hadn't realized you were awake yet. You were in the school gymnasium, headed towards a doorway in the corner. The room was dark, occasionally lit by flashes of lightning.

"—The showers, right?" Doyoung asked, sounding out of breath. Beatrice huffed. 

"Yes. The blood will get washed away there."

You couldn’t move your hands, no matter how much you squirmed. Your eyes looked at Johnny, who was beginning to stir. His brows furrowed, mouth trying to form words. 

“Oh, you’re awake,” Doyoung hummed, disdain dripping from his voice, “Lovely.”

Johnny’s eyes cracked open, immediately glaring at Doyoung, who chuckled. “Please. I’m terrified.”

“Doyoung, shut up,” Beatrice snapped. “Open the door.”

Doyoung let Johnny’s legs fall onto the floor. Johnny groaned in discomfort as Doyoung opened the door, propping it open with something.

He approached Johnny again, but before he picked him up to drag him further, he landed a swift kick to Johnny’s gut. Johnny let out a muffled moan in pain, and you thrashed against your restraints.

“You just had to come and ruin everything, huh? This is a once in a century opportunity, and you--” He proceeded to kick Johnny again, over and over, “Just--won’t--quit.”

“Doyoung!” Beatrice snapped. “We don’t have time for this. Don’t you sense it getting angrier? If we don’t sacrifice them now, it’ll take us like it took Grant.”

Doyoung turned to her, breathing heavily through his nose. “Fine,” He bit out.

They dragged you into the bathrooms, leading you to the showers, where they dumped you both next to each other. You rolled onto your side to look at Johnny, whose eyes were screwed shut in pain. His breathing was labored. 

You squirmed again, trying to free yourself as the shower roared to life. Curling in on yourself as cold water soaked your body, you tried to think of a way to save both Johnny and yourself. Doyoung and Beatrice pulled out large daggers from their  coat pockets, and raised their arms to the sky. They began chanting in latin, but the roar of water, the shock of the cold temperature, and the panic beginning to set in caused the words to blur together. 

This was it. You and Johnny were going to die. 

Until the two of them crumpled on top of you. You jumped as Doyoung’s weight toppled onto you, eyes squeezing shut in pain. His elbow had landed on your stomach. For a moment, as you lay there reeling in pain, and you wondered if this was a part of the ritual. But then…

"Agent L/N?" Your eyes shot open, and you met eyes with Amy Espinoza. She managed an awkward attempt at a polite smile, fiddling with what she was holding in her hands. Your eyes widened when you registered the shotgun. A flashlight was duct-taped haphazardly to the barrel, probably so that she could see wherever she was aiming.

"Mmh-hffpnffh?" You couldn't stop yourself from trying to speak, unable to contain your surprise. 

A second set of hands turned off the shower, and you craned your neck to see Donghyuck Lee, holding an old baseball bat underneath his armpit. He pulled Beatrice off of Johnny, making a disgusted face. "I always knew there was something up with her," He grumbled, "She never laughed at my jokes."

"Yeah, 'cause you're annoying as shit," Amy countered, pushing Doyoung to the side. "Can you guys sit up?"

She untied your hands, and you got to work on untying your feet before pulling the gag off of your mouth. 

"What are you two doing here?" Johnny asked, voice raspy and out of breath. 

You stood up, wiping water off of your face. "Where did you get that gun?"

 "Oh." Amy suddenly sounded embarrassed. "I, uh… Stole it from my dad?

"Donghyuck helped Johnny stand. "We went to visit Phoebe in the hospital, Mr. Suh—"

"Agent Suh," Johnny corrected, bringing a hand to his stomach. "Whatever. Anyway, we went to visit and once she woke up she told us something… not good."

"Mrs. Walker is the thing," Amy said. "Phoebe said she was dissecting the pig and she saw her grab the bracelet she'd given her—"

"And she did something and her eyes turned orange, like the thing we saw in the woods!" Amy continued. "The officer that was there didn't believe her, but we did."

"So we decided to take matters into our own hands," Donghyuck said. "She killed our best friend, so we thought—"

"That coming to your school with a shotgun and a wooden baseball bat, to kill a demon was the best course of action?" You didn't sound amused, and the two of them exchanged a look.

Amy looked down. "Well… when you put it like that…"

"It doesn't matter," Johnny said. "You kids need to go home now. It's not safe for either of you." 

"Like hell we're going anywhere! We were able to save you guys, so—"

“You kids got lucky this one time," You pointed out, sounding stern, "Agent Suh and I are trained for dangerous situations like this. You two aren't, and we certainly aren't about to expose you kids to one. Go home."

You searched your pockets, not finding your gun. You crouched to look through Doyoung and Beatrice's pockets, handing Johnny's gun to him and putting your gun back into your holster.

"But—"

A large crack of thunder startled you all, and the ground seemed to rumble as it did. Johnny looked past you and the kids, at the end of the shower hallway, and inhaled sharply.

"Oh, that's so much worse than Hillary Clinton," He mumbled. You didn't even see what he meant, but in that split second something in you took over. You pulled Donghyuck behind you, Johnny grabbing Amy and doing the same. 

At the same time, Amy aimed the gun to where Johnny had been looking, the light landing on...

Donghyuck gasped. "Holy shit."

It was like exactly what Donghyuck had said, except worse. Glowing, orange eyes, goat legs, stringy black hair. Johnny was right—standing like this, she was much taller than him. Her jaw was unhinged, open impossibly wide. She was panting heavily, hobbling slowly towards you. 

You and Johnny pulled out your guns, shooting instantly. One hit her in the shoulder, the other in the stomach. Her jaw opened even further, and a blood curdling screech echoed throughout the tiled room. 

Then she broke out into a run. 

You forced yourself to stand still, shooting another round before she jumped over you. Out of the corner of your eye, Donghyuck swung the bat, hitting her in the leg, causing her to fall face first to the ground.

 Taking that advantage, Johnny fired another round into her back. She shrieked again, and you and Johnny took the opportunity to run out the door, pushing the kids with you.

"Go! Both of you, now," You ordered once you were in the gym again. They shook their heads. Donghyuck held up his bat.

"We're not leaving without—"

"Donghyuck, this isn't a movie," Johnny insisted, "Now go!"

 Amy grabbed his arm. "Hyuck, they're right, we have to—LOOK OUT!"

You turned to see what had once been Mrs. Walker stick its head out of the doorway. Amy was able to fire one last shot into it, with her shotgun. You didn’t see where it hit—the door shut and you heard one final wail. 

A few moments later, the lights flickered on. You stood there, clothes dripping onto the hardwood floor for a good minute or so, until you looked at Johnny, who wore a pained grimace. "I can check," You told him. "Stay here with the kids." 

"You sure?" He asked. You nodded, holding out your gun and slowly making your way towards the door. You spared the odd trio one final glance. 

Johnny—soaking wet hair falling into his eyes—was standing in front of them, aiming his gun at the door. Donghyuck was holding his bat up, Amy's MacGyver-esque flashlight gun making you squint.

Then, you opened the door. You could feel your heart hammering a mile a minute. Very slowly, you scanned the room. You stopped when you glanced at the showerhead Beatrice and Doyoung had placed you under—the same one they should have been under, knocked unconscious. You swallowed a lump in your throat. 

Because they weren’t there, and neither was Mrs. Walker. What you did see, however, were two large streak of blood dragged up the wall and to a window, staining the green tiles.

PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE, FRANKLIN PIERCE HIGH SCHOOL, BELDAM'S GLENN, NEW HAMPSHIRE—20:47 hours, Friday, February 12th, 1993

The four of you made your way back to the main building on high alert. The rain seemed to have stopped once the thing was gone. Amazingly, there wasn't even a cloud in the sky. Even the air felt different—cleaner.

Shockingly, this time when Johnny tried the phone again, it worked. In order, he called the sheriff, who had no issue believing the ordeal you had gone through. Then the principal, who was incredibly confused as to how four of her teachers could vanish in one night.

 And then, you turned to the kids and gestured to the phone. "Alright, your turn now. Call your parents, both of you."

If they were more afraid of the murderous hellspawn they'd just helped you fight off, it didn't show. "Please just let us go now, Agent L/N," Donghyuck pleaded, "My mom will never let me leave my house again after this."

Amy shook her head. "My dad's gonna kill me if he finds out I stole the gun again."

Johnny made a face. "Again?"

She turned even paler when she realized her screw up. "I'm not going to omit witnesses from a report because you'll get grounded," You told them. "You're good kids, with good intentions. You just lost someone and had another friend go through something traumatic, we get that. But what you did tonight was incredibly dangerous, reckless, and—and—"

"Stupid?" Johnny offered.

"Johnny!" You snapped, lowering your voice. He shrugged.

You sighed, trying to get them to understand. "Alright, listen. There's a Yellow Pages over on that desk. If you don't call them, I will, or the sheriff will. Which would scare your parents less, huh? Getting a call from their kids, from the sheriff's department, or from the goddamn federal bureau of investigation?"

If they didn't get it before, they definitely understood now. Amy took the fall first, telling her dad she'd brought her car to the school, had gotten into trouble, and needed him to come by to talk to the police. She left out the gun, much to your amusement.

While Donghyuck did the same, you pulled Johnny into the hallway to speak to him.

"Are you okay?" You asked, "Doyoung seemed to kick you pretty hard." 

"I'll take a few days off once we get back to DC, I'll be fine," He murmured. He leaned against the wall and winced.

You nodded, but weren't sure how to respond. Finally, you spoke again.

"Look, about last night," You said softly, and he looked up in thought. 

"What about it?" He didn't seem to want to meet your eyes.

You took a step forward. "Johnny, other than when we first met, have I ever treated you like you were crazy?" 

Your voice was quieter now, gentler in its approach. He looked to the side, crossing his arms. "...No."

You shrugged, before sighing. "It's not that I don't trust you. I have my scientific conclusions. You have yours. Every time I see something I can't explain I try to explain it with what I do know. Tonight was… insane, and you were right. But honestly? It just reinforced my wanting to go the scientific route every time we have a case."

He frowned. "Why? You saw Walker."

"Exactly." You crossed your arms. "If I went into every single case, expecting to see that or something even worse? God. I… I don't know how you do it, John."

He smiled, but still didn't meet your eyes. "I didn't mean what I said last night either. Y'know… that. Or at least, I didn't realize I didn't mean it until today. I… I care about you, Johnny. I really do. You're smart, and you're really funny, and you give me perspectives I wouldn't consider otherwise."

He looked at you, and you put a hand on his upper arm. "I'm glad I have a friend like you to work with," You admitted, "And I'm glad you're okay."

His smile grew, and he let out a chuckle. "There's no one else in the bureau I would rather be murdered by Hillary Clinton with," He said, with the most endearing tone possible. You burst into laughter, Johnny joining you. He stepped closer, pulling you into a hug as you continued to laugh. Your eyes shut, and despite Johnny's cold, damp clothes pressing against your cold, damp clothes, it still warmed your chest. The two of you stood together for a while, enjoying each other's embrace. His chin rested on your head, and you sighed happily. Johnny gave good hugs.

"Uhh, Agent Suh?"

Johnny and you broke away immediately. Johnny cleared his throat."Uhh, yes, Donghyuck?"Amy and Donghyuck exchanged a glance from the office doorway. "Uh, my mom said she'll be here soon. A-and I saw some police lights across the street, so…"

"Oh." Johnny straightened his tie. "Thank you."

A few seconds later, the sound of sirens came into proximity. You took a look at these two kids, and despite the stress they'd caused you, you felt an odd fondness in your heart. 

“Come on, you two," Johnny murmured, "Time to go."

X-FILE 229-B: THE SAN CEFERINO SHIFTER

FBI HEADQUARTERS, WASHINGTON, D.C—07:08 hours, Wednesday, July 6th, 1994

On this particular summer morning, you were enjoying the air conditioner for as long as you could wait. You'd be flying to San Ceferino, California, twenty minutes outside of San Francisco. 

The assignment was at a gated community where three women had been found dead within the span of three weeks. You and Johnny would be sent in to investigate due to a strange, unidentifiable residue being found on the bodies. A local detective had contacted the bureau for help.

The kicker? For some reason, due to some sensitivities of having their community "invaded" the head of the community had requested you be placed undercover.

So what was the bureau's idea? "Moving" you and Johnny into the community, posing as a newlywed couple. 

Yikes.

This seemed like a bad idea to you, but you didn't say anything. Because if you spoke up to your superiors, they'd ask why, and you'd be forced to explain. 

"I got the flight tickets and our fake profiles!" Johnny entered your shared office, causing you to look up from the case file.

"Oh, nice. Who are we?"

He curled his lip, making a face. "Whoever makes up these names should be demoted, I swear to god. My name is Fox. Fox Kang. Who the hell names their kid Fox—"

You stifled a laugh as you grabbed the file from him, flipping to yours. Dana Baker. A bit ordinary, but the more inconspicuous, the better, you figured. 

"God, I kind of don't want to go," You hummed, "It's hot enough as it is here in Washington. I don't wanna imagine the California heat."

"Well, suck it up," He said, but he didn't sound dismissive. "We're leaving in three hours. We still have to pick up our undercover wardrobe and get to the airport, y'know?"

Frowning at the profile, you nodded half-heartedly. It stated that your backstory was that of college sweethearts at Cornell in the 80s. He was class of 1984, you of 1986. You were moving to California two months after getting married, because "Fox" got a job offer just outside of San Francisco. 

"You're staring at that paper like you're Nancy Kerrigan and it just broke your knee," Johnny pointed out, "You okay?"

"Huh?" You looked at him, swallowing. "Oh… yeah. I'm fine. I'm just a bit… unsure about the whole marriage thing." 

Johnny shrugged, offering an amused smile. "Really, Y/N. We've been working together for two years and you still find me that unbearable?"

You laughed, standing and circling your desk to stand in front of him. "No, not at all. I'm just not the best when it comes to undercover work."

Johnny leaned against the desk, smiling sympathetically. "Well, I'm no Tom Hanks either. But if you think about it, we spend all our time together anyway. It's not that big of a stretch to say we might as well be."

"We definitely argue like one," You fired back. You both laughed, simply staring at each other in silence once it quieted down. Johnny's eyes studied you up and down, dark eyes warm. He was wearing his glasses today. 

You wondered if he was judging your outfit, because he did that sometimes with other people. Apparently, before he became interested in criminal psychology he'd wanted to become a fashion designer, or so he told you. Six months later after he'd told you that and you still weren't sure if he was joking or not.

"What are you looking at?" You asked. He shook his head. 

"...Nothing. Let's get going?"

The two of you picked up your faux suitcases—the bureau had a department full of fake clothes for agents going undercover needing to fit a certain persona. The two of you were nothing close to the white picket fence suburban life, so you were better off picking up some fake clothes.

You laughed when you saw the first outfit Johnny had been given. A pastel yellow LaCoste polo shirt, and grayish blue dress shorts. He glowered at you when he saw your face.

"Oh, yeah, very funny."

Your outfit wasn't much better. High rise, light wash jeans and another polo, this one bright red, a pair of dark red casual loafers to match. Johnny didn't laugh, but it was clear he was trying not to.

You decided to sleep on the plane. There wasn't a lot to look over, as you'd received the file the night before. By now, you knew the drill. 

You dreamt you were back in that hotel room in Oregon. Johnny was kneeling beneath you, but you still hadn't taken your robe off. He was saying something, but you couldn't understand what. His eyes were full of a warm emotion that you couldn't quite place.

Until he raised his arms to try and remove the robe. This time, when he spoke, you could hear him clearly. "This is what you wanted me to do, right?"

Your hands grabbed his. "What? Johnny, I… Well…" 

He stood, face impossibly close to yours. There was an odd smile on his face. "Don't worry," He murmured. "I want to, too."

Slowly, your hands let go of his and he began to pull off the robe. You didn’t protest. When you were bare, his hands slid to the skin of your waist, and he pulled you against him. His forehead pressed against yours.

"Johnny, are you sure?"

"Y/N," He said with a smile, "We are beginning our descent into LAX. Please put on your seatbelts and put up your trays."

You jumped awake in your seat, eyes impossibly wide. A laugh from beside you caused you to turn your head. Johnny was giggling into his palm. 

"What?" You asked, voice raspy from sleeping. 

"Oh my god, that was beautiful," He declared, "You were sleeping so peacefully and then, oh my god, that was hilarious."

"Ha, ha, ha." Your tone was devoid of any emotion. You rubbed your eyes, yawning slightly. "What time is it, here?"

"Three hour time difference. It's one PM." 

You nodded. And you still had a six hour car ride. Lovely. 

SOMEWHERE ALONG THE I-5, CALIFORNIA—15:22, Wednesday, July 6th, 1994

"Couldn't they have just flown us to San Francisco and have us drive from there?" Johnny complained after being cut off by yet another car. 

You sighed. "Budget cuts, I guess. We're not infiltrating the mafia, or taking down human trafficking rings."

"Yeah, we just fight the boogeyman and the little green men," He agreed. You laughed. 

"Do you ever wonder what it would be like if we hadn't gotten assigned together?" He sounded wistful, not taking his eyes off of the road. 

"I don't know." You picked at a loose thread on your jeans. "I would probably still be teaching at the academy. I think Brooks was considering placing you with Jung if I wasn't up for it."

"Jaehyun Jung?" He turned his head, making a face. "Really? He hates me."

"He doesn't hate you," You insisted, "He just thinks like me, science before all, except… less nice about it."

"You sure?" He asked, fiddling with the radio, "Every time we're in a room together, I catch him staring at me like he's trying to shoot lasers into my head, the prick."

You shrugged. "He's nice to me."

"That's just 'cause he's trying to get into your pants."

You hummed. Jaehyun was pretty handsome. "Would that be such a bad thing?" 

He coughed, shrugging. "Well, it's your love life. You do you."

The air turned awkward. Johnny fiddled with the radio, but in this particular stretch of the interstate, all that came up was a Latin beats radio. Trumpets, and soft snare drums filled the car. You immediately recognized Selena's Bidi Bidi Bom Bom, a song about a girl realizing her heart went crazy whenever her lover passed by—while you didn’t listen to a lot of Latin music, you had a friend who did and always played this song when you met up.

Me tiemblan hasta las piernas

Y el corazon igual

Se emociona, ya no razona

No lo puedo controlar

"Oh, I hate this song," Johnny mumbled, reaching to turn the radio off.

"No, wait! I like it." You pushed his hand away. He groaned, but didn't turn it off. 

Y me canta así, me canta así…

Bidi bidi bom bom, bidi bidi bom bom

Bidi bidi bidi bidi bidi bom bom

Bidi bidi bidi bidi bidi bom bom

So, the two of you continued on listening to Selena, Johnny silently pouting. 

"So, what were you dreaming about on the plane?"

"Huh?" You cleared your throat.

"Yeah, you said my name in your sleep."

You shifted in your seat. "Oh… Um. I can't even remember."

He hummed, but didn't say anything. The drive continued on, both of you alternating between discussing mundane things and the case. All of them had been found in their homes, with no sign of a struggle—which suggested they knew their assailant. They'd all been strangled to death. No odd fingerprints could be recovered from the crime scenes. 

The first victim lived alone. The other two's husbands had solid alibis that were confirmed by the police. 

Which meant that it had to be someone in the neighborhood. There was reportedly a strong sense of community there, which was part of why the bureau had you going undercover. 

Around six, the two of you rolled into San Francisco, for a brief stop to talk to the detective who had contacted the bureau, a woman named Wendy Son. 

The two of you rolled into the precinct, and upon showing your badges, were prompted to the woman’s office. She had her light brown hair tied up in a ponytail, wearing a black pantsuit similar to what you would wear, had you not been dressed like a soccer mom.

"Oh, thank you for coming," She said once you sat down. "I have some extra material here that I wasn't able to fax you."

She pulled out a folder, setting it in front of you on the desk. Johnny opened it to reveal more images you hadn't initially seen. 

"We sent the sample to Los Angeles because their laboratory has a higher capacity," She told you both, "They still weren't able to identify it, but apparently it apparently has an a mild tranquilizing enzyme. That might also be why there wasn't much of a struggle." 

Johnny hummed. "There aren't any cameras in San Ceferino, are there?" 

Detective Son shook her head. "Only around the perimeter and the gates." 

"Maybe there's something there," You said, "Could we have access to those tapes?"

She looked back down at the pictures. "I could certainly get it to you by tomorrow afternoon, though. Come in past two and I should have it by then."

Johnny nodded and smiled at her. "That would be great, thank you." 

She smiled, and you'd have to be blind to not notice the blush on her face. She handed him the keys to the house that the heads of the community had arranged to have semi-furnished ahead of your arrival. The rest would be arriving tomorrow in the morning, during which time you would go through the motions of being a newlywed couple moving into their “forever home”.

Johnny apparently was blind, though. He didn't say anything about it once you were both back in the car. You couldn't really blame her. 

Johnny was… well, he was Johnny. He was incredibly handsome, and funny. Any reasonable person interested in men would find him attractive. 

"Detective Son likes you," You told him as you were getting onto the road that led to San Ceferino.

"Does she?" He answered, smiling smugly. "She's pretty."

You don't know why that ignited something in you. "You think so?"

He nodded. "She seems nice. But I'm not interested."

The odd sensation in your chest simmered down. "No?"

"Not really. I'm not interested in something long distance. Plus, I work too much to have a relationship."

You nodded. "Yeah. I understand."

You arrived as the sun was setting, around seven. The two of you pulled into the gate to the place, where you introduced yourselves with your fake names to the guard. He checked his roster of approved people and let you both in. 

San Ceferino consisted of four different cul de sacs, each house practically identical. The house you would be staying in was towards the end of the second one. The house was a pale pastel yellow, orange rays of the sunset making it seem a deeper color. Your car rolled into “your” driveway, and with a sigh of relief, Johnny turned the car off. 

“I’m so tired,” He groaned, “Should we try and introduce ourselves today or tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” You said, letting your head fall back against the headrest, “These people are probably all having dinner or something, it’d be weird for us to do that now.”

He nodded, and got out of the car to open the trunk. You got out to grab your suitcase, and as you were getting out you realized that just maybe the universe disagreed with your decision to wait to meet others around the neighborhood.

A woman was crossing the street. She seemed a bit older than you both but was still dressed almost identically. You walked over to Johnny, who had his back turned, and tapped him on the shoulder. “Fox,” You mumbled, “We’ve got company.”

He turned, and upon spotting the woman flashed a comically fake smile. You offered the friendliest smile you could muster, but the way her eyes lit up when doing a once over of Johnny and then drooping in disappointment once she spotted you. If she thought she was subtle, she was dead wrong.

“Hi,” She said, impossibly enthusiastic, “I’m Anne Morrison. I’m the head of the Homeowners Association.”

You nodded in greeting. “It’s nice to meet you,” You said, holding out your hand, “I’m Dana. This is… my husband, Fox.”

“Fox,” She repeated, turning to look at Johnny, “That’s a lovely name. So, what brings you two to San Ceferino?”

“Oh, I got a job offer in San Francisco a few months ago,” Johnny answered. He was good, you decided. “We looked at some houses in the city, but it’s so busy there, you know? We were living in Maryland, so the transition between small town and big city… it’s not for us.”

She nodded, eyes wide. “I absolutely understand. My ex-husband wanted to move to the city now that our kids are in college. I don’t enjoy any of the hustle and bustle, really.” She chuckled, “So guess who got the house in the divorce!”

You and Johnny exchanged a glance, then laughed as if it was the funniest thing you’d ever heard. “Oh, my goodness,” You wheezed, clutching your hand in your chest, “I can imagine!”

“So, what do you two do?”

“I’m an architect,” Johnny said.

“I’m a publicist.” You scratched at your cheek when you felt a mosquito try to land. Her eyes zeroed in on your hand.

“You two are married, right?” She asked, “How come you’re not wearing your rings?”

You froze. Did the bureau even have fake jewelry? Why didn’t either of you think of that detail?

“Oh,” Johnny shrugged, coming to the rescue. “It’s so stressful having to take everything on and off at the airport, so we decided not to wear them today. Right, honey?”

He wrapped his hand around your waist, and you nodded. “I never wear jewelry when I’m on a plane. Too much hassle.”

She nodded, mouth slightly agape. “Oh, I see.”

Johny cleared his throat. “What do you work as?”

She grinned. “I’m a chemist.”

“I hated chemistry in high school,” Johnny groaned jokingly. Anne apparently thought this was hilarious, swatting his arm. He laughed again, but it was empty, awkward. You leaned your head against his shoulder in hopes that she'd get the message. 

“Well, Anne, it was lovely meeting you,” You declared, “But we’ve been awake since five in the morning travelling. We’re exhausted, we really should be getting inside.”

Anne sighed, eyes turning away from studying Johnny’s face to you. “Oh, go ahead. You two must be so tired.”

Johnny nodded, pursing his lips. “We’ll speak soon?”

She smiled. “There’s an HOA meeting on Friday night at another member's house. You should come and see what we’re all about, consider joining.”

"Swing by tomorrow!" You grinned, "You can tell us the details then."

"Of course, of course. Well, I'll leave you two to it. It was nice meeting you, Dana." She raked her eyes over Johnny one more time, "...Fox."

When she was out of earshot, Johnny pulled the suitcases out of the trunk and scrunched up his nose. "That was... awkward."

Your hand pulled up the extendable handle of the suitcase, looking back at her to see her close the door to her house, which was at the very end of the cul de sac. 

You looked back at him. "So, a chemist. And she's involved with the community, everyone probably knows who she is."

He shrugged before closing the trunk. "Let's keep an eye on her. She gives me the creeps."

The two of you made sure the car was locked before making your way towards the front door. He fiddled with the keys

"She might even have a motive," He said, as you stepped inside. "Ah, c'mon, aren't you gonna let me carry you over the threshold?"

"Not the time," You said, picking up your suitcase to carry it to the bedroom. "We were talking about a motive. Evidently, she likes looking at… married men. If it's her, she might be doing it out of jealousy."

"Exactly," He agreed, following you up the stairs. "Maybe there's something else at play—jealousy or something. how old were the other victims?" 

"Between 25 and 35. She didn't say how old she was, did she?" You rolled into the bedroom, sitting on the bed and immediately flopping down onto it. Johnny rolled past your room, looking for the separate bed the bureau had said would be there as well.

"Finally," You sighed with a smile. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you stifled a yawn. For a second, you considered falling asleep just like this, uncomfortable jeans be damned. 

"Y/N?" 

You cracked your eyes open, frowning at Johnny who was standing in the doorway. "What?" 

"There's only one bed."

You almost stopped breathing for a moment. "Huh?" 

He shuffled on his feet. "There's only one bed," He said, speaking slower.

"What do you mean there's only one bed?" You sat up.

Johnny sighed. "I mean there's only one bed." 

"But the bureau said—"

"Well, the bureau lied," He interrupted, "Because there's no other bed."

You  crossed your arms. "I could take the couch."

"That's supposed to get here tomorrow." 

"Oh," You frowned. What were you going to do? 

"I mean, I could sleep on the floor," You said, "So that way we don't have to sleep, you know…"

"Together?" He offered.

"In the same bed," You corrected, turning your face. It felt hot all of a sudden. 

"No, I couldn't do that to you." He set his suitcase next to yours, then sat next to you. "The bed seems big enough. I'm sure we'll be fine."

You were too tired to argue further. "Sure…" You didn't sound too convinced. 

"Great," He sighed, "I just gotta tell you. I snore a bit."

KANG-BAKER RESIDENCE, SAN CEFERINO, CALIFORNIA—08:43 hours, Thursday, July 7th, 1994

That night, surprisingly, you slept like a baby. You initially thought you'd overthink it all with Johnny lying right next to you but… it was comforting, knowing he was there. You hadn't slept next to anyone since you were 26.

Life as an FBI agent was demanding. Because of this, you'd given up on the idea of having a meaningful relationship ages ago. And due to the nature of your work, it was easy to throw yourself into it to drown out the desire to have someone to come home to. The fact that whenever you did get free time, if you spent too much of it alone… 

But now, lying awake in the morning, seeing Johnny's sleeping face curled up into his pillow… You remembered. 

He looked peaceful. Even at 33, like this he barely looked a day past 27. You could make out the details on his face, old acne scars and the occasional mole. The smile lines along his cheeks and the corners of his eyes… maybe in another lifetime, another universe, you could have gotten used to—

No. You shot up, heading towards the en suite to go to the bathroom. You were still sleepy, that was all. The time difference between Washington and California was having second effects. 

You pulled down your pants, blinking sleepily, and promptly had a heart attack when you sat down. Your knees barely missed your nose, your stomach dropped, and a shriek tumbled out of your lips before you could even register what was happening. 

Standing, now wide awake, you had half a mind to pull up your pants as Johnny tumbled into the bathroom, eyes wide in alarm.

"What happened?" He asked, voice raspy from disuse. You didn’t answer, but instead stared at the offending lifted toilet seat until he got the message. 

"Oh…" His face turned awkward, lips tilting from side to side. "I got up a few hours ago. I must have forgotten to put it back down, sorry." 

You didn't answer, yawning instead. He shrugged. "I've never… lived with another woman before, so…"

"Never?"

His eyes looked down. "...Never."

"Not even with that ex-girlfriend from Oxford you told me about?"

"Mary? No."

You held back an amused grin. "Johnny, when was the last time you even went on a date?" 

He pursed his lips. "I… am starving. Do you want me to go to the supermarket to pick something up for breakfast?"

You blinked, putting your hands on your hips. 

"...Breakfast sounds great."

Johnny promptly changed and left while you got into the shower. Once you were out, you brushed your teeth, did your general morning routine and waited for the car to roll back into the driveway, doing a quick background check on Anne in the meantime. 

No criminal record whatsoever, but that didn't automatically discard her from your list. Mostly because she was the only one on it, so far. 

Johnny rolled back into the driveway just before 9:20. You helped him take the bags into the kitchen, when he said, "Think fast!" and tossed you a small box.

"What's this?" You asked, opening the box. You sputtered at the sight: two simple gold bands. He looked at you like you were a moron.

"Wedding rings," He said, plucking one of the rings out from the box, "Hopefully so Anne lays off."

"You didn't have to go out and buy actual—"

"It's fake gold." He waved his hand dismissively, sitting down at the island and slathering an ungodly amount of cream cheese across a bagel. 

You settled on some coffee after hesitating to put on the ring. As you were finishing up, a knock at the door caught your attention. You looked at him, and he shrugged. "Moving van won't be here till 10:30."

So, you sighed, but still headed to the door. Johnny followed behind, second bagel in hand. When you swung the door open, you were met with Anne and a man you hadn't met yet. A wide Cheshire grin was plastered onto her face.

"Dana, hi!" She greeted. Her eyes landed on Johnny. "Good morning, Fox."

"Morning, Anne," You said with a nod, catching her attention again. You turned your eyes onto the man and held out your hand. "Hi, I'm Dana."

He shook your hand with a friendly smile. "My name's Scott Hernandez. I'm on the HOA board."

Johnny walked up to the door, putting a hand on your shoulder. "I'm Fox," He said, face speckled with crumbs and mouth full of food. You wanted to crawl into a hole.

"Hey, man," Scott said, eyeing Johnny, "Uh… Welcome to the neighborhood!"

"So," Anne asked, eyes raking over Johnny's chest, "How was the first night?"

Johnny swallowed his bagel before speaking. "It was lovely. We just snuggled up together and slept like little baby cats." He turned to you, eyes warm. "Isn't that right, honey bunch?"

Your neck snapped to look at him, holding back a look of disgust. "That's right…" You racked your brain for something sweet to call him and a moment later came up with, "...Poopy head."

Poopy head? Nice one, L/N.

Johnny’s smile faltered for a second, but neither Scott nor Anne seemed to notice. You flashed them both a bright grin. "So! Would you like to come in?"

Scott and Anne nodded. "That'd be great, thanks," He said. You led them into the dining room, where Johnny managed an awkward laugh. "Sorry it's such a mess, we just got up about an hour ago and I immediately went to the supermarket."

"Oh, don't worry, Fox," Scott hummed, sitting at the island, "Moving is so stressful. Especially with…"

Anne flashed him a dirty look. You raised an eyebrow at the interaction. "With what?" You asked, tilting your head as you feigned innocence. Anne sighed, shaking her head.

"Three women have been… murdered over the past few weeks." Scott looked down. "Police haven't been able to catch who's responsible."

"That's horrible," Johnny murmured, standing next to you. "Did you know them?"

"We know everyone because of our HOA responsibilities," Scott answered, "I wasn't that close to any of them, but they were all very nice women. It's awful, what happened to them. You knew Yolanda, didn't you, Anne?"

She nodded, eyes glassy. "Her son and mine used to play together. She was such a nice woman. Lovely family, too. It just breaks my heart." 

"I'm sorry for your loss," You told her. She offered a sad smile.

"But what, is it someone from the community or what?"

Anne shrugged, eyes full of concern. "The police don't really know, but it would make sense if they were from the community—"

"It couldn't possibly be someone living here," Scott huffed, "Everyone knows everyone, why would someone want to—"

"Scott is just in denial," Anne said, waving her hand. "Did you two really not know?"

"Not at all," Johnny replied, eyes wide with fake worry, "These past few weeks have been so hectic we barely had time to sit down. Right, honey?"

You groaned, partially putting up an act and partially in disgust at the name. "It's been a nightmare!" 

You made up some problems, like a crappy travel agency, yard sales, things going missing, stuff like that. Johnny occasionally chimed in, embellishing your stories. Occasionally, Anne or Scott would ask a question, and Johnny would answer with something he pulled out of his ass. 

"So that's why Fox isn't allowed coffee, anymore," You said a few minutes later, rolling your eyes. Scott was cackling, Anne giggling into her palm. Johnny glared at you, but there was no malice behind it. 

"But anyway, I'm guessing you two didn't come here to hear about how anxious I get with caffeine." Johnny turned to the pair. "What brings you to the... Kang-Baker residence?"

"Oh, we came to talk to you about joining the Homeowner's Association," Anne explained, "Not everyone in the neighborhood is a part of it, but it's very convenient to join." 

They laid down the basics, and as they talked, you realized just how much you appreciated living in an apartment rather than a house. Yes, it was a bit small at times, definitely not as idyllic, but 300 dollars as an initiation fee, and monthly payments of 150 dollars? You had half a mind to call the bureau and tell them that the real crime was the extortion from the Homeowner's Association. 

You didn't really see any advantages—probably because you didn't even own this house and wouldn't have to worry about selling it later. It just sounded like a nightmare. What did they mean you could only paint your doors pastel colors if you joined?

When they finally left, you looked at Johnny. "Maybe I'm not cut out for the American dream after all. That HOA stuff sounds even worse than the time we got attacked by the flesh eating virus."

He held back a laugh. "That bad, huh?"

You rolled your eyes. "No, this is much more irritating. The moving van will be here any second, come on, let's go."

127TH PRECINCT, SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA—14:29 hours, Thursday, July 7th, 1994

After unloading the furniture boxes (empty boxes with nothing really in them), you and Johnny settled on lunch—some crappy junk food—and drove all the way to the police station where Detective Son worked. 

"What did you think about that Scott guy?" You asked Johnny, who shrugged. 

"Seemed nice enough. We'd have to look into him too, since he's also involved in the community."

You nodded. "I'll run a background check once we get h—back to the house."

He glanced at you, but said nothing. "...What are you doing once this is over?"

You furrowed your eyebrows. "What, once we get back to DC?"

He nodded. "Well, yeah."

You stared ahead at the car in front of you. "Oh, well… I'm not sure. Probably finish writing that stupid report for Brooks and then curl up on my couch, watch some movies, drink some wine. I don't know."

He snickered. "What, and watch Pretty Woman for the 700th time?"

Smacking him in the shoulder lightly, you huffed. "Which is no better than watching Full Metal Jacket 700 times, and you know it, Johnny Suh."

He shrugged. "Well, if sex on a piano is what does it for you then who am I to judge?"

"Shut up." You rolled down the window, the heat too much to handle. 

When you finally got to see Detective Son again, she handed you the cassette and made her way towards the door. When she spoke, she looked only at you. "I'm actually headed out to check out another call we got just now," She explained, "But feel free to use the VCR in my office to look it all over."

She left, not even looking Johnny in the eye. You turned to Johnny, who was wide-eyed. 

"And you said she likes me."

In her office, you went over several days' worth of sped up hours of footage of six different camera angles. By the third hour of watching sped up, grainy footage, Johnny huffed. "I don't think we'll get anything," He said, "Especially considering the killer didn't even need to break their way in—"

"Hold on, hold on." You shook your head, eyes zeroing in on a dark shape in one of the cameras. You walked up to the VCR machine and hit the rewind button.

"Watch camera six."

He narrowed his eyes, fixing his glasses as he watched the dark shape run out from the treeline and up the wall, then out of the camera's view—presumably inside the community. You rewinded one last time, pausing just as it leaped onto the wall.

"There."

"That's too big to be a cat," He murmured, standing to get a closer look at the grainy black and white still image, "Right?"

"Could be a big cat—bobcat or a lynx, maybe, but…"

"It's movements are too… jerky for it to be a cat."

You hesitated, before nodding. 

"Could this be the thing we're looking for?" Johnny asked, and you crossed your arms, giving the dark blob a skeptical look.

"Looks like we have some digging to do."

One more hour of poring over the footage, plus another hour of looking at the archives of the police department turned up nothing on big cats in the area. There'd been no calls to 911 to report big cats in the neighborhood, and looking over the tape again showed nothing else, not even the thing leaving.

Which made Johnny’s theory that it was still there weigh even more.

By 7:30PM or so, Detective Son had returned. "I brought coffee," She said, entering the small space, "Find anything?"

You shrugged. Johnny looked at her. "We saw a weird blob go inside. It never came out and we couldn't figure out what it was."

She frowned. "There haven't been any reports of wild animals there in years. Not since that huge military base opened up."

Johnny's eyebrows knit together. "Army base?"

She nodded. "Fort Talbot. It's about fifteen minutes west of San Ceferino. There aren't a lot of roads that lead to it, they're pretty private."

You locked eyes with Johnny, who was probably thinking the same thing as you. Military base? That was new.

 “I don’t suppose you could take us to see it?”

She shrugged, raising her eyebrows. “I mean, we could try, but there’s a fence around the perimeter about a mile or two away from the actual base. They’re not gonna let you in.”

“No, we’re not military,” You sighed. “But thank you for telling us about that.”

SAN CEFERINO, CALIFORNIA—20:44 hours, Thursday, February 12th, 1993

When the car rolled into the driveway, the two of you had found that Anne was at your front door. You shot each other a quizzical look when she turned at the sight of your headlights. “What’s the cougar doing here?” He sighed, and you elbowed him.

“Hush. Be nice.”

She reached the car once you’d both stepped out. “Oh, I was wondering where you two were! I wanted to invite you over to have dinner. The spinach quiche I made was a bit too big for just me!”

At the mention of the meal, your stomach panged in hunger. All you’d had since you left the house was that coffee Wendy had given you. Plus…

Johnny seemed to read your mind. “We’re starving. Quiche sounds great, thanks so much, Anne.”

She beamed at his praise. “Oh, come on! Wouldn’t want it to get cold.”

Anne took the both of you into her house, leading you to the dinner table where she’d already set up spots for the both of you. “It’s not too much, is it? I’m sorry if I’m being overbearing. I really do want you to ease into the neighborhood, and plus, living in this big old empty house gets… lonely.”

As you sat down, you frowned in sympathy. You watched as she began to slice the quiche for you both. “Don’t worry, Anne. I understand where you’re coming from. It’s so lonely in my—or, it was so lonely in my apartment before Fox and I met. Sure, you can distract yourself during the day with all of the stuff you have to do, but at the end of the day you come home to… nothing.”

She handed Johnny a plate, and he took it. “There you go, Fox.”

He smiled, handing the plate to you. “Thank you.”

Her eyes followed his hand, and blinked when she spotted the ring on his hand. “Oh, I see you have your rings now.”

Johnny’s smile grew into a grin, as he held out his hand, flashing the band around his ring finger. You did the same. “No more pesky metal detectors,” He declared, “So why not?”

Anne nodded, eyes lowered. She handed him another plate, then served herself. And then, finally, you all started eating. It occurred to you as you took your first bite that if she was she easily could have laced the food with whatever was in those women’s systems when they died. But that would be too different from the killer’s modus operandi. They only went for women and they killed them in their home. Autopsies didn’t find anything recent in their stomachs at the time of death, so you concluded to take a bite. 

Besides, it smelled good. If you were going to die, then it would be nice to die by the hands of some good quiche.

“So,” You began, “You said your kids were off at college?” 

She nodded, digging around her food with a fork. “My oldest is in grad school at USC. He’s currently in South America doing research on bats, or something, I really can’t remember. My second is off backpacking for the summer, she’s graduating from UCLA next year, and my youngest left for college two years ago. He managed to get a full scholarship to Duke, can you believe it?”

You smiled, nodding. “Wow, that’s impressive.” 

She sounded proud, but there was a sadness behind her gaze. “It’s hard, it really is. Especially trying not to worry. They rarely call and only come home during the holidays. Drives me up the wall not knowing what my kids are up to!”

Johnny laughed. “My mom was the same when I went to college. My freshman year she called me once every day. My roommates always made fun of me for it.”

She chuckled. “Oh, that’s how all moms are,” She turned to you, “I imagine it’ll be the same when you two have kids.”

You almost choked on the food in your mouth at her words. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Johnny go white. Somehow, you managed to hold it back, hitting your chest lightly as the food made its way down. “Oh, well… it’s a bit early for that, I think.”

“We only got married six months ago…” Johnny murmured awkwardly. 

“Oh, I totally get it,” She said, “But, y´know, accidents happen. Especially when you’re still in the honeymoon phase after the wedding. I had my first less than a year after we were married, we weren’t even trying!”

You chewed on your lip. “Well, if something happens…” You met eyes with Johnny, whose gaze was unreadable, “Something happens.”

Not looking away, Johnny licked his lips subtly, before picking up a napkin. Anne didn’t notice, surprisingly, and seemed satisfied with your answer.

You ate a little bit more, when Anne asked, “So, tell me, how did you two meet?”

Remembering the file, Johnny perked up. “We met at a party in college. I was in my junior year, I think? Right, honey?”

You shook your head. “Your senior year,” You corrected, “Because I was in my sophomore year. I remember it like it was yesterday. He came up to me and was wearing this horrible button up shirt—”

“You ended up stealing it from me!” He joked, and you held up your index finger.

 “I use it to sleep. I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing that in public. Much less to attract a mate.”

Anne cackled, and the two of you laughed too. Again, you managed to make up a story: he was drunk and accidentally spilled some punch on your pants. He’d tried to help you by washing it in the bathroom but only made it worse.

“When I got back to my dorm, it was around three in the morning, my leg was sticky and I was miserable, but we ran into each other a few days later and he was very apologetic about the whole thing.”

“I was mortified,” He said, “I mean, here’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in my life and I managed to screw it up by ruining her pants. I was so sure I’d screwed up.”

Anne raised her eyebrows. “So, you knew from the start that you liked her?”

Johnny’s eyes landed on you again, turning wistful. He leaned over and grabbed your free hand. “The moment I first laid my eyes on her, I knew. She was the one.”

You tried to smile, but suddenly your chest felt like it was caving in on yourself. You let your hand rest in his for a moment, before pulling away. “Oh, Fox. Don’t get all sentimental on me now.”

Clearing your throat, you didn’t miss the way Johnny’s eyes fell slightly. “If you’ll excuse me, where’s your bathroom?”

She pointed up. “Upstairs to the right.”

This was your chance to get some dirt on her, and put some space between you and Johnny. As you walked away, you touched a hand to your cheek and it came away burning. 

“Get it together,” You muttered to yourself.

The quick search yielded nothing. She had nothing in her drawers, all of the papers on her desk were related to her work at a hair care company. You always could have missed something though. You couldn’t take more than a few minutes, you certainly couldn’t risk her coming up to check on you and finding you sifting through her work documents.

Before you came down, you did your best to leave everything as you found it before heading back downstairs. 

When you sat back down at the table, things were a bit more tense. You sensed it immediately. “Everything alright?”

“...Yeah,” Johnny mumbled. 

“Fox and I were just talking about how… difficult marriage can be.”

You nodded, wondering if that was all that had happened. “Oh, it’s no walk in the park, that’s for sure.”

The rest of the dinner was not as lively. There were more awkward silences, more lulls in the conversation, less laughs. When you finally left, his elbow intertwined in yours, you looked at him. “What happened while I was gone?”

He shook his head as you both crossed the street. “I don’t like her,” He told you in a hushed voice, “She started talking about how it won’t be like this forever and it’s only fun now because we just got married or whatever.”

“What, was she trying to open something up between you and her?”

“I don’t know. She hasn’t exactly been subtle, so it wouldn’t surprise me if she was.”

The two of you marched up into your house, and while Johnny was showering you did a background check on Scott Hernandez. Nothing also. A perfectly ordinary citizen, no criminal record at all. 

Then, it was your turn to shower. As you did, you couldn’t help but think back to Anne’s words. The whole situation, feigning domesticity was proving to be bad for you: you couldn’t help but imagine a small child with his wide eyes and your nose, his lanky limbs and your hands. 

The amount of time you put into your work made you fully aware that it would make having children difficult. Truth be told, you hadn’t really put much thought into settling down. The right person had never been there.

But what if he had? What if he’d been by your side for the past three years?

He had to be putting on an act when he’d said it.

The moment I first laid my eyes on her, I knew. She was the one.

Thinking back to the moment you’d first met him, and he’d come across as slightly patronizing and dismissive of your conclusions. But thinking about when he’d first turned to look at you, that particular morning in 1992…

You turned off the shower. Alone time wasn’t doing you any good, either.

When you emerged from the shower, you sighed as your eyes landed on the toilet seat, which was lifted. You set it back down with a huff before getting dressed.

Once you stepped out of the bathroom in your pajamas, toweling your hair, your eyes fell to the pile of dirty clothes on the bed. “Please don’t put your sweaty clothes, where I have to sleep,” You told him, tossing the clothes into his face. He let out a soft groan, picking them up. 

“Oh, come on,” He grumbled, “They don’t even smell that bad.”

After he set them off somewhere (you didn’t see where as you were shutting your laptop off), he sat back down on the bed, leaving a space open for you. "So, what if we looked into Scott tomorrow?"

“That sounds like a good idea. Tomorrow night there’s that HOA thing we need to go to. We might be able to pick up some more stuff there.”

He nodded, and as you stood in front of the bed he waggled his eyebrows and patted the spot next to you. “Come on, Dana,” He murmured sarcastically, “We’re married now.”

You didn’t smile. He took that as a sign to continue. 

“Plus, if something happens, something happens.”

You grabbed a pillow and flung it into his face. “You’re the worst,” You grumbled. He laughed, but it was muffled from the pillow.

Slowly but surely, you realized with the sound of his laughter, this feeling was soon going to become something you couldn’t ignore.

HERNANDEZ RESIDENCE, SAN CEFERINO, CALIFORNIA—09:02 hours, Friday, July 13th, 1994

When the door opened, Scott Hernandez had a welcoming smile on his face. “Dana,” He said, “Good morning. Did you need anything?”

“Oh, I just wanted to ask if there was an official guidebook or anything for the HOA? Fox and I are still considering joining, but we’d need to go over everything.” You scratched at the cardigan you were wearing. Why did the bureau have to give you something so thick and scratchy when they knew you were coming to California in the middle of July?

“Come in! I’m sure I have a rulebook. Plus, if you have any other questions you could always just come over.”

He led you up the stairs. “I keep all of my stuff in the office,” He explained, “That way my kids don’t mess it all up.”

You offered a soft laugh. “Oh, you have kids?”

“Yep.” His voice was warm. “Two kids, a nine year old and a six year old. They’re not here right now, though. My wife took them up to Washington to see their grandparents.”

“Ah, that’s sweet.” As he led you into the office, your eyes studied the room. A picture frame behind him of a professional family portrait, a houseplant in the corner a big clunky computer on top of the desk, and a cabinet pushed to the side of the room.

Your eyes fell onto the things placed on top of the cabinet, a stapler and some other office supplies. But when your eyes caught a different type of metal that wasn’t the standard gray color, you focused on it. A small medallion, decorated with a ribbon. When you recognized the logo, your eyes widened slightly.

“You’re military?” 

His eyes turned to you, eyebrows raised. Then he looked to the side. “Oh… no. My brother was. He passed away in the Gulf War.”

You looked down, but something about his tone didn’t sound quite authentic. “I’m sorry for your loss,” You answered anyway. 

The silence hung overhead for a few moments, before he pulled out a small booklet. “Here’s a copy of the rulebook.” He held it up, waving it back and forth, “This has pretty much everything.”

“Oh, really?” You straightened your posture, feigning a smile. When he handed it to you, your smile grew bigger as you looked down at the small book. “I’ll be sure to show Fox when he gets home. I really appreciate it, Scott.”

He waved his hand. “Don’t mention it. If you need anything else, just come on over. I work from home, so I’m here pretty much all day.”

Scott studied your face, and a second later you looked away. “So, I should get going,” You murmured. “I’ll see you tonight? I don’t think nor you nor Anne said where it would be.”

He scratched the back of his head. “Here, actually! Tonight, at 7.” 

“Great,” You answered, “I’ll see you tonight.”

When you got back to the house, you walked to the office, where Johnny was waiting. “Hernandez has military links.”

His head shot up. “He does?” 

“There was a military medallion on his cabinet in his office. He looked like he was gonna piss himself when I asked about it.”

“And what did he say?”

“Said his brother was a Gulf War veteran. I didn’t believe him for a second.”

“So could he be our guy?”

You took a deep breath. “Honestly? I don’t know. I could try to look through his office tonight at the HOA thing.”

“You?” He shook his head vehemently. “You fit his profile. All of his victims were around your age. You’re not going somewhere you could be alone with him.”

You rolled your eyes. “Then what?” 

He looked at you as if you were dumb. “I’ll go.”

“But—”

“No.” His gaze turned stern, before walking all the way up to you. He put his hands up on your shoulders. “Y/N, he could kill you.”

“Has that ever stopped me before?” You asked, tilting your head. “Johnny, it’s in the job description to deal with people who could kill me. What’s so different now?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. His eyes were wide, urgent, and his face was inches away. You shook your head, trying to prompt him to speak. “What?” 

Johnny pursed his lips, studying your face. And then, finally he shook his head. “Nothing.” 

He stepped away, and left the office, leaving you speechless. You leaned against the desk thinking about what just happened.

For the rest of the day, he was relatively distant. During lunch—you went out to buy some sandwiches—and he barely said thank you, before you ate in tense silence. You could only wait until 7 o’clock rolled around. In the meantime, you placed a call to Detective Son, telling her to look into Scott Hernandez and his family. You typed up the rest of your preliminary report, and then all you could do was wait. 

When five thirty rolled around, you started to get ready. You took only about five minutes, before stepping out, fully dressed. When you stepped out of the bathroom, Johnny had his back turned to you. It was almost as if he hadn’t noticed you were right behind him, because he was humming softly to himself, tapping his foot to a non audible melody. You could hear him humming it though, and after a few seconds of listening. you were able to recognize the song.

He froze when he heard your giggling. “What?” He asked, turning his head.

“Is… is that Bidi Bidi Bom Bom?” You asked, leaning against the wall. He straightened his posture before shuffling on his feet. 

“...No.” 

You raised your eyebrows. “Sure, it isn’t.”

He raised his eyebrow, but it wasn’t as serious as he had been before. And when you spoke again, his mouth grew into a crooked smile. 

“You like Selena,” You sing-songed. 

“Alright, enough. We’ve got a job to do.” He was biting back a laugh. You knew him too much to believe the opposite. 

When the two of you finally walked the few houses towards Scott’s house, he held out his arm for you to hold onto. Taking a deep breath, your hand hesitated before it grabbed onto him. Approaching the house, you could tell that it was alive with a lot of people on the inside. You wouldn’t necessarily say it was overflowing, but you could tell it was definitely close to filling up. 

“Let’s go?” He asked, and you nodded. He led you to the front door, where he rang the doorbell before the two of you waited. 

A minute or so later, Scott opened the door with a grin. 

“Hey, you two! You’re just in time.”

You put on your best smiles. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Johnny sighed. You didn’t miss the tense undertone in his words.

The two of you made your way into the room. Across the room you heard someone call for you both. You held back a groan. You really didn’t need this right now. 

“Hey, over here!” Anne called, beckoning you over. Johnny heaved the sigh of a man ready to end it all, and then you both made your way to her and her group. All of them seemed to be the same age as her. 

“Ladies, these are our new neighbors I was telling you about.” She pointed at the both of you .”This is Dana Baker, and this is Fox… the architect.”

Oh boy. 

And the talking began. You and Johnny having to rehash the same details over and over again. It felt like having to navigate a minefield. You had to recall all of the lies you’d told Anne and Scott, this time in front of an audience of women very clearly ogling the man who they fully believed was your husband. 

You made idle chit-chat after that, but eventually, about twenty minutes had passed until they sat everyone down. The living room was full of grown ups, including a few young children. The thought of everyone being in such close proximity to someone, something that could hurt them all the way it had hurt those other women.

It was easy to tune them all out. It was then that you realized that suburban life would never really be for you. This was all so dull and monotone. You were sure that if you had decided to actually go into the medical field and settled down… you would probably lose your mind. 

They went over some things you didn’t pay attention to: lawns and whatnot. It was so tiring you had to stifle a yawn on more than one occasion. Anne was going on about some infraction that didn’t even sound that bad to you, when it occurred to you to slip away, Johnny be damned. 

You patted Scott on the shoulder as Anne went on. “Where’s the bathroom?”

He nodded back once, “Upstairs. Green door. We’re almost done, though, are you sure you can’t wait a little longer?”

“I had the genius idea to drink two whole bottles of water before we left,” You murmured so as to not make too much of a scene, “I really don’t think I can.”

He sighed, before nodding. “Go ahead.”

Gotcha. You slipped up, sparing Johnny a glance. He was glaring at you. If looks could kill, you didn’t even want to know where you’d end up going. You made your way up the stairs, remembering the way to the office from this morning. You slipped into the office, making your way to the cabinet. The medallion was gone, which made you wonder why he had done so. 

As you shuffled through the drawers of the cabinet and came up with nothing, you had to remind yourself to keep count of how long you’d been up here. You moved on to the desk, shuffling through the papers on the desk and then the ones on the drawer. In the first drawer, you found an ID: Alma Hernandez, Lazarus Programming.

In the second drawer, nothing. 

In the third and bottom drawer, you found something: a pair of dogtags. Neither of them said Hernandez. Instead, they read Simon Walsh. 

Simon Walsh? That was new. You stashed them back into the drawer, suddenly remembering how long you’d been up here. Probably a bit over five minutes. As you made your way back down to the living room, you ran into Johnny. 

“Hey,” He said, “I was just coming to look for you.”

He looked disappointed, bordering on anger. In the small space, you could feel his proximity. You couldn’t help but shake your head.

“I had to take the chance. I wasn’t sure if there would be a chance after this.”

He sighed. “I can’t believe you. Come on, they’re serving pizza.”

You laughed, letting him grab your hand as he led you back into the living room, where you two ate a few slices of pizza. Enough to feel satisfied, but not enough to feel too full. In theory, if you had to make a detainment or worse, have a confrontation then it’d be a bad idea to have stomach cramps. 

You two kept to yourselves, occasionally speaking to other couples who introduced themselves to you. Once you’d finished gorging yourselves on the food, he kept his hand around your waist the entire time. It was a gentle touch, but comforting. You couldn’t help but feel tense.

“After we get home, I’ll tell you all the details I saw.” You looked up to see his face, watching you tentatively. 

“Alright,” He murmured, leaning closer to your face, “But I wanna talk about something together first.”

Raising an eyebrow, you leaned away from him. “What, are you okay?”

Johnny nodded, smile reassuringly. “Yeah. I just realized something earlier today.” 

KANG-BAKER RESIDENCE, SAN CEFERINO, CALIFORNIA—21:17 hours, Friday, July 13th, 1994

When the two of you left, Anne had bid you both goodbye. She’d said Scott had gone to bed with a headache, which made you feel a bit uneasy. The entire way home, Johnny kept himself relatively close. The entire way home, he was silent. It wasn’t until the both of you were inside of the house that he leaned against the front door. As he led you to the couch )which had finally arrived), you tried to remember all of the details you’d seen as you looked through Scott’s office.

When he sat you down, you placed both hands in your lap. He scratched at his shoulder, before meeting your eyes.

“Simon Walsh.”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Your eyes widened at the same time his had. “What?” You asked, shaking your head. You were suddenly aware of everything going on. You were in an ongoing murder investigation. It was quite possibly linked to a very secretive military base. Three women had been murdered. A fourth would be soon if you didn’t hurry.

“Johnny, I don’t think…”

“No, please. Just a few minutes, okay? I’ve been dealing with this for years. I need to get this out of my system and then we can talk about this back in DC. Please, Y/N.”

Your gut felt heavy at the same time your heart felt incredibly light. It was by far one of the strangest sensations you’d ever felt. Letting out a shaky breath, you nodded. 

“Alright, John. Five minutes. Then we talk about what I found.”

He nodded with a small smile. Gently, Johnny grabbed your hands, rubbing the knuckles with his thumbs. He was silent for a while, tilting his head back and forth as he tried to figure out what to say. 

“What I said last night at Anne’s. I meant it. That first time I saw you, I… I knew. I knew we didn’t get along initially, but I just had this feeling in my chest. You were so smart, and eventually we realized how much we clicked…”

He looked up, leaning closer. You swallowed softly as his eyes met yours again. He managed a soft chuckle. “Y/N, I tried to hold it away. But it got stronger every single day. You understand me. Even though we push back against each other, you don’t think I’m crazy. You take them into consideration and don’t brush them off. I really appreciate that. I look at you and… I’m home.”

Looking to the side, you sighed. “Johnny, I really don’t think this is appropriate. Especially not right now—”

"Y/N, I know what your dream on the plane was about."

You inhaled sharply, alarmed gaze meeting his own. His eyes had turned soft, warm. You knew you had to push him away. The name Simon Walsh was on loop in your head, but you couldn’t find it in you to push him away.

“What?”

“I heard you moan my name,” He sighed, “Trust me, Y/N, I know what I heard.”

He leaned even closer, cupping your face. You could feel his breath puffing softly onto your skin. His eyes were knowing as his voice dropped to a whisper. 

“You want me too, don’t you?”

When his lips met yours, you couldn’t find it in you to pull away. He pulled you closer, and your arms found their way to wrap themselves around your neck. His lips were soft, but demanding. You could tell he’d been waiting for this a long, long time. 

You don’t know when he laid you down onto the couch, but honestly… you didn’t really mind. Johnny was warm, comfortable. And yes, July in California was hot, humid, but… up until Johnny put his hands on you, you’d never realized how cold you’d been, even before your arrival here.

He deepened the kiss, hands sliding down to your waist. They toyed with the hem of your blouse, humming against your lips. You gasped against him, hands sliding into his gelled hair.

Your eyes snapped open. Johnny never used this much gel in his hair.

Two things happened in the next two seconds. You pushed Johnny off. Johnny would never prioritize his feelings like this over a case. You hadn’t seen Scott as you left. All of this pretending, playing house had gotten to you. You were in real danger now.

The other thing that happened? Johnny burst through the door, wearing clothes he hadn’t been wearing when you first left. He was panting heavily. There was a bruise on his cheek and his wrists were red.

You backed away from Not Johnny, who turned to you, gaze now furious. A wave of nausea passed over you, breathing heavily. Whatever Not Johnny had in his system, he had passed onto you with his spit, and you could feel it settling into your system. You looked up at Johnny, before pulling out your gun. Taking a deep breath, you looked at your work partner, closest confidante, love of your life.

“I had a feeling,” You mumbled, realizing how the sinking feeling in your stomach was actually dread.

Stumbling, you heard Not Johnny let out a ghastly screech. You fired your gun at him before passing out. 

SAN FRANCISCO METROPOLITAN, SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA—10:39 hours, Saturday, July 14th, 1994

The room smelled sterile. You knew this smell. You’d lived it for several years before in medical school rotations. This had to be a hospital, you realized. Slowly, you let your eyes open. You let out a soft groan at the discomfort of having been stuck in one position for so long.

“You awake?” A deep, familiar voice asked. Your vision was blurry, but you could still recognize it was Johnny. His eyes were rimmed red from exhaustion, but he looked relieved. 

“No. I died, actually.” Your voice was raspy. Johnny scoffed, shaking his head.

“You’re impossible,” He mumbled, “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

“What even happened after I passed out?”

Johnny took a second to gather his thoughts before speaking. “You hit him in the face. It wasn’t pretty. He freaked out a bit, and then he took off. I couldn't catch him. Called Son, she came in with the precinct and they looked through Hernandez's house."

His gaze turned somber as you sat up with a soft huff. Your muscles were stiff.

"They found the real Scott Hernandez, his two kids and his wife, in their basement. Autopsies are being performed today, but it looks like they've been dead a few weeks."

Your eyes shut. Two kids, a man, and another woman. Seven victims total.

"And that thing is still out there," You mumbled, "If only I hadn't been so stupid—"

Johnny put his hand on yours. "Don't say that. Even if you hadn't gotten knocked out, he would still be way too much for just the two of us to handle. Y/N, you shot him in the face and it barely stopped him. He wasn't human anymore."

You shook your head, burying your head in your hands. "Still… I know you, Johnny. I should have seen the signs, but he was so—somehow he knew everything—"

"It's something to do with touch," He said with a nod, "He knocked me to the ground and locked me in a closet before he found you. I was a bit out of it, but I remember he touched my wrist for a few seconds and then he turned into me. My head still hurts, too. Maybe he can also copy some memories from the people he touches long enough."

When you didn't answer, he grabbed your face. He looked desperate. "Y/N, you're only human. I would have fallen for it too."

"I fell for it because he told me exactly what I wanted to hear," You whispered, feeling tears spring to your eyes, seemingly out of nowhere, "He played me like a fucking fiddle and I fell for it."

His thumb brushed away a tear. "Don't think about the what-ifs, Y/N. It's already happened, and now we need to focus on what's gonna happen next. We need to find a way into Fort Talbot. Somehow. Turn your report into the bureau and we can figure it out from there. There’s something going on there. Human experimentation on soldiers, or something."

"We're never gonna get clearance to search a military base, Johnny. It's impossible."

He shook his head. "Y/N, if you were able to convince Brooks to let me, Spooky Suh, FBI's most unwanted? keep running around hunting ghosts and aliens and Bigfoot all over the country, you can figure out a way to get access in there. I know you can."

You were shaking now. "We won't be safe if we do. You think the military won't retaliate? We'd be dead, Johnny," Your words were garbled and your voice wouldn't stop cracking, "There has to be another way."

He shook you gently, shaking his head. "Dammit, Y/N, I can't do this without you."

"They placed me with you for a reason, Johnny," You snapped, "To debunk your work, to reign you in and shut you down—"

"But you saved me," He insisted, "You did exactly the opposite. And as a result we kept working together, and you kept me honest. You… you've made me a whole person."

He rubbed his face with his hand, pushing a strand of dark hair out of his eye. "Y/N, as frustrating as it's been sometimes working with you, your stupud science and rationalism have saved me a thousand times over. I owe you everything. Y/N, you owe me nothing."

His forehead brushed yours, and his eyes fluttered shut. "I can't do this without you," He murmured. And despite the fact that you knew that this was your Johnny, you shook your head. The deja vu was making your head spin. 

"Tell me something the real Johnny would know," You whispered, putting a hand on your chest.

He thought for a second, before sighing. "I had three moments when I realized I was in love with you. When you first walked into my office that morning, I had a feeling," He said, voice full of conviction, "It grew into something concrete when you told me my glasses were crooked. And the moment I knew—I mean, I already knew from that first moment but this was when it truly hit me—was when you told me you'd kept that stupid fucking nasal implant in your sports bra so that you wouldn't lose it."

He laughed warmly, obviously thinking back to the moment. "No one else has ever believed me the way you do. And I doubt anyone else ever will. You're my one in…" He looked to the side, trying to remember the number, "Five billion."

Your hand came up to caress his face. He seemed to melt against your touch. 

This time, when your lips met, everything felt right, despite the feeling that the world was crumbling around you. His hands squeezed your face gently, as if you were about to disappear. When your hands slid into his hair, it felt slightly sweaty still, but it wasn't tacky with gel. 

This was your Johnny. You knew it with your entire being.

Yes, Johnny was sarcastic, stubborn, eccentric and had low impulse control. But he was also highly intelligent, empathetic, hilarious and yes, you could now admit that he was the most beautiful human you'd ever seen in your 30 years on this planet. 

If it had to be him and you against the world, so be it. The truth was out there. You and Johnny would just have to be the ones chasing it.

taglist: @doderyscoffee​ @always-wishing-for-rain​

[weirdo701]

All 11 Lightsaber Color Meanings

All 11 Lightsaber Color Meanings [Ultimate Star Wars Guide]By

Arthur S. Poe

/ September 4, 2021

Lightsabers are an all-important asset in George Lucas’ fictional world of Star Wars. They are a weapon used predominantly by Force users, be their Jedi or the Sith, but there are some variations that have been used by other characters.

The fact that they are mostly used by Force users is explained by fact that they are actually very hard to control for people who don’t have a strong connection to the Force. They are not heavy or anything, but total control over a lightsaber requires a lot of skill, which is why “regular” characters usually avoid them, although there have been instances in the Expanded Universe where non-Force users used a lightsaber in combat.

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The movies initially presented three different lightsaber colors – blue, green, and red – but this was expanded as the franchise developed and now we have several different iterations of Lightsaber colors.

We are bringing you a list of lightsaber colors, as well as their meanings and the most famous users. You’re also going to find out a bit about the process of making a lightsaber and how the color is actually determined.

How Are Lightsabers Made?

Lightsabers are an essential part of the Star Wars mythology. We have explained that they are generally used by the Jedi and the Sith, although there are some variations of the weapon used by non-Force users in the franchise. The lightsaber is a weapon used for both offense and defense, which makes it a very practical tool to have when in trouble.

Now, the mechanics behind a functional lightsaber are quite complex and they require a lot of skill to compose properly. This is why there aren’t many lightsabers around.

In order to function properly, a lightsaber needs to draw power from an appropriately-sized power cell. Parts that are usually used to make a lightsaber include modulation circuits and an energy gate. The essential parts are a blade emitter shroud, the emitter matrix, and some type of activator to turn the weapon on and off. Additional, but non-essential parts include handgrip ridges and a blade length adjuster. Some lightsabers also had a non-lethal low-power setting used for training.

Single-bladed lightsabers generally had a belt ring so they could be hung from the wearer’s belt hook, or a wheel-shaped attachment that slotted into a matching belt clip on the owner’s belt when not in use. This way is quite practical, if you think about it.

Some specially designed lightsabers could even use unstable kyber crystals; an example of such a lightsaber was Kylo Ren’s lightsaber, which featured two laterally facing vents designed to divert excess energy away from the cracked crystal and keep the lightsaber stable.

During assembly, it was important to not accidentally invert the emitter matrix; when activated the lightsaber’s power grid would backfire. At best this could cause the blade to quickly short out, but if it was left on, the faulty weapon would violently explode, potentially killing those in close proximity.

What Are Kyber Crystals?

Alongside the complex mechanics, a kyber crystal is basically the essence of a lightsaber as it is its main source of power, the “thing” that produces the saber itself. Kyber crystals are actually rare, Force-attuned crystals that grow in nature and can be found on scattered planets across the whole galaxy.

They were likewise used by both the Jedi and the Sith in the construction of their lightsabers, although the latter had to put the crystal through a painful adaptation procedure.

As part of their Jedi training, younglings were sent to the Crystal Cave of the ice planet of Ilum, probably the most famous source of kyber crystals, to mine crystals in order to construct their own lightsabers. The crystal’s mix of unique luster was called “the water of the kyber” by the Jedi. There were also larger, rarer crystals of great power and that, according to legends, were used at the heart of ancient superweapons by the Sith.

Although they all had the same denominator, kyber crystals appeared in different types and, through history, a lot of different types of kyber crystals have been discovered and described. The known types are:

Adegan crystal

Barab ingot

Christophsis crystal

Corrupted crystal

Cracked Jedha crystal

Dantari crystal

Dragite gem

Ghostfire crystal

Ilum crystal

Kimber stone

Krayt dragon pearl

Lorrdian gemstone

Nishalorite stone

Obsidian

Seeker crystal

Solari crystal

Sorian crystal

Synthetic kyber crystal

Tainted Nightsister Crystal

Thontiin crystal

Varpeline crystal

Zophis crystal

Mephite crystal

Mephite crystal

Pontite crystal

As Master Yoda once said: “The heart of the lightsaber, the crystal is.” This short piece of wisdom tells us just how important the crystal is and how it, actually, determines the saber’s nature. This is why there are so many different types of lightsabers based on their colors.

Known Lightsaber Colors and Their Meanings

As of today, there are 11 main lightsaber colors that have been identified in the Star Wars franchise. Some of them have specific subtypes, but the majority has just the base form. The table below is going to present the main colors and their basic subtypes where applicable:

Not what we have given you a brief overview of the colors, we can continue with our article and elaborate what each of the colors means and what each of them actually represents. We’re going to be approaching the colors in the order they are listed in the table above.

Blue Lightsaber Meaning

In modern times, lightsaber colors really don’t have the same weight as they had in ancient times and the interpretations of each color are based on their historical importance rather than on their modern significance, although Lucas and the other authors tried to keep the symbolism in modern characters.

In that aspect, a blue lightsaber, which is also the most common one seen in the galaxy, represents what was historically known as a Jedi Guardian, the protector of the Jedi Order and a person that embodied bravery and righteousness. Jedi Guardians were fighters and they vehemently defended the ways of the Jedi, and the blue color of their sabers represents those qualities in them.

The two most famous owners of a blue lightsaber are Obi-Wan Kenobi, who is the perfect example of the qualities described above, and his former Padawan, Anakin Skywalker, who turned to the Dark Side and became Darth Vader. Luke Skywalker and Rey had a blue lightsaber for a while, and even General Grievous, who had been trained by Count Dooku, had a pair of blue lightsabers.

Green Lightsaber Meaning

The green lightsaber has usually been associated with the most powerful Jedi Knights. Unlike the blue lightsaber, which is usually associated with fighters and soldiers, the green lightsaber represents wisdom and skill. It is usually associated with Jedi who have a strong connection to the Force.

Owners of a green lightsaber are experienced and wise, they have a deep and fundamental understanding of the Force and they are usually among the higher ranking Jedi Knights. They value harmony and rely more on their mental skills than their fighting skills. That is why they are usually held in very high regard and are among the most respected Jedi Knights in the whole franchise.

By far the most famous owner of a green lightsaber was Jedi Grandmaster Yoda, who is considered to be the most powerful Jedi in history. Yoda was the embodiment of all the qualities associated with a green lightsaber, which is why he is the best example for this section.

Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn also had a green lightsaber and had it not been for his rebellious and unorthodox nature, he would have certainly been a member of the Council.

Luke Skywalker also owned a green lightsaber later in his life. Interestingly enough, General Grievous also had a pair of green lightsabers, but like the blue ones, they bore no significance for him.

Red Lightsaber Meaning

History has taught us that kyber crystals had such a strong connection to the Force that they were, practically, sentient objects. With that in mind, we also have to remember the fact that kyber crystals resisted the Sith and there was no natural way for the Sith to control a kyber crystal. The only was for them to do it was to use the Force to subjugate the crystal in a process that was very painful for both the Sith and the crystal.

Since the kyber crystal would “bleed” during the process, the crystal would change color and become red. Thus, a red kyber crystal doesn’t really embody evil, but it does represent pain and suffering, both traits characteristic of the Dark Side of the Force. It also embodies all of the hate a Sith used to make the kyber crystal “bleed”. This is the reason why a red lightsaber is exclusively associated with the Sith since such traits aren’t really characteristic of the Light Side of the Force.

Historically, all Sith Lords are associated with the red lightsaber, with some of them even having more exotic designs, like Darth Maul or Kylo Ren. Darth Sidious is by far the most powerful user of a red lightsaber, with Darth Vader, his apprentice, being very close. Count Dooku, after leaving the Jedi and going to the Dark Side, also used a red lightsaber.

Purple (Amethyst) Lightsaber Meaning

The story of the purple lightsaber is very interesting, as its origins can actually be found off-screen. Namely, Lucas never intended on introducing a purple lightsaber to the canon, but Samuel L. Jackson, who played Mace Windu in the Prequel Trilogy, wanted his lightsaber to be purple because purple was his favorite color. Lucas agreed and that is how this color was actually introduced into the franchise, which means that it initially had absolutely no meaning.

Still, the Expanded Universe authors retroactively gave the color meaning, stating that a purple lightsaber represented moral ambiguity, uncertainty, and reconstruction; this was due to the fact that purple is a combination of red and blue. What does this ultimately mean?

It means that a character with a purple lightsaber has connections to both the Light and the Dark Side of the Force. Such Force users have usually been quite powerful as they had to endure the temptation of the other side in order to maintain their personal path.

Although Mace Windu, by far the most famous owner of a purple lightsaber, wasn’t really ambiguous – he held the values of the Jedi Order in high regard – he did have his moments and he was far less composed than, for example, Yoda or Qui-Gon. Still, he was exceptionally powerful and his ability to stay on the path of the Jedi despite his lightsaber color proves that. Another famous owner of a purple lightsaber was the Rodian Jedi Knight Huulik.

Black Lightsaber (Darksaber) Meaning

A black lightsaber, also called a Darksaber, is actually a unique lightsaber; there is only one example in existence. The Darksaber is shaped like a traditional sword and it’s somewhat shorter than an actual lightsaber; still, it is without a doubt a subtype of a lightsaber. The Darksaber is associated with Tarre Vizsla, the first Mandalorian Jedi, who created the Darksaber as a one-of-a-kind weapon.

The weapon represented the Mandalorians’ fight against the Jedi and was a very powerful tool in battle; it also represented the emotions of the Mandalorians (something the Jedi avoided) and their murderous rivalry with the Jedi. At one point, the Darksaber was taken by the Jedi and kept under lock, until it was stolen by the Mandalorians and returned to the descendants of Tarre Vizsla.

The owner of the Darksaber also claims the title of the ruler of the Mandalorians and the only way to legitimately claim ownership over it is to defeat the former owner in combat (i.e., kill them).

As far as the famous owners are concerned, the Expanded universe as well as the TV shows have shown us that it has been owned by Tarre Vizsla, Pre Vizsla, and Sabine Wren among others. The Mandalorian has also established Moff Gideon and Din Djarin as its owners.

White Lightsaber Meaning

Although not completely unique, white lightsabers are among the rarest in the whole galaxy. The only two notable examples are, in fact, Ahsoka Tano’s white lightsabers. They represent neutrality and autonomy; while they are associated with the Light Side of the Force, they represent an individual who has cut ties with the Jedi despite remaining on the Light Side, and an individual that has no connection to the Dark Side of the Force.

An interesting thing here is that a white kyber crystal, the basis for a white lightsaber, is not natural, but is created by reversing the process with which the Sith create red kyber crystals.

Namely, by using the Force, an individual is able to purify a red kyber crystal, removing the Sith’s influence from it. During that process, the crystal loses its red color and instead becomes white, remaining completely usable. This form of purification also has its symbolic value, as stated above.

Ahsoka Tano is not only the most famous, but also te only known user of a white lightsaber. She was able to purify the red kyber crystals from the Sixth Brother’s weapon, thus creating two neutral, white crystals which she used in her lighsabers.

Yellow Lightsaber Meaning

Along with the white lightsaber, a yellow lightsaber is among the rarest in the galaxy. It is not certain what this color actually represents, since it has never been explained by anyone, but we do know that a purified red kyber crystal (which was done by Jaden Korr) turned yellow on one occasion.

That is interesting because the purified color was later changed to white, as per the section above. Jedi Sentinels, the powerful protectors of the Jedi Temple, are usually associated with a double-bladed yellow lightsaber, but their story doesn’t really reveal much about the origins and the symbolism behind one of the franchise’s rarest lightsaber colors.

The powerful Asajj Ventress was the owner of a yellow lightsaber at one point, as was Ahsoka Tano. Still, most people will probably identify Rey, the protagonist of the Sequel Trilogy, as the most famous yellow lightsaber owner, as she is the only one among the three to have appeared in the main movies. The Jedi Sentinels, who guard the Jedi Temple, also use yellow kyber crystals for their weapons.

Orange Lightsaber Meaning

Due to it also being extremely rare, we don’t know much about the orange lightsaber. We know that it was canon before the great Disney purge and that it has appeared in the Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order video game, but there isn’t actually any precise theory on its origins or its meaning. One theory states that it is a rarely used color because it is owned by those who have sworn not to use their weapons unless absolutely necessary.

This would mean that the orange lightsaber represents pacifism. Another theory, on the other hand, states that it was used by the Sith in the early days, but that practice has since been abandoned. Connected to this is the theory that an orange lightsaber contains a partially purified red kyber crystal which still contains traces of its original redness. The game guide, finally, states that an orange lightsaber represents a character with a void inside them, doomed never to be filled.

Whatever the correct theory might be, we’ll have to wait for it, as the current canon doesn’t really tell us much. Yaddle (the female Yoda that had a cameo in the Prequel Trilogy) had an orange lightsaber and it is also associated with Cal Kestis since Fallen Order came out.

Other Colors

As for the other colors that are mentioned in the table but have not been addressed individually, the reason behind that decision is because we have no story to tell. These other colors, as well as some non-canon ones (like gold or bronze), have appeared in the franchise, but the stories never really revealed much about them so we have no clue that they represent. There are certainly going to be more colors in the future so we’ll update the article as they appear, but this is everything we know about the current canon colors of lightsabers in the Star Wars franchise.

Thank you for reading, please follow me and send me a message about you favorite color or which color is yours!

[writersrealmbts]

Christmas: LIVE (for charity)

Description: You’re a middle-of-the-road youtuber, not super famous, but not unfamous. Golden Closet and V are much more famous, and they’ve agreed to meet up and do a charity live-stream with you! 

“For the Christmas requests would you be able to do a Youtuber au? Where like Tae or Kookie do a charity stream with Y/n? Sorry it came so late it 😭😭”

Warnings: Fluff and stuff

Posted: 12/22/2020

Tags: taekook x reader

2,159 words

A/N: For anonny, here’s your request! Hope you like it! and it didn’t come late!

You kept working on your streaming setup, preparing for your guests for the charity stream. You figured more people were coming for them than you, since you weren’t as big as them on YouTube.

First was V, from Tiger Vante: real name of Kim Taehyung. He did gaming streams with your other guest, and published music now and then that he had quite the following for. Thoughtful videos and compilations of photos, and videos of projects he worked on. He even had a fashion line and made videos about other fashion things, like his fashion through the week. Other fashions, reviewing music and such, as well as doing projects using antique equipment. He was doing a photo study with different old cameras as he was able to, and he posted a lot of inspirational videos.

Your second guest was Jungkook from Golden Closet productions. He did a lot of gaming, was technically a professional gamer, and he also did music and video production. He did everything: art, singing, dancing, gaming, photography, video production--and he was constantly experimenting with new things. But his gaming was the big ticket.

You were a smaller YouTube channel. You had a few covers, and you did a parody song a year or so ago that garnered some attention. You did reactions, and you did some gaming streams, though not as many as your guests. You did a lot of chill games, with other games interspersed. You also did some makeup stuff, mostly stage makeup stuff that you carried over from college. Cooking. You did cooking streams, and sometimes you failed, other times you were successful. But cooking streams were some of your favorites.

You’d started doing the videos as a sort of...accountability. Your therapist recommended it to help you feel like you were doing more, because despite working eight hour workdays five days a week, you still struggled feeling like you were getting anything done and you sometimes lost track of days. It had helped, you were able to keep better track of things and you’d tried new things because of it. And somehow your fanbase had grown to let you cut your hours at your office job and relax a little more.

But today’s stream was to raise money for kids in the hospital, which was why you had V and Jungkook coming. The three of you would be doing various activities together and doing challenges to raise more money.

You arranged the snacks as well as you could, and then put on your elf hat. You’d already raised two hundred dollars just by wearing an elf costume for the stream.

“Hello?”

You stood up and smiled. “Hello! Nice to meet you, I’m y/n.”

“I’m Taehyung when I’m offscreen, I’d be happy if you called me that. Offscreen anyway. Thanks for inviting me today! Oh, this is Jungkook!” V introduced the other gamer.

Jungkook sort of dipped his head, looking awkward.

You smiled at both of them. “Nice to meet both of you. Thanks for agreeing to do this with me. I know you probably have better things to do.”

“No way, this is for charity!”

“It’s a good cause,” Jungkook added, sort of looking at you strangely.

“Oh, the outfit. Someone donated 200 dollars if I would wear an elf costume for the stream. My choice for the costume, look okay?” You asked, reaching up to adjust the hat.

“It’s super cute,” Taehyung gushed, then looked over at the setup. “Ooh! Nice! That looks great! Can I set up over there?”

“Go ahead, do you need help bringing in equipment?”

Jungkook shook his head. “Our hyungs are here to help us set up and carry things. We’ll be ready to go in no time.”

“Great, I’ll just stand out of the way.” You backed up and they signalled their group to bring in their equipment.

Between the seven boys, all of the equipment was set up in no time and the three of you were settling down for the stream.

They wished you three a good stream and then scattered.

The three of you sat down, syncing and getting your own set ups going.

“So, we’re going to start, give it five minutes, and then we’ll start playing that game you suggested over chat?” You asked, making sure you had that linked and setting things up so that you wouldn’t have to worry about anything once you were actually streaming.

“Yeah, sounds good. That camera is filming all of us, and then we have our individual ones, right?” Jungkook nodded to the carefully mounted and angled camera.

You nodded, handing cords to both of them for the camera connection. “Took me a while to figure this set up out. Here.”

Taehyung eagerly took it and plugged it into his computer and then let you quickly set it up.

Jungkook had it set up before you finished with Tae.

“Alright, it’s almost time. Ready?”

“Yeah, so...who’s starting things?” Taehyung asked, looking at you.

“My idea, so I can open it if you prefer,” You offered, checking how you looked on camera and then sighing. You couldn’t do much about it now.

“Ok, now, do you have any extra fun holiday stuff?” Taehyung asked, flicking the bell on your hat.

“A santa hat and reindeer antlers headband, and various other more girly things for me to alternate with throughout the stream.” You gestured to a bag and got everything ready. “Set the stream to start on the hour?”

Jungkook nodded then grabbed the santa hat. “Solidarity.”

Taehyung happily put on the antlers headband. “So cute! Okay, now it feels even more festive. How long did it take you to make the background?”

“Oh, I spent a couple hours, no biggie. I did something similar last year for my christmas stream. I just spiced it up a bit this year. One minute.”

They pushed their chairs closer to yours, all three streams using the camera that got all three of you.

You watched the timer tick down, hoping that it was successful and that you raised a lot of money for the charity.

The first fifteen minutes were nothing too special, it was interesting playing with other people while they were in the room and Jungkook kept mumbling thanks for donations in between decimating you and Tae, and Taehyung had a constant conversation going--partially with you--while he played.

You gave everyone a brief update since you hadn’t streamed in a couple days and people were asking about your puppy. “He’s fine. He’ll be home soon.”

“What happened to your puppy?” Jungkook asked, not missing a beat and decimating you in the meantime.

“Nothing serious, he got hurt while we were walking in the woods. They removed his dewclaw on the one leg and stitched him up. He’s already almost ready to come home. I’ll have him home for Christmas. Thank you for your donation, bluegrey613!”

Jungkook glanced over. “Hey, we probably have some requests right now. Since you’re dead can you check the chats?”

“Sure. Let’s see...they want V to do aegyo.”

Taehyung quickly did some, just barely escaping death.

“We don’t have mistletoe, sorry, guys,” You told Jungkook’s chat. “Besides, I kind of doubt they’d want to--”

“Who needs mistletoe?” Taehyung asked, pausing the game.

Next thing you knew donation signals were popping up on all three screens as the boys planted kisses on either of your cheeks.

You stared at the screen, blinking rapidly and trying to recover as both of them went back to their game like nothing had happened.

You swallowed hard and tried to focus on the requests that were flying up your screen. “Um...thank you...agustD for donating...after that request. Um...hopeworld requests that we...all do cutesy poses? He’s offering 50.”

“Make it 100 and it’s a deal,” Taehyung responded, finally getting annihilated.

You scanned the comments, waiting for a response from the same and making faces as requested. “Ooh, while we’re waiting they want to know how we met. Tae, you should tell them that saga.”

“If they’re going to make us do something cutesy, then they better be offering more than a hundred,” Jungkook grumbled.

“So...we started talking online, played a couple of games together recently--offstream so that we could discuss the fundraiser, I think we all have some clips from that game that we’re compiling and that will be posted later,” Taehyung started explaining, checking you and Jungkook for affirmation. “Then we actually met in person today! That’s about it! It’s not much of a story, but it’s a good start, don’t you think?”

You exchanged a curious look with Jungkook after witnessing the wink Taehyung threw the camera. “Snack time?”

Jungkook nodded. “Before he calls himself a snack.”

Your nose scrunched up before you could stop it.

Taehyung laughed, booping your nose. “Not me. But she definitely is.”

You shook your head. “No snacks for you.”

“Hey, hopeworld agreed to 100. Pose,” Jungkook intervened as Taehyung started to fake pout.

All three of you managed to do some cutesy pose and hold it for a couple of seconds until the donation alert popped up with many names.

“Ah...okay...that was popular,” Taehyung said, looking a little stunned as more notifications rolled in.

“Blame Jungkook, he avoids it usually so it’s rare,” You informed him, smirked at Jungkook.

He shrugged. “If I didn’t hold back the world would fall to my cuteness.”

You snorted and turned back to the comments. “RM is requesting that you guys...and I lost it. Whoops.”

“Ooh, here’s one from JinJinJara, he wants us to make couple-y poses--like exaggerated couple pictures!” Taehyung chuckled. “Lets do it!”

“I don’t need to relive prom, thanks, I was fine missing it the first time,” you joked.

“It’s for charity,” Taehyung pouted.

You groaned and then complied.

Not that you were complaining internally about two hunky guys taking mock couple-photos. There was something nice about being held by someone stronger.

The rest of the stream passed by pretty quickly, doing requests from the boys channels since only four people were requesting on your stream--the same five. It was hard not to feel like it was out of pity, the longer the stream went the viewer count on yours went down, and went up on theirs. You double checked your stream but it was fine.

But it was for charity. You didn’t mind being less popular as long as you raised enough money to do some good.

“We should do this next year, and more often! Ooh, could we do a New Years stream?” Taehyung enthused toward the end. You guys had reached your goal while playing another game, and were trying to casually close the stream.

“We…can discuss it…later. Anyway, thank you everyone who was watching and who donated. The donation links for all three of our channels will be open until the 26th! Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas from Santa’s workshop!” Taehyung added brightly. “Remember to have all grandmas avoid reindeer crossing sites!”

“And be nice to the elves! They’re doing their best,” Jungkook added, cracking a smile as he flicked your hat.

You rolled your eyes and waved to the camera, then all three of you ended your streams.

“Man. That was intense,” Jungkook murmured.

“So, my five requesters, they’re the friends waiting outside, aren’t they?” You guessed, having done the math.

“What? No. Of course not.”

“Why would you think that?” Jungkook asked.

“Because you guys jumped at every request they gave, usually egging them on for more money, but you were more reserved with every other request given to us. That usually indicates a personal relationship.” You leaned back in your chair, taking off the hat and smoothing your hair.

Taehyung shrugged. “They were going to donate anyway. They just wanted to get their money’s worth. They were technically on all of our streams, but you’re better at reading comments and playing the game so requests on your channel got through better.”

You rolled your eyes. “Boys.”

“We did really well,” Jungkook said softly. “We make a good team. We just need to improve your playing on a couple games.”

You smiled. “Maybe. Alright. So, as far as new years goes, I’ve got a few games we can play while being in different places if that would work better. But also do it at a different time than when people would normally be partying because otherwise it would be a bust.”

“Okay!”

“Sounds good. Want to go grab some food with us? My treat?” Jungkook offered, smiling at you.

You pause, but then nod. “Sure. That sounds great. We can come back after to get your stuff if you like.”

“Sounds like a magical plan to me!” Taehyung grinned at you and then kissed your cheek again. “You really should have put some mistletoe in here. That would have made it extra festive. I’ll go tell hyungs the plan.”

You definitely weren’t blushing.

[gothpanda]

A Little Bit of Attitude Ch. 37: Vancouver

WORD COUNT: 5.1K 

A/N: haha three ch in under a week? love that for me

TAGS: @madamsixx @nosebleedblitz​

@emariehorror​

WARNINGS: none

Read On Ao3

Previous/Next

February 5th, 1988

Tucson, Arizona

Nikki popped his bubblegum, resting his leg across his other to get comfortable in the dark green armchair. He waited patiently in the therapy office, looking out the wall-to-ceiling window to the Arizona desert. The sound of the door opening made Nikki's head turn, the on-edge feeling turning into a relaxed emotion.

"Sorry I'm late, Nikki. I had run into a colleague for a minute," said the Dr. grabbing his notebook from his desk.

"It's okay, Ortiz. Felt nice to think of what to say before we started," politely said Nikki, spitting his gum out onto a tissue.

"Good. It's always best to think before rambling during an appointment. Gets all the bases," said Dr. Ortiz, sitting down in front of Nikki. He clipped his pen and wrote down the date on his notes for Nikki. "So, how have we been feeling personally?"

"My mood has been good. I haven't tanked and felt depressed. It feels great to say that. I really haven't felt depressed since being here," said Nikki, scoffing at the fact of being healthy working out for him.  

"Well done then. According to my notes here, you had a group therapy session a couple of days ago with a guest? Is that correct?" asked Dr. Ortiz. Nikki nodded. "And how was it seeing a familiar face for the first time since admitting yourself into rehab?"

"I was happy, then I was scared. Scared and happy at the same time. I don't know how anyone can have those feelings together, but I did," said Nikki, rubbing his hands together, Sammi's face popping in his head.

"Why were you scared?" asked Dr. Ortiz, ready to write down what Nikki was about to say.

"Sammi and I didn't leave on the greatest terms in California. When I saw her, I was scared of what she would say about being around me when I was doing heroin,"

"And how did you feel in the end after she expressed her feelings?"

"Sad… I really didn't realize how horrible Sammi felt about everything from the moment I started. It never crossed my mind the conversation we had when we broke up. I don't want to hurt her like that ever again," said Nikki, continuing to rub his hands together.

"While it may have been a terrible feeling to hear to her side of the abuse, it helps make you a better person living a sober life and get rid of the fear,"

"What if I'm still scared of being sober?" asked Nikki, looking down at his feet

"And what is it that you're scared of exactly?"

Nikki sighed, rubbing his hands on his pants. "What if I'm a terrible boyfriend to her being sober? That's what I'm scared about,"

Dr. Ortiz is taken aback but almost lets out a chuckle. "Why would you believe you'd make a terrible boyfriend? You seemed like a great man to her and only her. Even with your troubles from all of our sessions. So why worry when you'd be healthy?"

"Because I've never been with someone I love without some kind of 'help,'" said Nikki, blushing from saying the L-word. "I've always been under the influence even to a small extent with Sammi because I needed it. Without drugs I'm a timid man who wants to be with the smartest girl he ever met," sighed Nikki. "That's why I'm scared,"

Dr. Ortiz takes a second to think before speaking, ready to talk man to man. "Nikki, I'm not going to be speaking in a way of a therapist but how a normal married man would. If Sammi dealt and stuck around long enough when you had your shit, then what makes you think she's not going to love Sober Nikki?" asked Dr. Ortiz, narrowing his eyes at Nikki.

"But she blamed herself for me dying…"

"And that is when you act like a man and treat her like the queen she is to you. Understood?" Nikki only nodded. "Very good. It's going to be a learning curve but hiding isn't going to work out,"

June 3rd, 1988

San Francisco, California

Boxes upon boxes were scattered among the small place that was now Sammi's old apartment, ready to be filled with every single little thing she can take home. Sammi kneeled in front of one labeled 'photos' as Emma and Sabrina were graciously beside her, putting other things in different boxes. Sabrina organized all of Sammi's books while Emma took the time for her snack break.

"Thanks for the help you two, even if Emma's been eating the whole time," said Sammi, smiling over at Emma in the middle.

"Your kitchen is empty for your information thanks to me so you're welcome," said Emma with a mouth full of banana, Sabrina shaking her head playfully.

"Why thank you, Emma. Is it still hard to believe I'm finally done with school? No more having to deal with grades,"

"Tell me about it. I'm starting to miss it already and I'm only taking a year off," said Sabrina, reading the back of one book.

"Yeah yeah we get it. You two are done with college while my ass is still going to classes," said Emma, pouting.

"Awe you'll be fine," said Sabrina, pinching Emma's cheeks. "Just one more year and then you'll be free to your heart's content," The three girls chuckled along, Sammi continuing to pack her belongings on the living room floor.

"Hey Sam, I have a question," said Emma.

"Shoot,"

"Do you have any regrets moving over by yourself? I'm starting to think about what I wanna do when I graduate,"

"You're gonna leave me and move away?" asked Sabrina, raising an eyebrow.

"You're gonna leave us?" corrected Sammi.

Emma giggled at the two. "No, I'm not moving out just yet. I just want to know what it's like here since it's the 'gay mecca'. I have to be with the lesbians at some point," joked Emma.

Sammi stared into the distance for a moment, pursing her lips as she thought about the question, "Yeah I actually do. I wish I never moved here,"

"What? Why?" asked Emma, scrunching her brows together.

"Think about it. I didn't make any friends here. I only met rude and miserable people when I had the chance to make friends. All I have are bad memories. Me leaving didn't do any good back home with Nikki, leading to another fight with Vince. I should've just stayed in L.A,"

"Damn I never thought about it that way," said Sabrina.

"Me neither," added Emma.

"If I stayed then maybe I wouldn't have any awkward tension between Vince and now Nikki. Maybe we'd all be living under one roof. It's just something I think about," said Sammi, looking down at the scattered photos.

"Well hey, who needs friends when you have us," said Emma, swinging an arm around Sabrina to pull her into their side. Sammi only smiled at the two with a sweet chuckle before going back to finishing the last of the photos, taping the box shut.

"You do have multiple points. Speaking of which, how are the guys since getting out of rehab?" asked Sabrina.

"They are currently in Canada working on a new album, so that's always good. Tommy, Mick, and Vince left in April. I would say they're doing great since being out. Tommy was a big help going apartment hunting with me," said Sammi.

"What about Nik?" asked Emma.

Sammi sighed. "He went straight to Canada after being released. I haven't heard from him since that therapy session," said Sammi, lowering her eyes from Emma and Sabrina. They could see the change in Sammi's face. Even if she didn't say it loud, the girls knew Sammi missed Nikki.

"You should just go visit them," suggested Emma. "I'm pretty sure it wouldn't be the biggest shock in the world to the guys,"

"Yeah but this isn't a tour date. They're  working this time, and I don't want to be a nuisance,"

"You seriously don't think Heather or whoever is dating Vince doesn't barge in when they record back home?" asked Sabrina.

Sammi did shrug a shoulder in acknowledgment until something clicked in her head. "Wait I just remembered Mick said I could visit,"

"Then go!" shouted Emma and Sabrina in unison.

"Fine! Fine! I'll make some calls after we're home and I'm somewhat settled," said Sammi, standing up on her feet and walking to see what needed to be packed in parts of her bedroom.

June 14th, 1988

Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada

For being summer in Canada, the country proved to be the coldest place Sammi has ever visited, needing to wear her warmest leather jacket for the trip. She was quick to learn Vancouver was a calm city with still enough action going around. Sammi made a mental note to come back whenever L. A got too hot for her.

With the help of Doc setting Sammi up in Canada, it didn't take any time to find the recording studio Motley was working at. Sammi walked straight into the two-story building, hands in her pocket as she looked at the wooden interior. She stood right in the middle of the lobby where no one occupied the front desk, surprised by the quiet. The sound of steps walking down the stairs caused Sammi to turn on her heels, facing a young man with papers in his hand.

"Uh hey!" said Sammi, smiling politely at the young man.

"Hi… um who are you?" asked the skinny young man, walking down the last steps with hesitation.

"I'm Sammi, sorry to just pop in like this," said Sammi, extending out a hand.

"Like the name. I'm Kevin," said Kevin, shaking Sammi's hand. "What can I help you with?"

"Well I was wondering if Motley Crue was here right now. I'm Tommy's little sister," said Sammi, fixing the strap of her purse.

"Oh yeah they're upstairs with their producer right now. Did they know you were coming?" asked Kevin.

"No, I wanted to surprise them. It's been kind of boring back in California," smiled Sammi to hopefully let Kevin lead her to the boys.

"Well…" said Kevin, looking up the stairs and back at Sammi. "I know their producer Bob might not like you being here but I do know you're pretty special to the guys,"

"Yeah, the guys and I are pretty tight,"

"Alright then come with me," said Kevin, leading Sammi up the stairs. Kevin led Sammi through a spacious long hallway, knocking on the second door to their right. He peeked his head inside once, opening the door slightly. "Um, sir, the boys have a visitor,"

"I said no visitors. These four don't need any female distractions," said Bob in a deep and intimidating voice. Sammi almost regretted surprising the boys if they had this man working with them.

"It's Tommy's sister Sammi, sir,"

"Sammi!" yelled Tommy, Sammi hearing his steps rush out the door. Tommy swung the door open and, in one quick movement, engulfed Sammi in a tight hug, lifting her up in the air. "I've missed you!"

"It's only been 2 months!" giggled Sammi.

"I don't care, I miss you!" said Tommy, placing Sammi down on her feet. Before Sammi could say anything, she soon noticed Nikki right behind Tommy, almost in hiding. Nikki sheepishly had his hand in the back of his jean pockets and a slight smile on his lips.

"Hey, Sammi," uttered Nikki, stepping closer to Sammi. Sammi couldn't keep her eyes off Nikki, first noting every single new thing about the man. He had more tattoos all down his arm of what appeared to be Japanese artwork. It complimented his now bigger biceps and toned body, seeing Nikki's pecs through his shirt. Tommy could see the shock and plan to gawk on Sammi's face, finding it downright humorous.

When Nikki stood right in front of Sammi, Sammi blinked rapidly and cracked a smirk. "Wow. You look…" lingered Sammi.

"Different?" blushed Nikki.

"I was going to say great. You look great with your new look," smiled Sammi, finally one take forward and hugging Nikki like normal. Nikki didn't question anything, wrapping his strong arms tightly around Sammi. She could feel the difference in strength right away.

"Come on, let's not be greedy," said Tommy, grasping Sammi's shoulder and leading her into the recording room.

Without Sammi facing the terror twins, Tommy flashed a smirk to Nikki as if the adults were back to being teenagers in high school. Mick was the first to welcome Sammi in, heading straight for a hug and a pat on her head.

"Ain't this a surprise, Little girl," said Mick.

"You're the one who told me to come," smiled Sammi, causing Mick to shrug his shoulder.

Mick was almost pleased with himself. "Didn't think you'd take the bait," chuckled Mick. Mick looking healthy was Sammi's first thought, causing the smile to stick on her lips.

"Hey Sammi," said Vince, going straight for a hug that was gladly returned. "Finally we can have some fun around here,"

Right as Sammi was close to responding when the sight of Bob caused her to shut her mouth. Bob was a big tall man whose voice matched everything about him physically. He towered over Sammi, glaring down at her with an intense stare. Sammi took a few steps back, almost hiding right behind Nikki.

"Am I really that scary?" asked Bob, breaking into a smile.

"Do you want an honest answer?" asked Sammi, staying beside Nikki. Nikki crossed his arms, puffing his chest to seem as if he was protecting Sammi. Bob nodded. "You're more than a foot taller than me and built like a football player. You are scary to me!" said Sammi. Everyone burst into laughter, any tension dissipating.

"Well I am not a mean person. It's a pleasure to meet you, Sammi. You just came at the right second, the boys are on a break," said Bob.

"I really hope I'm not imposing. I can just go back to my hotel and wait,"

"No!" said Motley in unison.

"Sammi trust us, we need you for a bit," said Nikki, squeezing Sammi's shoulder gently.

"You can stay for the rest of the session if you like, Sammi. I'm serious. If anyone needs me, I'll be in the offices. We'll start recording vocals in 20," said Bob, walking out, having Kevin follow him right behind. Sammi let out a sigh of relief, happy to not bother anyone who was working with Motley.

"See, Sam, you're welcome wherever you go," said Tommy pulling out a chair for Sammi that she accepted.

"I guess I am. But enough about me, how's the album going?" excitedly asking Sammi, smiling with bright eyes at the guys.

As the guys all settled back into their seats, Mick whipped out a piece of paper of every song for their new album, all in Nikki's handwriting. Sammi took the form for closer examination, reading off every circled name of a song.  

"Okay so we have 'Dr. Feelgood'. That one sounds cool. 'Slice of Your Pie', I wonder what that one's about," said Sammi, glaring at all the guys with a smirk.

"Get your mind out of the gut, Samantha," teased Vince.

"Rattlesnake Shake. That one also sounds cool. Kickstart My Heart. That has to be about Nikki. Without you?" stopped Sammi, scrunching her brows together. She looked up at Motley, trying to read all their faces. Vince and Tommy shifted their eyes to each other, looking at Nikki and Mick. Nikki bounced his leg a bit more than usual. "What's 'Without You' about?" asked Sammi. Nikki and Tommy glanced at each other, waiting for one of the two to speak.

"It's a song about Heather and I. You know how record labels are about having love songs on albums," said Tommy, putting on a somewhat convincing smile.

"Oh so you wrote a song!" exclaimed Sammi. "That's awesome. Did you help him, Nikki?" Nikki shook his head. "Well can I hear it? Especially if you wrote it Tommy,"

"It's not done yet, Sam. We still need the instruments on some parts," said Vince, Nikki thanking him in his mind. "Anyway! How many days are you staying in Vancouver?" asked Vince.

"I'm only staying for 2 days. I just wanted to make sure you four were still good and running," said Sammi.

"Awe come on Sammi, you don't have to worry about us. We're adults who have now figured out life. Kind of," said Vince with a proud smug smile.

"Vince is right and we can prove it to you," said Nikki.

"Oh really? How so?" asked Sammi, raising a brow with a smirk to Nikki.

"How about you come out to our rental tonight. We can all make dinner together and catch up especially since I haven't seen you in months," said Nikki, matching Sammi's smirk.

"And whose fault is that, Nikki?" asked Tommy, chuckling at the glare he received. Sammi snickered but hid her smile behind her hands as Nikki faced her again.

"That sounds like a great idea, Nik. I would love that," smiled Sammi. It was like they were in their own little world again, where Nikki only knew Sammi. Vince didn't feel the massive sting of jealousy as before, only by a quarter of the feeling. Nevertheless, he had to admit it was nice to see Sammi happy as well as Nikki.

"I can pick you up from your hotel, Sam. Our place is basically in the middle of nowhere. It's by a small lake!" said Tommy.

"Well isn't that cute. I hope you four are ready for my cooking," teased Sammi, standing up from her seat as she noticed Bob about to walk into the room again. It was time to somewhat finish what the boys started, more vocals on Vince's behalf. Sammi just sat on the loveseat right behind Nikki with a happy smile on her face.

"Okay!" Bob clapped. "Let's get back to work!"

*

Sammi shouldn't have been surprised when she first laid eyes on Motley's rental house that appeared to be a country log cabin. It subtly screamed Nikki and his Idaho roots. A beautiful two-story log cabin in the middle of the green forest with a lake within walking distance. It was a fantastic little escape for the guys after a long day at the studio, calling this home for who knows how long. In the open space kitchen, Sammi and Tommy served the five plates ready for Sammi's food. Nikki set up the dining table with forks and knives, placing the guys' drink of choice. Without asking her, Nikki popped open a bottle of Sammi's favorite red wine and poured a glass for her. It didn't take much energy for Nikki to completely ignore the alcoholic drink. Vince and Tommy set the plates of food on top of each placemat while Mick put the garlic bread basket right in the middle. Everything smelled amazing.

"Okay! Are we all ready to eat?" asked Sammi, walking into the dining room, seeing Motley sat down like well-behaved children with Tommy leaving a spot right next to him. "I'll take that as a yes," Sammi said, sitting beside her brother.

It was a comfortable silence that filled the room. Only the sound being made was of forks hitting the plates that felt like music to Sammi's ears. Silent people eating was a compliment for Sammi.

"I forgot how great your cooking is, Sammi," said Vince, finally taking a breather as he sipped on his glass of water.

"It's just spaghetti with meatballs," snickered Sammi, looking over Tommy to see Vince.

"Yes but we are used to frozen meatballs and pregos spaghetti sauce," said Mick, mouth almost full of food.

Sammi shook her head, taking another bite of a meatball. She glanced over at Nikki right in front of her, smiling at how he ate in silence. "Nikki seems to love my food. His head has been down his plate the entire time." teased Sammi. Nikki only flipped Sammi off in a matter she knew was playful. Sammi notices her glass of wine, looking around the guys. She smelled it and took a sip, happy to know it's her favorite. "Did you pour me some wine, Tommy?" Tommy shook his head.

"I did," said Nikki. "I thought you would enjoy a nice glass of wine,"

"But-"

"Sam, you don't have to quit drinking just because we did," said Mick, patting Nikki on the back. Sammi didn't say anything else, taking another sip of her wine.

"So, Samantha, a little birdie told me you got your pharmacy license. How does it feel being a full time grown up?" asked Nikki, relaxing in his chair.

"I'm so happy I passed, I did not want to react that stupid exam. Now it's just interviews back in L.A," said Sammi.

"Finally settled in at your new place?" asked Tommy, finishing the last of his food.

"Yeah I just need to figure out what to put in the second room. I only have my San Francisco sofa,"

"I'm surprised you kept anything from that tiny place," said Vince. "This might sound so stupid but does a pharmist apply? All I can think of is Walgreens,"

"I am mainly aiming at the hospitals now that most have their own private pharmacy," answered Sammi, finishing the last drop of wine. "Oh! I almost forgot! I finally bought a new car! It's a mustang,"

"Hallelujah! She finally listened!" said Nikki, dropping his head back to pretend he was looking at God.

Sammi smirked and flipped him off. "Great to know you didn't leave your sarcasm at rehab,"

"Oh, I love family dinners!" exclaimed Tommy, being the first of a domino effect to rise from his seat to take his dirty plate to the kitchen. Mick and Vince soon left, leaving Nikki and Sammi alone. They stayed in silence, Sammi scratching her neck as she looked away from Nikki. Nikki kept his eyes on Sammi.

"Do you wanna go for a walk outside? I can show you the lake," asked Nikki. Sammi only nodded.

*

As Nikki and Sammi walked beside the stream, they still kept a fair distance between themselves, keeping a guard up. Compared to how they were only a moment ago, they couldn't speak to each other the same way in privacy. One of them had to break the wall first, but they didn't know who it would be or what they would say first.

"I'm sorry," said Sammi.

Nikki halted, scrunching his brows in deep 11's at Sammi. "What? You're sorry? For what?"

Sammi sat down on the dry grass, inching close to dip her finger in the cold lake water; Nikki sat beside her. "I started to think after the therapy session about how we started, and I realized I wasn't nice. It wasn't ideal to how a couple should start,"

"Sammi-"

"Just hear me out, please," said Sammi, biting her lip as she stared out into the water. "When I got with Vince I knew you had feelings for me, but I didn't do anything about it. I just ditched you and you have to admit that must've hurt, Nikki. Even if we got together in the end,"

Nikki sighed out, pulling out pieces of grass under his feet. "Yeah it did,"

"I should've never gotten with Vince right after we had sex for the first time, and I'm sorry I would go to you when Vince pissed me off, I shouldn't have done that either. I knew how much you cared about me and I still listened to Athena & Tommy. I should've just chosen for myself," said Sammi, finally looking at Nikki.

"Would you have gotten with Vince even if your siblings weren't in your ear?" asked Nikki.

"No… but I think I needed it. I needed that little heartbreak to learn," said Sammi.

"Thank you. I appreciate it, Sammi. I really do," said Nikki with a smile. Sammi sighed out, feeling the weight leave her shoulders.

"Also I'm so fucking sorry I called you by that name. I was just-"

"Sammi, again, I appreciate it," chuckled Nikki. Silence soon filled between them again.

"Hey, have you happened to have any 'demons' hit you up?" asked Sammi.

Nikki dryly chuckled. "If you mean my past drug buddies, only one. Veronica called me when I was in rehab,"

"Oh," said Sammi in straight monotone.

"Don't worry, she finally got the idea we're not getting married,"

"Hope she returned that fucking ring. What did she want?" asked Sammi.

Nikki smiled at Sammi, finding her jealousy amusing. "She said she almost overdosed a week before calling me, only to have her call me high off her ass. So I just wished her well and hung up. I couldn't handle that,"

"You sadly can't fix them all I guess," said Sammi sadly.

"I'm scared, Sam. I'm scared to go back to L.A," blurted out Nikki.

"Why?"

"Because I'm not the same Nikki that left. I know I'm going to lose friends but what if I get home and find out I really had no one this whole time?" asked Nikki, looking down at the grass. "Then what do I do?"

Sammi swallowed away her nerves, inching closer to Nikki as she laid a gentle hand on his bicep. "Hey, look at me," said Sammi. Nikki turned, eye dilating from how close to Sammi for the first time. "You have people now who truly care about you and you alone. I can already see a better relationship between you and the guys," Sammi soon grew hesitant, looking away from Nikki for a second. "And you have me. That's all you need right now after finally getting better. Remember that," said Sammi, squeezing Nikki's arm.

It took all of Nikki's strength to not lean in and kiss Sammi but be a miracle he managed. "Thank you, Sammi. I appreciate it," said Nikki. Sammi rested on her knees and hugged Nikki the best way they could. Nikki leaned into her, wrapping an arm around her waist.

June 15th, 1988

A knock on the hard hotel door almost scares Sammi, jumping off her bed and softly tiptoeing to look through the peephole. When seeing Nikki appear anxious in the hallway, she swung the door open with worry.

"Nikki, what's wrong? Are you okay? Are the guys okay?" asked Sammi in one breath, lightly placing a hand on his chest. Nikki shook his head, walking right into the single bed hotel room.

"I, um, I just really needed to give you something before you go tomorrow," said Nikki, rubbing his fingers together in a nervous habit.

Sammi eyed Nikki, not downplaying scanning him from head to toe. "Okay but just know you're scaring me," said Sammi, sitting at the foot of the bed. Nikki stood right in front of Sammi, pulling out a cassette tape from his jean pocket. He gave it one last look before handing it to Sammi, not looking her in the eye. As Sammi took the cassette, she quickly noticed "Without You" written by Nikki on the front, scrunching her brows together.

"You can play this right when I leave," said Nikki, ready to walk right out of the room. Instead, Sammi took to hold onto his wrist.

"What the hell is going on? Why're you giving me the song Tommy wrote?" asked Sammi.

Nikki sighed. "Tommy didn't write it. I did. It's finally a love song I wrote that isn't disguised… and that's about us,"

"You wrote me a love song?" smiled Sammi. Nikki nodded with a blush on his cheeks. Sammi couldn't help it any longer, standing on the tips of toes, cradling Nikki's face as she leaned in for that kiss. A kiss so soft and kind, Nikki felt his heart burst out of his chest, afraid to kiss again.

"Thank you," whispered Sammi, a smile still on her lips. Nikki scoffed, matching a smile. "But I need to listen to this right now," Sammi said, darting straight to the radio on the desk table. Nikki didn't protest, only groaned as he dropped himself on the bed, hiding under a pillow. The song in its entirety was touching but more so for Sammi, paying deep attention to every lyric. Sammi took the cassette out when it finished, looking over at Nikki's body thrown on the bed. She stretched herself on the bed, taking the pillow off Nikki's face to see his deep red flush.

"I love you," said Sammi. Nikki looked up in shock at Sammi, lips parting as if he wanted to say something. But all he caught was another kiss from Sammi with more passion. The two fell almost into the same old routine, Nikki's hand caressing Sammi's hair, Sammi's hand on Nikki's clothed chest. As Sammi started to lower her hands, the feeling of excitement turned into anxiety for Nikki in a blink of an eye.

"Sammi," whispered Nikki, placing his hands on her shoulders, giving the distance between them.

"What's wrong?" asked Sammi. Nikki slowly sat up, wiping the sweat off his hands. He took a few deep breaths, not able to look in Sammi's direction. "Are you okay, Nikki?"

"Remember when I told you I was scared?" asked Nikki. Sammi nodded. "Being with you like this was in that same word," said Nikki, meeting Sammi's worried eyes. "I-I've never been sober and doing this… with you,"

"Not even a little sober?" asked Sammi.

"When I say I was dependent, I really mean it. I needed a bit of something to bring me nerves down,"

"Guess your shyness didn't go away either," joked Sammi, rubbing her finger softly on Nikki's cheek. "Nikki, I'm not going to pressure you to do anything you don't want to do,"

"And trust me I do. It's just what if I'm bad at everything I thought I was good at between us?"

"I don't think it works like that, sweetheart. But I still don't want you to feel pressured to sleep with me. We can just cuddle and fall asleep. It'll be okay," reassured Sammi.

Nikki smiled lovingly at Sammi, leaning in to kiss her softly. "I love you, Sammi Lee. I really do," whispered Nikki.

Sammi's cheeks flushed. "And I love you, Nikki Sixx," whispered Sammi, leaning her head on Nikki's shoulder.

"Come on, you have a flight in the morning," said Nikki, playfully pushing Samami down on the bed. As Nikki stood at the bed's foot to strip down to his boxers, Sammi got under the soft white covers. The two fell back into the routine of late-night tv and cuddles. Nikki having his arm securely around Sammi with her head laid on his bare chest. The feeling of calm security quickly engulfed the two after a long marathon of danger. It was perfect.

[7team7]

Choosing Fate: Chapter 5

Fanning the flames. // Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

A/N: I hope this chapter gives you more insight on the oh so mysterious ~uchiha clan~

.

.

“Dedicating yourself to your books again, I see,” Fugaku observed. Hard to read as always, Sasuke couldn’t tell if he approved or not. He decided to be blunt.

“It’s because of her. She’s smart. It would be unwise to let it all go to waste just because she had to marry me.”

“I see. Be sure to use your time wisely.” He walked out of the study, leaving Sasuke feeling frustrated. It grated on his nerves to think of his father disapproving of how he spent his time with his wife. If Fugaku gave Sakura trouble for doing a little reading of all things, Sasuke would have a hard time holding his tongue, he thought.

He grumbled to himself as he finished laying out the materials for the evening. Since when did he get so protective over this little pink woman?

Said woman walked into the room, her hands hardly done drying after finishing washing the dishes from dinner. “Okay! I’m ready now. I didn’t want to leave your mother with all that work, sorry.” She was a bit late, but Sasuke waved his hand and said awkwardly, “No need to apologize.” It wasn’t like he was anxiously waiting or anything.

Sakura, though, had been waiting all day. She didn’t want it to seem like she was shirking her duties as a wife, even taking care to make a particularly labor intensive stew for dinner so that she wasn’t spending all her time locked away in the little room with Sasuke. No, her priorities were perfectly balanced.

“So what are we doing today?” she asked eagerly.

He gestured to the thick, dusty books on the table and the scattered loose leaf papers, “Some history.”

Uchiha family history, to be exact. He had given her tons of readings on medicine, agriculture, literature, but she was still mostly kept in the dark about the family she had married into. Sasuke was incredibly proud of his heritage, even if he had a few issues with the way things were run lately. He didn’t want Sakura to have another reason to resent their situation, but she deserved to know what she had married into.

“The Uchihas have a long-spanning history. My ancestors are some of Konoha’s founders.” Sasuke ran his hand reverently down the cover of one red book. The family tree was updated recently to include Sakura. The blank spaces for his and Itachi’s children stared back at him uncomfortably.

“Our ancestors,” Sakura softly corrected. Might as well embrace her life as Uchiha Sakura, at least out of respect for the elders before her.

When he swung his head from the book to look at her, Sakura thought he might narrow his eyes and spit out some remark that she wasn’t a pure Uchiha like he was. Instead, he smirked, “They certainly didn’t have your hair.”

She giggled, suddenly feeling shy, and turned her attention back to the table. “What’s a pottery book doing with all this? You pulled a metal working one too,” Sakura pointed out. Smart girl, but this time Sasuke hadn’t made a mistake.

“Haven’t you wondered what my father and I are up to when we leave the house?”

“Of course I have.”

He was a little stunned at her nonchalance, so he asked grumpily, “Well then why haven’t you asked?”

She shrugged, “You never seem to like it when I ask questions.”

He blinked and set his shoulders. Oh. That was true. He should work on that. Sasuke continued gruffly, “We go to sell our wares, but all of them are made by the clan. For generations we’ve specialized in firing pottery and metalworking. We’re able to withstand the high heat needed to do this kind of work. Fire is our specialty, I guess. Some of your father’s field tools are probably made by an uncle of mine.” This time, she didn’t even have to ask, the explanation just spilled out of him.

“Artisans, merchants...what can’t your family do?”

“Heal,” he said meaningfully.

.

“What if I went into town with you next time? You know, to sell my medicine. I’m sure it could help people besides just Mikoto-san.” They had wrapped up their history lesson for the day and were preparing to go to bed.

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”

“I could go at a different time than you and your father if scheduling or space are a problem?” The market was rather packed at peak hours.

“No,” he rejected quickly, “You cannot go alone.”

Jade green eyes blinked in surprise. “What? Why not?”

He shifted uncomfortably, “The Uchihas are an old clan, remember? That means they’re very...traditional. Conservative, even.” He didn’t want to spell it out for her, knowing that many of the elders held outdated, even discriminatory, views. His Uchiha pride was often conditional these days.

Now, Sakura’s eyes narrowed. “I see. So I would require some sort of escort to protect me while I go sell what I worked hard on. I understand. Wouldn’t want to get scammed.”

He sighed. “If you ask, I will give you permission. It’s a formality. But…” he trailed off.

“But what?”

“But I would still want to go with you. It’s not always safe to go alone.”

It was Sakura’s turn to sigh. “I’ve been to the market plenty of times by myself. Remember?” Those days felt so long ago. The handsome stranger at the market was now her husband, but she couldn’t tell how much more familiar he had become with her really. He opened up slowly, giving her bits and pieces, but there was still so much left to be desired.  

“Of course I do. That doesn’t mean I can’t worry about you.”

She gave him a meaningful look. After a pause, “Your mother...when she goes out, she visits other members of the clan?”

“Most of the time, yes. Nearly all her friends are Uchihas.”

“So if I wanted to go visit my family, I’d have to get your permission?”

His heart squeezed. Wasn’t he part of her family now too? “Yes.”

“I see,” she clipped.

“Well, there are some family members you can visit at will.” He wanted to save another conversation from going south.

His heart squeezed again seeing the ray of hope light up her face. “Really? Who?”

“My brother and his wife.”

.

Sakura couldn’t help but hum happily as she prepared to venture out. She felt like she woke up on the right side of the bed that morning. Itachi and Izumi lived close by, but leaving the house felt so liberating, she would’ve taken any opportunity to stretch her legs. She hadn’t seen them since the wedding and even then she didn’t get much of a chance to speak with them. She wondered what they were like, if the brothers were similar.

“Do we need to bring anything?” Sakura asked her husband before they set out.

Sasuke shrugged, “It’s just Itachi.” His brother would appreciate that they bothered visiting at all. Despite his need for privacy, he knew Itachi missed him.

“What I meant was do I need to bring anything?” Whether it was a jab at the gendered expectations within the Uchiha clan or her desire to impress, the answer was still no. Sakura sighed and decided to bring a jar of herbs, just in case. It would be rude to show up empty handed.

Their house was significantly smaller than the main house, but it still stood proudly with the classic Uchiha elegance. When Itachi opened the door it was with a warm expression, but Sakura couldn’t help but note how tired he looked. She ought to bring ginseng next time.

Izumi seemed a little on edge, but quickly relaxed after some careful small talk. She had kind eyes, but like Itachi, she looked tired. Sakura couldn’t help but notice that her hair was a bit thin and she moved without much energy. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but after observing her sister-in-law for the majority of the visit, she could tell something was wrong.

“How have you been, Sakura-san? Settling in comfortably, I hope,” Itachi said smoothly.

“Ah, everything has been..fine. I miss my parents and my siblings, but I don’t have much else to complain about,” Sakura spoke with equal diplomacy. She still had yet to figure out why they did not live in the main house and wanted to tread lightly.

With this, Itachi visibly eased up a little, “Oh? So my little brother has not been too disagreeable in the mornings?” This caused Izumi to laugh too, a more full bodied sound than Sakura expected from someone who appeared rather delicate. They both gazed fondly at Sasuke, clearly full of affection for someone who was just as much a younger brother as he was a husband.

Sasuke grumbled beside her and quickly switched the subject, “It’s been fine. We came because Sakura just learned about some of our clan’s more backwards expectations. She should know where you live.”

The other couple nodded in understanding, “It is unfortunate, isn’t it? Don’t let our father hear about this. He cannot know that his own children oppose the long standing, ah, values that our clan upholds.” Sakura heartily agreed, “I’ve tried to keep my interactions with your father to a minimum, he’s a bit intimidating. Your mother is lovely, though.”

More laughter from Izumi and Itachi: “You’ve learned our family well already. Father’s loyalties are often with the clan at large, but he means no harm. He’s too proud to ever consider that he’s wrong. And please make sure my mother doesn’t spoil Sasuke too much, he is her favorite.” Sasuke rolled his eyes.

“Don’t let them pressure you too much,” Izumi advised with particular urgency. “I hope you don’t mind me speaking so plainly, but between two sons and their wives, an heir will be born soon enough.”

The gears in Sakura’s head clicked into place and she understood. Even if Fugaku was not so cruel as to effectively banish his first born son to a different home, the pressure he put on the couple to produce a child forced them away. Sakura supposed she and Sasuke weren't subject to the same pressure yet because the older son should have a child first if all went according to tradition.

“If it will be, then it will be,” Sakura said firmly. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t take care of your health in the meantime, or all the time.” She bowed her head in promise, “If you want, I can try to help.” She had a bit of knowledge on fertility (admittedly, some from farm animals) and women’s health that could be useful.

“Oh?” Izumi said with great pleasure, “We have a doctor in the family now?”

“She took care of Mother when she got sick recently. Don’t let her trick you into thinking she doesn’t know much. Her abilities are nothing short of impressive.” He didn’t expand on the lessons he’d been giving her, but he already felt bashful following his easy praise. She was his wife, after all, he supposed.

“Ah, thank you, Sasuke,” she said softly before clearing her throat. “If you’d like, I can visit more frequently and suggest herbal medicine to foster greater wellness for the both of you. And...if it gets to that point, I’d love to help with a baby.” While her experience here was also limited to farm animals, she earnestly wanted to give Izumi a hand in any way possible. Hopefully next time she visited, they could speak with greater familiarity and ease.

“We welcome your help. The Uchihas have their weaknesses, but they also love more fiercely than any other. You fit right in.”

.

The walk home was quiet, Sakura mentally taking notes on what she would bring next time, questions she would ask. She was glad that Sasuke took her to see his brother and his wife, it was a welcome relief from her routine at home.

The sun was still high enough in the sky that Sasuke said, “Wait. Before we head back, there’s somewhere else I want to take you.” Sakura tilted her head in question, but still followed him. “You’ll see when we get there.” They turned back from the path home to head in a new direction.

They didn’t need to go very far when Sasuke stopped and it was clear that they were still in an Uchiha-dominated space. The air was warm, dry and smelled of smoke.

He got right to explaining the layout and pointing out certain spots and people. “My cousin Obito over there does pottery. Don’t talk to him, he’s kind of weird. I know a bit about swordsmithing, but not nearly as much as others. My other cousin Shisui makes a fantastically thin, but sturdy blade. Every time we bring his knives to the market they get snatched up quickly for a high price. But he’s weird too.” Even if his tone was exasperated, Sakura still smiled hearing the affection he had for his family and their practice.

“There are so many of you…” Sakura said wistfully. She had always thought of her family as being big, but now she missed their familiar comfort. The Uchihas were truly a clan. They walked further into the cluster of buildings; Sakura noticed Sasuke had slowed his pace to allow her a moment to really look at their surroundings.

“And when are we going to see some more Uchiha babies running around here?” an elderly woman asked kindly as they walked past, taking a break from sweeping to smile at the married couple. Despite her good intentions, the young couple winced.

“When the time is right,” Sasuke said evenly. He nodded at her again as they passed, grabbing Sakura’s hand so she wouldn’t get caught up in an unnecessary conversation. Besides, it was getting late and it was time to return. He didn’t let go until they reached the wide road to the house.

Sakura was glad to finally get some insight on the Uchiha clan, but the knowledge of it all weighed heavily on her shoulders. She looked forward to taking a bath at home.

.

The old woman’s words echoed in his mind. He knew they were expected to have children eventually, but he tried to push that thought away as soon as it threatened to crop up. The thought of Sakura pregnant with his child made his neck prickle with heat. He stood by his words: when the time was right, they would bring a child into the world. But that time was not now, not yet. He felt a little better after making himself some tea. It was time for bed, the day had been long.

Sasuke swung the door to their bedroom open without a thought, only to be faced with the creamy expanse of Sakura’s back as she finished getting dressed. The skin there looked pale, smooth, and soft, unmarred by the harsh touch of the sun. “Why didn’t you tell me you were changing?” Sasuke bit out more harshly than intended, more embarrassed than mad. He closed the door behind him but turned to face the side wall after entering.  

“Do I need your permission to do everything?” Sakura asked sharply.

“Sakura, it’s not like that —”

“I know.” As she adjusted her clothes, she sighed, “It’s just that..we are married.”

“I know.”

.

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[luxurylives]

Missing Pieces Part 7

Pairing: Logan x Ellie Wheeler 

Book(s): Ride or Die: A Bad Boy Romance        

Word Count: 5,798

Rating: T (Mild language)

Summary: Teppei and Colts’ wrongdoings come back to the Mercy Park Crew. 

Author’s Note: The final part of this series that I started last summer! First, this is very long since it goes back and forth between California and Massachusetts. Second, Pixelberry Studios owns the characters. Third, the De la Cruz family is from High School Story (also by Pixelberry Studios). Thank you so much to those who read!

Tagging: @mfackenthal @rodappreciationweek @liam-rhys @desireepow-1986 @choicesarehard @leelee10898 @shadowycreatorpaperopera @brightpinkpeppercorn @client-327

Disclaimer: There is quite a bit of violence here, strong themes and situations. 

Logan slipped on a clean white shirt and a denim top; did he want to go to the barbeque? No, but it was a free meal and as soon as the time was right, he and Vanessa would be gone. 

“There’s something about them that doesn’t sit right with me”.

Logan turned to see Vanessa saunter out of the bedroom wearing a blue chiffon halter top and skinny jeans. 

“I just think it will be easier to sneak out while they’re distracted,” Logan said. 

“I hope you’re right” Vanessa quavered as she picked at her nails.

“Well, we better join the party” Logan headed towards the door but stopped when he realized Vanessa was not following him. “Are you ready?”

Vanessa hesitated and shook her head. “Look, let me call my father and tell him what is going on, he knows a good lawyer and I’m sure Zoe and Rita— “.

Logan tightened his grip on the doorknob and took a deep breath, he knew Vanessa was right, but it wasn’t that simple. 

“Logan, running and looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life makes no sense”. 

“Vanessa, I have to do this…now please can we just get this over with?” Logan opened up the door and gestured to the hallway. 

Vanessa took a deep breath and shook her head. “Fine, forget I said anything”.

 Once Ellie reached the exit, she burst through the door and frantically began searching for Toby. “Toby!?” 

A few people looked at her with confused looks on their faces as they passed her by. 

“Toby!?” Ellie called again. She began walking towards the street but ended up bumping into someone standing near a motorcycle. “Oh sorry”.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Ellie slowly turned around to see Colt staring at her with an unreadable expression on his face. 

“You shouldn’t be here— “.

“Ellie!”

Ellie and Colt turned to see Ximena running towards them. 

“What happened in there? Some guy threw Toby out and this other guy started chasing him— “.

“Ximena, where is Toby?” Ellie asked urgently. 

“He headed back to the garage but that guy who was chasing him ran back inside and shortly after I saw some other people come out with guns…”.

Colt silently cursed under his breath and shook his head; Ximena averted her eyes to look at him. 

“Colt! What the hell is going on?! Where have you been? What have you been doing since we split up!?”

Colt angrily shook his head a bit his lip. “All of you are going to screw everything up— “.

“’ Screw everything up?!’ Colt you need to explain what the hell is going on! Logan is in danger!” Ellie yelled. 

Colt ran a hand over his face and groaned. “I know that…it’s all a part of my plan”.

“What plan?!” Ximena exclaimed.

Ellie stared at Colt with a bewildered look on her face. “I honestly have no idea what to say to you— “. 

“There they are!”

All three of them turned to see two men rushing towards them. 

“Shit!” Colt shouted and quickly jumped on his motorcycle. 

While Ximena sprinted towards her car, Ellie froze up, unsure whether to get in the car with Ximena or hop on the back of Colt’s motorcycle. 

“Wheeler!” Colt shouted. 

BANG

A gunshot rang from out of nowhere causing hundreds of people to scatter and scream. Ellie quickly hopped on the back of Colt’s motorcycle and wrapped her arms around his waist. 

As soon as the motorcycle revved to life, Colt joined the passing cars on the street. 

“Explain to me what the hell is going on right now!”

Colt looked in his mirror to see Ximena close behind. However, in a distance, he could saw three sports cars racing towards them. 

“Dammit Colt! Answer me!”

“Alright! After we split up that night, I stuck around and laid low for a while. A few months passed, I decided to try and start my crew. Well, the two people I found screwed me over. I found some of my Pop’s stuff when I went to visit my Mom— “.

“So it’s true? Teppei pissed off two gangs?”

As Colt weaved in and out of traffic, car horns blared around him. “How do you know about that?”

“I was outside the door hiding while you met with Vicente and Bart. Now answer my question! Did Teppei sell them out?!” Ellie shouted.

Before Colt could answer, a 54 Aeon SX appeared out of nowhere heading straight towards them at full speed. 

“Look out!” Ellie screamed. 

Colt made a sharp turn, narrowly missing the oncoming car, however, the screeching metal behind him meant whoever it was clipped Ximena.

“We need to get back to the garage and meet up with Toby!”

Colt checked his mirror to see the cars giving chase gaining on them while Ximena did her best to keep them at bay. With his heart racing and millions of thoughts swirling through his mind, he wondered what lay ahead for the rest of the night. 

 “You made it!”

Logan and Vanessa put on their best smile as Althea hurried towards them with Cesar close behind. 

“Can I get you any drinks?” Cesar asked warmly. 

While Vanessa considered the options, Logan took a quick moment to survey the party, there was a small crowd, but something about the attendees seemed off. There was also an ominous chill in the air.  

“Logan!”

Logan snapped out of his thoughts to see everyone staring at him. “I’m sorry what?”

“What would you like to drink?” Althea asked. 

“Um...nothing right now”.

“Alright, I’ll be right back with your water Vanessa,” Cesar said and walked over to the cooler.

“It’s so nice of you to join us, it’s too bad my son couldn’t be here…he had some…business to take care of” Althea said.

“You have a son?” Vanessa asked.

“Yes, he’s an alum of Terman University and an entrepreneur of sorts,” Althea beamed. 

Logan turned his head to see Cesar standing near the cooler and speaking to a man in hushed tones. Shortly, another man with a beard joined them and greeted Cesar with a unique handshake. 

“So Logan are you in college?”

Logan turned to Althea who smiled warmly at him. “Uh…not at the moment”.

“Well you should enroll, it’s like I told my sister, Tala, education is very important…”. 

Logan swallowed; the mentioning of that name triggered his memory. When he joined the Mercy Park Crew, he snooped through Teppei’s office late at night. One night he was caught and expected Teppei to be angry but surprisingly he wasn’t and opened up to him. Logan learned Teppei had become involved with Tala Ramos. Little did he know, Tala was a member of the Crimson Santos. One night, she betrayed him and organized an attack. The Crimson Santos trashed the garage and damaged all of the cars in Teppei's possession. To get back at them, Teppei stole two valuable cars from them—a 67 Komoda and a 54 Aeon SX.

To further his revenge, Teppei made a deal with a cop and managed to get someone to spy on their activities. With the Crimson Santos out of his way and a broken heart, Teppei traveled to Tokyo to see his estranged wife, hoping for reconciliation. Instead, he found her in the arms of Felix Curbelo. In a jealous rage, Teppei sabotaged his car during a drifting competition, stole money from the Mente Kings, and talked to the same cop about finding someone to infiltrate the Mente Kings. However, everything backfired when the remains of both moles and that police officer were found in a sewer. Weeks later, the Mercy Park Crew had a target on their back and a war between them and the Brotherhood began.  

“...our mother was so proud when Tala finally graduated, that same day we moved our mom out of Manila— “.

“Excuse me” Logan quickly turned on his heel and ran inside. 

“Logan?” Vanessa turned towards him, but he was already several feet away. 

 Once Logan was inside, he ran into the kitchen and dialed Ellie’s number. “Come on, come on”.

“Hello, you have reached 213-555-0183. Unfortunately, they cannot take your call right now, please leave me a message after the beep”.

“Ellie, when you get this call me! All of us are in danger…Teppei did some stuff years ago that is going to get each of us killed. 

 “What’s wrong with him?” Cesar asked he returned to the group carrying two drinks. 

“I’m not sure…” Althea said worriedly. 

“Here’s your water Vanessa” Cesar handed a cup to her. 

“Thanks” Vanessa took the cup from him and took a sip. 

“Oh I forgot we have a special guest joining us tonight” Cesar turned and gestured for a young man to come over. 

When Vanessa looked up from her drink, the color drained from her face. 

“Hey Vanessa, long time no see”. 

Vanessa swallowed, uncertain whether to speak or run for her life. 

“Cat got your tongue?”

Cesar and Althea laughed heartily. 

Vanessa took a deep breath as she met the young man’s eyes. “No Javier...just surprised to see you”.

 Logan worriedly paced the kitchen and dialed Ellie’s number. “Come on, come on…pick up…”.

“Hello, you have reached 213-555-0183. Unfortunately, they cannot take your call right now, please leave me a message after the beep”.

Logan tossed his phone on the counter and began pacing the kitchen, he had to leave now…but how?

Suddenly, the door opened and closed, Logan, shuddered as someone entered the kitchen.

“Don’t make this hard on yourself”.

Logan bit his lip as his heart pounded against his chest, he recognized that voice anywhere.

“Turn around slowly”.

Logan turned to see Mona with a taser pointed at him and a malicious look on her face. 

“Down on your knees”.

“Mona…please…” Logan begged.

“Get down”.

As soon as Logan got down on the floor, another figure appeared and covered his face. Before he could scream, Mona lurched forward and fired the taser. Logan tried to call for help but was silenced by the sharp, prick of a needle being injected into his arm. 

 “…so you two met at the Lilac Palm, Javier, is Vicente still in charge Javier?”

“Yep, I like working with him…Logan too” Javier answered cheerfully. “I’m sure Vanessa here got to know him pretty well though”.

“Excuse me” Vanessa tried to set her cup down on the nearest table, but it slipped out of her hand and fell to the ground.

“Oh dear let me help you,” Althea said.

A chill ran down Vanessa’s spine once Althea placed a hand on her back. “It’s…it’s fine…” she stammered and tried to take a step forward but tripped and fell against a nearby table. 

“Are you alright Vanessa?” Cesar asked coolly. 

Vanessa tried to stand but couldn’t, everything around her started to blend and mesh together. She turned towards the cup a few feet away and suddenly it hit her—she had been drugged. 

“I…must…Logan…he…”.

Althea knelt beside her with a devilish smirk on her face. “I’m sorry it came to this dear, but we see you as a liability”.

“And we can’t have that” Javier cooed into her ear. 

Vanessa tried to speak but it was no use, her time was up. 

The car chase went from the side streets to the highway. Normally Colt was confident and egoistic, but tonight was different, for the first time in a long time, he felt incautious and terrified, everything had gone up in smoke in a matter of minutes. 

“There has to be another way to the garage!” Ellie shouted. 

Colt looked in his mirror to see Ximena holding off the other drivers the best that she could but as soon as they were in the clear, another driver would appear. 

Ellie quickly glanced over her shoulder to see one of the cars ram the side of Ximena’s car who returned the hit. 

Colt weaved in and out of traffic, desperately trying to evade the people chasing them. Just when it seemed hopeless, he saw an exit up ahead.

“There! That should take us to the garage!” Ellie yelled as she tightened her grip to Colt. 

Just as Colt began to merge into another lane, a 54 Aeon SX appeared dangerously close his side, time seemed to stand still as it inched closer, ready to send him and Ellie off of his motorcycle. 

Suddenly, Ximena pulled up at full speed and rear-ended the driver, sending the 54 Aeon SX forward. However, the driver quickly regained control and swerved to the far side of the highway. 

“Colt! Lookout!” 

Colt looked up and quickly maneuvered his motorcycle away from the section of the highway that had been cut off and glided onto the nearest exit. Suddenly, everything appeared to move in slow motion. 

As Colt pulled over, he and Ellie watched as Ximena tried to swerve out of the way only to cause her car to flip onto its roof. The drivers who had been chasing them disappeared into the night. Colt and Ellie gaped as Ximena’s car slid into the path of an oncoming tractor-trailer. 

“Ximena!” Ellie screamed. 

A deafening explosion roared across the highway followed by the sounds of screeching tires and cars crashing into one another.

Mona paced the small kitchenette below deck. Why did she agree to go along with Colt’s dangerous plan? For months she had kept to herself, hiding out in Las Vegas and working in a casino. One night, Colt showed up and told her he wanted to rebuild the crew and had an elaborate scheme in place to do so. Against her better judgement...she went along with it. 

“Ah, there you are Gwen”.

Mona rolled her eyes and turned around to see Pedro saunter into the kitchenette. “Yeah, just tired. I was hoping there was something to drink down here”.

“Good luck with that. Cesar and Althea only use this boat for special occasions”. 

Mona shook her head and pulled out her phone to send a quick message to Colt: 

You never said exactly when. So I am doing this now.

“Any idea where we are?”

“I think we’re near Provincetown. You seem a little anxious tonight”.

“Lack of sleep” Mona grumbled. 

Pedro slowly crossed the room and rubbed his chin. “Or it’s something else”.

Mona narrowed her eyes at him. “Come again?”

“When you first joined the Mente Kings I was a little…suspicious”. 

While he wasn’t looking, Mona slowly opened up a drawer and pulled out a knife. “I’ve got nothing to hide”. 

Pedro paused and turned to face her. “I heard you tried to steal property”. 

Mona schooled her features and kept a neutral expression on her face. “I don’t follow”

Pedro took a step forward. “Stolen property, motor vehicle theft, and a few aliases. I had someone do some digging on you”.

“So you went to David? You know he isn’t a real private investigator, right? Sometimes he goes by an alias like Diego”.

“I didn’t go to David for this information Gwen” Pedro replied as he took another step towards her. 

Mona stood still and tightened her grip on the knife. Small beads of sweat formed on her forehead.

“Or should I say, Mona”. 

In one swift motion, Mona drove the knife into his side. Pedro immediately fell to the ground clutching where he was stabbed. Before he could scream, Mona grabbed a rag laying on the counter and shoved it into his mouth. 

“Gwen!”

Mona swallowed nervously as her heart pounded against her chest, David was calling for her. 

 Logan awoke to the sounds of water lapping against the side of a boat. Vanessa was next to him, her hands and feet tied together and gazing at the stars. 

“Vanessa” Logan whispered. 

Vanessa turned her head and moved away from him. 

“Vanessa, there’s still time, maybe we—”. 

“Don’t you get it?” she hissed. “It’s over”.

“It’s not over”.

“Logan look around! Look where the life of crime, lies, and deceit has gotten you and your friends! You had the opportunity to start over in Ashburn Bay and you threw it away for what? I even offered to call my father and I am sure he would have willing to help your friends too”. 

“Vanessa— “.

“No, I don’t want to hear it…I think it is pretty clear what is about to happen tonight”.

Logan started to protest but turned his head, there was no use. 

 Kaneko's autobody was in ruins. The fire set by the Brotherhood months ago destroyed everything inside and out, shockingly the garage was still standing. 

As soon as Colt parked the motorcycle, Ellie jumped off and fell to the ground sobbing. Toby emerged from a nearby alley and hurried over. 

“Ellie, what’s wrong?! Where’s Ximena?!” Toby knelt beside her and rubbed her shoulders.

Colt rubbed the back of his neck and took a deep breath. 

“Colt! What the hell have you done!?” Toby shouted. 

“Ximena...was…was…killed by a truck” Ellie stammered. 

Toby stared at her with a blank expression on his face as a tear slid down his cheek. 

“Look, we have to get out of here…now” Colt said quietly. “I screwed up”.

Toby slowly rose to his feet, bringing Ellie with him. “Start talking Kaneko”.

Colt quickly ran through the plan he came up with and how he recruited Mona to help. “I just wanted us, the entire Mercy Park Crew to be on top…only this time better”.

Toby shook his head and took a deep breath. “Yeah and look where that’s gotten us…Ximena is dead because of you”.

BANG

All three of them dropped to the ground and covered their heads. 

“Where the hell did that come from?!” Toby yelled. 

As they craned their necks to see where the bullet came from, Ellie gaped at the group of cars racing towards the garage. “Oh my god…”. 

“We have to get inside!” Toby yelled. 

As soon as all three of them turned to run inside the garage, a storm of bullets rained down on them.

“Hkk” Colt stumbled and clutched his side. He slowly lifted his hand to see it coated in bright crimson. 

“Colt!” Ellie ran towards him followed by Toby. 

Colt swallowed; his breath quickened. “Ellie…I...”.

Ellie placed a hand over his wound, the blood seeping over her fingers. “Stay with us Colt…please”.

All three of them huddled against a wall as the bullets pounded against what was left Kaneko’s autobody. 

 Mona managed to stuff Pedro into a closet and jam the door. Once she wiped up the blood, she grabbed a pocketknife and walked up the stairs to the top deck. 

“What were you doing down there?” David asked. 

Mona casually approached him and shrugged. “I had to get a drink, turns out there isn’t anything down there”.

David narrowed his eyes at her as he shoved his hands into his pockets. 

Shortly, Javier strolled over to the group with a stern look on his face. 

“Any word from Vicente?” Mona asked coolly. 

“Not yet” Javier pulled out his phone to check his messages.

“Gwen, where is Pedro?” David asked. 

Mona who gestured to the stairwell. “Below deck, he had to use the bathroom”.

“I’m going to check on him,” David said and started down the stairs. 

Bzzzz bzzzzzzz

David paused at the top of the stairs and turned towards Javier. “Is that your phone?”

“Yeah” Javier showed the screen to both of them. “It’s Vicente”. 

As soon as Javier took his leave to answer the call, Mona briskly walked over to where Logan and Vanessa. Simultaneously she pulled out her phone and typed out a message to Colt.

Okay, I am going rogue. Something told me your plan was B.S. When you feel like answering, me, Logan, and the other chick will be long gone. Peace. 

She quickly slid the phone into her pocket once she reached them.

“Mona, what the hell is going on? Why are you doing this?” Logan asked worriedly. 

“Look there’s no time to explain. Colt has…well, had a plan but it doesn’t matter” Mona pulled out a pocketknife and began to release them. 

Logan shook his head and rubbed his wrists. “How the hell are we going to get off this boat?”

Mona sighed as she moved onto releasing Vanessa. “Well, we have to take care of Javier and David first”.

“David? Who? Wait, but…”.

“So that private investigator you told me about is a fraud and is working with the guys who are trying to kill us,” Vanessa said with a sigh of irritation.

Logan blankly stared at both of them as he thought back to the night Javier referred his “connect” to find his foster parents. “That bastard…so he—".

“I know it’s a lot to process but we have to move, now”.

As soon as all three of them rose to their feet, Javier and David rushed into view with their guns drawn.

“Not so fast!” Javier said.

BANG

“No!” Logan screamed.

The bullet whizzed through the air and pierced Mona’s skull. Logan and Vanessa watched in horror as she fell, and blood pooled around her head like a macabre halo.

Suddenly, before either of them could move, another gunshot rang out. 

BANG

 “You need to get him upstairs,” Toby said. 

Ellie turned to Colt, his face pale and breath ragged. “Toby…”.

“There isn’t any time…I’ll try to hold them off”.

Ellie slowly rose to her feet and managed to pull Colt along with her. Slowly and carefully, she made her way towards the stairwell. 

The bullets from the other side continued to rain down on what was left of Kaneko's autobody. Toby knew he was outnumbered but he had to try. After taking a deep breath and a quick prayer, he threw himself into the fray and fired back. 

Ellie huffed as she climbed the stairwell, not only was it was falling apart, but she had to support Colt as well. Just as she took another step, debris from the ceiling came crashing down.

“AAAHHHH!” Ellie screamed and pulled Colt towards her. 

“How…much…further��”.

Ellie tightened her hold onto him and resumed the climb. “We’re almost to the top, stay with me okay?”

“Ellie…I…I…can't…”.

“No! You can, we’re going to get through this!” Ellie glanced over at Toby who was too occupied to notice her struggle.

After a few more steps, she finally reached the top. Ellie trudged towards an area that was still intact and gently set Colt down. 

“Ellie…” Colt pleaded as he reached for her.

“I’m right here” Ellie sat in front of him and applied some pressure to his wound. “I’m not going anywhere”.

 CLICK CLICK CLICK 

Toby shuddered at the sound and set his gun to the side; he was out of bullets and knew he had to surrender. Slowly, he emerged from his hiding place, raised his hands, and walked outside the garage. 

The gunfire came to a halt and multiple men stepped out of the cars with guns drawn. Toby gulped when Vicente casually stepped out of an SUV, rolled his shoulders, and walked towards him. 

“I see you came to your senses…finally”.

Toby could hardly contain his nerves, his heart raced and sweat slid down his face. 

“Where are they?”

Toby remained silent, he didn’t know what to do and there was nowhere to run.

Vicente signaled to his men to start closing in and turned his attention back to Toby. “I will ask you again, where are Colt Kaneko and Ellie Wheeler hiding?”

Toby squared his shoulders and glared back at him. 

Vicente shook his head, a devilish smirk on his face. 

“Amigos, ¿tartamudeé?

The members of the Mente Kings who were present shook their heads and formed a circle around Vicente and Toby.  

“Then you leave me no choice” Vicente patted Toby on the shoulder and walked towards the garage. 

“What do you want us to do?”

Vicente turned towards whoever asked the question and then glanced back at Toby. “Make him bleed”.

A fist came out of nowhere and collided with the side of Toby’s face while another fist took the other side. Toby stumbled and tried to regain his footing until another figure shoved him to the ground. 

Vicente casually looked on, not once did he interfere or tell his men to stop. After what felt like an hour of beating, he stepped forward and signaled for his men to give him some room.

“I am going to ask again,” he said coolly. 

Toby squinted his eyes as he looked up at Vicente. 

“Don’t make this any harder than what it needs to be”.

Suddenly a few more cars arrived on the scene, once they parked the drivers joined the group in front of the garage. 

“Bart, I wasn’t expecting you to join us,” Vicente said.

“Crimson Santos have a stake in this too” Bartholomew greeted Vicente a warm handshake. “Besides I couldn’t let you girls have all the fun”.

Toby coughed up blood and turned towards the man standing above him. 

“Is this him?”

Vicente shook his head and gestured in Toby’s direction. “One of them”.

Bartholomew stroked his chin and turned towards Toby, who lied on the ground bruised, bloody, and beaten. 

“Hey”.

Toby coughed once more, his breaths heavy and ragged. “What?”

Bartholomew squatted down to be at his level. “Listen, all we want to know is, where did Colt and the girl go?”

Toby coughed again; tears began to stream down his face. “I…I…will…not...turn my back on my friends…go…to…hell”.

Bartholomew sighed and rose to his feet. “Me? Go to hell?”

Toby looked up at him and spat in his direction. “That’s what I said”.

Bartholomew shook his head as a nefarious smirk appeared on his face. After he paced around for a moment, he reached into his jacket, pulled out a shiny pistol, and aimed it at Toby’s head.

“You should know that I vacation there”.

BANG

 Ellie whirled around at the sound of the gunshot. 

“Ellie…” Colt pleaded. 

“Colt just try to relax okay?” Ellie stood up and tip-toed across the floor towards what remained of a window. 

The garage was surrounded, and a few men had begun to stuff Toby’s body into a trunk. Once Vicente and Bartholomew addressed their men, half got into their cars and sped off, the other half turned to follow them inside the garage. Ellie swallowed nervously as she backed away from the window.

“Where…where…is Toby?”

Once she was in front of him, Ellie knelt and caressed Colt’s pale cheek.

“He’s gone” Ellie lamented as she lifted his shirt to check his wound. The bleeding had slowed down, but she could tell he was barely holding on. 

Colt tossed his head back and began to close his eyes. “I…I need…to…tell you…something”.

Tears began to stream down Ellie’s face as she looked into Colt’s eyes. Below them, loud footsteps and voices flooded into the garage. 

With the strength he had left, Colt gripped Ellie’s hand and pulled her towards him. 

“What is it?” Ellie asked as she wiped a tear away with her free hand. 

The voices below grew louder and more anxious, the thundering footsteps drew closer. 

“I…love…you”.

As Ellie leaned in and pulled him close, multiple figures emerged at the top of the stairs with their guns drawn. 

“Well, well…look who we have here”.

Ellie turned around to see Vicente, Bartholomew, and a few of their henchmen.

“Step away from him,” Bartholomew said quietly, but loud enough for everyone to hear. 

“Please...we’ll do what you want…please” Ellie begged.

Vicente signaled to one of his men, who lurched forward and dragged her away from Colt. 

“No! Stop! He’s hurt!” Ellie cried.

“Let her go!” Colt yelled.

“Would you like to do the honors?” Bartholomew said as he turned to Vicente and offered him his pistol. 

Vicente grinned as he took it from him. “You don’t know how long I have been waiting for this moment”.

“No! Please just let us go!” Ellie pleaded.

“Not a chance,” Vicente said. 

Tears streamed down Ellie’s cheeks as she watched Vicente level the pistol and aim at Colt’s head. 

“Kaneko,” Vicente said.

Colt turned towards Vicente and glared at him.

“Say hello to your father for me”.

A strangled noise ripped itself out of Ellie’s throat as soon as Vicente pulled the trigger, the sight of Colt falling backward and a pool of blood forming around him caused tears to well in her eyes.

 Logan fell to the deck and clutched his mid-thigh. “AAARGH!”

“Logan!” Vanessa shouted as she knelt beside him.

David immediately stormed over, grabbed Vanessa by her ponytail, and dragged her away. 

“Let me go! Stop!” she screamed as she clawed at his hand.

Javier casually walked over to Logan and fired another shot into his other thigh. 

BANG

“ARGHH!” Logan cried out; he felt his heart race as the pain coursed through his body.

Javier slowly knelt and grabbed him by his shirt. “Vicente just informed me of the situation in California...and I know everything”.

Logan swallowed, beads of sweat perspired on his forehead. 

“Gwen goes by Mona and was working with Colt” Javier motioned towards Mona’s body, lying a few feet away. 

Logan looked past Javier to see Vanessa kicking and screaming while David struggled to get her under control. 

“I hope you weren’t counting on Colt and Mona saving you. Did you think we were going to let the Mercy Park Crew get away with what Teppei did?”

Logan turned away from Javier, breathing heavily, blood seeping through his pants.

“Please don’t hurt him!” Vanessa screamed as she kicked and desperately tried to free herself from David.

“Stop moving dammit!” David shouted.

“Leave her alone!” Logan yelled.

Just as Vanessa managed to break free, David threw her against the railing and slapped her. Logan helplessly watched as Vanessa fall to the deck with a heavy thud.

Javier stood up and walked over to them. “And you...”.

“What should we do with her?” David asked as he picked her up and tightened his grip.

“I have a few ideas…most of which involve little to no clothing”.

Vanessa shuddered as Javier caressed her cheek with his gun.

“You know Vicente has a friend in Tijuana who handles girls like her”.

Javier grinned and shook his head. “Ah, I know who you are talking about…los rompe bien”.

Vanessa’s eyes widened in fear as she realized what they were going to do to and what potentially lied ahead. “Nooooo! Please! Let me go!”

Javier coldly turned on his heel and walked back over to Logan as David dragged Vanessa towards the stairwell.

“Make sure she is gagged and tied up” Javier called over his shoulder. 

David shook his head as he disappeared below the deck and Vanessa’s fearful screams faded away.

“Vicente wants you to see something” Javier mused.

Logan watched as he pulled out his phone and dialed Vicente’s number. Within minutes Vicente answered via video chat. “Javier, estaba a punto de llamarte”.

“No need just about finished here” Javier stood up and made a show of the scene around him. Mona’s body surrounded in a pool of blood and Logan bleeding in front of him. 

“Good, how is Pedro?”

“David and I patched him the best we could, he’s down below”.

“I’ll see if Ace can get his parents to meet you out there once you dump the bodies, what about the girl?”

“David and I were thinking your friend could put her to good use…if you know what I mean”.

“I had the same idea when Cesar showed me a picture. Tijuana is a good place for her to start, but we’ll finalize the details later. Let me speak to Logan”.

“Claro que jefe” Javier walked over to Logan forced him to face the screen. 

“Logan, good to see you”.

“Where is Ellie!?”

“Right here” Vicente answered calmly. 

Logan felt his heart race as he watched Vicente turn the screen. Ellie sat in front of a wall, her arms and legs tied together. Behind her was a man holding a gun.

“Please…just let her go…she has nothing to deal with this” he pleaded. 

“She was associated with the whole damn crew; I would say she has plenty to do with this”.

Suddenly, another man moved into the frame and stood next to Vicente.

“Logan, meet Bartholomew De la Cruz, Cesar, and Altheas’ son,” Vicente said as he handed off the phone. 

“So anything you’d like to say?” Bartholomew asked.

Logan started to speak but froze as he watched David reemerge from below deck and drag Mona’s body away. 

“No? Well— “.

“Ellie…let me talk to her,” he said quietly.

Bartholomew turned the phone towards Ellie who slowly looked up to face Logan. 

“Troublemaker”.

A tear slid down her cheek. “Mister Reckless”.

Logan swallowed; his breath ragged. “Ellie…I’m sorry…”.

Ellie shook her head, the tears flowed steadily. “No, I am…I should have been there for you…are you hurt?”.

Despite the pain, he gritted his teeth and kept a brave face. “Just a scratch”.

Both of them stared at each other in complete silence, their thoughts drifted back to the simpler times of the Mercy Park Crew. The first job they did together, the rave, the driving lessons, and prom night. 

“Ellie…I won’t have another chance to say this…I— “.

Before Ellie could speak, Vicente spoke up. “Alright, time to say goodbye”.

“No! I’m not finished! Put her back on the phone!” Logan shouted.

“Logan! Logan, I love—” Ellie cried.

The man behind her lifted his gun and pulled the trigger. 

BANG

“Nooooo!” Logan closed his eyes and jerked away from the phone. 

Droplets of blood splattered the screen as Ellie’s body lurched forward and disappeared from view. 

Logan helplessly stared at the phone as tears trickled down his face. 

“You and David finish up; you know what to do”.

“Will do,” Javier affirmed and hung up the phone. 

“I took care of Vanessa and Pedro is doing okay,” David said as he sauntered over. 

“Good,” Javier said. “That brat is in for surprise once we get her to Tijuana”.

“What about him?”

Javier turned his attention back to Logan and loaded his gun. “I’ll handle this one”.

“I’ll get the other girl ready so we can toss her overboard,” David said and took his leave. 

Javier nodded his head and pointed the gun at Logan. “Lookup”. 

Logan sluggishly gazed at the deck as the sounds of the ocean echoed around him. 

“¡Dije mírame!”

With the little strength he had left, Logan slowly lifted his head to face Javier. 

“I have been wanting to do this for a long time”.

Logan slumped forward, blood pooling around his thighs. 

“Adios amigo” Javier quipped and pulled the trigger.

[queenlists]

The Gifts

A/N: Professor Winchester is back! We’re at 97, almost to 100! Thank you for all of the support. It means a lot to me. I always say this in every A/N haha, but it is so true. I appreciate it and I’ll never stop thanking you all. Also special thanks to @ricanqueen20​ for the request! The masterlist will be at the end of this fic. Thank you all once again and I hope you all enjoy this ✌

Post date: 02/02/2020

"Hey, professor (Y/l/n)!" A group of my cheerful students beamed as we passed each other in the hallway. "Hey girls!" I smiled at them before gulping down some coffee. "What's up professor!" One of my athletic students, Liam, fist-bumped me as we passed each other. "Have fun on your trip today, Liam!" I call out behind me, turning around to see Liam flash a smile and nod my way before disappearing through the double doors with a group of friends. I've always had a soft spot for these ki- "Ow!" I yelp as I feel a hard object hit the back of my head causing me to jolt, spilling some of my coffee. Hearing the familiar bouncing sound, I look down to see what exactly it was. A basketball. I groaned, closing my eyes while rubbing the throbbing pain away. "I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry! I wasn't paying attention. I was throwing the ball and lost control. Are you okay?!" I look at the culprit as he rambles on, profusely apologizing. It was the new professor, Dean Winchester. He was hired before our last semester and soon after, he took over as coach. I had only met him once or twice before. I felt a smile creep across my face as shock took him over. Wide-eyed and breathing heavy, he conveniently grabbed an ice pack out of his pocket and held it to my head. "No! No, you're fine. I'm fine. Don't worry about that. A ball hitting my head woke me up a lot faster than my coffee could ever!" I replaced his hand on the ice pack with mine and laughed, hoping to gain a smile from the nervous professor. Dean stared into my eyes before smiling "Well if that's the case, you're welcome!" Dean beamed, rubbing the back of his head while chuckling nervously. I couldn't help, but notice how beautiful his smile was and how the lines by his eyes crinkled along with it. His eyes were glistening as the light hit them perfectly. I bit my lip as I felt myself getting lost in them. I was having a hard time tearing my eyes away even when his met mine. I felt my body heat rise with every second our eyes remained locked on one another's. "Hey coach, we're ready to roll!" Our attention snapped towards the disembodied voice before we turned back to one another. Feeling my cheeks heat up, I felt myself slipping once again in a trance. "Well have fun on your trip, Dean!" I giggled nervously, waving a small goodbye while walking away as fast as I could.

---------

It's exam week and everyone is stressed. Students sat on the carpeted floors with books, papers, and snacks scattered around them. Students littered the library with piles of books stacked so high that they resembled small mountains. Professors gulped down coffee as they procrastinated, staring at the piles of papers that they had to grade and review by the end of the week as they wondered just how they were going to survive this dreadful week.

Walking down the halls, the stress caused a thick tension in the air. The only sounds to be heard were pages flipping, pens scratching on paper, and the occasional sigh. I smiled at the students as I made my way down the hall in an attempt to gain a smile from at least one hard-working student. Then I saw him. Dean Winchester, the only one walking around with a genuine big smile on his face. His skin radiating with happiness as he said goodnight to every single student. His eyes met mine and I felt my heart flutter. "Have a great night, (Y/n)!" He beamed as he kept walking passed me. "Thank you. You as well!" I replied, biting my lip and turning my head to watch as he continued to walk, but to my surprise, he was already looking at me when I turned around. "Ooh Professor Winchester, get it!" One of the students cooed, others chiming in. "Stop that!" Dean pointed at the students with a smirk forming on his face. I quickly turned and hurried to the parking lot as I felt the heat rise to my face, shifting my bag from shoulder to shoulder. My bag was a lot heavier than usual due to the massive amounts of paperwork that I'd be doing later tonight. When I finally reached my car, I dropped my bag on the floor sighing in relief. Moving my shoulders in hopes of relieving the tension and pain, I noticed an envelope underneath one of the windshield wipers.

"Well it's not a ticket," I mumbled to myself, snatching the envelope before getting into my car. Once I was settled inside of the car, I ripped the plain envelope open. "No way!" I exclaimed as a gift card to my favorite restaurant slipped out of the ripped out notebook paper. Along with the gift card came a note:

'(Y/n),

I really hope this is your car. If not, please give this to professor (Y/l/n). I’ll owe you one! Exam week sucks. Beer and burgers are on me tonight, beautiful.

P.S.

It doesn't have to be beer and burgers if you're not into that. You can buy rabbit food if that's what you're into as well. Have a nice dinner!’

Signed with a poorly drawn heart.

I couldn't wipe the smile off of my face and I couldn't shake the curiosity out of my mind. Who could've done this? Who WOULD have done this?

--------

"Seph, did you really do this?" I gasped as I pulled out chocolate milk and a single rose. "Do what?" Persephone looked up to me from her laptop. Once she saw what I was holding, the biggest smile crept across her face. "This! I was just telling you that I wish I had some chocolate milk!" She smirked and then looked back down at her laptop, shaking her head while typing "That was not me, but now we know your secret admirer is a professor or maybe even Dean!" "The Dean would not do this! She doesn't play favorites," I smiled to myself as I held the milk and rose close to my chest.

Walking to the stairs, I twirled the rose around in my hand. "Where'd you find such a beautiful rose?" I turned around to see Dean Winchester behind me."It looks handpicked. Be careful of those thorns," Dean cleared his throat as he mumbled something to himself. "I don't know who keeps giving me these gifts. It was a gift card last week and now this. Persephone said it might be the Dean, isn't that weird?" I laughed it off as I shook my head and continued to twirl the rose. "The Dean? She might be dropping hints about someone," I looked at Dean as he spoke and he turned bright red. "You're doing this?" I gasped, my heart dropping to my feet. "N-no! I didn't. I have to go!" I watched as Dean stormed off into the distance, curiosity taking a toll.

--------

“Woah, that’s one big teddy bear!” Seph gasped before laughing “Your secret admirer struck again, I see,” “Is Dean Winchester here?” I bit my lip and groaned as Persephone began to shake her head. “No, he isn’t in this week. Why?”

I began to tell her how I thought Dean could be behind the gifts and she listened intently, nodding her head every now and then. “But, if he isn’t here then it can’t be him. I probably weirded the poor guy out with my conspiracies,” I sighed, rolling my eyes.

Holding the bear, I noticed the tag clipped to its ear. Opening the tag, I saw a small note:

Rambutan Park

Along with today’s date and time.

I looked at my phone, the time was for thirty minutes from now! Getting up, I hurried to gather my belongings and took off towards the park.

It didn’t take nearly as long as I thought to get there, so I had twenty minutes to spare. It was the normal park scene during lunchtime. Adults sitting around, talking amongst one another as kids ran around laughing and screaming. The park smelled of barbecued food. I looked into the distance and noticed a familiar face, Dean Winchester. He was talking to a taller man, both with a beer in their hand. I bit my lip as I contemplated whether or not I should apologize to him for thinking he was the one doing all of this.

Figuring that I should before the person comes, I start making my way over to Dean and the other man. Dean glanced over at me while he spoke to the man before freezing. The taller man must have taken notice of Dean’s change of demeanor and followed Dean’s gaze to me. A dimpled smile wiped across the taller man’s face. “Hey! I don’t mean to be a bother. I just wanted to apologize for thinking you were the person doing this stuff. I didn’t mean to freak you out!” I took a deep breath as my heart pounded. Dean didn’t say a thing, blink, or move. I chewed on the inside of my lip as I looked from Dean to the taller man who was pursing his lips. “I’m Sam. Sam Winchester. Dean’s little brother. Nice to meet you!” Sam extended his hand out as I gladly shook his hand “I’m (Y/n) (Y/l/n). It’s nice to meet you too. I better get going!” I glanced at Dean one last time who was still standing there with the same expression, nodding to myself I turned around and began walking back to my car. I didn’t dare to look back as I felt the embarrassment creep over me. Looking at my phone, ten more minutes.

Ten minutes turned to nine. Nine to eight. Eight to seven and so on...

No sign of this mystery admirer.

I looked to the big teddy bear in my passenger seat and flipped the tag open once more to confirm that I wasn’t mistaken.

I waited an extra thirty minutes as tears collected in my eyes.

I saw a child pointing in my direction as a concerned parent noticed the tears falling down my face. I waved to them, starting my car, and leaving the property. Kicking myself for even thinking I could actually have someone wanting my attention.

Walking into my lonely apartment, I gazed around my house as my vision blurred with tears. Hot tears spilled down my face as I dropped to my knees in tears, holding the bear close to my chest. I cried out, my body violently shaking as I sobbed hard. Sobbing myself into a numb state, I sat there until the last drops of tears dried on my face.

------

“Ooh (Y/n)! Another gift,” Seph held up a wrapped present and held it out for me to take. I shook my head “You can keep it. Whoever it was stood me up yesterday. I’m so over this,” I felt the tears starting up again as I saw Dean glance up at me from his laptop. “I’m taking a sick day,” I sniffed as I walked to the Dean’s office to notify her.

------

The gifts came to a stop.

The hunt came to a stop.

My original routine started up again as I greeted each of my students in the hallway.

Dean and I began saying hello and goodbye to each other once again.

We didn’t talk much besides that unless it was required, but I was okay with that. I am okay with that.

------

I could hear laughter and loud chatter as I approached the door which was odd for an early Monday morning. I checked my phone to see if maybe I was running late, but no. I was early. I was early enough to have the classroom to myself. Why were they here so early? Opening the door, I see a beautiful bouquet of flowers "Aw, really? You guys are awesome!" I smile as I take a closer look at the flowers. (Y/f/f). My favorite! "Who did this?" I looked over to the sea of smiling familiar faces. "Not us!" "Your secret admirer!" "Someone's crushing on big time, (Y/l/n)!" Hearing the commentary from the class, I heavily sighed. Was it them again?

After the school day was done, I carefully picked up the bouquet. They were placed in a beautiful vase, the paintwork on it was a bit messy and smudged indicating someone had to have painted it. Someone who wasn't usually known for doing artsy stuff like this. Usually, I'd take the stairs, but I wasn't going to risk dropping them and breaking the vase. Especially since everyone is rushing up and down the stairs at this time, so the elevator it is. Patiently waiting, the doors slid open revealing the one and only Professor Winchester. I stepped in and struggled to press the button, trying to balance the vase in one arm. Dean stepped in, gently nudging my hand back "I got it. What floor are you headed to?" "Home! Thank you so much," I carefully lifted the vase higher to securely hold it again. "Same! I'm ready to crack open a beer and eat some burgers," Dean chuckled. Beers and burgers sound familiar, but I nodded as I admired the flowers. "I like the vase. Nice work, huh?" Dean complimented, staring at the steel doors of the elevator. "Yeah! It’s nice," I sighed, chewing my lip.

The doors peeled open as Dean gestured for me to walk ahead of him. I stepped out with him following closely behind me before matching my speed "I can help you to your car. You know, to help load those flowers in," Dean offered with a smile. That smile. "I'd love that. Thank you!" On our way to the car, I had a strange feeling that he knew exactly what car was mine. I slowed my pace as he kept up his, leading me to my car. "My keys are right in my bag," I knit my eyebrows together as he reached his hand to my bag. Paint. Paint that was the exact same color of paint on the vase. A smear of blue on his finger. As he dug for my keys, I tilted the vase to examine the smudge closely. A blue fingerprint. "You're the one who's been doing this?" I gasped as he froze in his place, bent over with his hand in my bag

There was a long moment of silence. My heart sinking with every minute. My palms began to sweat as I waited for Dean to say anything! Dean stood up, taking the vase from my hands while boring his eyes into mine "Yes. Yes, it was me. I didn't know how to tell you that it was me. I’m sorry for leading you on a wild hunt. I’m sorry about the park. For making you cry. It wasn’t my intention. I wanted your attention, but I wasn’t sure what to say or how to ask you to go on a date with me.” 

It was now my turn to invoke the silence. Staring at Dean, I chewed on the inside of my cheek. He gulped hard as he kept his gaze. Sighing, I nodded at him “Be at the restaurant tonight. We can go on an actual date.”

--------

"You did not!"

"I totally did. I really threw the ball at your head on purpose. It's bad I know! Persephone and Sam were both kicking me for that move. I didn't know how to start up a conversation!" Dean laughed, taking another sip from his glass bottle of beer.

"She was in on this?!" I yelled, gaining looks from other diners. Dean and I both shrugged them off and continued laughing amongst ourselves.

"She was. She gave me your schedule too. She told me what chocolate milk to get you. She told me your favorite flowers. She told it all and Sam, my brother, picked out the vase. I-I don't usually do this. I'm not the romantic type, so he was more than willing to help me figure out ways to get your attention without giving you any more brain damage," Dean looked down, shaking his head with the biggest smile on his face.

"I really like you, (Y/N)." Dean looked up at me, his face serious.

Not knowing what to say, I leaned over the table and gave him a quick peck on his lips before sitting back down.

"I'll take that as you like me too?" Dean questioned with a nervous laugh.

"Yes, I do. A lot. This might be the brain damage talking, but I would love to do this again," I bit my lip as I watched him nod to himself.

"I'd love that. Oh before I forget. The present!” Dean reached behind his back and handed me the wrapped present that I told Seph to keep.

Opening it, I saw a picture of Dean and I. The picture was taken during one of the meetings and we were both smiling. The frame read ‘LOVE’ and there was another note:

It is me, Dean. I really like you, (Y/n). I’m sorry for all of the havoc I’ve caused trying to avoid telling you how I feel like an adult. Will you go on a date with me?

My eyes watered as I looked up at him with a big smile “You were going to tell me?” Dean smiled, looking down “No, Seph made me write it. She finished wrapping it as you walked in. I’m sorry again for all of the hurt!” Dean’s eyes became red as he sniffed up the tears.

Taking his hand in mine, I rubbed my thumb along his knuckles. As I watched Dean gain his composure back, I felt myself losing mine as I leaned in for yet another kiss.

--------

Walking down the hallway hand in hand, Dean and I talked about how much of a relief it was that the exams were over. Students would gasp, stare, and cheer as we passed them.

"After all the advice, you didn't even tell me, coach?!" Liam stopped in front of us with a dramatic gasp. "Thank you for telling me which ball to throw at her head, Liam!" Dean rolled his eyes, shaking his head with a smile. “Anytime love birds!” Liam laughed, making his way passed us before I realized just what was said. Turning around, I called out to Liam “You really chose a basketball over any other ball?!” Liam turned around with a shrug, laughing. I watched as Liam turned the corner before turning to Dean “It all worked out though, didn’t it?” Dean smiled big and nodded “It sure did.”

masterlist

[noahh-htx]

REVIEW: Super Pitfall (スーパーピットフォール) (Famicom/NES)

Developer: Micronics

Publisher(s): Pony Canyon (Japan), Activision (North America)

Release Date(s): September 1986 (Japan), November 1987 (North America)

Pitfall, the brainchild of Activision’s David Crane, is a rather significant video game. Released for the Atari 2600 in 1982, it was an early example of a side-scrolling platform game, and it went on to be one of the best-selling games for the system. Naturally, a game this successful would warrant a sequel. Pitfall actually had several, and Super Pitfall for the Nintendo Famicom was one of these sequels. I was a bit curious about the game, so I decided to play through it on my NES last night.

Something that should be noted is that David Crane had no involvement in the development of Super Pitfall; instead, the development of this game was handed to Micronics, a Japanese developer that generally shied from taking credit for its work. Considering this game’s quality, this might not have been wholly a bad idea.

In Super Pitfall, you play as Harry, the series’ protagonist. Super Pitfall appears to be a loose remake of Pitfall II; in both games, Harry must collect the Raj Diamond and rescue Quickclaw, his pet lion, and Rhonda, his niece.

Additionally, Harry must collect several objects adorned with card suits (heart, diamond, spade, club) along with a key for Quickclaw’s cage and a potion to turn Rhonda back to normal.

Where Super Pitfall begins to fall apart is its design. As an open-world game, Super Pitfall encourages the player to explore as they search for objects. The issue with this is how it’s implemented; nearly every object in the game (including those that are necessary for progression) are initially invisible, and the player must jump in a very particular area to reveal each. This wouldn’t necessarily be a problem if it weren’t for another bad design choice; each area where the player needs to jump in order to reveal an object is also invisible.

These design choices make the game incredibly cryptic and render it nearly unplayable without large amounts of trial-and-error unless the player has a guide handy. This cryptic design also extends to moving between areas; in order to warp to other areas in the game, the player generally must jump into specific walls, and these walls have nothing to distinguish them as warp zones. One warp is hidden in a vulture, which also is visually identical to every other vulture enemy in the game. On top of all of this, much of the level design is bland and uninspired; many areas of the game are hard to distinguish from one another, so drawing a map is almost a necessity for navigating these caverns. 

Beyond the game’s incredibly puzzling design, the gameplay itself is weak. Besides the running and jumping that Harry is known to do, he also wields a gun. The big issue with this projectile is that many of the enemies in the game are too short to be hit by it, and other enemies move in odd patterns that make them difficult to hit. Additionally, Harry’s gun has limited ammunition; with quite a few of the enemies’ (especially in the last area of the game) requiring several shots to defeat, having an empty gun is far from uncommon. Excluding this weapon, Super Pitfall really doesn’t do much to expand on the prior Pitfall games; much of it is simply exploring. While it can take credit for being an early open-world game, the enigmatic treasure hunt that is thrown in makes the game simply not very fun to play.

Another large issue with the game is its programming. To some extent, it feels unfinished. The collision detection is so lacklustre that Harry can clip through walls simply by walking against them for a long enough period of time. This collision detection also makes swinging on vines a chore as Harry generally falls through them. The physics are also implemented awkwardly. While Harry can steer his jumps, the steering is stiff and generally ineffective. If Harry simply falls off a platform, he falls straight down while the player is entirely unable to control his movement until he lands on something; this more often than not leads to a collision with either an enemy or a spike bed. Additionally, the waterfalls that are scattered about the game’s areas also cause the player to lose control of Harry as he falls onto either a platform or a body of water. These quirks make navigating the game’s areas much more frustrating than it should be. The game also simply feels glitchy and unpolished. Random sprites will occasionally flicker on the screen, and the game will slow down at random intervals even when not much is on the screen.

The game’s presentation isn’t special. The graphics are bland, and the music will tire any player relatively quickly.

Verdict: Super Pitfall simply isn’t a good game. While it had the potential to be decent, many missteps in its design and programming instead make it a miserable journey.

Score: 3/10

[chainofbeing]

Adam is forced to re-evaluate his intentions Epicurosa: Laura Rodgers Harpy: Maxwell James Ginn (mjginnvoice@gmail.com) Surveyor: Lance Chapman, Nerys Howell, Mary-anne Stanek and Jesus r Carbo Ovig Nadal: Glyn Pritchard Score: Bethany Porter Lewis Sound design, Writing, and Adam Delta 5: Cai Gwilym Pritchard An Extra Special thanks to our patrons Theresa Shiban Anthony Hyde Zachary Fortais-Gomm email us at chainofbeingofficial@gmail.com follow the podcast on twitter @chainofbeing Subscribe to the patreon for exclusive content and rewards! 170119_hydrophone_river_3.wav by Leonsptvx

We stand on a great and sweeping mountain, a strange fog covers the landscape and movements of large obscured creatures and just about be made out. The wind shrieks in my ears, as if ordering me to leave this place, no oxygen, no protection from the harsh radiation of the sun, If I weren’t in the shadow of the tall eight armed god, Epicruosa, I imagine I would be having a much harder time standing here. Epicurosa puts on the onyx skull of a crow of some kind, decorated in banded white silver. They place a large hand on my back and push me toward the large circular chasm that lays open in front of us. It drops down, I lean over and see no bottom. They gesture toward it. “You want me to jump in?” I ask

[with each new mask epicurosas voice changes, the crow has a similar but more exaggerated quality to adams, and there is a hypnotic tone underneath that winds and and down as she speaks]

“What’s the issue? You’ll survive,”

“Yea but will I be intact?”

“I did not funnel myself into a physical form and bring you all the way out here just to watch you splatter at the bottom of a vast abyss. If I wished to do that I would have just thrown you from the top of that mesa where I rescued you from that... infected woman,” 

“Oh fuck, I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I shuffle toward the edge and turn before jumping off “What’s down there?” I’ve never seen Epicurosa’s face without a mask, I see her gray textured skin, glowing yellow eyes and black teeth. Completely unobscured I imagine the sight of her bare face would destroy some part of me. Despite the skull mask I can see her frustration. “Think of the universe as a body, mortals live their entire life on the skin, maybe they’ll cut through the epidermis every so often but that,” she gestures to the open maw of the mountain “Is a place where the skin has been pierced and reaches the flesh and bone,”

“Oh,” I turn back to the chasm “And why do you want me to-”

Epicurosa sighs angrily and shoves me over the edge and I get the sense that something watches me fall, the stone sides of the huge hole that start as rough, natural looking stone soon gives way an impossibly smooth and flawless texture, too smooth even to seem mortal made, something approaches and I hit a layer of water, I sink through for a second, carried by my momentum, before I pass and continue falling, strangely though, it seems as if I am falling up, a circle or orange light approaches and I sail up into the air and back down again, landing on my feet on a wide square, white stone platform. The space is incredibly vast, there is a roof and sides to it, made of the same white stone of the pyramid, the sides go straight up for miles and then begin to slope inwards until they reach the wide flat ceiling which so far away that I can only just make it out through the atmosphere that sits, trapped in this impossible place. Huge pillars are carved into the walls that stretch high above me. Multiple balconies protrude out from the sides on which stand colossal figures, obscured by robe and fire, they look down upon me, vigilant guards holding flaming golden spears. The roof leads to an open octagonal hole through which a warm light shines through, thin trails of sand cascade down and land in a large garden whose borders are entirely defined by where the light falls. Four huge walls stretch the whole height of this space evenly around the octagon, partially barring my full vision of the garden, and even the whole space as the walls prevent me from seeing the side directly opposite. This place I’m stood in is so incredibly huge that the minimal light just barely illuminates the vast cavern. The floor at the bottom of the pyramid is covered in a variety of landscapes: rocky heaths, tors, promontories, and various other rock formations that jut into the air, forming long bridges, platforms and canyons, far off in the distance I see pools of some molten substance of various sizes dotted sporadically here and there, with long thin rivulets trailing around the landscape. At the bottom of the long staircase that trails along the side of the pyramid I see that the rock is actually something akin to glass, unrefined and opaque but still clearly glass. I look up at the angels in their flaming shrouds, their gaze still fixed on me. From Behind a pillar of glass a creature of some kind swiftly rushes up into the air, rising into the air far, far above me. I watch it sail out of sight toward the ceiling, and begin to walk, heading for the garden at the center. I take a step and hear something rushing toward me from above, I look up and see the creature headed straight for me, I draw my sword and ready myself, it moves so quickly that I can just barely discern its form. It descends in a blur of glistening black feather, and pale skeletal claw. It deftly avoids my blade and tears a gash in my arm. The thing lands on the sloping wall of the inverse pyramid behind my and skitters around. A thick oily substance drips from its feathers which stand in a show of active hostility, it turns it’s head toward me and I get a look at it’s face. For that is what it possesses. I can call it nothing but human in nature. A genderless and sickly face the black sludge oozes from it’s pale eyes and seeps from its snarling teeth. It’s features are sharp and cruel.

[the harpy’s voice is harsh and gravelly]

 “This is a place of knowledge and discovery, you sully the ground on which you walk, what say you, intruder?”

“Epicurosa, she sent me here,” The beast shivers as I say their name, as it speaks globules of the black liquid splatter and drip from its thin sickly lips

“If you were indeed placed here, and you didn’t intrude where you should not, as you are known to do, then you have been placed here to die!” the creature pushes away from the pyramid wall and spins as it goes for another attack. I hold my sword up in a defensive stance, it grabs the sword with its bone-like claws and shatters the metal. I go to grab it but the oil that soaks it’s feathers causes it to slip from my grasp. “All you know is to destroy! Even in your non-violent pursuits, you hurt those around you,”

“You think I don't know?” I say, gesturing toward the bird which hovers in the air with my shattered sword “do you not think the thought crosses my mind everyday?”

“And what have you done to atone? Promises to ‘be better’? The damage has been done, the collapse of Eden is your burden, the death of the others is on you,  your plan to simply not repeat your crimes is meaningless,” I gesture around me, my clothes soaked in black sludge and my arm bleeding freely “what do you think this is? My immortality, letting myself get dragged around by gods and bureaucrats and fucking fascists. Being thrown into bottomless pits, pursuing incomprehensible extra universal entities. Why do you think I do this?”

“You pursue Ovig Nadal in the hopes that you will understand the information that was forced into your mind, do not posture about duty and morals, your pursuits were as selfish as they ever were. Understanding what it is you have in your mind will not bring Eve back, it will not uncorrupt your realm in Eden,”

“Do not presume to know me, why can it not be both? Why can I not stop Ovig Nadal for the benefit of the universe and its inhabitants and for my own ‘selfish’ justification? Why must I ignore my own needs? I am all I have in this world, I am the only one who is there to help me,” I ready my firearm and raise it to the creature, whose face is almost entirely covered in the black oily sheen 

“And that is why you shall fail” it says as it explodes in a fountain of black oil. I look down at my now shattered sword, the shards lay scattered around me, some submerged in the black sludge, “What the fuck?” The sludge reeks of spent electrics and leaking batteries. I check the clip in my Sub-machine gun. 18 rounds. Thank the stars for high capacity magazines. I affix it to my hip and start to navigate the maze of glass pillars and strange formations. My arm starts to sting, I didn’t have enough time to restock on bandages, my last two got used up patching the wound created by the Rolder. I go through a small thin trench constantly adjusting my way to try and head in the direction of the garden at the centre of this strange vast place. I look at my reflection in the sheen of the dark glass wall, covered in blood and filth, “something has turned it’s benevolent gaze upon you,” I usually don’t think too hard into what the gods say, their words often hold more meaning than I could ever hope to know. That, combined with the fact that language and communication are based on experience, and the experience of a god is so infinitely different to any non-divine that they have to, essentially, dumb it down and feed it through the filter of what they know to be the non-divine experience means I tend let the general malaise of meaning and intent wash over me, but those words stuck out, they feel so out of place coming from the mouth of a god, usually so impassive and calculating. The trench begins to widen and the ground beneath my feet gradually changes from hard opaque glass to a coarse grey sand which stretches ahead of me shifting to a deep rich brown earth. The trench widens out further and I realise I have reached the centre. I turn and look behind me, the landscape now entirely different. The trench has been replaced with a short sloping escarpment, the pyramid on which I arrived now absent, however the resplendent golden glow of the ever observant angels, now mere spots illuminating the balconies on which they stand, remains consistent. I have no doubt that they watch me now through their shrouds aflame, I begin to march over the rough sand, headed towards the illuminated garden, before I hear a muffled voice. “Hey!” I stop in my tracks and my hand goes to my gun, “Woah” the voice responds to my initial act of hostility “Do you always pull a gun to calls for help?”

“Sorry,” I say to the general area, unsure of who I am addressing, “Recently everything I’ve come across has tried to kill me, or absorb me,” 

“Yeah but every star emits light, you don’t see planets orbiting a lightbulb do you?” 

“Huh?”

“A sun emits light, a lightbulb also emits light, but a lightbulb is not a star. In the same way, there are things here that will try to kill you, I am a thing that is here, but I do not want to kill you. You gotta take each interaction case by case man. I get it, you’re human, you like to see patterns, it’s in your nature,”

“Who am I speaking to?”

“Aw man, this is gonna take forever,” a second voice chimes in

“Bah, ça fait aussi une éternité qu'on attend, hein” a third voice says in an old human tongue

“No we haven’t! we’ve only been here a few weeks,”

“the clock says 9567 years 3 months and 5 days,” 

a fourth voice points out

“Oh yeah because time totally acts like normal down here doesn’t it?”

“Hey!” I say, “at least let me know what direction to look in when I’m talking to you,”

“Turn left, bit more, bit more. Right, now forward a bit, look down,”

I look down and see what I had subconsciously registered as a rock buried in the sand surrounded by many others, the worn metal holds a remarkably similar colour to the glass rocks that peek out of the coarse sand, 

“You might need to do a bit of digging to get to us,” I begin to scrape and dig around and reveal a glowing blue eye of some kind

“Oh mon dieu, il a une sale tronche!”

“Tell me about it- what's up with the horns?”

I sigh, “It’s a long story,”

“Looks kinda like the landscape of this place,”

“It’s not lost on me,” I say as I excavate the side of what becomes increasingly clear to be a space probe of human design. And an old one. After a few minutes I finally manage to get a good portion of the body of this thing exposed. I lean against the side of the small crater I’ve dug out, foot resting against the probe itself.

“Better?” I ask

“Much, so what brings you to this angel infested hellhole?,”

“I was going to ask you the same thing actually, I was brought here by a god, got pushed down a big hole in a mountain and then I ended up here. She said this was a place where she could ‘find out some things about me’,”

“How deliciously vague,”

“My name is Adam, by the way. As in, like the Adam. The first human. Just feel like I should let you know,”

The eye stares at me in what I assume to be disbelieving silence 

“I mean is it as crazy as anything else you’ve seen here? You obviously have accepted the existence of the angels,”

“You make a good point, how much have we missed?”

“Aw man, I’m guessing you were sent from earth?”

“Yeah,”

“Right so, that’s gone,”

“Was it what I think it was?,”

“I don’t know what you think it was but probably, they put up a good fight if it’s any consolation, launched a bunch of conservation stations, made some good preparations. Wasn’t quite enough in the end but you know, at least they tried,”

[an awkward silence]

“so uh… what’s your deal?”

“We are Surveyor 14,”

“How did you get here?” I ask

“On faisait partie d'une mission pour découvrir à quoi ressemble/ressemblait l'intérieur d'un trou noir. On est équipés d'une technologie très puissante qui nous permet d'échapper à l'attraction gravitationnelle, avec les données toujours intactes, et rentrer au bercail, (bah...)dans un chassis détruit, c'est vrai, mais bon. Bon, le fait est qu'on a été envoyés en mission, puis qu'on a été absorbés et qu'on s'est retrouvés... ici. Pour une raison qui m'échappe, on s'est divisés en quatre personnalités différentes... et voilà où on en est,”

[adam pauses] “ah… I see”

“We’ve had a lot of time to think here, or maybe we haven’t, it’s kind of hard to tell,”

“Hey, I’m not really sure what I’m doing here so if you need someone to bounce ideas off of,”

The AI turns it’s one glowing eye toward me and focuses. “Are we alone in the universe adam?”

“You mean are there aliens? I probably should have mentioned this, so there’s this council-” 

“Not aliens, we mean, do you stand alone? An Island surrounded by multitudes of other Islands, or are we all intrinsically one collective? A continent that lessens with each death and grows with each birth,”

“I don’t know,”

“In the hundreds of thousands of years you’ve had to be alive, you’re telling me you haven’t thought of it once?”

“I feel empathy, if that’s what you’re asking, I feel the need to help others. If that drive comes from a place of real altruism (if such a thing truly exists) or some kind of need to atone for all the wrong I’ve done I cannot say,”

“(Bah) ça, c'est pas ce qu'on a demandé”

“My actions have an effect, as much as I wish they didn’t, I still am a part of the collective, I still am a cog in the great cosmic machine. At the most minute level I displace the air around me, my feet shake the ground ever so slightly with each step. Butterfly wings and typhoons. At the same time, it’s hard for me to feel a part of a population whose experience is so totally different to mine,"

“You think you’ve got a monopoly on isolation? On guilt?” 

“Hé! Redescends un peu!”

“You’re not the only one who feels guilt for what they’ve done, it’s an age-old feeling, and yes, there are certain circumstances of your life that are specific to you, but your experience is not as unique as you may think. You yourself admit you are part of the ‘comic machine’ as you put it. You are not the mouse to the man, You are the elder that tries to relate to their grandchild, the child speaks as a child, the elder speaks as an elder, and yet there is no sense of lost community within the tribe. So why not you? Even if you cannot find common experience in your past life, can you not find commonality in being in a harsh and uncaring universe? Are you so detached, that you relate more to gods than mortals? There are threats beyond even divine comprehension at play, and yet you still manage to separate yourself from the rest,”

“Wait, how do you know about-”

 “Deep down I believe you truly care for others, but until you believe that you are a part of the continent, you cannot truly enact a beneficial change in any meaningful way.”

I lean back against the side of the crater and look up the ceiling obscured by distance and darkness, 

“So, uh, you know how to get out of here?”

“I was hoping you’d know actually, you’ve been here longer than me, have you seen anyone or anything else enter and leave this place?”

“Occasionally the angels will blink out and then return, but other than that it’s been pretty quiet here,”

“I’m thinking we should at least head into the light, now I don’t think I’ll be able to carry you, is there a data core or something I could remove?”

“Data core?”

“Wouh, regardez s'il est chic celui-là avec ses data cores!,”

“We’ve got a hard drive, just pop open the chassis and then have a root around,”

I pry open a door on the outside of the probe and start searching for a harddrive amongst the instruments and circuits, I feel something with a handle on it

“Is this it?” I ask

“How the fuck am I supposed to know? If I squeezed your liver would you be able to tell me if I’d got the right organ?”

“It’s not quite the same but I see your point,” I grab a hold of the handle “See you on the other side,” I unlock the hard drive and pull it out from the machine. The glowing eye goes dim and I hold up the hard drive to the light coming from the octagonal opening in the ceiling to this place. I scramble out of the hole and dust myself off with one hand, the hard drive is heavy but I still manage to carry it in one hand toward the edge of the light, the gap between the two huge walls on either side of me is wide and sits perfectly at the barrier between the golden light and the dark. I stand at the edge and peer into the garden, twisting old trees bearing fruit, both alien and yet painfully familiar, thin leafed bushes and pale grass, the sand that tumbles down doesn’t seem to drown the garden and instead pushes outwards to the rest of this place. At this distance I’m finally able to clearly see what's on the inside of the walls. All along an intricate diagram is embossed in gold, strange shapes and symbols stretch the entire length of each wall. No words, not in any language a non-divine could comprehend, each wall is different. Perhaps they display, perhaps they praise. Maybe a bit of both. They display a scale of some kind, from what I can discern it represents a gradation, all flowing from a single source, each wall represents a different aspect or group of aspects and how they relate to said source. I pass the barrier between the dim cold of the glass fields and enter the warm garden. The light soaks through my skin. Ragged and bleeding I stand for a moment in the resplendent light.

[he simply breathes for a few seconds]

“Alright let’s get the fuck of here,” The garden rises ever so slightly, a shrine sits atop this small hill, smooth white stone, it encircles a hexagonal basin, golden light plays off of the surfaces like sunlight off of water. It’s perfectly geometric, angles and simple shapes fused with each other in 3 dimensional symmetry,  spiralling and tumbling down, too complex to be aesthetically pleasing but it’s not there for me. I approach the wide basin, at least my height in width, I kneel at it’s edge and peer into the golden liquid, it’s thin and only carries a slight luster and it’s deep, the edges on the outside curve inward down maybe half a metre, but looking into the deep liquid it seems to go outwards and much further down, some bright light dances around down there. 

“Now what?” I say to the silent hard drive that leans against the side of the basin. I stand and brush myself off. 

Suddenly, as if they had been stood there this entire time behind some curtain which now, upon my being here is dropped to reveal their presence, I see several angels, one hovers above the shrine it’s wings of golden shards extended outward, I take a step back, with the hard drive of surveyor-14 still in hand, it floats to the ground  It has in its hand a long spear of gold, at the tip of the blade a small fire blazes white hot. It lowers the spear to my chest, and slowly pushes it into my heart, not with any malice or intent to damage, but with a conviction akin to a sculptor using a chisel or a carpenter using a plane. The world, or at least my perception of it, begins to wobble and convulse as if seen through weeping eyes. This effect recedes and I see the world through the eyes of something else, through a veil of golden fire and white robe I watch a battle between two forces, one I recognise, the form of Ovig Nadal, who causes such an entropic effect on the universe and one I do not, the common form of a god, for sure, but not one that has deigned to make its presence known to me. Beyond this physical interpretation I get the sense something much grander takes place between vast formless things and that this display is simply the tip of the iceberg poking out from the great depths of the cosmic ocean, my perception of these events begins to wobble again as Ovig Nadal grabs the angel whose vision I borrow and brings it close to his face. He peers into its eyes, his multitudes of teeth thick with the molten glass that fills the angels and his pale eyeless head bleeding that polychrome matter, damaged and cut all over. I can only assume this is a form he manifested or grew from some pre-existing entity he possessed. He holds the angel close to him and says “You watch one step toward a better universe Adam, a step forward in the progression of this universe to a state in which it never will have been as it is now,” and as his opponent readies another attack, Ovig Nadal crushes the angel and the vision finally begins to falter too much for me to see anything clearly. 

I arise and pull back from the golden spear that intersects with my heart, I look up to see it now being wielded by Epicurosa wearing a wolf skull on her hooded head.

“We have deemed you ready, I will send you to the aftermath of that battle and-,”

“I still don’t understand, why me? Not why me. Why not you? You are the most powerful thing I have ever seen, you formed humanity and the Veatorians from nothing. You Shift cosmic forces with no effort or exertion. Why are you, or any of your peers unable to do this? I want to, I really do, it used to be that I wanted to understand what it is I learned, to make what I did worth it, but I have realised that it is not about making it worth it but is instead atoning, the intent has changed but my action remains the same. But I must know, why?”

She exchanges her wolf skull for that of some kind of large fish, not an animal I have ever seen.

“I could force your understanding, I could initiate a vision. It would torment you, as it does Might-Upon-Serenity, unable to convey or sufficiently re-create in your memory. Instead I will try to explain, in language. Gods are not physical beings, I believe a Veatorian philosopher once referred to us as “concepts with will” and while ‘concept’ carries certain connotations she had the right idea. Ovig Nadal is unlike anything this universe has ever seen, I do not know his origins, I simply know he is other and that we cannot affect him, you saw through that angel's eyes, there was nothing that Aratheau could do to destroy him. Our common forms can cause harm to each other: matter touches matter, but celestially, we cannot influence him, but he can us. I believe that you will be able to do affect him in a significant way, and the fact that there is something beyond even divinity that surrounds you and guides us to help you, proves that I am right,”

[with relief]

“Thank you,” 

“I am going to send you to that place within the vision, follow him. And whatever he intends to do, stop him,”

“I know his intentions, Might upon serenity, in a moment of clarity as we shared a vision corrupted by Ovig Nadal, she told me he seeks Eden,”

Epicurosas whole demeanour shifts, if I were to assign emotions to a divine being of pure though I would have called it… fear

“If that is indeed the case, then our situation is far more dire than previously anticipated. Let us hope you will be able to stop him before this happens”

A portal manifests behind me. “Could I ask something of you?”

“You may ask,” I hold up the hard drive

“Would you construct a body for them? Make them whole please, they’ve helped me on my journey, I think they deserve it,”

“That I can do,” she takes it from me and I walk through the portal, leaving behind the divine setting of glass landscapes and perfect stone, I step through into my new setting, a collapsed city aflame...

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #204: Claws Across the Water!

February, 1981

Welcome back, true believers! ... Eh, true believer?

I hope at least one person out there is still into this.

It has been nearly two years. I let this sort of series slip into forever hiatus. My at the time job was really eating all of my energy.

That plus the yellow peril villain two-parter that’s this and next made it hard to get motivation up to get back into it.

But in the time between then and now, I wrote a fixer-upper draft of a pretty okay novel for nanowrimo and started learning crochet. So the time not Avengersing wasn’t entirely wasted.

But now I don’t have a job!

Thus, the Avengers.

Our roster of Captain America, Iron Man, Scarlet Witch, Wasp, Vision, Beast and Wonder Man are going to fight an enormous Ming the Merciless and many fuchsia Laserbeaks from Transformers.

Its a weird but gutsy concept for a crossover.

(Three cooks in the kitchen, writing-wise. Not an auspicious start.)

The issue really starts with a woman named Shu Han sending a secret message for help because she is being held captive by THE YELLOW CLAW.

Yellow Claw has offered Shu Han “honor, unlimited power, a pivotal role in the new history of the world” in exchange for something. He gives her three days to make up her mind, leaving Shu Han unsure of how much longer she can continue to resist.

And a day later, in Avengers Mansion, the Avengers say goodbye to Hawkeye. He had been hanging out with them a couple issues through the Red Ronin thing, the shudder Avengers #200 thing, and yet another Ultron thing.

And then Jarvis comes in with the mail.

Despite the Avengers being the Avengers, all of their mail fits neatly on one tray. And one piece of mail dramatically marked LIFE AND DEATH gets Cap’s attention and he pauses their meeting to read it.

It seems that Shu Han’s secret distress message was picked up by a ham radio operator in Hong Kong.

Imagine. Two hundred and four issues in and ham radios are still a relevant plot point! And yet Rick Jones no longer is. Goes to show...

Anyway, the ham radio operator’s letter says that Shu Han says that she’s being held captive by the Yellow Claw. And since Jocasta doesn’t know who that is, it lets Cap exposit.

Captain America: “The Yellow Claw is a biochemical genius. Well over a hundred years old, he retains his youth through secret scientific methods of his own devising. Unfortunately, he’s also a tyrant intent on destroying every last vestige of western civilization -- at any price! The Claw and I have fought several times in the past. I’d hope we wouldn’t have to again.”

So as you might guess from this, Yellow Claw isn’t a new character. He first appeared in a self-titled book in 1956. And opposing the Yellow Claw in the Yellow Claw was FBI agent Jimmy Woo. Which is slightly better.

Anyway, Iron Man chimes in that he’s heard of Shu Han. She’s a gold medalist in track in the 1968 Olympics. And Beast has heard of her too! She won the 1974 Nobel Prize in Physics!

Both of these things! Shu Han is quite the accomplished person.

And Cap isn’t sure why the Yellow Claw wants an Olympic gold medalist who is also a physicist but it can’t be for anything good!

Vision points out that the Yellow Claw’s island is in contested waters and that actions by the Avengers could cause an international incident. And also it might just be a trap.

I mean, ham radio operator? Really? In 1981?

Captain America: “That might be true, Vision, but the fact remains that someone in trouble has asked for our help. And as acting chairman, the only thing I can say in response to that is -- AVENGERS ASSEMBLE!”

Good attitude, Cap. That’s a good attitude to have.

And the Avengers Assemble, which in this case means run out the door like they’re racing for shotgun in the Quinjet.

Running right past Jarvis who was bringing coffee and ginger cake in. Leaving him to eat the cake himself because heck, no sense letting it go to waste.

I tell ya, Jarvis is underappreciated. Do you know, I don’t think they even invited him to move into Dead Alien Mountain in the current book? Instead they got a man trapped in a gorilla to be their butler. I mean, valid, but you do Jarvis a disservice.

LATER ELSEWHERE

The Yellow Claw stands villainously on a balcony talking with a Dr. Liu and asking him about the status of a project.

Dr. Liu says that there’s almost enough “formula” to begin distribution.

Yellow Claw: “Your words please me, Liu, for I have waited long to grasp this moment. Others may have their kingdoms, their countries, even their continents. But soon, doctor, I... shall have a world!”

But the Avengers’ Quinjet appearing on radar takes some wind out of his sails and he orders the base locked down and defenses activated.

As the Quinjet circles the island, Cap decides to send Wasp and Vision to try to find a way to snoop around undetected.

Vision can just intangible through walls and Wasp can find small entrances.

Of course, when Yellow Claw says lock the base down he means lock it down because even the air vents have been covered up with plexiglass. But Wasp decides to just blow it open and fly inside.

Somehow, even with that, its Vision who makes the more conspicuous entrance, as he manages to intangible in right where some guards happen to be staring at a wall.

Good work, Vision.

For whatever reason, solid snaking through a dark air vent makes Wasp wistful for some time that she and Hank went in a tunnel of love. And he was so shy that she had to teach him SOMETHING.

I’m almost sorry that she stops her internal monologue anecdote when she spots the Yellow Claw.

And here our two sneakiest Avengers both prove that they need to intern with Black Panther for a weekend or something because they both make a goofus.

Vision beat up the two guards that spotted him and just left their bodies where they fell, causing alarum when they were found. See, Black Panther would have told Vision that you need to hide bodies in a locker.

And Wasp falls off the wall while trying to eavesdrop and is spotted by the Yellow Claw.

He doesn’t recognize her as a tiny woman, tiiiiiny woman, but the fact that a bug is in the base at all means that the base isn’t airtight which means one of the air vents has been compromised.

Meanwhile, the Quinjet has continued to circle because there’s no good place to land on the whole island. So Cap decides to land off the whole island and makes a water landing.

Apparently Quinjets are like seaplanes in that regard.

And then as they are trudging through the surf to come ashore, -battle transition music- A SLIME ATTACKS!

Wait, this isn’t a dragon quest. This is an Avengers. They’ve got a man in power armor and a robot woman. We’re sci-fi. Okay so its a cyborg slime.

Or a jellyfish. Or, you know what? It has a beak. Maybe its a kraken. A cykraken.

And it drags the Avengers underwater, which is just what a jellyslimefishkraken cyborg would do, if you think about it.

Beast and Scarlet Witch are SOL. Scarlet Witch’s arms are tentacled to her sides and all of her spells require a somatic component. And she hasn’t taken the feat yet to let her ignore that requirement.

And Beast doesn’t have any leverage underwater to apply his strength and agility.

Cap isn’t doing much better because he’s trying to hit the thing with his shield underwater and the water drag isn’t helping.

Jocasta is doing alright. Her eye beams work perfectly fine underwater at cutting the tentacles. Although the narration calls her a “robotrix” which... what?

And Wonder Man does fine too. Even underwater his super strength is enough to just tie the tentacles in knots.

But Iron Man goes completely limp and the jellyslimefishkraken cyborg grabs him up and sticks him right in its mouth.

But it was a ruse. He baited the thing into eating him so he can repulsor blast it from inside and destroy it, freeing the other Avengers.

Good job, Iron Man. You killed a unique, horrible lifeform.

I think we can see that the real monster is Man. Comma Iron.

Meanwhile, inside the evil villain base, Vision runs into the evil villain. Who asks sincerely what the fuck Vision is doing here.

And Vision responds by immediately firing a laser at Yellow Claw.

Which. Good hustle, Vision.

Buuuut. The guy has an energy field that rebounds the energy back at Vision and knocks him out. Its a proven fact that the villain will always have something to stop Vision from soloing the plot.

Kryptonite, so to speak, is everywhere.

Yellow Claw has Vision taken to his lab to be dissected. FOR SCIENCE!

Outside, Beast goes ahead of the other Avengers to scout.

In his Beasty way, he’s goofing a little, singing the Loch Lomond song. And then he’s attacked by just so many flying blades. A lot many.

And so are the rest of the Avengers.

Wonder Man: “No kidding! One just clipped a lock of Jocasta’s hair -- and that stuff can take a bazooka blast!”

I really like imagining the Avengers testing that.

More than that, I’m amused imagining Jocasta’s deadpan expression as they shoot bazookas at her head.

‘The things I do to socialize.’

Anyway, the Avengers scatter to make harder targets because the blades are clearing the jungle to deny any cover to the heroes. Cap spots the blade launcher and throws his shield at it. Because that’s what he do. And it works. Because that’s what he do.

And since the jellyslimefishkraken cyborg and the “death crescents” hadn’t given the Avengers the hint, Yellow Claw appears before them towering several stories high and tells the Avengers to GTFO his island! GEEZ!

Jocasta notices that giant Yellow Claw casts no shadow and announces that it must be a hologram of some sort.

AND THEN THE METAL DEATH BIRDS

They get very angry when you point out special effect failures.

And then the Avengers do their various Avengers things.

Its an action scene. Avengers fighting robot death birds.

Iron Man jumps upside down in front of Beast to protect him from a missile. And Cap does the same right side up with his shield to protect Wanda.

I do appreciate the teamwork with immediate protecting the squishy members of the team.

Wonder Man hits one metal death bird with another. Because hitting an enemy with an enemy is great. I love grievous harm with a body.

Only thing better? If some Jedi force pushed General Grievous to smash some droids. Grievous harm.

Anyway, Jocasta does her eye blasts again, to great effect again.

Captain America throws his mighty shield and even a metal death bird must yiiiiield.

And Scarlet Witch gets to do something this time because everybody is doing a thing this time. Its a real team showcase.

She. And this is totally what probability alteration is. She changes the probability that a launched missile will just turn around and blow up the robot death bird that launched it. That’s just math.

Iron Man says that since his armor powers were originally based on magnetism, he can just remotely magnetize two of the metal death birds and cause them to smash into each other.

BUT THE BEST ONE OF ALL? And the reason I bothered to synopsize the individual actions instead of just saying “and then an action scene happened”? The best one of all.

A robot death bird launches a missile at Beast and he catches it. He catches it between his toes and throws it back, blowing up the robot.

Spectacular.

So spectacular that we can assume that it instantly ended the battle just because of its sheer majesty. I can draw no other conclusions from the juxtaposition of panels.

The Avengers finally reach the base after spending most of the issue traipsing up from the beach. And the base being locked down is swiftly solved by Wonder Man and Iron Man punching the door down.

My only regret is that neither of them make a joke about knocking. C’mon guys, I can’t be writing your snappy dialogue for you decades after the fact. Publishing doesn’t work that way! I’m not writing a redub!

A bunch of Yellow Claw’s goofy guards all prepare to be ineffectual mooks in a mob brawl but Yellow Claw stops them over the intercom.

See, he’s got Vision prisoner. And while he had intended to dissect him FOR SCIENCE, hostage is equally good. So if the Avengers don’t surrender, Vision will be sliced to bits by dissection laser scalpels.

Anyway, Dr. Liu shows up through a secret door to show the Avengers in to talk to Yellow Claw.

And Yellow Claw says politely ‘why the fuck you on my island??’

Or:

Yellow Claw: “Welcome, Avengers. I am pleased to have such illustrious visitors in my humble home. In fact, there is one thing that could possibly make my bliss more complete -- the reason why you’ve invaded my island, and my privacy!”

Which in less polite terms is ‘why the fuck you on my island??’

At this point, Wasp secretly flies up to Cap and tells him she’s okay.

It’s good to reassure him that she’s not a second hostage but. There was no reason in the plot for her to have entered the base. She accomplishes no things. She arguably makes things worst but its only arguably because she didn’t alert the Yellow Claw any more than Vision already did.

I would have liked if she had tried to free Vision or sabotaged Yellow Claw’s security system or something but that’s not the direction the plot was going.

Anyway.

Yellow Claw asked a question so Cap answers. He tells Yellow Claw that the Avengers are here because they received a distress call from a woman named Shu Han who says she’s being held captive.

Yellow Claw is actually surprised. Possibly dismayed.

He recovers himself quickly and has Shu Han brought in so the Avengers can see she’s not under restraint.

She wasn’t brought to this island to be a prisoner! She was brought to be his bride!

Easy mistake to make, honestly!

Wonder Man points out the should-be-obvious that hey kidnapping is kidnapping even if its for nuptials but Yellow Claw is like ha ha kidnapping no no, Shu Han fill this dumbo in.

And it is. A story.

Shu Han: “I... I wasn’t exactly... kidnapped. You see, when I was very young, a man came to my father’s farm, and, as was custom in my country, an arrangement was made. To be less delicate... I was bought!

“Over the years, I all but forgot the arrangement, as I turned my thoughts and energies towards excelling in athletics, and in science.

“But then, some weeks ago, I was approached by agents of Master Claw, and was brought here. I was frightened, but didn’t know what to do. And so I secretly sent a message, hoping for you help.”

Shu Han has that mix of super good at science and sports you see in superheroes but she’s a normal genius person living her life. It’s going to be weird if she just never shows up again. But also: good for her.

Yellow Claw is just so disappointed that she dragged some randos into their interpersonal drama. And we can see now that the proposal he was proposing at her was “marry me.”

Yellow Claw: “Shu Han, I wished you no harm. I am old -- even my potions cannot stay the hand of death much longer -- and I fervently desired an heir to carry my name when that hand fell.

“Thus I offered you wealth, power, the prestige of sitting at my side. And now you repay me with treachery, with cowardice... with dishonor.

“You wish your freedom that much? Very well, then -- you shall have it!

“Go! For I’ve no desire to take an unwilling bride!”

Yellow Claw: May be a supervillain but is big into consent. I mean, except for the part where he bought a child.

Yellow Claw: May be a supervillain but is big into consent when the alternative is superheroes hanging around.

Shu Han doesn’t look super burned by his speech so maybe that’s why he does what he does. He klaps to bring out a bunch of backup wives to prove that he’s not so hurt by rejection. And that he’s got ‘mad game.’

Yellow Claw: “As you can see, there are others more amenable to that lofty position! So, Avengers, you have what you came for. Please don’t let me delay your departure any longer.”

Or in less polite terms ‘GTFO!’

Cap points out that obviously they’re not going to just leave without Vision so Yellow Claw has some goons carry out Vision like a potato sack.

Iron Man and Wonder Man carry Vision with Iron Man warning that he’s not just going to forget Yellow Claw even though the guy claims he just wants to spend his final years in peace with his pile of wives.

And a good call to not take the guy strictly at his word.

As soon as the Avengers are gone Yellow Claw all about mwahahahahas and says that now his evil plan can commence.

Yellow Claw: “No, Dr. Liu, having one less wife should not effect the project appreciably. For the others, hand-picked like Shu Han for their superior genetic traits, will all give me sons, strong sons whom I will train in the arcane ways.

“Then, when they reach manhood, they shall fight each other, until only the most worthy, the strongest, survives! And it shall be he who shall inherit my destiny! The conquest and eradication of the western world!

“Yes, the plan is still sound, and there shall be no defense against it! For my children, doctor -- SHALL BE THE LAST CHILDREN ON EARTH!”

As far as evil plans go, having a bunch of babies so they can fight to the death is pretty evil even before the conquest thing. And the last children on Earth thing.

Follow @essential-avengers. Or don’t. Honestly, I can’t blame you if you don’t. Throw me a like if you read and liked so I can get a sense of how many people read and liked, if you like.

[mable-stitchpunk]

A Bug’s Life: The Ant and the Grasshopper

For years, the ants have been living with two mortal fears: the bird that nests nearby and the grasshopper swarm that passes through every year at the beginning of fall. The bird they have hidden from and avoided, but the grasshoppers are ruthless. The ants know to leave food out and to hide underground until the horrifying screeching that accompanies the grasshoppers’ arrival fades away. The ants live in fear.

But one hardworking ant has always been a skeptic. Flik has devoted his life to science and inventing, which is uncommon for ants. He’s also an extremely hard worker, but all of this has left him a social outcast. He’s usually seen as the oddball out, but Flik doesn’t care much. He’d rather work on his inventions.

Until the day when the grasshoppers arrive and Flik has gotten stuck by a bird’s nest with his malfunctioning invention. The other ants flee into the hill and Flik attempts to follow, even abandoning his machine, but the noise gets closer. He hides and watches as the grasshopper herd appears.

...Except it isn’t a herd. It is a single grasshopper with a fiddle.

Enter Hopper, a grasshopper con-artist whose been using the fake story of this mighty ‘grasshopper army’ to scare the ants into providing him enough food to last through the winter. In fact, Hopper’s been scamming the ants for years, all so he doesn’t have to work.

Flik is furious, especially with Hopper’s total lack of care and lack of concern at the ant’s threat that he’ll tell the others. A fight breaks out between the two that leads to them catching the attention of the bird, which chases them both into the anthill, having now noticed it. Eventually the bird flies off and they think it must have headed south for the winter, but they know it’ll be back in Spring.

And now the ants know about Hopper’s scam. Hopper deflects some of the blame in catching the bird’s attention though, getting them angry at Flik too. To save himself, Hopper tries to run another scam and claims that there is a ‘Bird Eating Spider’ who will be able to come scare off the bird for good, and he can go find them if they let him go.

The ants believe him... Somewhat. Deciding that it’s too likely that he’ll split, they decide to get rid of two birds with one stone and send Flik off with him. Neither are happy in this arrangement, especially when they put a specially made clip on Hopper’s wings to keep him from literally flying off. It is of Flik’s creation and only he can remove it, but he only will if Hopper keeps up his end of the bargain.

And while Hopper pretty much bluntly tells Flik that the Bird Eating Spider is a legend (and not real) as soon as they step outside the anthill, the two are stuck going out to search for another solution to the bird problem.

After a long trip full of frustration and hardships, Flik and Hopper arrive at the city where they run into a group of travelling performer spiders and learn, blatantly, that the so called ‘Bird Eating Spider’ is just a myth. It is then that Flik comes up with an idea to use the performers and their silk to make a fake spider and scare the bird off, to which Hopper goes along with it, as do the spiders.

They return to the anthill where the spiders introduce themselves as the Followers of the Great Bird Eating Spider, and claim that this giant spider is just outside of the city. The ants believe they have a savior in the wings and Flik and Hopper are reveled as heroes. Flik does not let Hopper go though, instead insisting he stay and help them see this through. Hopper agrees to it and the two continue the con.

For a while the spiders and Flik continue working on the giant spider and during this time Hopper becomes closer with the ants and even friendly with Flik. The plan is going fine until they are taken off-guard when the bird appears again, revealing that it actually hasn’t flew south yet. It is through this that the ants learn about the farce and that the Bird Eating Spider does not exist.

But when Flik is about to tell them about the fake spider, which is incomplete, and his knowledge of the events, Hopper steps forward and surprisingly takes the fall for it himself. Claiming that Flik was tricked like they were and that it wasn’t his fault that the bird found them. The ants accept Flik back into the colony and command Hopper and the spiders to leave.

Flik catches up with them and releases Hopper’s wings, allowing him to fly off but asking him to stay and work on the spider plan with him. Hopper doesn’t think it’ll work and leaves, leaving Flik to work alone- as he is used to. Instead of flying away, Hopper leaves in the spider’s caravan.

But the spiders don’t get far before they change their mind and decide to head back. Sent away by the ants or not, they know the ants need their help, as does Flik. Hopper is still doubtful, now falling into self-pity as he realizes that what Flik has said before- about him only caring about his own needs and not thinking ahead- is true. The spiders go back without him and help Flik.

But soon afterwards, right before a storm descends on the land signalling the beginning of the heavy rain season, the bird returns and attacks the ants and anthill. The spiders and Flik use their Bird Eating Spider machine to try and scare it off, but it doesn’t work, and the machine is destroyed. 

Flik is almost eaten in the wreckage of the spider when Hopper flies in and grabs him, saving him at the last moment. They flee into the canyon, luring the bird away and allowing the ants and spiders to escape. Eventually they get cornered into the bird’s nest and are about to surely be eaten. 

Right before the bird dives for them, Hopper apologizes to Flik and Flik assures him that Hopper isn’t as unreliable as he thought. In their last moment, Hopper begins to play his fiddle and Flik prepares to be eaten.

...Except that the noise the fiddle makes causes the bird to recoil. Flik notices this and tells Hopper to keep playing, and before the bird can come for them again Flik manages to use things scattered in the nest- including his invention he lost in the beginning of the film- to create an amplifier. They use the sound to scare the bird away.

Flik and Hopper return to the anthill as heroes. The queen gives them and the spider circus praise and their past crimes have been forgiven. The spider circus leaves, making a balloon out of webs to carry their caravan and fly off. Hopper plans to follow, but the ants ask him to stay and offer him a place in their colony if he accepts the job of protecting them.

Hopper seems unsure and it it Flik’s insistence that causes him to agree. Just as long as Hopper can take his job seriously, then Flik will try to loosen up with his own work. They have become friends; they are each others’ first friends. 

A cut to winter shows the anthill fixed and Hopper now playing music for the ants, while Flik puts work aside to join in. The end.

[misstinfoilhat]

Whumptober 2019 #11: Stitches - Bungou Stray Dogs

“Osamu-kun,” Yosano exclaimed sternly as she threw open the door and entered the Armed Detective Agency offices. The bandaged man looked at her, wide-eyed from his work station in mock-surprise, trying to put on an innocent fasàde in front of the intimidating woman.

“What, Yosano-sensei?” he gasped over-exaggeratedly, pausing his writing on the keyboard in front of him.

The dark-haired doctor crossed her arms exasperatedly and sent him a venomous glare. “Don't try that with me. I told you to meet me in the infirmary when you came back. That knife nicked your arm pretty good. It's going to need stitches.” Dazai grabbed his upper arm protectively and frowned deeply.

“It's not that bad. I had already forgotten about it,” he argued matter-of-factly and shrugged his shoulder, suppressing a winch as the motion tore painfully at his wound.

“Mhm,” Yosano hummed, not at all convinced. He could try to fool her all he wanted, but his slightly paled skin and clammy cheeks couldn’t tell any lies. Not to a medical professional with as much experience as herself. The dork had been bleeding hard for a while, and probably not only from the visible wound on his arm. If she didn't get to examine him, it was likely he would suffer from anemia pretty soon. “You're bleeding through your jacket though,” she calmly deadpanned, nodding towards where his hand was clutching a little above his elbow. It had started to turn bright red from fresh blood.

With a sheepish smile, Dazai looked down at his sleeve that was indeed coated in crimson red.

“Oh, would you look at that? It seems you're absolutely right, Yosano-sensei. I'll make sure to do something about it as soon as I'm done with my report,” he sing-songed in complete ignorance, continuing to type away, staining the keyboard with his now bloodied hand.

That was the last drop for his blonde partner who was seated on the desk across from him.

“What the hell is wrong with you? That's so unsanitary! You're going to make the entire office sick!” Kunikida growled infuriated, instantly reaching for the small bottle of anti-back placed handily on his desk.

“Hm? Oh, didn't you know?” Dazai waited for a moment to make sure he had his partner's full attention before he continued, “My blood type is AB, and it actually strengthens your immune system. It's healthy for you,” Dazai lied easily.

The bespectacled idealist assessed him intently, clearly processing this new information. “Really?”

“Yeah,” the dark-haired man confirmed, nodding vigorously, “You should probably write that down.”

Kunikida bobbed his head energetically and started scribbling down these new sensational facts, only to be stopped by a strong grip on his shoulder. He peeked up bewilderedly to meet Yosano's unimpressed expression and immediately understood that he had been deceived.

Dazai sat and watched, beaming with satisfaction and pride, but before Kunikida was able to lay his furious wrath on him, Yosano had grabbed the lanky man's coat, and dragged him away towards her infirmary.

Only when she had shut the door behind them, she let go.

“Aow, Yosano-sensei,” Dazai whined pitifully and rubbed the place the doctor's long nails had dug into his skin. “You're being too rough.”

“And you're being a brat, so I guess we're even,” she retorted tiredly, locking the door and removing the key as one last power-move.

Dazai huffed his dissatisfaction, and looked around uncomfortably. He wasn't sure what to do with himself now.

Yosano sensed his insecurity, so she gestured towards her examination table, and Dazai followed her hand movement with his gaze.

Something in his expression changed. Serene, dark brown eyes looked back at her while his eyebrows furrowed. The crease of his lips turned into an anxious, crooked smile.

“Really though, it's not that bad,” he tried to reason again, without making any move towards the cushioned table.

Yosano felt herself getting fed-up with Dazai's reluctance to cooperate. No one in the agency liked being treated by her, but they usually had a very good reason for it (being that they would be half-dead so she'd be able to use her abilty to heal them). This was only the first mission they had been on with their new bandaged coworker and if this was the dance she'd have to dance with him every single time he got injured, they would have a serious problem.

“Are you like... afraid of needles or something?” she sighed dejectedly.

The small scoff that escaped Dazai at her approach was almost enough to send her over the edge. She took a deep, steadying breath before she allowed herself to talk again, albeit between tightly gritted teeth.

“What is so funny? I'm trying to help you.”

“I'm not afraid of needles,” Dazai explained calmly.

“Then why won't you just let me take a look at you?”

Even Yosano was surprised by her own tone. Was she really nearly begging someone to be allowed to check on their injuries? She was a damn good doctor, and anyone would be lucky (except for the fact that they were hurt, obviously) to be treated by her!

Dazai was unfazed by her pleading but after a couple of seconds of her intense, questioning staring, he softened a little bit.

“I... I'm just uncomfortable,” he finally said, not losing the slight smile he bore.

“What is making you uncomfortable? Is it because I'm a woman?” she asked desperately, not even able to be offended by the fact.

This time, Dazai actually laughed out loud.

“No. No, not at all. It's just...” he closed his eyes tightly and sighed heavily, before dragging his hands across his face. Once his hands were gone and his face was once again reviled, his expression had turned a lot more worried. He shook his head in defeat and looked up at her.

“There's doctor-patient confidentiality here, right?” he asked honestly.

“Of course.”

He pondered for a while, before slowly, finally, taking a seat on the table. He painfully shrugged his coat off, giving up on keeping up his fasàde at this point.

With the thick coat now off, Yosano could make out several more cuts that needed to be attended to. They weren't bleeding enough to soak through the heavy woolen fabric, but in the light material of his light blue dress shirt, it was obvious that they were pretty ugly.

He undressed from that too, now wearing only a white t-shirt on his upper body, revealing that his bandages were running all the way from his wrist to his shoulders. Several gashes were scattered all over both of his bandaged arms, leaving the bandages torn, disheveled and dirty.

Trembling hands started to carefully unravel the wrappings, and Yosano finally understood what this hassle had been all about.

His bare arms were a truly brutal sight, completely covered in (mostly) old scars. A variety of thin and thick lines in red, purple or different shades of paled nudes ran across every inch of visible skin. There were also explicit burn marks, some that were typically the results from flames or hot items, and some that looked like they were caused by electricity. As a doctor, specializing in people with abilities, having experience far, far, beyond her 22 years, she could honestly say that she had never seen anything like it on anyone, except for maybe a few dead bodies that had been tortured to death in her youth.

She definitely took pride in not being thrown off by anything, perhaps overcompensating a little for her gender and age, but this was her coworker. Her friend.

Dazai was shrinking under her peering eyes, so undoubtedly uncomfortable with the situation that she had to admit she was impressed that he hadn't fled the clinic yet.

With a shaky puff of air, she breathed out the tension from her stomach and sat down on a stool in front of him. He was careful not to meet her eyes and stared pointedly at his lap.

She had the strangest need to actually comfort him. To say something reassuring, but she came out empty-handed. 

So instead, she started to ready a syringe with local anesthesia and started to squirt a little of the numbing substance on the skin where she was going to prick him.

He had been truthful when he told her that he wasn't afraid of needles. Not once had he flinched while she stitched up three large gashes on his arms, with perfect precision.

Finally, as she was getting ready to re-bandage his arms, mentally trying to remember how he held them when he came in, Dazai finally spoke.

“Your stitches look really nice,” he said silently, looking dejectedly at the new seams that now held his body together.

Normally, she would scoff at that kind of remark from one of her patients, and tell them that ‘of course, they're impeccable every time.’ But, she couldn't make herself answer like that this time.

“Thank you, I'm glad,” she heard herself say, frowning lightly at the soft tone that was so unlike her to use.

“They'll probably hardly leave any scars,” he muttered, chuckling tenderly, finally looking at her. His dim eyes were undecipherable as they peered up at her, filled with sorrow and whatever else they were charged with, that she couldn't quite recognize.

“They usually don't,” she agreed sedately and started to gingerly wrap his arms back up.

With a sad, yet grateful smile, he nodded his head and watched in silence as she firmly bound the soft fabric all the way from his wrist to his shoulders and fastened it with a couple of clips.

“There, all done;” she declared, instinctively assisting him with bending his arms in different directions to be sure the bandages weren't sitting too tightly. It seemed to be fine.

Dazai's pallor was slowly turning back to normal, and he looked a little healthier now than he had about an hour earlier, so she felt comfortable letting him leave the infirmary on the conditions that he would go home and rest, and to call her if he felt dizzy or sick.

Turning back to his normal self, Dazai brushed it off to only being a vague proposal, but reluctantly agreed to take the rest of the day off. She made a mental note to stop by and check on him when she was off work.

Getting dressed back into his bloodied clothing, he was getting ready to head off, but stopped before exiting through the door.

“Yosano-san,” he said, voice finally steady and confident like it ordinarily was. It was encouraging and reassured Yosano greatly.

“Yes, Dazai-kun,” she answered as she cleaned off bloodied cotton pads from her work-station.

“Thank you,” he uttered, taking her by surprise and she turned around, not able to hide her astonishment very well.

“I- I really appreciate it. I know how this all looks, and... and I... I just appreciate it.”

She smiled at him, in a genuine way that she hardly ever did. She didn't usually show such a sincere part of herself, because, well, simply, she knew. She knew where he was coming from because she knew that life was cruel and hard and sometimes you just needed someone to shut up and leave shit be.

Leave the shit that belonged to the past to stay there, hidden and buried and on a distance.

She continued cleaning, deep in thought. It was clear that Dazai needed someone to let him deal with his own shit in his own shitty way. He had Kunikida to tell him all he did it wrong, Fukuzawa to tell him how to do things right, Tanizaki to possibly actually show him how to do it right and Ranpo to... well, Ranpo was there too.

A small ruckus behind her shook her out of her sentimental musings. Startled, she turned to check what all the noise was about.

Dazai was rubbing his forehead bewilderedly, with his other hand turning the door handle to the locked door. Yosano remembered the key she had pocketed to trap him at the start of the treatment, and she hurried over to unlock the door for him, realizing that their tender moment had already broken miserably.

She apologized awkwardly and returned the key to the lock and hurridly turned it for him, leaving him to exit the infirmary in a slight daze.

Wearily, she slapped her hand to her face, leaning heavily against the door after having closed it behind the accident-prone detective.

Apparently, it was a good thing they had gotten this horribly difficult step over with already, if this was how things were going to be from here on out.

Something told her that the novelty of his scarred body was going to wear out really quickly. -----------------

I think I started to write this story three times. Each time it just felt like a story I had written already. I guess that's going to be the challenge going forward. Also, even if I'm really behind at this point, I'm still going to finish all 31 days. Some days I have inspiration, others I don't, and that's okay. Even if I might not be 100% satisfied with everything I post (which I never am anyway), I will hopefully be able to dish a couple of stories out with time, that will be good enough to give someone a short break to escape from the stresses of everyday life, enjoying a short story from their favorite fandoms. As always, I'm super grateful for anyone taking the time to read, and I appreciate all feedback (as long as it's constructive- which people usually are really good about). Seeyallaterbye!

[amethystunarmed]

Obvious

Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou

Word Count: 4270

AO3 Link

Red Riot has been captured, and Bakugou wants to get him back. However, the rest of the former class 1-A is focused on a far more important revelation.

Set after they graduate Yuuei. They’re all around 24 years old.

~~~~~

Bakugou and Kirishima have always been a kind of enigma. Even back at Yuuei, their relationship was unusual. Bakugou, who never let anyone close, letting Kirishima hang off him? Not to mention the study sessions, the team ups, the entire kidnapping ordeal. No one could ever deny that the two of them had been close. But now that they were pro-heroes? The closeness only increased.

Kaminari was the one who started the group chat, originally only including Jirou and Ashido, but as more evidence was gathered, more people were needed. Soon, the entire former class of 1-A was a member of “Are they a thing?” (excluding Midoriya, because no one trusted him to not blurt out the question the next time he saw either of them). Even Todoroki didn’t leave once he was added (he never sent anything, but they all saw the read notifications. He wasn’t fooling anyone). Over the years, it filled up with secretive snaps of Kirishima sleeping next to Bakugou’s desk while the other did paperwork, recounted incidents of Kirishima teasingly saying “You love me!” while Bakugou told him to fuck off, and once, a clip of Red Riot carrying a pouting Bakugou away from a particularly nasty scene, bridal style. But, despite all of this, there was nothing concrete. At least, not until the day Red Riot got captured.

The news traveled quickly. A hero snatched by villains was a pretty rare occurrence. Even rarer did it happen right under the nose of his partner. The moment Bakugou called in Kirishima’s disappearance, agencies called each other, effectively letting the entirety of Japan know what was happening. As a result, every nearby member of the former Yuuei Class 1-A was gathered at Bakugou and Kirishima’s agency. Kouda and Shoji were doing rescue work in the countryside, while Satou and Mineta were both at opposite ends of the country. But other than that, everyone had shown up. A couple students from 1-B were even present, Tetsutetsu and Kendou receiving warm welcomes despite the circumstances. The group had even gathered before Bakugou had returned. Midoriya was out trying to find him; he chased complaints of explosions like a game of connect the dots. So, at the moment, all they could do was wait.

“Any news?” Ojiro asked, breaking the awkward silence that occurred after pleasantries had fallen to the wayside. His tail twitched back and forth as he spoke. Jirou shook her head.

“Doesn’t seem like it.” She wrapped her arms around herself, fiddling with the folds of fabric by her elbows. “The agencies have managed to keep this under wraps, so the media hasn’t published anything. Which is good, because the last thing we need is a resurgence of what happened when we were students…” She shuddered. There was a nervousness in the room as they remembered. It still was a rough subject.

“But there’s also problems with that approach,” Todoroki added. He had made small changes to his costume. His hair was shorter now, cut so that it no longer hung in his eyes. But still, his tone was cool as ever, “It means the public won’t report any sightings of Kirishima either. We could have eyes all around the city, rather than just our own.”

Jirou frowned. “I didn’t even think of that.”

“Shit.” Kaminari kicked at the nearest desk “Well, what about the witness? What did they say?”

“They were pretty shaken up,” Uraraka told him. “Most they could tell me was that a villain grabbed them and Kirishima negotiated a trade. They couldn’t tell me if he seemed–” There was an explosion close, just outside, and for a moment, they tensed. Hero reaction times never really rested. Then Bakugou slammed the door open.

“Fuck!” he shouted and fired a blast at the nearby plant pot. It evaporated, leaving only a little pile of dirt in its place. A stray flower hit Kaminari in the face. “Shit! Son of a bitch!” He moved over to an office chair and picked it up. He held it over his head. “Dammit, dammit, DAMMIT!” He threw it at the wall. A green blur intercepted it moments before it went through the drywall. A level of tension left the room, all of the gathered heroes looking a little less distressed. Deku was here.

“Kaachan, I know you’re upset–” Midoriya cut off with a yelp and instinctively ducked. A mug hit the wall directly behind where his head would’ve been.

“I thought I told you to stop following me two blocks ago!”

Midoriya sighed, actually looking weary for once. “Yes, I remember. You threw a car at me.”

“Bakugou!” Iida gasped, “That is an affront not only to your fellow hero, but to the public and civilian property–”

“Yeah, yeah, he fucking caught it. Don’t get your–” Bakugou turned to look at them, and sputtered, like he had only just registered their presence. Instantly, his scowled deepened. “What the fuck are you morons doing here?”

“We’re just trying to help,” Midoriya placated. His calm tone made Bakugou want to chew glass. “If you just calm down–” And something in Bakugou snapped.

“DEKU, MY FUCKING HUSBAND GOT KIDNAPPED, I’M NOT GONNA CALM DOWN!” he screeched.

“And I get how hard that must be–”

But Midoriya didn’t get to finish, because absolute chaos erupted behind him.

“Husband?”

“What the hell?”

“Did he just say husband?”

Eventually Ashido managed to overpowered everyone else when she squealed, “Wait, you two are married?”

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Yeah, no fucking shit.” But none of the expressions of shock faded and he bristled. “Wait, really?” Firecrackers roared in his palms. “EVERYONE WE WORK WITH IS AN IDIOT!” Midoriya frowned at the group.

“Guys, now really isn’t the time for jokes.”

“You knew?” At least four people yelled, and Deku at least had the decency to blush.

“Well yeah, it’s been three years–”

“WHAT?”

“Now I know you’re messing with us. No way you’ve been together that long,” Kaminari huffed, only for Bakugou to grab him by the collar. He held his charging gauntlet up to Kaminari’s face.

“You say anything like that about my marriage again, and you’re gonna wish your quirk fried your pain receptors, got it?” he growled. Kaminari whimpered and held his shaking hands up in surrender. Bakugou dropped him without warning, not looking at all remorseful when he fell on his ass.

“But… But… But…” Uraraka sputtered. She was seemingly incapable of getting her thought out. Asui elbowed her, and that seemed to help. “But there wasn’t a wedding!” At that, Bakugou smirked.

“Oh, there was a wedding.” He laughed at the indignant gasps. Midoriya personally thought it was a grand improvement over the frantic anger of moments earlier.

“You didn’t invite any of us to the wedding?”

“I didn’t invite my mom, don’t feel special.”

“I went!” Midoriya chirped, looking way too pleased with himself. Bakugou glared at him.

“You just showed up, that doesn’t count.”

Slowly, the others were coming to terms with the idea. Still, there was definitely a lingering confusion.

“But you don’t wear rings?” Asui asked, more to herself than Bakugou directly. Still, he answered.

“First of all,” he said, more than a little peeved, “I blow things up with my hands for a living. I’m not going to put on some weak ass gold band. Second of all, like I’m going to wear some sappy symbol like some happy househusband. I’m a goddamn pro hero and–”

“He wears it on a chain around his neck,” Midoriya chirped, and Bakugou spun to face him so fast he nearly fell over.

“How do you even know that?”

Midoriya merely smiled at him. Bakugou looked about to ready deck him, but was interrupted once again. Kaminari slapped a hand to his forehead, gasping as he finally put something together. “Does that mean all the times Kirishima called you his husband, he wasn’t kidding?” Bakugou was ready to pop a blood vessel.

“Are you serious? And I’m supposed to fight villains with the likes of–” Static came from the monitor directly behind him. Bakugou whirled on it, hands already sparking. “This better be goddamn important–”

“Oh believe me, it is.”

The man standing in the middle of the screen could not have looked more like a stereotypical villain. He was wearing a black top hat and a black cloak and glowing green eyes that lit up with numbers like something out of the Matrix. A technology quirk, then, Bakugou thought, Probably connecting the camera and the monitor. It was surprising that he was able to break through the agency security measures, but other than that, Bakugou wasn’t exactly impressed.

“Who the fuck are you?”

The villain chuckled. “Ah, yes, you haven’t seen me in action, have you? Though you and Red Riot have caused quite a bit of trouble for my company. Speaking of…” The man moved to the left, revealing Kirishima bound and muzzled in the chair behind him. He looked exhausted, with dark bags under his eyes, probably as a result of using his quirk so much. A couple bruises scattered around his face and arms, but other than that, he was unharmed. His eyes lit up though. Even though he couldn’t possibly have seen them, he never once stopped looking at the camera. He kept blinking, like he couldn’t believe what was happening. “I believe this belongs to you?” Bakugou prickled and slammed his hands on the table.

“Where have you taken my partner, you bastard?”

“Now, now, let’s not be rash,” the villain cooed. He moved backwards, settling closer to Kirishima. He reached out, possible to pet his hair, only to jerk his hand away when Kirishima hardened. Kaminari had to place his hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh. “Brat!” The villain spat.

“Hey, idiot, can we focus here?” Bakugou snapped. He was a coiled spring, ready to release the mounting tension that was placed on him. “What do you want?”

“Nothing too difficult really… A few months ago, you and Red Riot arrested a villain known as ‘Shogun,’ yes?”

“You’re a lackey for that narcissistic asshole?” Bakugou looked him over once more. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

The man onscreen bristled. This conversation was clearly not going how he expected.

“You will trade us Shogun for Red Riot! Within the next 24 hours!”

Bakugou sneered like acid. “And if we don’t? You managed to grab a hero whose immune to torture.” Midoriya’s eyes flickered to Bakugou. Kirishima was strong, but too much pressure, and his quirk would give. Bakugou had to know he was strained as it was. What is he doing?

That made the villain smile. “We can’t torture Riot traditionally, true, but… Bullet Ant!” A man, no, kid, walked into frame. He looked much for causal for a villain layer, in just a brown flannel and My Chemical Romance shirt. The only standout thing about him was the swirling black paint around his eyes and down his cheekbones, disappearing under the collar of his shirt. He couldn’t be older than seventeen. “Did you know the bullet ant has one of the most painful bites of any insect? It’s said to be just as bad as a gun shot, hence the name.” He gestured to the boy beside him. “Well, Bullet Ant here can cause pain receptors to simulate pain similar to that of forty bullet ants with just a touch.” Bakugou grit his teeth at that, and Midoriya did his best to keep the fear off his face. “Let’s see how Riot takes it, shall we?” He snapped and Bullet Ant placed his hand on Kirishima’s bare arm. There was no visual effect. Nothing glowed or sparked or ignited. Yet still Kirishima jerked forward, face contorted in pain. His arm hardened, desperately trying to fight against the attack. He grunted, but it was clear he was trying to keep quiet, even with the gag. His screams had just become loud enough to really hear when Bakugou blew up the monitor.

“Kaachan!”

“Yeah dude, what the hell?” Kaminari protested. “That was the only lead we had!”

“Wouldn’t have been any good,” Bakugou said, “He wouldn’t have contacted us if tracking him was possible. He probably just wanted to spy on us and gloat.”

“But still, we could have tried–”

“I’m going for a walk,” he said, out of nowhere. “Figure out where to go from here.” He placed his hand over his chest, and Midoriya knew he was touching the ring. He looked directly at Deku. “You can come too, Izuku.” And he walked out.

If Midoriya had been drinking something, he would have spit it out. Bakugou had never called him Izuku, even when they were kids. So I was right, he thought, Something is wrong. He thought through all the pieces, and desperately tried to put it together.

–probably just wanted to spy on us–

–where to go from here–

–he was touching the ring–

–never once stopped looking at the camera–

He kept blinking.

“Oh,” Midoriya whispered. They have a code. He wasn’t sure if it was Morse or something of their own, but they’d clearly prepared for this. No wonder Kacchan kept the villain talking, he thought, Kirishima must not ‘ve been finished sending the code! That was really smart. “Kaachan, wait up!” He shouted, and ran out of the building after him.

The journey was a fairly quiet one. No one forgot Bakugou’s hint that they could be being watched. Though the rest of the gathered heroes had eventually followed, it was more or less silently agreed upon that they would split off into groups to be less conspicuous. No one went very far, though, as only Bakugou knew where they were going. If it weren’t for the wordless determination, the causal glances at each other for reassurance, then it could have just been a regular patrol.

He led them to an abandoned building in the back corner of the warehouse district. It was large, the chipped paint on the outside hailing it as once being a car manufactory. The windows were fractured, weeds grew from cracks in the cement, the entire building smelled of rot. It looked completely and utterly abandoned. Jirou plugged her earphone jack into the wall and her eyes widened. She looked at them, and held up ten fingers. Closed her hands, then opened them again. And again. Thirty.

Fuck, Bakugou thought, but didn’t bother expressing. It wasn’t great, but they had faced worse. He picked a metal rod up off the ground and offered it to a confused Jirou. He pointed to a patch of visible dirt near the entrance of the building and she nodded. She crouched above it and began drawing, still keeping a jack plugged in. As she began working on a second picture, the catwalks above the ground floor, the screaming began from inside. It was blatantly obvious it was Kirishima. Deku couldn’t help but wonder when they had taken the gag off.

For a moment, no one moved. Even in their stealth, they hadn’t been stiff. It had been a fluid silence, not this statuesque freeze that shrieks continually shattered. More than a few people sent Bakugou worried looks. Aoyama even took a step back. Deku held his hand out, fully prepared to grab Bakugou and wrestle him to the ground if needed. But Bakugou didn’t look at any of them. Instead, he just gazed at the warehouse, clenched fists only relaxing when the screaming died down. Jirou adjusted her drawing. She circled one of the dots along the back wall of the wall and labeled it: Kirishima.

Everyone studied the map, closely calculating in their heads what they could possibly do. Then Todoroki took the rod from Jirou and circled a group of ten, close enough together that he could freeze, and far enough from the rest of the villains that he wouldn’t get in the way of anyone else. Then he pointed at Yaoyorozu and Kendou, clearly saying I want your backup. And so it went on like that. Tokoyami and Asui choosing for three in the corner, Uraraka volunteering to float Aoyama and Ashido up to the catwalks. All of them picked targets and allies like children in gym class. Bakugou pointed at Iida, then resolutely tapped the shape of Kirishima. The Get him out of here was just as loud as if he’d shouted it. He and Deku would flank him, going after the three villains standing around his husband. As much as he disliked working with Midoriya, Bakugou allowed it, because Deku was fast and would let him punch the bastard from the video call. All and all, it was a solid plan.

“Count to thirty” Midoriya whispered, speaking the first words said aloud since they arrived. They split up to get into position. And they counted.

One. Two.

Ojiro grabbed Sero’s back and wrapped his tail around Hagakure. He braced himself, ready to help Sero propel them through the windows.

Eight. Nine.

Iida warmed his engines. They hummed as they revved up. Todoroki cooled his right side. He breathed out a fog.

Fourteen. Fifteen.

Jirou plugged her earphones in to her boots and nodded to Kaminari. They fist bumped.

Twenty. Twenty-one.

Uraraka activated her quirk on Aoyama and Ashido, and grabbed them, holding one in each arms. She braced, hands inches apart, to make herself float.

Twenty-six. Twenty-seven.

Midoriya lit up with green lightning. Bakugou took a breath.

Thirty.

To the villains inside the warehouse, it must have seemed as though the world erupted. Glass rained from the windows as heroes entered from all sides. Tetsutetsu burst through the main door, grabbing the guard to the right and chucking him into the man next to him. Todoroki leapt past him, ice creeping from his feet to ensnare his targets. Kendou snatched the only one quick enough to get out of the way. Jirou’s heartbeats stunned a group overlooking weapons in the corner, allowing Kaminari to electrocute them. It was a breathtaking display of power. One man even dropped to his knees and made the sign of the cross.

Bakugou didn’t register any of it. Because there were four villains around Kirishima, not three. A woman was there, hovering off the ground and glowing faintly blue. Her neck was bent as though it’d been snapped, and ectoplasm dripped from her mouth. Bakugou doubted she had a heartbeat for Jirou to hear. She phased out of existence, and appeared next to Iida, knocking him off course. They engaged in a fight, and Bakugou suddenly doubted Ingenium would be able to get Kirishima out of the building.

“Shit!” he shouted, and pushed himself to run faster. Midoriya was already pulling ahead of him, trying to take over Iida’s spot in the plan. The man next to Top Hat stepped forward. He was a beast, built like a bear, and Bakugou didn’t like the bulky cylindrical shape of his wrists. The villain lifted his arms and his wrists cocked, firing two shots of concussive energy at Deku. It was enough to stop him in tracks. Midoriya crossed his arms over his chest, effectively blocking the blasts. He looked over his shoulder, and nodded at Bakugou. He bent his knees. Bakugou saw the energy pooling through them and it clicked. Got it. He didn’t stop running, taking a sprinting leap to vault off Deku’s back. Midoriya pushes him upward, giving Bakugou enough momentum to launch himself forward toward Top Hat, Bullet Ant, and most importantly, Kirishima. He looked worse than he did before. He was panting, his hair was all messed up, and he was soaked in sweat, but he still beamed at Bakugou. For the first time since this whole thing started, Bakugou felt a tightness loosen in his chest.

The maneuver managed to surprise Shotgun-Arms enough for him to momentarily stop firing, more than enough time for Deku to take him down. Bakugou sees them hit the ground out of the corner of his eye as he lands next to a shocked Bullet Ant. Bakugou moved into a fighting stance, and the kid bolted. They certainly don’t keep him around as a fighter, he thought, but that was good. He’d figured they’d picked him up as a torture instrument, and it was one less person between him and Kirishima. One of the other teams will catch him before he leaves.

Bakugou turned to face Top Hat, and scowled at the sight before him. The same idiot who had been so cocky, bragging about his plans only an hour ago was cowering behind his hostage. “If you shoot me, you risk hurting him!” The pleas were frantic, breathless. He probably wasn’t even thinking about the words coming out his mouth. A gasp left Bakugou’s mouth, a small, involuntary thing. Deku glanced up at noise, worried Bakugou would need back up, but his friend wasn’t scared. His eyes were fiery, manic even, like he couldn’t believe his luck. Kirishima was still grinning.

“Fuck him up, babe.”

Bakugou lifted his arms and fired.

When the light died down, Top Hat was plastered against the back wall. He slumped to the floor, unconscious. Kirishima was on his back, and lying in a pile of splinters. Bakugou had absolutely annihilated the chair he’d been bound to. Kirishima began to work his way out of the chains around him, flexing enough to snap the already damaged metal. Bakugou wouldn’t say it aloud, but all he wanted to do was run to him. Instead, he scanned the area, gauntlets still hot. He had to make sure there weren’t any threats–

“I’m watching your back!” Deku called, “Get Kirishima.” Bakugou what pretty sure that was the only good idea Deku’d ever had. He walked, at an incredibly calm, normal pace, over to his husband’s side, sliding down next to him. Kirishima collapses against him as soon as they touch, letting go of all his body weight. Bakugou hadn’t been expecting it and it almost knocks him over. He must be more hurt than he was letting on. Bakugou pulled his gloves off, and began examining Kirishima’s arms and chest for any breaks or bruising. He doesn’t protest.

“As if I even feel your explosions anymore,” he huffed, “Pretty dumb of him.”

“Not as dumb as you,” Bakugou snapped without ire. He doesn’t look up from his impromptu check up. “Getting kidnapped that easily? What a fucking loser. I want a divorce.” Kirishima nuzzled his forehead closer to Bakugou’s neck.

“Concussion over there had a gauntlet to a civilian's head.” He cocked his head toward the villain Midoriya and Yaoyorozu were putting in handcuffs. “Didn’t really give me a lot of options.” He held up his own cuffed hands. “Mind helping me with these?” Bakugou wrapped his hands around the hinges, and they shatter with a controlled explosion. “Thanks, babe.” He pressed a kiss to Bakugou’s cheek, which went pink under the touch.

“Yeah, you better be thank me,” he huffed. He pulled Kirishima’s arm over his shoulder and stood, slowing when Kirishima wobbles. “I’ve had to deal with these idiots all day.” The fighting has died down by now. Now the heroes are focusing on restraining. Bakugou can hear Iida on the phone with the police. “Did you know none of them knew we were married?” Kirishima’s jaw dropped.

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

“But I call you my husband all the time!”

“Apparently Kaminari thought it was a joke.”

“Kaminari! What the fuck!” Kirishima pulled forward, out of Bakugou’s hold. He was probably trying to go and tell Kaminari exactly how stupid he was, but his knees buckled. He would have fallen if Bakugou hadn’t caught him.

“Stop being an idiot!” Bakugou shouted, immediately scooping him up into both of his arms, “You can yell at them later, dammit, video call them from the hospital. I didn’t mount a motherfucking rescue operation for you to ruin it by knocking yourself out!” Kirishima wrapped his arms around Bakugou’s neck, and rolled his eyes.

“Wow, really feeling the love. After I was kidnapped, too.”

Bakugou scowled and looked away. “You’re the idiot who got nabbed in the five seconds I had my back turned.” He tried to keep the guilt out of his voice, but could tell he failed by how Kirishima softened.

“Katsuki,” he said, and waited for Bakugou to look at him. “It was my choice. Okay?”

Bakugou didn’t answer.

“Besides,” Kirishima said, grin returning, “I knew you’d get me back. Can I…?” He looked around. Most of the other heroes were staring at them. They weren’t usually this affectionate in public, usually at Bakugou’s discretion. A tiny part of him warmed up at the fact Kirishima was still making sure it was okay.

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

They kissed, and it felt like coming home.

Midoriya was taking one last look around the warehouse. He wanted to make sure no villains were left in hiding. After Kirishima and Bakugou’s display, that could be messy later. Instead, he noticed Todoroki slowly walking in the back, away from where everyone was gathering to give statements to the police. He had his hands in his pockets, and was staring down at his feet. Midoriya went over and touched his shoulder.

“Todoroki, you okay? You seem deep in thought.” He startled at Deku’s touch, but didn’t pull away.

“Yes, I was just wondering…” He looked over to Kaminari, and called across the warehouse, “If Kirishima and Bakugou are married, do we no longer need the group chat?” Bakugou’s head snapped up, quick and vivacious as a firework exploding over the trees.

“THE FUCKING WHAT?”

[fuzyclaw123]

Not a continuation of the other Salvis I swear

Travis POV

My heart pounds, it has been about 7 weeks since Sally caught me crying in the bathroom. I’m sure he was just pitying me when offering a place in his group, not like any of his friends like me. Although they allow me to sit with them, I’m scared that they will eventually remember who I am. I know Sally read my letter, it scares me to think he saw the vulnerability written there. It makes me hate me.

I walk to my locker, my eye hurts. I look at the crumpled pieces of paper scattered in my locker, all notes I was planning on giving to Sal, but at the time I couldn’t even think about giving one to him. I stare at the new note I was planning on giving him, it wasn’t much, I had pretty much used bits and pieces of my old letter to make this one.

I jump at the sound of my name, “hey Travis.” I shove the note quickly in my locker, and close it to see Sally standing about 7 inches from me. “What’ do you want,” I say aggressively, I notice his eyes crinkle angrily under his mask. I felt mild guilt, I shouldn’t be a dick, he was trying to help me. “Sorry, That was mean. Um, hey Sal” I said, albeit hesitant.

His eyes soften, I really like his eyes. “It’s ok, um, how are you?” He asks, I give a halfhearted smile turning back to my locker, “I’ve been better, I guess, I’m a bit, nervous.” I say glancing at him, I could hear a small chuckle come from him. “What” I ask in confusion, his eyes crinkle again happily this time. “The idea of you nervous, I mean I’ve seen you nervous once, and that was when you approached me to start hanging out.”

“Yeah.” I reply. “It’s about something different this time” he walks up to me and puts his hand on my shoulder. “You wanna talk about it?” I look at him, this was my chance, but I didn’t want to do it in the middle of the hallway. “Yes, but not here, and not right now.” He nods, “alright, after school then, maybe we could hang out after.” I nod giving a smile.

————

I stand outside school nervously, the note sitting almost heavily in my pocket. I start to think about how stupid this is, I cross my arms in anger, he doesn’t need my anger. Before I got the chance to act on these fears Sal shows up. His hair bounces lightly as he walks over to me, I couldn’t stop the blush from creeping onto my face.

“Hey Travis, I’m here.” He says happily, his voice is smooth and deep, but not to deep. “So what did you want to talk about?” I shift my feet nervously, before looking into his eyes. They shone a bright blue, one slightly duller than the other. I take a shuddering breath, “um, I... just here” I take the note out and shoved it towards him. He looks at the folded piece of paper in my hand and reaches up and takes it carefully.

He unfolds it slowly, as if he were afraid he was going to tear it. It took him a while to read it, even when it wasn’t that long, and after a moment his shoulders slump. I knew it, I fucked up one of my first real friendships cause I caught feelings. He looks back at me, his eyes under his mask sparkling sadly. “Do you mean it?” He asks lightly, I nod, my heart racing a mile a second. He looks down at the paper again, then once more at me.

“Travis, you’ve only seen this mask, not me, I’m glad we did this here and not in the hallway.” I give him a confused look, “why would that matter? I like you for you, you’re face shouldn’t be an issue.” I reply slowly, he just shakes his head, “you don’t understand how it is, everyone who hasn’t known me has reeled away from me because of how I look, and sometimes even my friends have. They just see the scars and run, I’ve even made someone scream before.”

I notice his eyes tearing up, it’s hard to notice underneath the mask, he took in a sigh, before, making direct eye contact. “You know what Travis?” I cringe, but ask “what?” He walks just the tiniest bit closer “I’ll give you a chance, on one condition.” My heart leaps to my throat, “what would that be?” I ask curiously, I could see his eyes shift underneath his mask. “You need to see my face, and I will give you a chance based on the reaction. If it truly doesn’t matter, you won’t change your mind.”

I nod in understanding, it’s only fair. I had created his face based on his eyes, it wasn’t anything special, but I know it won’t be anything close to my imagination. He takes one more large sigh before unclipping the bottom clips, then the top. He hesitated before taking it the rest of the way off.

My breath caught in my throat at the sight of it, on the right side of his face, he had a large scar going from the bottom of his chin all the way up to his eye, making it to where he couldn’t close his mouth all the way. he had two smaller scars on the left side of his mouth. He didn’t have a nose, and he had large claw marks going up each side of his face. Something I didn’t know about his eyes is his right one droops because of the scar. Most of his face looks like scar tissue with a small amount of his face his skin color. I wasn’t going to lie, I could see why people would run.

I stayed silent for probably longer than I should have, but he was being patient. I eventually got the knot out of my throat, “I’m not gonna lie, it’s something I’d definitely have to get used to.” He looks down, and for the first time I could see his expressions, he starts to bring his mask up, “you don’t have to put that on yet,” I say quickly, he looks back at me suspiciously, before nodding, and clipping the to top clips to the side of his bag, before gesturing for me to follow.

We walk over to a bench and sit down, he seems jumpier, as if all his confidence leaks away as soon as the mask comes off. After a moment, he starts to laugh, I look at him in confusion, his face contorts differently because of the scars, but he still looks joyful all the same. “What?” I ask, it takes him a moment to calm down, “I just find it hilarious that you’re the one to have a crush on me. I mean I don’t mind it, but it wasn’t necessarily a secret now that I think of it.”

I blush deeply, “how was it not a secret?” He looked down sheepishly, “I read a note on the floor next to the garbage can, and it was in your handwriting. I had a feeling it was one of us cause we were the ones you bullied most.” I chuckle, “I heard someone open the paper.” We sit there for a bit more, before I had to go. “I had fun” I say quietly, he nods, “I’ll let you know tomorrow” I nod, before kissing his forehead. He seemed startled by it, but leaned into it as if he craved the small touch. “See you tomorrow.”

The next day Sal told me he’d give me a chance