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the-name-is-z · 3 months ago

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SKELETONS | ch. 66

daryl dixon x f!oc

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Summary: The Alexandrians recover from the Wolves' attack. Daryl, Sasha and Abraham finish leading the walkers away, and start on their way back home before facing an unexpected obstacle. Warnings/Information: AMC's The Walking Dead OC Insert | 18+ Advised | strangers to lovers; the slowest of slow burns; gore; angst; horror; humour; m/f; guilt; mourning; anxiety; ambush; motorcycle crash; injury related to such; burned and melted bodies; character getting knocked unconscious

Chapter 66 - Wolves

Michonne and a few others arrived within the next couple hours. She told them what had happened, the air horn separating most of the walkers from their plan. The incoming hordes. Aaron and Tobin volunteered to collect the Alexandrian bodies and their… severed parts. Glenn and Nicholas were also supposed to arrive, but hadn’t yet. Maggie was worrying herself sick as Michonne explained.

“The town was overrun. He split off with Nicholas. He had this idea that… that if he lit a fire, it would stop the walkers from coming here. I tried to go instead. I wanted to. That fire never got lit. We had to keep going. I’m sorry.” Michonne recounted, looking to Maggie. Rosita and Iris stood on either side, attempting some method of comfort, but it wasn’t helpful. “He said if he got stuck, he would find a way to send us a signal.”

“A signal?” Maggie asked.

“Open the gate!” A voice yelled in the distance. Iris was easily distracted, stepping toward the gate. She looked up to Deanna, who stood at the guard post looking over the wall. “Open the gate! Open the gate now!”

“Holy shit. Rick.” Iris realized, bolting to the gate. She ripped the chain link open, Michonne appearing at her side to haul the gate to the side. As soon as they could see him, Iris paled. He was running, but the horde followed behind him. Rick bodychecked one of the walkers aside, a few others appearing at the gate to help clear them. There were too many to count, too many to fight.

Rick practically dove through the gap, Tobin and Michonne hauling the gate closed behind him. Deanna looked white as a ghost. They watched as the walkers slammed against the bars, Michonne closing the chain link tight. Immediately, Tobin began gathering others to reinforce the walls, gathering whatever materials they had inside to set up supports. Iris was reminded of the logs they had to hold up the fence in the prison… but this was no chain link prison fence.

Everyone that remained in Alexandria was gathered near the walls as they set up the supports. Iris turned as Rick appeared, coming back from greeting Carl and Judith.

“Thank you.” He said quietly, putting a hand on her shoulder. She smiled, nodding. They were her family, too. She explained to him what had happened with the truck, the damaged or dented part of the wall at risk, especially with the hordes coming now. “You holding up?” He asked, tilting his head. Iris inhaled deeply and nodded.

“He promised.” She said simply, offering a pathetic shrug. He pursed his lips, nodding.

“He will.” Rick assured. Iris could feel a speech coming on. “You can hear it!” Rick called, addressing the whole group. “Some of you saw it. They got back here, half of them. Still enough to surround us twenty deep. Look, I know you’re scared. You haven’t seen anything like this. You haven’t been through anything like this. But we’re safe, for now. The panel the truck hit seems intact. We reinforced it just in case. Either way, the wall’s gonna hold together. Can you? The others, they’re gonna be back.” He looked to Iris pointedly.

“They’re gonna be back.” Rosita echoed, nodding more to herself than anyone else. Rick nodded back.

“Daryl, Abraham, Sasha, they have vehicles. They’re gonna lead ‘em away, just like the others. And Glenn and Nicholas are gonna walk back through the front gate after. They know what they’re doing, and we know what we need to do. We keep noise to a minimum. We pull our blinds at night. Even better, keep the lights out. Try to make this place as quiet as a graveyard, and we move on.”

“This place is a graveyard.” Francine stated, her voice breaking.

“The quarry broke open and those walkers were heading this way. All of them. The plan that Rick put into place stopped that from happening. He got half of them away.” Aaron called, addressing the group. “I was out there recruiting with Daryl. I wanted to try to get into a cannery and scavenge, and Daryl wanted to keep looking for people. We did what I wanted… and we wound up in a trap set by those people and I lost my pack. They must’ve followed our tracks. Those people who attacked us, they found their way back here because of me.” Deanna shook her head, walking away from the group.

“There’ll be more to talk about.” Rick assured quietly.

“Deanna?” Tobin called. The group turned to watch as she walked away. She didn’t stop. “Deanna!”

“It’s not your fault.” Iris said quietly, sitting next to Aaron on his front step. Eric had ducked inside, going to get him some water. “Causality is not the same as intent.”

“The result is the same.” Aaron murmured, cradling his head in his hands. “I can’t believe… I should have listened to him.”

“He is right more often than not.” Iris admitted, nodding. “Don’t tell him I said that. You cannot blame yourself. You blame the wolves, not the sheep.”

“Stupid fucking sheep.” Aaron scoffed, shaking his head. Iris sighed, rubbing his back gently. She opened her mouth to say more, but he stood abruptly, walking off.

Iris stood on lookout, silently watching the hordes slam against the wall, milling around outside with nothing better to do. She sighed, turning at the sound of someone else climbing the ladder. Rick nodded in acknowledgement, holding up the walkie.

“Daryl, Sasha, Abraham, you copy?” He asked. There was no answer.

“Rick? Can I come up?” Called a voice. Iris peered over the edge to see Ron. Rick looked to Iris in question and she shrugged.

“Yeah.” Rick replied. Rick climbed up the ladder too, getting himself a good look. “You haven’t seen it.” A statement, not a question.

“No.” Ron replied, astonished.

“Not exactly a nice view.” Iris stated. Ron shrugged.

“Enid, she uh, she used to sneak over the walls, spend time out there. I don’t know why, she just wanted to. But um…” He trailed off. “I think she went out there after the attack.”

“What, she’s still out there?” Rick asked, astonished at the fact that he hadn't said something sooner.

“She disappeared during, left Carl a note.” Iris pointed out. “I assumed she wanted to leave.”

“She wouldn’t have just left without saying goodbye.” Ron denied, huffing. Iris raised an eyebrow. Yes, she would have. “You know, she knows how to take care of herself.” Rick gave him an incredulous look, slowly turning back to stare out at the walkers. “We can’t go out there. Carl wanted to try. I stopped him and told him I’d tell you if he did. And then, um… I don’t know, I just thought I should tell you—”

“Fucking hell.” Iris murmured, standing up and hooking her rifle over her shoulder.

“Do you know where he is now?” Rick asked.

“Yeah, he’s back at the house. I saw him on the porch with Judith. I can keep guard now if you want…” Ron offered.

“They’re keeping guard now.” Iris pointed down to the walkers. “I was looking out for the others. A sign from Glenn, anything.”

“Alright.” Ron agreed. Iris raised an eyebrow but nodded, both her and Rick headed to the ladder. “So I was thinking about what you said by the quarry,” Rick grimaced, turning back to him. Iris snickered, taking her opportunity to climb down. “And I mean, you’re right. I need to know how to protect myself and my mom and my brother. This place. So… can you teach me how to shoot?” Rick looked over the edge to Iris and she nodded, making her way to Carl and Judith at the house while Rick taught Ron how to use his gun.

Iris braced her hands on either side of the kitchen counter, tears quietly trickling down her cheeks until they fell to the counter. There had always been times where he was gone, out on a run and got stuck, something or other. From the farm to the prison, to Alexandria. But somehow, Iris realized, it got harder and harder for her every time he left. Especially in circumstances like these, where all she could do was wait, trapped.

Maybe he was trying to get back but couldn’t because of the walkers outside. What if he was alone? He could always handle himself, but what if something happened to Abraham and Sasha and Daryl… didn’t make it? Couldn’t? What if something happened to him and he was alone?

Iris shuddered through a silent sob as she thought about it, a hand coming up to cover her mouth. She had a hard time sleeping when he wasn’t there. Now… it was almost impossible. A soft cooing came from the kitchen door and she turned to see Carl standing in the threshold, Judith in his arms reaching out toward her with grabby hands.

She smiled softly through the tears as Carl brought Judith closer, until she could take her into her arms. Judith buried her face in her hair and Carl smiled.

“I’m sorry.” He said quietly. “I… it’s hard.” Iris nodded, not saying more as she held out her hand. He took it, getting pulled into a hug. Iris cradled the two of them, ruffling Carl’s hair with her free hand. “Judy and me are always here to talk, or… to not talk.”

“I know, cowboy.” Iris whispered.

“Alright.” Sasha said, the cloudy morning having greeted them a few hours ago, and she switched with Abraham.

“That’s twenty?” Daryl asked, more than ready, if not excited to get off the bike. It was comfortable, but not nearly as comfortable as not riding a motorcycle for twenty-four hours or more.

“It will be. Six-forty-two is a mile ahead.” Sasha replied. “We gotta put distance between us and them before the turn off.”

“So floor it.” Abraham said, pulling up beside Daryl and he turned to nod, the two vehicles speeding up to get some good distance from the walkers.

“Try to keep up.” Daryl replied.

“Daryl, have you looked at this car? Believe me, we want to get back there, too.” Sasha chuckled.

They reached the turn in no time, pulling off right at the mile marker to turn back around. The road led them into a small collection of industrial buildings, right alongside a chain link fence. They slowed, not wanting to burn too much gas, but just as Daryl released the clutch a bit, gunshots sounded through the air.

He ducked, beginning to weave on the bike as a few of the shots shattered the rear windshield of the car. They sped up again, and Daryl spotted shooters lining either side of the road, ambushing them. A car pulled out from a side road, more shooters following after them. Daryl turned too quickly, the bike skidding and sliding to the ground near a few other parked cars.

He grunted in pain, the leg of his jeans and the sleeve of his leather jacket torn to reveal the gnarly road rash across his arm, calf and thigh. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, and he’d still be able to walk fine, but he didn’t have time to think about it as the shots continued. Sasha and Abraham sped on, still being chased by the other car.

Daryl started up the bike again, pulling out only to be quickly followed by two more cars, the shooters from before now sitting in the passenger seats, leaning out with rifles aimed at him. He turned around another building, finding a small collection of walkers waiting for him. He weaved in between them, letting them become an obstacle for the vehicles in pursuit.

He pulled around the few dumpsters and shipping containers in the area before turning down a gravel road in the back, one car following after him. The bike, thankfully, was retrofitted with off-road tires, making it easy for him to zip into the forest and ride between the trees.

He waited under the cover of the forest while the car chasing him had driven past, taking the opportunity to pull across the road covertly. He continued down a gravel road, well, more of a trail, the bike beginning to slow as the roaring engine became more of a hum.

Daryl and the bike made it to a barren part of the forest, no leaves and no vegetation, simply tall stalks that seemed to be trees and various sticks littering the ground. This section of the forest had been on fire, little-to-no visible life remaining.

Letting the bike fall, Daryl collapsed onto the ground, breathing heavily as the shock wore off and the pain began to set in. He grunted, sitting up slightly to survey the area.

He made a small noise of surprise as a soft snarl caught his attention, and he turned to face a half-dead walker, burnt to a crisp, wearing motorcycle gear. The clothing had long since melted and cemented itself to the walker’s flesh, the helmet misshapen and black, the plastic burnt and warped. The biker was melted to the ground, and Daryl sighed, flopping onto his back and staring up at the cloudy sky.

When he was ready, Daryl slowly sat back up, gathered his thoughts and stood the bike up. He began the long, tedious venture of wheeling the bike through the woods, trying his best to maneuver through the burned corpses of walkers to get back to Alexandria.

It wasn’t easy. This bike was very heavy, not to mention the ground not exactly as smooth as an asphalt road. He wheeled it down a small hill, grunting in frustration as it got away from him, hitting the ground. He didn’t have much energy left for this, wincing at the feeling of his clothing rubbing against the road rash. Thankfully, he still had his walkie. Though whether or not he was in range with anyone was another question. They’d have to be about six miles away, and he had no hope of contacting anyone at Alexandria.

“Sasha, Abraham, are you there?” He asked. There was only static for a response and he shut it off. His blood was beginning to trickle down his fingers. In frustration, Daryl ripped off one of the fingerless gloves he wore, shrugging out of the jacket to reassess his injuries. He hissed in pain, cradling his arm a bit as he looked through the blood. Not terrible.

Unclipping a bag from the frame of the bike, he started to open it to find his first aid supplies when a twig snapped in the distance. There was rustling, so he dropped the bag and swapped it for his crossbow. Pulling a few fallen branches over his bike, he started off in the general direction to find whatever it was that was disturbing him.

He crept silently across the dirt toward a tree that had a few branches leaning against it in a makeshift lean-to, whipping around the side only to find two young women, standing up abruptly, their hands in the air. The two of them were disheveled, covered in dirt and soot. But they seemed unarmed, which meant there was either someone else around, or hidden weapons.

“You found us, okay?” The taller one with long brown hair tied back in a ponytail huffed. The shorter one with cropped blonde hair said nothing, half hiding behind her. “Here we are. We earned what we took.” Another twig snapped behind him and just as Daryl turned to look, a shorter man with blond hair and scraggly facial hair smacked him across the face with a thick tree branch. Then everything went dark.

TAGLIST:

@heidiland05

@ryoujoking

@catlalice

@maxinehufflepuffprincess

@lowkeyhottho

@fadingpalacebonkpsychic

@hayley1998

@negansbestie

@lizey-thornberry

#thenameisz #daryl dixon #the walking dead #skeletons #the walking dead daryl dixon #twd daryl #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon x original character

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preservationofnormalcy · 2 years ago

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[I am in a nature preserve in rural Louisiana. A small ranger station-like structure in the middle of the wetlands welcomes me through chain link fences as my driver signals his approach, and as I exit my vehicle, a man steps out of the station.

He is heavy-set, tall, a little overweight but in that working-man sort of way where his strength is evident. He’s wearing a white labcoat over a colorful shirt and jeans, with messy hair and old school mutton chops. I can’t decide if he’s going for a vintage look or just doesn’t want to deal with his facial hair. Huge hands clap together once as I walk up to the building, and he smiles.]

Meghan] Mr McCollough?

Jethro] Please, please ma’am, call me Jethro. Please, come in.

[The first room seems typical of what I would expect a station in the middle of the swamplands to look - a cot, couches, radios and locked long glass-paneled cabinets with guns. A large metal door on one end leads me into the next room, and this one is different. Computers, rows and rows of filing cabinets, and haphazard piles of paperwork on a laboratory benchtop that yield to clean, colored tape-zoned areas holding glassware, boxes of “Vacutainer” tubes, plastic racks. A well-used benchtop centrifuge in the sun-bleached cream and baby blue colors of equipment from the 80s holds tubes of separated liquid – clear on top, a strip of white, and deep red at the bottom. Another metal door on the opposite side leads further into the building. He gestures to a somewhat empty table with a chair on either side.

Jethro’s accent is slight but noticeable, quiet but gregarious. He doesn’t sit yet, but fumbles with a kettle and a hot plate.]

J] Don’t get many visitors out here. Pardon the mess. Tea?

M] Oh. Please, actually.

J] Yes, ma’am. The people above my head tell me you’re here to ask questions.

M] That’s right. I saw the, uh… immunization posters in the Virginia site I toured.

J] Oh, sure. That’s been routine for decades, now. Since they were developed in the 50s. Lots of progress, of course, but always lots to do. Half the issue’s the paperwork, you know. But, uh, yeah.

M] Does everyone get immunized?

J] If I had my way, yes. That’d be the right way to do it. But no, it’s only really required for so-called high risk zones, that’s what they decided.

[He gives me a wry smile over his shoulder.]

J] This here’s a high risk zone, ma’am. But…you won’t be here long enough for it to matter.

M] …here’s hoping. Umm. I had a list of questions.

J] Top of the list is probably “Jesus H, they’re real?”

[He laughs briefly at his own joke.]

M] …my work is more about the efficacy and efficiency of the Office’s divisions, departments, and programs. But yeah, kind of.

[He pours the hot water into two teacups, and hands me one, sitting on the opposite side of the table. His cup looks comically small in his large hands.]

J] Get the feeling you’ll be asking that a lot in the next months.

M] I do too. Let me see… what is the objective of the… Abnormal Virology Department?

J] So our mission statement is about the research, control, and prevention of diseases – viral diseases specifically, but other stuff comes up, but y’know, that’s another story – uh, diseases that fall outside the Office’s definition of “normal,” and our big goals hopefully are curative or preventative treatments for those diseases. It’s a tall order.

M] And… lycanthropy is a virus, like the flu?

J] I mean, as much as any virus is like another. Each one’s unique, even the flu subtypes, but yeah. If I may use some jargon,

[He pauses with a hint of eagerness for affirmation before continuing.]

J] It's a lysogenic virus, so if you get infected, it integrates into the host genome, more like, uh, I guess herpesvirus is one most people would know. Once you get it, you got it for life because it hides in your DNA. Like herpesviruses too, you have lytic phases too, where it becomes active again, it emerges out of the genome based on cues from environmental pressures or host conditions. Like the phase of the moon, you know, which is kind of unique. When it’s not actively causing disease, when it’s just sitting in your genome at these sequence specific integration sites across the chromosomes, it also screws with normal gene regulation. The sites it sits down, you get dysregulation of normal transcription, you start growing more body hair, eyes change color. Where the virus integrates is a little different across host genetic backgrounds, think like ancestries; do you know SNPs?

[He clears his throat.]

Anyway, that lysogenic, passive phase is why we need the boosters, it’s laying low, immune cells don’t see anything to protect against, and it preferentially hides out in memory B cells, some lymphocytes, and that also kind of messes up a normal immune response. Which is why you have the immunoglobulin in the shot too, but that’s getting into the weeds. Because if you don’t have a way for the immune system to stop it quickly when it decides to jump out of the genome again, then, of course, you have the active phase, which… you can guess about that.

M] How successful would you say the treatments are?

J] It’s pretty good, especially given this stuff is almost the same as we were using mid-century. If you have a healthy immune system, if you’re vaccinated at least a few weeks before exposure, so you have your standard immune repertoire ready to go, and then they’re exposed – assuming the inoculum isn’t, you know, that can be pretty high sometimes – then they probably won’t “catch it,” so to speak, it’s neutralized and doesn’t integrate into the genome, so you don’t have a permanent case of it. We can also suppress symptoms with treatments for those with especially bad cases. Treatment’s kinda heavy, with the administration and the side effects; not like you’re just popping a pill under your tongue; but once it’s taken hold, there’s no, uh, no real cure.

[Jethro is quiet for a moment, taking a glance out the window as he drinks.]

J] … listen, ma’am. I’m biased. I got a personal stake in all this. I’m kind of a lab guy, sure, but sometimes I go out there and actually… you know. I’m the boots on the ground here too. And I don’t carry the big guns like the guys in Security do, no, I’m here giving out shots to kids and families. There’s communities in this country, whole towns out in the swamps or up in the hollers that are majority-infected. They live with it, they make do. And they have a chance at that, at life, because of us. Hard to quantify, of course. If you’re looking for hard numbers, I can try and find ‘em–

[He gestures to the filing cabinets.]

J] If you got a week or two.

M] We can… coordinate records later. But we’ve successfully eradicated things like… you know, smallpox. Can we eradicate things like lycanthropy?

[He gives me a strange, wary look and picks up a plastic knife from the table, oddly stirring his drink. I take a sip of mine.]

J] I’d be careful, talking like that. Lotta people don’t just think they’re sick, they- we’re talking about people. People with a condition, sure, but the minute you start talking about eradicating is when we start having camps again.

M] … again?

J] There’s rural areas in this country that the Office hasn’t been in for decades. We aren’t welcome.

M] Can I ask what happened?

[Jethro takes a deep breath.]

J] In ‘55, the United States rolled out its polio vaccine program. Of course, the Office used the infrastructure, hustle and bustle of the whole thing as a cover for our own lycanthropic treatment programs. We, and when I say “we,” I mean the Office in general of course. I wasn’t even a pup then. But a couple Office research groups, the Wagner lab, they’d done deep research into the condition, validated a few hypotheses, and they were ready to pilot the production of a vaccine. They just needed plasma. From infected hosts.

M] … I think I see.

J] Yeah. Yeah, back then infected folks were basically ignored unless they were in legal trouble. Legal personhood hadn't been extended to lycanthropes yet.

M] Legal personhood?

J] Ask Ferd about that when you get back to Virginia. Unfortunately, that plasma was taken from… people who didn’t volunteer. Inmates at first, murderers. But scaling up collection, then it came from people who stole some cows, and then people who were even just accused of things. When the Wagner people showed the shot was actually working, the Office needed a lot more to even think about rolling it out everywhere it was needed, and people weren’t really volunteering, so…

[He sighs.]

J] We shouldn’t have been surprised when a lot of communities then rejected us after that. Word travels fast, and the symbol–

[He taps the OPN crest on his badge.]

J] –became the mark of the Beast. Figuratively. It’s been decades getting to the point where we can help people, and pardon my bragging, ma’am, but it’s people like me who are the reason why we can. Part scientist, part… social worker, I guess.

[The phone rings, and Jethro slides over on his rolling chair to answer it. He seems immediately worried, and after a moment of conversation he hangs up and rubs his face.]

J] Real sorry ma’am, gonna have to cut this short. I know you had a long trip. Maybe I can meet you somewhere that ain’t so out of the way.

M] Oh. That’s okay, Jethro. Um. How’s next Saturday?

[He rolls over to a calendar on the wall. July 2021.]

J] No… no, I’ll be needing a day or two off ‘round then. For the… weather.

M] …I think I see. I’ll call you, we can finish over the phone.

J] Probably for the best, ma’am. If you’ll excuse me, I got an emergency downstate. Small outbreak just confirmed, got some of that social work to do.

M] Should I be worried?

[He grins, throwing his labcoat onto a chair and pulling a dirty jumpsuit out of a pile.]

J] Hell no, ma’am. We’re professionals. Ain’t gonna be any rowdy gators causing any trouble.

M] …gat–

J] I trust you’ll see yourself out, ma’am.

(Buy the poster here!)

#HUGE thanks to my good friend for editing the virology stuff #and giving his perspective #office for the preservation of normalcy #werewolves #lycanthropy #lycanthrope #interview

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k-howlett · 6 months ago

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Prey | Jason Todd X gn!reader [PLATONIC]

TW: Character Death (Jason Todd), Mentions of hospital Equipment, Smoking & Drinking, light catholic mockery

Rating: Teen+, Implied Violence, Mild Descriptions of Gore, Smoking & Alcohol Use, Gender Nonspecific, Angst (With A Happy Ending)

A/N:

A songfic to hopefully get you guys excited for my(@/k-howlett) September Playlist Challenge (Which will be a 30 day writing activity (Songfics) that you’re all welcome to participate in! I will drop the list of songs and characters (specific to my account) sometime this month!)

Thank you for the continued love on my series (Breaking and Entering), I am very much in a DC mood as a convention is coming up soon, though I have a residual rush of Deadpool and Wolverine overload so expect lots of superhero fanfics in the coming weeks!!

as always,

with love and healing

-Lark(ly)

♬⋆.˚

prey - the neighbourhood

⇄ ◁◁ I I ▷▷ ↻

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ.

As long as,

you notice,

I’m hoping,

That you’ll keep your heart open

(keep your heart open)

I’ll keep mine open too

(I’ll keep mine open too)

♬⋆.˚

“They say some secret society runs the upper echelons of Gotham, y’know?” Y/N chimes in from where they lay on the roof of a beat-up Cadillac shell. The windows are busted out, and the paint is worn thin by Gotham’s relentless weather.

Jason tilts his head back, his expression a mix of amusement and skepticism. “Like the Illuminati? You gettin’ into conspiracies again, Y/NN?” His lanky frame is propped up against the car’s torn-off panel, his eyes flicking from the dark sky to Y/N’s silhouette, illuminated by the cold moonlight.

They were waiting for the fireworks to start, a rare spectacle that both of them, despite their tough exteriors, had always looked forward to.

“No, not the Illuminati. It’s much worse,” they insist, leaning over the roof to peer down at him, their face earnest, almost grave. The two of them, alley kids by definition, had always found solace in each other at the Gotham City scrap-yard. It was near the docks and dodgy as hell, but neither seemed to mind. They knew how to be careful—the needles that littered the ground were easy to avoid if you paid attention, and the dilapidated buildings surrounding the chain-link fences were just part of the landscape, nothing more.

Jason’s grin widens, that trademark smirk of his playing at the corners of his mouth. “Uh-huh. And I suppose you think the moon landing was fake too?”

“Oh, c’mon! Is it really that hard to believe? Think about it. The rich get rich, and the poor get poorer. Ain’t that what the saying is? Someone’s gotta be corrupt at the top, pullin’ the strings. How do you think Joker breaks out all the time? Or how GCPD’s incompetence hasn’t been talked about outside this city? Hm? And they say it’s hard to leave, too! Once you’re here, you’re stuck, ’cause they don’t want people like us to be free. To be like them,” they argue, their city accent thick with conviction, as if they’ve spent hours turning this theory over in their mind.

Jason chuckles, a low, throaty sound that vibrates through the night air. “You’ve been spending too much time listening to the old timers down at the docks. Next thing you know, you’ll be telling me the Bat’s in on it too.”

Y/N rolls their eyes, exasperated but not defeated. “Ah, whateva. One day you’ll see. Just how fucked this place truly is.” They cross their arms behind their head and lie back down as the first burst of fireworks lights up the sky.

For a moment, the world is silent, save for the crackle of fireworks high above. New Year’s Eve in Gotham was a strange paradox—celebratory and bleak all at once. The fireworks painted the night in bright colors, but the streets below remained as grim as ever. Jason glances over at Y/N, their face softening in the glow of the display. He couldn’t help but admire their fire, their passion for things he often brushed off with a laugh.

There was a time when Jason himself had that kind of fire, the belief that something better was possible, even in a place like Gotham. But as they lay there together, watching the fireworks, a small part of him wondered if Y/N was right. Maybe Gotham was more than just a city—it was a trap, a cage, and no matter how hard you fought, you were bound to lose.

But for now, he lets the thought slip away, pushing it down with all the other doubts and fears that plagued him. Tonight was about the fireworks, about the rare moments of peace they found in this chaotic city. He wouldn’t let anything ruin that.

As the final burst of light faded from the sky, Y/N nudged Jason’s shoulder. “Next year’s gonna be better. You’ll see.”

Jason looked at them, his smirk softer now, almost wistful. “Yeah… we’ll see.”

♬⋆.˚

If you don’t ask,

I won’t tell

Just know that,

Just know that

It all hurts,

it all hurts just the same

♬⋆.˚

Y/N sits at the base of the headstone, laughter spilling out in bitter, uneven bursts. The years had worn them down, every laugh wracking their frame with a painful shake.

“You know, it’s comical, really,” they mutter, voice dripping with venom. “You ditch me, go play house with your new family, and now look where you’ve wound up.” They take a deep drag from the cigarette, the smoke curling from their cracked lips into a wry smile. “Look what they fuckin’ did to you,” they say, exhaling slowly. “What a cruel joke.”

Jason’s eyes narrow, his stance tense as he watches them. He expected something—anger, maybe even tears—but this? It cuts deeper than he’d anticipated. “Hey, cut that shit out,” he snaps, his tone edged with irritation. “Not here.”

“What, smoking outside?” Y/N laughs, the sound quickly turning into a hacking cough.

Jason steps closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous low. “It’s disrespectful, Y/N. Knock it off.”

They grind the cigarette into the concrete, but not before taking one last drag. “You don’t mind, do ya, pal?” they sneer. “I mean, it’s not like you’re even really six feet under.”

Jason’s jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. He crouches down beside them, his voice cold but tinged with something darker—pain, maybe, or regret. “Yeah, I do mind. This place is for people to rest, not for you to play out your bullshit. You used to hate smoking—your old man would blow that crap in your face, and you’d go ballistic. Where’s that Y/N, huh?”

“Don’t tell me how to process my emotions, Todd,” they spit, their voice raw with anger. “What’s it matter now, huh? Why show up after all this time? You’ve been prowling around the streets of Gotham for what, a year? And now you want to make a grand entrance? What’s your angle? You gonna pretend you’re not the same lowlife Mafia bosses we used to mock?”Their eyes bore into him, full of accusation and pain.

Jason’s jaw tightens, his eyes cold and hard. He takes a step forward, his voice a gravelly snarl. “You think I wanted this? To become the monster we used to laugh about? Gotham doesn��t give a damn about redemption. It chews you up and spits you out. I had to adapt, or die trying.”

He leans in, his gaze intense. “You’re pissed off? Good. You’ve got every right to be. But don’t act like you know a damn thing about what I’ve been through. You think you’re the only one who’s lost?”

Jason steps back, his voice unwavering and edged with steel. “Go ahead, hate me. But don’t act like you don’t understand. Gotham changes everyone. Even you.”

Y/N’s eyes flash with defiance. “I changed because I lost you, so don’t get it twisted. Gotham’s not the reason you’re like this. You’re on some vendetta trip. I’ve seen the headlines—throwing the Bat into a brick wall in front of the little bird? Talk about a temper. I thought I had a short fuse.”

They let out a bitter chuckle, the amusement in their voice sharp. “Guess I underestimated you. Always thought you had more control. But now? You’re just another angry soul tearing through Gotham like it’s personal. Maybe it is.”

Jason’s gaze hardens, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. “You think you know what this is? You think you’ve got me all figured out? You don’t have a clue what I’ve been through or why I do what I do.”

Y/N’s smile fades, replaced by a look of steely resolve. “Maybe not. But don’t kid yourself into thinking you’re the only one who’s suffered. We all deal with our pain in different ways. You’re just louder about it.”

Jason turns away slightly, the tension palpable. “Maybe so. But at least I’m fighting to make a difference. Even if it means getting my hands dirty.”

♬⋆.˚

something is wrong,

I can’t explain

Everything changed when the birds came,

You’ll never know,

What they might do,

If they catch you too early

♬⋆.˚

“So, what was it like then?” Y/N asks softly, holding a beer bottle, their legs dangling off the edge of the rooftop.

Jason exhales sharply, his gaze fixed on the city below. “Shitty,” he responds with blunt honesty.

Y/N nods, their voice carrying a dry tone. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

Jason’s expression turns somber, his voice carrying the weight of his regret. “For the record, I would’ve come sooner. If I’d known… if I hadn’t been so damn ashamed, I would’ve found you first.”

Y/N looks away, a hard edge to their voice. “But you didn’t.”

Jason’s shoulders slump slightly, a resigned acceptance in his tone. “No, I didn’t.”

A moment of silence stretches between them, heavy with unspoken words. The city lights below seem to fade into the background, irrelevant compared to their shared pain.

♬⋆.˚

we need to fly ourselves,

before someone else,

tells us how

something is off,

I feel like prey,

I feel like praying

♬⋆.˚

“You keep a rosary in your car? Since when?” Jason’s disbelief is evident as he looks at the symbol.

Y/N’s voice drops to a softer, almost defensive tone. “Since your funeral service,” they reply, the memory clearly still raw.

Jason’s eyes widen in surprise. “Seriously? You’re not messing with me?”

Y/N shrugs, their expression a mix of resignation and irritation. “Yeah, seriously. The church preys on people when they’re down… and I was down.”

Jason raises an eyebrow. “So you turned to Catholicism?”

Y/N’s gaze is steady but weary. “God doesn’t come looking for you. You go looking for Him.”

Jason’s face shows a mixture of skepticism and cynicism. “Wow, they really did a number on you. You’re all in, huh?”

Y/N’s patience wears thin. “Can we just drop it? I don’t want to get into this with you.”

Jason’s tone turns more challenging. “Oh, come on. You really think if there was a God, He’d let this city of sinners last?”

Y/N’s eyes meet his, a flicker of wry humor in their gaze. “Maybe He’s trying to flood it. That’s why it rains all the time.” They lock eyes, the serious moment breaking into shared laughter. The tension easing ever so slightly.

♬⋆.˚

so, so I’ll probably,

take you aside

And tell you whats on my mind,

But you, you’ll just keep it inside,

probably tell me that you’re alright

♬⋆.˚

“What the hell happened to you!?” Y/N’s voice is filled with shock and concern as they watch Jason stumble through the door, bloodied and barely conscious.

Jason collapses against the wall, gasping for breath. “You remember when we were kids?” he rasps, wincing in pain.

“Yeah, I remember,” Y/N replies tersely, their hands already working to remove his torn and blood-soaked clothes. “I lived through it.”

Jason coughs, cringing as Y/N begins to clean the gash on his side. “Remember how you used to say Gotham was run by some secret cabal?”

“I didn’t say that” Y/N corrects sharply, applying pressure to the wound. “I said the upper echelons were corrupt.”

Jason grimaces, his face contorted with pain. “Well, you were right.”

Y/N’s hands still for a moment, their eyes meeting his with a mix of disbelief and concern. “Yeah?”

Jason nods weakly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah…”

Y/N’s expression shifts from anger to a deep sadness, their gaze lingering on Jason’s battered form. They finish tending to his wounds with a gentler touch, their emotions raw and conflicted. The weight of his admission hangs heavy in the air, the reality of Gotham’s corruption and its toll on Jason becoming painfully clear.

“And?” Y/N prompts, their tone a mix of frustration and curiosity as they continue tending to Jason’s injuries.

Jason winces, his voice strained. “And that’s all.”

Y/N’s eyebrows raise in disbelief. “You givin’ me my ‘I told you so’ moment?”

Jason nods weakly, a small, pained smile playing at his lips. “Mmhm.”

Y/N’s expression shifts to a wry grin, a hint of triumph in their voice despite the grim circumstances. “Ha! Well, I guess that makes me right then. I told you so!”

Jason lets out a strained chuckle, his eyes showing a flicker of reluctant admiration. “Yeah, yeah. You were right. Just… don’t let it go to your head.”

♬⋆.˚

if I run,

If I run away, I’ll never know

What you want

And if you go then I’ll never grow,

I’m undone,

let me slip,

let me slide

♬⋆.˚

“You’re teaming up with the Bat to track down John Wycliffe—who’s at the heart of Gotham’s corruption and causing problems in neighbouring cities—and subsequently the entire court of owls—and you don’t even know if you’re coming back?” Y/N exclaims, their hands gesturing in frustration. “Why? I just got you back—”

“I have to, Y/N,” Jason replies, his tone firm but strained.

“You don’t have to,” Y/N argues, their voice filled with desperation. “You don’t owe Gotham anything. This place is falling apart��it can burn for all I care. We could leave, get out of here. Just come with me. Please.”

Jason’s expression is resolute. “I can’t. This is bigger than me. I have to see it through.”

Y/N’s voice cracks as they struggle to keep their composure. “Don’t do this. Not again. I can’t handle losing you a second time.”

Jason looks at Y/N with a mix of sorrow and determination. “I need to do this. It’s not just about Gotham—it’s about making sure things don’t get worse.” Jason gives a final glance over his shoulder, a grim acknowledgment of their concern, before disappearing into the night.

♬⋆.˚

Something is off, I can’t explain

You know what I mean,

don’t you?

Something I saw,

Or something I did,

It made me like this,

could you help me?

♬⋆.˚

“Bruce,” Y/N says with a formal, measured tone.

“Y/N,” Bruce acknowledges with a slight tilt of his head, his demeanor guarded.

“Are you still banning me from seeing him?” Y/N’s question is direct, their voice carrying a note of frustration barely masked by formality.

Bruce’s gaze remains steady. “Are you going to be calm this time? He needs rest, not another argument.”

Y/N takes a deep breath, their expression composed but tense. “I’m completely calm.”

Bruce studies them for a moment, assessing their sincerity. “Good. He’s in there. You can see him now.”

Bruce steps aside, allowing Y/N to enter the room. The tension between them lingers as Y/N walks past, their shoulders tense with a mix of worry and determination.

“I don’t want to fight,” Y/N says softly as they enter, hands raised in a gesture of peace.

Jason, looking exhausted with an IV drip attached, raises his hands in a similar gesture. “Yeah, I don’t want to fight.”

Y/N gestures to where Bruce had previously been “I heard you took a bullet for him. Quite the change from when you were on the news trying to kill him.”

Jason winces, but his expression remains guarded. “Yeah, well… it wasn’t on purpose.”

Y/N raises an eyebrow. “Not from what I’ve heard. Seems like you’ve grown a soft spot for your messed-up hero family.” Y/N glances at him and the card on the table from Dick—His older adoptive brother.

Jason manages a tired smile. “Maybe just a bit.”

Y/N picks up the card and looks it over. “That makes you part of the team too, you know.”

“A hero? Not quite,” Jason says, shaking his head.

“More like an anti-hero,” Y/N replies with a smirk. “But definitely not a lowlife mafia boss or a villain.”

Jason chuckles, a weary but genuine smile on his face. “Yeah, guess you’re right.”

“Get some sleep,” Y/N says, adjusting the blinds to block out the sunlight. “I’ll be here when you wake up. Though, with your track record, who knows if you’ll be here after you do.”

Jason groans. “Can you cut it out? I nearly died, Y/N.”

“You did die,” Y/N says gently. “But you’re here now.”

They share a brief laugh. Jason pulls a pillow over his head to shield himself from the light as Y/N makes the room more comfortable, tugging on the blinds to hide the rare Gotham sunshine.

“I’m glad you made it out this time, Jay.”

♬⋆.˚

I don’t want to fight,

I don’t want to fight

♬⋆.˚ ♬⋆.˚ ♬⋆.˚ ♬⋆.˚

Approx. Word Count: 2,806

J.T. One-Shot (Songfic)

♬⋆.˚ ♬⋆.˚ ♬⋆.˚ ♬⋆.˚

Status Page: Here

Prompt/Character Requests: Open

#batman #bruce wayne #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #gender neutral y/n #angst #angst with a happy ending #platonic relationships #red hood #dc comics #dcau #court of owls #songfic #hurt/comfort #khowls_songfic_challenge

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two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat · 7 months ago

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My moms gonna hear back by noon if they've accepted our offer

Im fuckin nervous man

The house itself is kinda small but that backyard makes it fucking worth it

!!!!!!!!

The house!!!!! Has pawpaw trees!!!!! In the back yard!!!!!!!!!

#im super excited about those pawpaw trees #like i was gonna look into finding some to plant but if we move there i wont have to #cuz there was like 3 or 4 of them #hopefully they get fruit #and no bush honeysuckle????? anywhere???? i dont have to tear out any existing invasive shit????#just keep an eye out for it to yank it out as its popping up????#fuck dude #its near a lake so theres a bunch of hiking trails nearby #despite being in kansas city it feels rural while being within 20 minutes of a bunch of stores and restaurants #its gonna be a pain to pack our whole house up tho lol #weve lived here for 17 years so we've accumulated a lot of shit #and with how small the house is we're definitely gonna need to get rid of some stuff #but my mom plans to hire movers so all we have to do is pack #cuz she doesnt want her dad volunteering to help move things and she doesnt think my dads friends will be of much help #i could be living in a new place within 2 months #unfortunately the solar panels on the house arent paid off so we wont get those #but all the appliances other than the washer and dryer come with it #AND!!!! THE BACKYARD!!!!#the backyard was the selling point #and the street was so quiet #there was some plane noise from the airport but we get quite a bit of plane noise here too so eh #and that yard is perfect for a border collie #so much space for fetch and i could set up an agility course #and the fence is just chain link but its lined with trees so it feels private #no more sharing a wall with other people #theres a cat door going down to the basement for harley so i dont have to have a litterbox in my room anymore #i really hope they accept the offer

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pushing500 · 8 months ago

Note

Can we see mechis full base please?

You most certainly can! Mechi put so much effort into it (or rather, Wire and Megabyte the constructoids have) that it would be a shame not to show it off.

Behold, the colony tour of Sparks!

Here's a quick overview of the whole base as it stands currently. Nice and simple with room for one colonist and nobody else.

(putting the rest under here so it's not clogging up people's dash)

Here's the Void Monolith, well-lit and surrounded by chain link fences... Just in case.

We have a cemetery outside the main wall, which came from a prefab that some traders sold us. Mechi added the flowers and grass, just as a show of respect for the dead. He doesn't hate dead people as much as everyone else, I assume, since they don't try to talk to him.

There's our containment facility with platforms for Ms Clarabelle the sightstealer, Susskind the ghoul, and Kitschy Flamingo the fingerspike. They are very well-behaved, and Mechi seems to enjoy studying them.

To the right is the hospital, with one bed, because only one person will ever need to use it (that's Mechi). Anyone else can make do with the "guest room," which we'll get to in a bit.

At the back of the hospital is the shelter where Cowgirl and Georgia, our tw wildebeest, sleep at night.

On the other side of the containment facility is our lovely picnic area and fountain, next to the psychic ritual spot in a suitably spooky countryside hedge-box.

Then we have a killbox, which has only recently been constructed. It seems to work well enough so far, but it hasn't really seen much action. I suppose we'll find out in time, though.

We have a power grid of solar panels and wind turbines overlooking our farm, with lots of nice plants to keep us sustained. The farm is tended by Astro, Mechi's agrihand mech.

Mechi likes sitting on the verandah to drink coffee sometimes, but it's nothing too fancy. We have a ground-penetrating scanner set up, but not much time to actually scan for stuff. I think we've found a fossil deposit since we set it up, but that's all.

The kitchen/dining in Sparks is pretty barebones. The most important part is the coffee machine, everything else is just sort of there.

Mechi has a lovely bedroom and a private bathroom, with a comfy cat tree for Charlotte and plenty of things to keep him entertained when he's not researching.

There's a crowded storeroom beside Mechi's bedroom, and outside is the stonecutting bench and the spot where Butter the boomalope sleeps alongside Belle and Mariana the sheep.

Mechi's research lab/robotics workshop/library is full of things to look at and workbenches to play with. It's his most-frequented room in the colony, I think.

The "guest room" we mentioned earlier, which has stuff needed for people to survive comfortably as long as they get frequent deliveries of nutrient paste. The top half of the room will eventually be home to our ripscanners and the like once we've defeated enough mech bosses to get to that stage.

And finally, the "temple", which is just a hastily cobbled room to make Mechi stop griping that he didn't have one. He's got a neural supercharger (which he uses every day) and a biosculptor pod (which he never uses) and that seems to have appeased him for now.

And there you have it! The colony at Sparks, home to one snappy mechanitor, a lot of robots, and the few pets that are allowed to stay without being shipped off to Arwell the first chance we get 😁

#rimworld #gracie plays #rimworld colony tour #A Mechanitor's Message #Mechi is useless at art but still insists on painting everything blue and white #just because it looks cool #It's not a huge or super fancy colony by any means #but it suits Mechi's needs and that's what counts #he likes it well enough anyway #thanks for the ask!!#Have a super-duper day!! <3 <3 <3

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mordenheim · 5 months ago

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Did you hear that?

Jake grinned as he pulled up in his beat-up panel van at the back fence to the junkyard. Grabbing his bag of tools and walkie talkie from the passenger seat and headed over to the fence.

“Made it, Bill. No guards, no cameras. Should be able to harvest a good few catalytic converters before I have to bail.”

“Good work. Just keep an eye out. Been some weird stuff going on out there.”

“Got it, going over the fence.”

He grinned hooking the radio to his belt and tossing his bag over the fence before clambering up to the top. Very carefully, he twisted on his side, squeezing between the coils of barbed wire before sliding down the far side of the fence and dropping to the ground.

Wasting no time, he pulled a cordless reciprocating saw from his back and wriggles his way up under the nearest car. Turning on the small flashlight in his shirt pocket, he grinned as he spotted his prize.

“Jackpot!”

He rolled onto his side to shield the rest of the yard from the glow of the sparks that rained down as he cut the part free. Racing back to the fence, he tossed it on the ground next to the chain link before racing a bit deeper into the yard to search for more.

After about an hour in the yard he had nine stacked up by the fence and he radioed in. “Just one more to hit the quota for the night. Hell, I could grab a few extra if you w…”

There was a screech of metal on metal coming from nearby, causing the thief to jump, nearly dropping the radio. It crackled and let out a squeal of feedback before he could hear Bill’s voice again. “..on out there? You still there? Where are you?”

Jake’s voice was a hoarse whisper as he asked. “Shit, did you hear that? I think someone’s here!”

“Then get outta there! You can grab the last one somewhere else!”

“Not just yet. Lemme see if it’s actually someone or just junk shifting around. This place has been a gold mine tonight.”

“Dammit, Jake, will… … just get… .. th..” Static overwhelmed the signal and Jake shut it off to kill the noise.

Using the moonlight to see where he was going, Jake made his way through the junkyard, keeping an eye open for any sign of life. He slipped around a stack of cars and into an opening in the yard itself, his jaw dropping at what he saw.

There, bathed in the silvery moonlight was a gorgeous red Astin Martin with gold highlights. He slowly stepped closer, his heart racing. He reached out a hand to caress the glistening paint before reaching for the door handle.

Quickly, the entire car seemed to fold in on itself, panels shifting and sliding as a huge metal hand reached out from within the engine block, wrapping around Jake’s waist, gripping him painfully tight, squeezing the breath out of him.

Within seconds he was lifted high into the air, held in the vice-like grasp of a towering humanoid robot. Just looking at it, it looked like it was made from the pieces of the beautiful sports car. Despite the pain, he was still in awe of what he was seeing.

Knockout looked at the human with disgust at first, then he felt a little flattered at the look on the human’s face. He obviously had good taste in cars. Shrugging, he reached up with his free hand, tapping the side of his head to activate his comm.

“Shockwave. I have another human for your little “Pink Alchemy” project. How many more do you think we will need before all is said and done?”

The cold, emotionless voice of the Decepticon Science Officer rang in his auditory sensors, giving even a medic like him a chill. “Not many more now. With this human we have nearly reached our goal for a renewable energy source that we can transport from world to world. Human flesh makes a surprisingly potent source of biofuel.”

#fictober24 #Transformers #fanfic #horror #Knockout #Shockwave #Decepticons #Pink Alchemy #biofuel

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todayhisworld · 8 months ago

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#chain link fence #chain link fence install #chain link fence supplier #china fence panel cost #linkland #chinafencewiremesh #linklandfence

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barrierboss · 6 months ago

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wiremeshes · 10 months ago

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Wire conveyor belts, Barbed Wire, Rubber Conveyor belts: versatile, durable & essential for various industries. Discover their advantages & applications. For more information visit: Wire Conveyor Belt

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zeezed01 · 4 months ago

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Chapter Six - First Impressions

The morning was cold, the kind of chill that seeped into your bones and refused to leave. Percy tightened the straps of his pack, his fingers brushing against the worn leather grip of his pistol at his hip. Beside him, Leo adjusted his jacket, which had more patches than original fabric. The two stood just outside the hospital, their breaths misting in the early light. Behind them, Annabeth and the others lingered, their faces a mix of caution and hope.

“Stick to the route we planned,” Annabeth said, her tone sharp, but her eyes softened as they flicked to Percy. She stepped closer, handing him a folded map with marked routes and landmarks. “Avoid the main roads, stay quiet, and don’t do anything stupid.”

Percy smirked. “You make it sound like I’m prone to reckless heroics.”

Annabeth didn’t smile. “You are. Just… don’t this time, okay?”

Percy nodded, his usual humor fading. “I’ll be careful.”

Leo, standing off to the side, looked between the two and rolled his eyes. “Okay, mom and dad, we get it. Be safe, don’t die. Let’s hit the road before someone decides to start with the long goodbyes.”

Annabeth shot him a glare, but Leo’s quip had broken some of the tension. Piper handed Percy a spare knife, its blade gleaming dully in the light. “Just in case,” she said. “And if you run into trouble…”

“We run,” Percy finished. “I know.”

With that, the two set off, leaving the hospital and its familiar ruins behind.

The streets were a graveyard of civilization. Broken storefronts lined their path, their shattered windows gaping like empty mouths. Cars were abandoned in the middle of the road, their frames rusted and interiors stripped. Overhead, the skeletal remains of skyscrapers loomed, their jagged edges piercing the overcast sky.

Percy’s boots crunched over the uneven asphalt, the sound unnervingly loud in the stillness. His boots were sturdy but not comfortable—the soles thin from wear, letting him feel every sharp edge beneath his feet. Leo didn’t fare much better, his sneakers duct-taped at the seams, their worn treads offering little grip.

“What do you think this place used to be like?” Leo asked, breaking the silence as they passed a toppled traffic light.

Percy glanced at him, scanning the empty street ahead. “I don’t know. Busy, probably. People rushing to work, grabbing coffee, honking at each other in traffic. Normal stuff.”

Leo snorted. “Bet it didn’t smell this bad, though.”

Percy smirked, but his focus stayed on the road. He was keenly aware of the weight of his pistol against his side, the way his hand hovered near it with every step. The air felt heavier the closer they got to their destination, and the stillness carried a tension that set his nerves on edge.

“What do you think this camp is like?” Leo asked after a moment.

Percy shrugged. “No idea. Could be a group of friendly survivors. Could be another pack of psychos.” He shot Leo a sidelong glance. “You still good with this?”

Leo’s grin didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You kidding? I love walking into potentially deadly situations.”

After hours of walking, the first signs of the camp came into view. Smoke curled lazily into the sky, the faint scent of burning wood carrying on the breeze. Percy motioned for Leo to crouch behind a row of rusted-out cars, and the two of them peered over the hoods.

The camp was enclosed by a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire. The fence itself was reinforced with wooden panels and sheets of corrugated metal, a makeshift fortification that looked sturdy enough to keep out the dead—or anyone unwelcome. At the gate, two men stood guard, rifles slung casually over their shoulders. They looked relaxed but alert, their eyes sweeping the road ahead.

Inside, white canvas tents were arranged in neat rows, their pristine appearance starkly contrasting with the filth of the outside world. Men—most of them white and dressed in military-style clothing—moved with purpose. They carried rifles, pistols, and the occasional machete, their weapons a natural extension of themselves. Women were present too, though fewer in number, tending to communal fires or moving supplies. They seemed quieter, their interactions subdued.

“Damn,” Leo muttered. “These guys look… well-fed. And armed. A little too armed.”

Percy nodded slowly, his eyes scanning the camp. “They’re organized. Military maybe. Or something like it.”

“Yeah, but they don’t look like they’re starving.” Leo gestured toward a man unloading crates of canned goods from a truck near one of the larger tents. “You think they’d be willing to share?”

Percy didn’t answer right away. Something about the place felt off, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. The people inside the camp moved with a kind of discipline that suggested they weren’t just surviving—they were thriving. And yet, the sight of so many weapons made his stomach churn.

“We’re going in,” he said finally.

Leo looked at him, a flicker of doubt crossing his face. “You sure about this?”

“No,” Percy admitted. “But we need to know what we’re dealing with.”

The guards stopped them at the gate, their rifles raised but not aimed. Percy raised his hands slowly, his tone calm. “We’re not looking for trouble. Just passing through and heard there was a camp.”

The guards exchanged a look before one of them disappeared inside. Moments later, a tall, broad-shouldered man emerged. He wore a black vest over a gray shirt, a handgun holstered at his side. His sharp blue eyes studied them like they were specimens under a microscope.

“I’m Davis,” he said. “You’re lucky we’re feeling generous today. Come on in.”

Percy and Leo exchanged a glance but followed him inside.

Up close, the camp was even more impressive. The paths were swept clean, the tents pristine. There was no trash, no sign of decay. Men worked methodically, reinforcing parts of the fence or patrolling the perimeter. A group practiced at a makeshift firing range, their shots cracking sharply in the air.

The women were quieter, tending to a communal kitchen or sitting in small clusters. Their interactions were subdued, their laughter rare. Percy noticed one of them flinch when a man barked an order nearby.

“What’s the deal with this place?” Leo whispered.

“I don’t know,” Percy said, his voice low. “But keep your eyes open.”

Davis led them to a large tent near the back of the camp. Inside, a folding table was set up with clipboards, pens, and stacks of papers.

“You’ll need to fill these out,” Davis said, gesturing to the forms. “Basic information. Name, age, skills. Standard stuff.”

Percy picked up a clipboard, scanning the questions. Most were simple—name, age, useful skills—but as he read further, his stomach tightened. Some of the questions were strange: Do you have military experience? Do you have children? What are your views on community loyalty?

Leo raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment, his pen scratching against the paper as he filled out his form. Percy followed suit, though he hesitated over some of the stranger questions.

When they were done, Davis collected the forms without reading them. “You’ll stay the night. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

As they were led to a small tent near the edge of the camp, Percy couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting the camp in shadows. Despite the glow of the fire pit and the distant hum of conversation, the unease in his chest only grew.

#percy jackson #annabeth chase #nico di angelo #will solace #piper mclean #jason grace #leo valdez #calypso #hazel levesque #frank zhang #clarisse la rue #luke castellan #heroes of olympus #zombie apocalypse #solangelo #percabeth #the road we walk

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