#chatzy: felix

[mayihaveyournameplease]

TIMING: current LOCATION: The Grit Pit PARTIES: @mayihaveyournameplease & @recoveringdreamer SUMMARY: beau decides to scam the system. felix is the system. CONTENT WARNINGS: None! They are best friends. Nothing could ever go wrong.

Gambling was a problem Beau had struggled with for the entirety of his life. There was an unearned air of arrogance about him at all times. Other than his ability to twist words into shapes they’d never meant to encompass, Beau could do nothing else to maintain hold over his gambling. And yet, when a fellow fae whispers sweet words of a fight pit where he could bet for names, Beau found his interest piqued. 

It hadn’t been a hard place to find, it hadn’t taken him long to watch his first fight. It had, however, surprised him to see a familiar cat, one that he’d wanted to keep forever until it'd betrayed him. No scars remained from that interaction, except for the one slashed across his heart. Beau shot to his feet, racing down the stairs and into rooms out of bounds to track down his “friend” after the fight. It took awhile to navigate the unfamiliar maze but finally he saw the back of the person who had hurt him. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t my favorite little cat.” His signature smile was plastered to his face, but it was hard to keep the scorn off his tongue. “Imagine my surprise finding you here.” 

—

It was one of those nights where Felix had fight after fight scheduled with few moments to rest in between. They were already exhausted as they finished up one against some undead something or another that they could only identify in the vaguest sense due to its lack of heartbeat. It was a warmup fight, not meant to really draw a crowd. Felix was given permission to end it quickly, and they had. Not so fast that no one was entertained, but not so slow that it drained him. After all, there were more fights scheduled for later.

For now, though, the balam made their way down to the rest area for fighters who were between matches. They sat a little ways away from their colleagues, not particularly feeling like conversation for the moment. A nervous energy thrummed through them as they waited, eyes periodically darting to the clock. They were distracted enough not to spot the familiar figure entering, not to notice his presence at all until his voice sounded through the small space. Felix jumped a little, nervous without really knowing why as their eyes found Beau. They slid a small smile onto their face, offering him an uncertain wave. “Oh. Uh, hi, Beau. I didn’t — I didn’t know you… came here.” Anxiety clenched in their chest. Beau was still so mad at them because of the jaguar’s attack. Seeing Felix in the ring must make it worse, right? Their violence on full display… Shame ached in their chest. “Yeah. I, um… I work here.” 

—

Ideas flitted around Beau’s mind faster than neurons could capture them. He could cheat. A rarity given the way fae magic wound itself so deeply around faes. He could regain a fraction of the names he had lost. Of course, that would only be in number. The real names he had lost, including his own true name, were still hoarded by that disgustingly handsome man Elijah. Who had cheated to get them. At least it was his turn to cheat. His turn for something good to happen. That’s what kept the smile plastered on his face, his cheekbones pulling apart like a predator, slowly and without remorse. ‘First time here.”Beau explained, casually leaning his small frame against the wall because he had seen a cool man do it in the movie, and he wanted so desperately to be the cool guy. In a hall surrounded by rough and ragged fighters, he could be the cool guy, right?

The scent of lavender fabric softener wafted off Beau’s freshly pressed cardigan as he spoke. “It's been awhile since we’ve been face to face.” Nightmares of the jugar’s claws digging into his chest sometimes woke him up at night, the pain searing in memory. “But like I said before, I’m a good guy. I’m your friend. And I do forgive you. I just needed some time, some space. You know how it goes, for me to be a good friend. But now, look at me! I’m happy to see you. See how big my smile is?” His cheeks burned with the size and effort it took to maintain his smile. “Now as a good friend, I was hoping you’d do me a favor.” Beau lowered his voice, leaning in, eyes shifting up and down the rows to make sure no one was paying attention. “Throw your next fight.”

—

Things still felt so awkward with Beau. It was Felix’s fault, of course. Even if they’d never meant to attack their friend, they’d still done it. Their claws had ripped through his skin, left him bleeding and hurt, and intention didn’t really matter when it came to a breach of trust that big. Beau had been the one to get hurt and Felix had been the one to do the hurting. It was as terribly simple as that. The fact that Beau was willing to forgive them after that showed just how lucky Felix was to have him as a friend to begin with.

“It — I mean, it’s okay. If you, uh… If you don’t. I know I really messed up.” They could still feel Beau’s blood on their hands, sticky and thick. You never forgot a thing like that, not entirely; it stuck with you long after you’d washed the physical remains of it away. “But I am happy to see you! Uh, even if — I don’t know if this is a good place for you. For anyone.” That was the reason for the unease curling in his chest, right? Beau was here, and he shouldn’t be because it was dangerous. Because people got hurt here. That must have been why Felix felt so uncomfortable in his presence. At Beau’s request, however, the discomfort spread, and Felix’s smile fell. “I — Beau, I can’t do that. I’m not… Not allowed.”

—

“You did really mess up.” Beau agreed to their words easily, flippantly, because to Beau it was obvious how badly Felix had fucked up. It was gospel truth that hurting him had been in error. There was no self reflection on the situation that both of them had found themselves in there, and why a jugar had been out in the middle of Wicked’s Rest, because that wasn’t about Beau. Blood dripping down his chest and a hot white pain was what mattered. And then Felix was telling Beau that they couldn’t do this for them. After all they had done for Beau, they couldn’t do one single little favor. 

The corners of Beau’s smile faltered as he tried to keep back the ever present seething rage. How hard was it to follow a simple plan. “You can.” Beau told them. “You will.” Beau continued.. There was a fae bind wrapped around Felix, one that meant Felix would do whatever Beau asked them to. It was a shame he had to tug on that magic to make it happen. Weren’t friends supposed to help friends? “You will do this, I need you to do this. Throw the fight Felix. I want you to. I need you to. You’re going to.” As easy as that, the fae magic should take hold. “I’m betting big on this. Don’t let me down.” He reached out, a finger pressing lightly against the tip of Felix’s nose before moving away. “Well this was a very good talk, don’t you think?” 

—

The anxiety in their chest only intensified as the faintest anger spread itself across Beau’s face. It wasn’t entirely fair to Beau, they knew, but Felix never dealt well with anger being expressed towards them. Even when it was earned, even when they so sorely deserved it. It always took them back to a kid walking on eggshells under their father’s roof, or to those moments with Leo when things snapped from perfect to terrifying in a split second action. Instinctively, Felix curled in on themself a little, pulling themself away from Beau without thinking. As if they hadn’t been the one to hurt him before, as if he didn’t doubtlessly bear the scars their claws had carved into his skin. 

Then, Beau was speaking again. He was insisting. And there was — there was a feeling. Deep in Felix’s gut, like a knot tightening. Their options dwindled as, unbeknownst to them, two binds fought against one another. There was nothing concrete in the Pit’s contract that prevented them from throwing a match. After all, part of the full control the Pit liked to have meant that they needed to have the ability to decide who would win a match when the money started to roll in. It was about profits, at the end of the day. But there was an unspoken sort of rule that you weren’t supposed to throw a match unless someone with the Pit’s management team told you to. Not for friends, not for your own profit. Nausea tugged at Felix’s stomach, his whole body aching like he’d come down with a bad case of the flu. Without knowing about the bind Beau had put on them, they figured it was guilt. They still felt bad for hurting their friend, they wanted to make it up to him. That was all it could be, in Felix’s mind. They couldn’t fathom that Beau would tie them up in a bind. He was their friend. He was human, as far as they knew. It was guilt. It was just the guilt.

Beau’s finger pressed against their nose, and Felix flinched without meaning to. “Wait,” he said as Beau moved away. “Please, I — I can make it up to you another way. They’ll hurt me, Beau. Please don’t ask me to do this.”

—

A laugh escaped from Beau. At first light, a butterfly fluttering around, but quickly transformed into something obscene and loud. “Make it up to me?” The smile was real, but only because this was funny. Comedy in its truest form. “What could you, Felix, the little kitty who doesn’t even know how to fill out a driver license form do to make it up to me?” The words were a hiss, a whisper pressed sharply through his smile. He didn’t need anyone else in this hall to hear him, even if some of them had turned their pathetic eyes on them during his laughter. “They’ll hurt you the way you hurt me.” Beau’s finger slid off Felix’s nose, his hand moving to cup Felix’s cheek. A forced look of kindness and understanding on his features. “Don’t you think that’s fair?” Beau asked, his voice switching to one of the most reasonable man alive. Beau let his hand drop to the side. “Now, this was a very good talk. I’m so very glad we understand each other. I love that about our friendship, we’re going to go far together. On even ground as even friends.” 

—

The harshness of Beau’s words were so familiar. How many times had Leo said something similar? In that same tone, with an apologetic smile. It made Felix feel just as small coming from Beau as it had when it was his ex slinging the words around, and they shrunk even farther into themself. Maybe Beau was right. It wasn’t as if Felix had much of anything to offer in a friendship, just like they’d had very little to offer Leo in a relationship. And maybe they did deserve to be hurt. For what they’d done to Beau, for the blood still soaking their hands. They looked down at those hands now, curled in their lap where they sat. If they did this, they’d be punished for it. They knew that. Even if the bind from their contract didn’t hurt them, the people in charge of the Pit would. The fight would. There was no way to throw a fight and walk away from it unscathed. 

But… Beau was right, wasn’t he? Felix deserved to be hurt, because Felix had hurt Beau. Swallowing, and feeling so little control over the action, they nodded their head. “Yeah,” they agreed quietly, “okay. I, uh… I’ll throw the fight.” The words tasted like acid on his tongue, burning all the way out.

—

“You’re a good person, Felix. I knew I liked you.” All signs of anger had faded from Beau, docile once more now that he had gotten his way. No more need to throw a fit, or slam his huge emotions around, he had won. “That’s what I like to hear.” Beau clapped a hand across Felix’s arm. “I have some bets I need to place, but I will be in the seats watching. You won’t be alone while you go through this. I’ll be with you. And I’ll be ever so happy and sympathetic for you. I guarantee.” A giddy laugh released from him. His toes were practically dancing in place. Just like that he was about to get a lot of new names. So many names, all meticulously documented. “I better hurry. I’ll have to write down all the names I’m handing over.” Beau fished a notepad and pen out of his jacket pocket and started writing, walking away, a spring in his step. He’d already disregarded anything Felix could be feeling in this, because it didn’t matter. The bind was in place, and the bind was going to see Felix fail this fight no matter what.

“Oh, before I forget.” Beau turned around, his real smile still in place. “Make it look good. We all want a show right? I think the fans love it bloody.” Beau did not care for violence at all, if bloody was good or bad, he couldn't say. But the call to gamble was the swan song that made violence suddenly look appealing. He left, and made his way to the fae broker. It was time to get rich. 

—

“Okay,” Felix said quietly, unsure how else to respond. They flinched again as Beau clapped his hand on their arm, a distant expression on their face. On some level, they knew that this wasn’t right. They couldn’t imagine any of their other friends asking something like this of them, after all. But… they’d never attacked any of their other friends while shifted, had they? They’d never carved claw marks into Teagan, or Anita, or Mona, or anyone else the way they had Beau. If he was angry, it was justified. If he was upset, he had a right to be. Felix owed him something, didn’t they? They’d hurt him so badly, and he hadn’t even gone to the police or called a hunter or done any of the thousand things he could have done for retribution. Surely this, what he was asking, was a small price to pay.

Felix’s eyes darted back up as Beau spoke again, swallowing tightly at the instructions. Make it look good. Let themself get hurt, let their blood paint the floor of the ring. Beau asked it so easily, and Felix felt they had no choice but to obey even if they didn’t have the emotional capacity to understand why they felt that way. They only nodded, watching as Beau left.

Time stretched on and, all too soon, the fight ahead of theirs was over. The announcer was gearing up the crowd for Wildcat’s next match, for them to face off against the zombie whose coffee they’d paid for in line at the truck once and who knew better than to ever pull his punches. It would have been a decently close match, if not for Felix’s agreement with Beau. Felix would have pulled ahead, because they usually did. But now…

Someone pushed them out into the ring. There were lights shining in their eyes, and they felt sick. The announcer screamed the match into beginning. And Felix prepared themself to make it look good. 

—

The betting process had been faster than Beau anticipated, a fae accepted the names he offered to hold as a broker, and then Beau was racing to find his seat. He was giddy. His toes tapping, his butt shaking. When he won this bet, and he would, he would have more names then the count he had been out before Elijah stole all his names. His beautiful names. He was going to punch Elijah when he next saw the man. Or maybe he should set his pretty panther friend on the man. Have the panther maul the human until he surrendered Beau’s names back to him. Then he could maintain his distance from violence, just like he liked. The thought pleased him as he settled into his seat and waited for the match to start. Felix was pushed into the ring, and Beau beamed down at them. Whatever he was fighting, whatever was about to happen, Beau hoped it hurt. 

A zombie. Tasty. Or at least Felix would be to the zombie. Beau let himself laugh at his joke. A popcorn seller walked buy and Beau decided today was a good day. He would splurge on the buttery treat. Right as the popcorn was handed over the zombie got in a good fight. Oh. That looked like it hurt! Beau smiled widely, shoving the popcorn in giant handfuls into his mouth as he gleefully watched his friend get beaten.

—

Make it look good. They weren’t sure why they felt such a… compulsion to do everything the way Beau had ‘requested’ of them, but it was certainly there all the same. After this, at least, maybe they would be forgiven. Really forgiven, nothing halfway. If Beau needed to see Felix’s blood stain the floor of the ring to get past the jaguar’s claws in his chest, maybe Felix owed it to him to give him that. So, they went out into the ring knowing how it would end. They fought in a way that still looked like their normal fights; claws, dodging, kicks and ducks. But they let themself take more hits than they usually would.

They could see the uncertainty on the zombie’s face. Wildcat was known to be a formidable opponent, and they weren’t fighting like it tonight. The zombie they were up against was one Felix had faced before, and he recognized that Felix was holding back. Felix caught his eye, silently begging him not to say anything, but they didn’t know the other well enough to know if the request would be met. It didn’t matter, anyway. What was done was done. They told Beau they’d throw the fight, so they’d throw the fight.

Make it look good. The zombie sunk his teeth into Felix’s arm, and Felix let him. Make it look good. The zombie swept Felix’s feet out from under them, and Felix didn’t dodge the attack. Make it look good. The zombie landed on top of them, and Felix only tilted their head back as his forearm landed on their throat. In their chest, the jaguar raged. He wanted out, wanted to win, but it was like there was a… wall there, somehow. Like something was blocking him from emerging fully, like victory was never an option at all. The arm across their throat blocked oxygen to the point of seeing spots, and Felix tapped a hand against the mat.

The official let it go for a few moments after Felix tapped out. The crowd cheered and jeered, the announcer sounded surprised even if Felix couldn’t make out the words he was saying. And then, the bell. The weight disappeared from Felix’s chest, their head fell back on the mat. The match was over, the zombie was crowned the victor. Turning his head to the side, Felix caught sight of Leo on the sidelines. The look on his face said he knew what had happened, at least partially. That scowl promised retribution. Felix closed their eyes.

When they caught their breath again, they rolled out of the ring, limped back to the fighters’ area. Thankfully, this had been their last match of the night; they didn’t think they could have handled another. Settling onto the bench, Felix sat tense and uncertain, waiting to see if Beau would find them again.

—

Felix was getting destroyed. Beau found a new delightful glee as he watched them get shred into. Practically torn apart by the zombie without ever dying. Blood splattered the areana and all of it had to belong to Felix and none from the zombie. Make it look good never felt so good. Even if he was slightly disgusted by the mess and the smell of blood, definitly the sweat of the audence as they hooted and hollered. None of them knew what beautiful piece of history was in creation. What beautiful acts of service was partaking as Felix got crushed and slammed and bit and kicked. Today was a good day.

Beau instantly went to the broker. He collected his names, he reveled in the feel of fae magic tightening around him, as the threads of new names wove themselves into the pattern of his existence. Fae magic was beautiful, it really was. Beau felt stronger, better, he felt more. Beau knew that he should have gone back to Felix, but surely they were ready for a nap. Or in the infirmary. And who was Beau to take their precious time that they had earned? No. Beau left the wretched place, a skip in his step. They would probably message Felix later, if they remembered. Really there was no rush. Felix had deserved the beating they got, and Beau had deserved his new gift. He smiled. He lavished in the moment. He went home and cooked himself a nice expensive dinner and didn’t spare a single thought to the Felix.

[corpse--diem]

The Four Horsemen | Marley, Felix, Roy & Erin

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Warehouse by the docks PARTIES: @detectivedreameater @streetharmacist​ @theshadowandvalleyaremine​ & @corpse–diem SUMMARY: “And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him.” CONTENT WARNINGS: Gun use tw, Head trauma tw

Felix and Marley would be here any moment. Erin hadn’t slept. Couldn’t after the events from the night before. More death--needless death--had befallen innocent lives. How many had been killed in pursuit of one man now? More than she could keep count of, she knew that much, and even more had felt the aftershocks of ever blow. She thought she had readied herself for the cost. Whatever it takes. Another one of her mantras. Her gut twisted stubbornly anyway, a big fuck you to the mantras and the autopilot mode she locked herself up into the past few months. There was a limit to everything and her’s was quickly approaching.

Rather than pace a hole into the floor, she came here, pouring herself into their notes, crossing off businesses and people that were no longer a threat or under Roy’s finger. Made a note of the attack on the witches, the locations he had hit. It was all over the place and trying to figure out where he’d go next was like fumbling through Tommy’s image still sat unmarked. Purposefully. Didn’t feel like her box to check off. Sunlight burst into the dark room, painful for a moment after huddling in the dark for so long. Wasn’t hard to figure out who the silhouette belonged to. “Hey, just in time,” Erin greeted Marley, hunched over the metal table she’d been using for a desk. They didn’t have time for whatever tension remained between them. With Roy’s next move pending, it was nothing but a distraction. Gave a nod to the images on the wall. “I was saving the honor for you.” Marley hadn’t been the one to slay him herself but she more than earned this much. Held out a marker to her, the closest thing to an olive branch as she was going to get right now.

The light at the end of the tunnel was a little too cliche for Marley’s taste, but it really was the only thought she had as she made her way to the docks that afternoon. The three of them were meeting up for a strategy talk, because their two biggest obstacles were now out of the way. It almost felt fake to think, like she’d somehow believed all of this would never end. They’d be caught in the eternal loop of fighting and losing and hitting back and winning. That was how altercations between crime rings and police usually went, but Roy wasn’t just a crime boss, and the three of them definitely weren’t just police. Speaking of, Marley slid her badge into her back pocket as she turned down the lane towards the warehouse Erin had told her about. Though there was no one around, being followed was not something she could allow to happen. She stopped, waited a few minutes by the bus stop, before slipping into the alley. By the time she made it to the door, she was well and alone.

Erin’s voice rang out and Marley glanced around before letting her eyes land on her form, hunched over a table. She was squinting over at Marley, but the dark lighting of the warehouse didn’t obscure Marley’s sight at all. She moved into the room, shutting the door. When she came over to the table, Erin had all their notes splayed out and was holding up the red marker to her. “How sweet,” she said, taking the pen. Things were still a little tense between them, but their little forest foray had eased some of the anger Marley felt. And right now, anger didn’t matter. She needed to save it for Roy.

Her hand hovered over Tommy’s picture for a moment-- her face stung at the image, all the thoughts and worries and strife he’d caused her and the others crowding her head, but something underneath it all bubbled up, something stronger, and she jabbed the pen down, marking off his image with a bright, obtrusive X right over his face. A satisfied smile fell onto her face. She remembered his body, alone in the forest. Remembered the feel of the blade as she cut through his skin. She only wished she could have been there to see Roy’s face when he saw Tommy’s head, packaged so neatly for him on his doorstep. “The honor was all mine,” she said, setting the pen down and turning to look at Erin. “So what’s the plan, now? Felix here yet?”

Felix wanted to take every streetlight that he passed by, avoided, in hand and crush it. Half in light and half in shadow. The fae hungered to paint the whole fucking town black. If he could kill the sun itself, he would climb over every star to do just that. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. They weren’t done yet. Soon enough they would be. He felt pretty damn sure of that. Assurance came in the form of a paper thin glass dagger. If it was enough to wiggle between Roy Chambers ribs and snuff him out, good riddance. It would have to do. His head ached as he walked toward their meeting place. He had a feeling the ache might stop when Roy Chambers stopped breathing. It was the kind of thought that would have warmed him under different circumstances. All it did lately was make his steps quicker, his eyes sharper.

The door to their warehouse opened and shut quietly as he stepped through. He snapped the umbrella he had closed and tossed it aside. “I’m here now,” Felix said as he moved toward the table. He deftly undid the buttons of his suit jacket and took out a carefully folded piece of red fabric. His gaze shifted between Erin and Marley as he set it on the table. A hand slid into his pants pocket. “That’s our ace in there. I’m keen to see just how sharp it is.” He kept his tone level even as his disposition shifted back and forth like a ship in rough waters. A brow lifted over the rim of his glasses. “Guess they’re down a bear, huh?”

A once colorless array of images lined that wall, starting with the bossman himself, to Tommy. Many dead, some in jail, and the most cowardice of the few had fled. Turns out fear and money inspired limited loyalty. Even Dale was up there, his stupid grin marked off with a fat, red X - the very first. Triumphs spread slowly, but steadily, the crimson marking them one by one until only the last remained. “Feels pretty good, huh?” Erin asked with the whisper of a smile hiding behind furrowed brows. It was important to remember these moments. To appreciate the wins, big or little, because they sure as hell wouldn’t be forgetting their losses. Helped remind them why it was worth it, why they were doing this at all. “I’ve got a couple ideas, but I’ll wait for Felix to explain,” she answered, smoothing out the corner of the map she was looking over.

Almost on cue, she watched him slip through the door. His demeanour was far different than she usually recalled. Darker. Sharper, like the knife beneath the red cloth. Not even Felix, who’d made a point to keep his participation quiet, hidden in the shadows, had gone untouched in this war. She waited just a moment, eyes bouncing hesitantly between the two until she reached for it, anxious to reveal it live and in-person. The hilt was simple, sturdy, but once removed from the sheath, her eyes never left the glass blade. “This is it, huh?” An image of the blade sinking into undead skin, watching the life slip from his eyes, brought a dark sense of satisfaction she wasn’t prepared to admit or indulge. “Sturdy enough to crack that thick skull, you think?” She asked, teasing a smile for just a moment. “Thank you,” she nodded at him, gesturing towards the dagger. Slipped it back into the sheath and set it onto the table. Took a deep breath. “I know it wasn’t easy. None of this has been. It’s not about to get easier. But we’re almost there,” she glanced between them both, trying to hold back some of the smugness in the curve of her lips. “We’re gonna get him.” It wasn’t a question, or a matter of if any more.

Marley’s eyes went to Felix when he entered. His entire demeanor had changed. She didn’t even need to be a body language expert to see that. But what she did see that others wouldn’t was the darkness in his step. It wasn’t hidden inside of him anymore. After his loss, after everything they’d all given up to get here, it made sense. It was now a darkness they all carried. The three of them together. Marley didn’t move when the knife was placed between them and Erin unraveled it like it was the answer to all of life’s questions. And, for their purpose, it sort of was. It glinted in the dim light and reflected Erin’s eyes. Marley watched her closely. Victory was so close she could taste it, but being hasty would ruin it. She reached out and put a hand over Erin’s. “He’s going down,” she reassured, “we just have to make sure we do it right.” It felt a little hypocritical after what she’d tried to pull with Tommy, but Erin had been her voice of reason back then and now she needed to be Erin’s. “Right?” she urged, giving a little squeeze. She could feel the eagerness inside her own bones as well. When they were finished with this, things would be better. Safer. She wouldn’t have to be looking over her shoulder or worrying if someone was going to show up at Anita’s. The strange anxiety of worrying about other people was still making Marley’s stomach churn with a sourness she wasn’t used to. She’d questioned once or twice whether she truly was cut out to care about others, but if she didn’t try, she’d never know. Never prove everyone wrong. And this? This was the ultimate test, wasn’t it? Her gaze turned to Felix. “We should strike at night,” she said, turning to face the table, “we need to figure out the best place to confront him, too.”

“Don’t mention it,” Felix said with a slight nod. As the knife came into view, he couldn’t help a slim smile. It was the subtle sort of knife. The kind he could appreciate on its own but could appreciate more when it was sticking out of someone, their face frozen in shock. “Consider him dead already.” He said it easily enough, hardly a breath between. He ran his thumb along the line of his jaw as he thought. “It’d be best to get him where he’s most comfortable. A fat cat like that? I’d wager a nightly house call could do it.” He looked over towards Marley with a small smile. They had done one hell of a job before and he was sure they could do it again. As many times as they needed to. The grin widened, sharpened, as he looked toward Erin. “It’s exciting, right?” He shook out his shoulders some. Roy had made it personal for every single one of them. Whoever had said that an eye for an eye made the whole world blind just wasn’t cut out for it. “Whatever we decide, we do it now or not at all. We got all the pieces. We just need to make the moves. Checkmate his punk ass right into the gutter.”

A night attack was the only thing that made sense when your partners thrived in the safety of shadows. Erin couldn’t help the slight twinge of anger that pulled in her chest at Marley’s words. Hard to forget the panicked wallop that had socked her in the gut after Marley ran off on her own, determined to take Tommy down herself. Damn near jeopardized the whole mission. Did Marley really think she’d pull something like that herself now? It was tempting, sure. But she knew better. Wasn’t like she stood a chance against the guy on her own. “Right,” she assured her, a curt nod following. None of that mattered now. There was one goal and everything they had left had to focus on that. Nothing else. Erin squeezed her hand back before jumping right back into it, moving back to the map on the table. “Alright, so, I haven’t been able to locate exactly where he lives yet. The guy doesn’t want to be found or bothered, right? My guess is somewhere on Harris Island or in one of the gated communities in East End.” Felix was right though. This was exciting. Even found herself fighting back a smile as she spoke. “Even if he’s juiced up on someone else’s magic, there’s three of us and one of him. I think my best bet, and our best bet, is to have me slip in at the end with the knife after you’ve distracted and beaten his ‘punk ass’ down enough--”

“Wow. Seriously--wow.”

A loud, slow clap suddenly boomed from the otherside of the warehouse. Footsteps followed with a booming laugh that made every bone in Erin’s body freeze up. She knew that laugh, that voice. Couldn’t forget it if she’d tried, not with the way it haunted most of her waking thoughts.

Roy stopped clapping long enough to slip his hands into his pockets, dark eyes peering not at the three of them hovering around the table. He spared a few glances but he couldn’t stop staring at their board, the notes taped to the wall, like this was a full fledged investigation. He seemed more… disheveled than usual. Manic almost. “I’ve gotta hand it to your rag tag little group here, Nichols. You all have been nothing if not thorough, haven’t you?” A seething smirk lifted the corner of his lips before he gestured with a nod from the way he’d just come. “Although, with that in mind, you’d think you’d remember to lock the back entrance to your super secret club hideout.” He glanced towards Marley, then to Felix. “Or even hide your tracks a little better on the way here. Rookie mistake. You’re new at this, I get that. Mistakes happen.”

He took a few steps closer, slow, never daring a move that could jar them into action. Not yet. Even when he stiffened at the sight of Tommy on the wall. Took more self-control than he initially anticipated but he worked his jaw, regaining his composure. That shit-eating grin replaced the hard line he’d momentarily allowed to slip onto his features. “Mr. Doyle. Ms. Stryder,” he nodded at her two companions. “You wanted me, right? Well, here I am. You’ve got me.”

The chill that ran down Marley’s spine was one she was sure she’d caused others to feel many times. On herself, it felt wrong. Foreign. The clapping had cut through the air around them like knives and she’d turned stiffly to watch Roy stroll from the shadows and straight towards them. Her hand twitched to her gun, but she knew it wouldn’t work. Perhaps slow him down, maybe, but it would not kill. It could not. But it was her only line of defense right now, since the sun sat high in the sky. She swallowed, watched him closely, subconsciously taking a step to put herself between Roy’s path and Erin. Felix was closest to him now. Her eyes narrowed behind her sunglasses-- no, she wasn’t completely defenseless. If he could feel fear, then she could use her ace in the hole. Getting him to look at her would be the hardest part. “Didn’t your mother teach you to knock? It’s rude to just come inside uninvited,” she growled, standing perfectly still, eyes unblinking as she glared him down.

Felix looked at Roy head on as he walked in. His own movements were small, casual, as he reached into his pocket to produce a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. “Don’t they just, old sport.” Flame kissed the end of his cigarette. His anger was barely contained under false human skin. The weight of his head felt uneven as he tipped it to the side. A puff of smoke faded and brought his own grin into view. “You went looking for us, huh? Smart. Can’t blame you at all. You know, we were thinking of doing just that ourselves. Nice to see that we broke even on that one, huh?” He shifted his posture slightly, stood up straight and angled his head once more. The next drag he took of his cigarette was slow and deliberate. He gestured towards Roy with the hand that held it. “Say, we do something to set you off there, pal?”

There was an unsettling fury radiating from Roy. Erin could sense it even from here, could see something not quite right in his eyes. Every step, every word eased out of him methodically. Even the way he rolled the cuffs of his sleeves up seemed tempered, brimming with the same unease she saw in those dark eyes. But she only stood, unmoving, tensing every time Felix or Marley quipped his way, agitating him a little more each time. Slowly, so slowly, she moved her hand towards the clothed knife--

“Ah, ah--I see you, Nichols.” Roy’s dark eyes were firmly on her now. Mid-air, her hand hovered above the knife. Still himself, except for the jostling that loosened his silk tie until his neck was completely bare. That sharp smile returned when he watched the smoke curl loosely around Felix’s hand. “Oh, I’m doing peachy keen, friends. Thanks for asking.” He tilted his head slightly, gesturing towards Marley with one hand as the other sunk into his front pocket. “Well, you know, thank you for asking Felix. I’m doing swell. I mean, outside of the fact that you murdered one of my best men. That one did kind of sting a little.” He shrugged, face and nose crinkling with a feigned apathy. “I’m tired though. Aren’t you guys tired? You’ve been at this for--what? A few months now? Blowing up buildings, fighting, getting people killed.” He put a hand to his chest, the corner of his mouth lifting again. “I’m ready for this to be over. What about you? Hm?”

There was a long pause, as if he was waiting for some particular sort of answer. Satisfied after a moment, he nodded. He pulled his hands from his pockets, fingers splayed outward. “That’s what I thought. Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?” He felt the warmth trickling from his fingertips, the magic pulsing from every dead vein, and without hesitation, his fingers snapped inward, balling into a fist. Every single window in the warehouse crackled, glass bursting out as light poured in. “Much better,” he laughed, though it was swallowed by the deafening shattering. He moved, hands outstretched as he inwardly switched gears, flipping through the coven’s magic like an arsenal. Ribbons of fire stretched from his fingertips, shooting out at the table they all hovered near, very pointedly setting the wall of images up in flames.  

Marley’s eyes watched him closely, every movement, every twitch. It was clear he was going to attack. The only thing to figure out was when. Marley felt her chest tightening, pounding. Tommy was dead because of her, and her face was scarred because of him. She would not reveal her hand yet, though. They needed to play it cool, needed to think of a strategy first. She did not answer any of his question, only stayed poised. When his hands came back up out of his pockets, she knew. The windows shattered around them, a loud booming. The rain of glass sounding like a terrifying waterfall of shards. She covered her head, her face, immediately standing back up once it was over. The fire lashed at the wall they’d put up, setting it quickly ablaze. Marley grabbed Erin and pulled her out of the way, holding up her gun. Fired once, twice, directly into him, knowing it was simply there to provide a distraction. If Felix could get to him, they would be okay. That’s all Erin and Marley were now, distractions. “Go,” she hissed at him, “we’ll cover you!” She shoved the gun into Erin’s hands and reached down for her taser baton. “C’mon, big boy!” she hooted at Roy, “must be tiring being so old and ineffective.”

“One of your best guys, huh? You hate to see it.” The twitch of a smile lifted the corners of Felix’s mouth. That telltale smell of magic was thick in his nose. Reactions in the air, the give and take. It wasn’t quite fire and brimstone. There was too much light in the room with the windows busted but they would have to make do. There was no other option. Marley and Erin would be fine. They had to be, even as glass rained and gunshots fired. And now Roy was alone whereas they were three. But sometimes, numbers didn’t mean much. Maybe that wouldn’t be the case here. They had shit to make even. The fae flicked his cigarette aside and sought out the dark where he could. There wasn’t much. Any sunlight would sizzle him and if he stayed in it long enough… He shed the human skin he wore. It wouldn’t do him any good. Any effort would need to be put into getting close. Close enough to get his metaphorical teeth around the magic that Roy spilled over with. He slipped his glasses off and tossed them aside. As much as he wanted to spit venom, it was counterproductive. He slipped along the walls where the light didn’t touch, his steps light. Roy was close. Close enough that Felix’s blood crackled with potential magic and his mouth watered. But not close enough. Not yet.

The bullets sent Roy back a few steps, like taking a bat to the chest a few times, splicing through undead skin and muscle. “Cute,” he huffed, a thin, razor sharp smirk filling his features as he shot a glare at Marley. Wasn’t his first time taking a shot to the chest. But it was Felix who caught his attention, thick black wisps and bright eyes birthing from the solace of what little darkness remained. “Oh, there he is!” Roy shouted excitedly, peering into the darkness. A lampade. Huh. Seemed Erin had a few tricks left up her sleeve after all. Made sense now, the resiliency of their efforts. She’d only stood a chance because she’d been the only human in the room. Either way, he’d have to be more careful about where he threw his magic around now. “What happened there, bud? Get caught on a chandelier or something?” He smirked, peering over, careful not to look directly into his eyes but it was hard to mistake the space where a second antler should have been. Barely casting the two women a glance, he switched his elemental ammunition. That coven had been a goddamn goldmine.

A gust of wind this time, as strong as a draft from a hurricane, hurtled them both back, sending the crates in the room and shards of glass with them. “Come on! Let me get a good look at you,” he practically chirped. With a flick of his wrist, he used the same current to drag debris and the metal table Felix’s way.

Shit, he’d seen Felix already. Marley went to bolt forward, but in the next moment, she was being thrown backwards by a gust of wind. She landed hard on her back, tumbling a few times over before coming to a stop. Her eyes first searched out Erin, standing despite the struggle for breath in her lungs. “Get up!” she said, grabbing her and hoisting her up. “Get behind something!” The table was flying for Felix, and Marley decided now was the time to act. Invulnerability or not, she had to do something. Felix was their only bet of getting out of this alive-- he was their queen on the chessboard, and that meant Marley was nothing more than a rook or a knight. Perhaps even just a pawn. Somehow, she was okay with that. Despite all of her years of self-preservation, of putting herself and only herself ahead of others needs and wants, she felt in this moment that she wasn’t the most important person in this room. She felt as if her role was already decided. And she was okay with that. She had to be.

She made it up to Roy in no time, swung her baton, and watched it smash into the back of Roy’s head. “Wonder how your bear felt in his last moments,” she chided, purposefully looking to egg Roy on, turn his attention away from Felix. “Do you think he begged for his life? Do you think he felt like a failure?”

There wasn’t enough dark in the joint for Felix to blend in the way he wanted to. Wasn’t that just the way of things? Not going exactly how they wanted them to? He grit his teeth. His eyes brightened by a slim margin as the table came his way and he rolled away from it. With a crash, it collided with the wall. Rays of sunlight burned down on his darkened fingertips and he quickly pulled his hand into his chest. His eyes widened as Marley threw herself at Roy, baton in hand like some warrior. She sure fucking was a warrior but that didn’t seem to phase Roy as he tossed her aside. “Marley!” Roy was a large man with a large shadow, the way he stood with the sunlight pouring in. It was large enough that Felix might be able to fit into it. Something seemed to change in the air as the fae crept closer. It felt heavier.

Erin barely had a grip on the gun before her and Marley both were swept off their feet. This wasn’t the fucking plan. It was the only thing racing through her mind before her back hit the wall. A crack and a seering, burning pain ripped up her chest, making it hard to breathe. Even harder to move even when Marley yanked her back to her feet. Fuck. Hide? She could do that. It was about the only thing she could do. Wincing, she scooped up the gun from the debris and slid into position behind a sturdier looking metal crate just in time to see Marley book it. No, no, no.

Roy let out a low growl of pain when the baton connected, grabbing a fistful of the mara’s hair. A different kind of anguish gutted him. He’d never give the woman the satisfaction of knowing her intentional jabs were doing exactly what she intended them to do. If she wanted to piss him off, she’d done it alright. He gripped her hair tighter, the glamour keeping his corpse-like disposition at bay flickering with the intensity of his anger. Tommy wasn’t a failure. If anything, Roy had failed him. He grit his teeth, pulling her closer, dark eyes boring down at her. “I don’t know, do you?” He didn’t need magic to toss her away, clear across the room. She was nothing. They were all nothing. Gnats that needed to be swatted away, to be crushed under his palm. It was high time they remembered that.

The whistle of a bullet shot by his head. Then another--missed, again. The third one hit right in the shoulder and he turned just in time to see Erin gearing up for one more. So determined, so utterly human in her futile attempts, he’d almost forgotten she was even in the room. That dark smile returned and his hand shot up as he stepped forward. A new magic trickled through his veins, different than the ones he’d stolen from the coven. This was from the boy at the bar. He’d known it the moment he’d siphoned the magic but testing it here and now? It just hit different. He’d have to find him again, get another taste so he could practice. It took more focus than he realized but the pressure enveloping her skull was starting to take hold. When she dropped the gun, his smile widened at the sound of her screaming. Oh, this was fun. He liked this. He could feel the pressure building, as sure as he held her head in his palms. “Give your parents my regards, will you?”

Marley didn’t struggle when he grabbed her hair, yanking her up and holding her still. She just smiled at him, knowing what was inevitably going to happen when he let go. She would not give him the satisfaction of her fear. Like she’d told Erin not a week ago, fear wasn’t a weakness. She was surprised, however, when her feet left the ground and he tossed her away. Sure, she was flying through the air, but he hadn’t straight up killed her. That would be a mistake. When gravity claimed her and she came tumbling back down, it was with a resounding crack as her back hit the ground hard enough to steal all the breath from her lungs. She could feel the ribs snap and splinter inside of her as she finally came to a stop, wheezing as blood curled up her throat. It leaked down the side of her mouth as she lay on the ground, unable to move, her entire body screaming in pain. Fuck, this was bad. All she could do was hope that it had given Felix enough time. Tried to turn her head to look, but a scream from the other side of the room pierced her ears instead.

Erin.

“N-no,” Marley coughed, forcing her body against every protest to move, rolling over. Pain spiked through her chest, her side, her stomach, but she ignored it. Pushed herself up with her one good arm. “No…” She could see Roy’s hands, lifted up as if he were actually holding her head. She couldn’t see what was going on around Erin, but the way he was walking towards her, the way Erin was writhing in pain-- he was doing something to her. He was killing her. Marley’s entire stomach leapt into her throat. A fear like none other gripped her heart, shaking her to her core. Erin couldn’t die. She just-- couldn’t. Marley’s mind couldn’t comprehend it, couldn’t figure that as an option. Erin didn’t deserve to die. She needed to live. She had to live. This wasn’t supposed to be how this ended. They’d fought for months for this, lost so much and so much-- this couldn’t be how this ended.

“No!” Her body moved on its own. She gave one last glance towards Felix, telling him with just a look to make sure he finished this. She would give them the opening to. That was her lot in this after all, wasn’t it? The distraction. The sacrifice. It wasn’t something she’d ever thought she’d find herself thinking that, let alone acting on it. She’d always lived for herself and no one else. Maybe this was to make up for all the bad shit she’d done, then. Maybe this was how she saved herself as well as Erin. Maybe this meant her life wasn’t for nothing. Her body barreled into Erin’s with a heavy step, knocking her out of the way. Shoving her far enough out of his reach that she wasn’t a part of this anymore. Her eyes locked with Roy’s as she felt the pressure lock on to her, increasing around her head. It pounded and tore and folded her up. She let out a groan of pain, the inside of her skull vibrating. Through the haze, she grinned. Blood was already trickling down and out her nose, her mouth, her ears. She needed to make sure he focused only on her. Make sure he forgot about Erin and Felix and everything else. If she could just get him to look at her in the eyes, if she could just get him to look.

“I bet he d-died a-alone and a-afraid,” she growled through the taste of blood, the increasing pain, “I bet he s-suffered.” Let it all egg her on. “All because of...me.” She fell to her knees, still looking up at him, waiting, but he wouldn’t look into her eyes. If this was it, then maybe it was worth it. Maybe her life had meant something after all. God, Anita was going to be so mad at her. “What’d his head look like, in that bad? Was it r-rotted by the time it got to you?” She swallowed a mouthful of her own blood, grinned through the blue staining her teeth, her lips. “All because I sent the hunters after hi--” but she never finished. The crack! of her skull echoed in the warehouse, and her eyes rolled up into the back of her head as her body crumpled lifelessly to the ground.

Roy’s magic cup runneth over and Felix felt greedy. His shadowy skin sizzled as he stepped between light and shadow. It was a matter of time before he was meant to meet the sun. Today wouldn’t be that day. As for Erin and Marley, it wasn’t their time for the sun to set on either of them. They had been through too much, hemorrhaged out people as well blood. The thought of Jane dead alone in the wounds, what she might be had she not been bitten. The second attempt on Bea’s life and the thought of her wrist cold, still under his thumb. Erin’s home had been reduced to ash. Bones had been broken. If it could have, his inhuman shadow would have overtaken the room that had been their sanctuary. As much as they had plotted, they had laughed too. Shared toasts to victories and sat in silence at their losses. Erin’s scream and Marley’s wheezes had him crossing the great distance between him and Roy. If to burn meant victory, he would step into the light unphased.

The air was thick with magic as he waded through it. There was so much of it. He could see the blood trickling from Marley’s face when he crossed over to Roy, the way she went still. His hands grabbed the fext’s face and violently tugged his head over to look at him. Wide, unblinking moons stared into the depths of Roy’s eyes. The fae clawed his fingers into the fext’s human face and as Felix hissed through his teeth, he drank. His blood sang, his grin widened to something monstrous. It felt good to so readily take power from the powerful. To watch them wither.

“Look at me, Chambers,” he said as his eyes flashed. “I wanna see your fucking light go out.”

It was like all at once, Erin’s humanness caught up with her, handicapping her into a near useless form on the playing field. The same one she’d been a formidable player in, behind the scenes, moving the pieces up until now. Her strategies and her will meant shit all with Roy Chambers in front of her. When he set his gaze on her, the powerlessness and the pain was uncomparable. Like someone squeezing her skull, making sure that she felt every ounce of pressure being applied with every grating second that passed. Couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, couldn’t even hear herself screaming. This was it. Checkmate. It was over. This would all be fucking over--

Suddenly, with a jolt and a hard shove from the side, it stopped. It wasn’t over. Not yet. But--no. Marley. Her senses were slowly unclenching, but blurry as everything was, she could see Marley screaming at Roy, falling to her knees. Blinked again. Saw the blood dripping down her chin and the sickening crack that followed.

Marley’s body went limp.

He didn’t--he couldn’t have--no, no, she wasn’t--

Ice filled her veins and red filtered her vision. She wanted to howl and scream, to rush to Marley’s side. Wanted to rip his throat right from his goddamn neck. Felix had beat her to him. Almost instantly, he was rendered motionless, the glow brightening Roy’s face. The knife. Where the fuck was the knife? The red cloth filled her vision just up head. It wasn’t far. Hope struck like lightning in her chest. Gave her the strength to crawl forward, aching ribs bellowing in protest. But her fingers wrapped around the hilt. She could do this. She had to do this. She glanced at Marley, like she was waiting for her to move, to get up, to keep fighting. She wouldn’t--couldn’t. Erin grit her teeth and kept moving.

That bitch. She’d gotten what was coming for her. Tommy would’ve loved the way she fell to her knees, how her gaze gleaned over as her body slumped to the floor. Would’ve eaten his full of the woman. But the satisfaction that came with the crack of Marley’s skull was short-lived. From the depths of the shadows, Felix reared into view and all Roy could see was that intense light. Held firm in his grip, there was no avoiding it. Ensnared like a fawn in a hunter’s trap. He howled, a rage building in him like nothing he’d ever felt. He lashed out, dug his fingers into the lampade’s eyes, what little of his mind that was still tethered in place fighting back. But it was too late. He shed his glamour completely, his decomposing form paling beneath the rays of sun trickling in.

With a resounding, inhuman roar, like an animal gone feral, he hurled Felix back. Magic. He still had some of his magic left. Much of it had been devoured but there was enough of it coursing through his fingertips to finish the job. A swipe of his hand and another crate flew threw the air, slamming into the lampade to keep him down. He stood in front of him, the throws of exhaustion slowing him down. Every little exertion mattered. His hands rose up, slowly, burning with all the magic he had left. “You first,” he growled, though his lips curved into a wicked smile.

“Will you shut the fuck up, already?”

Roy perked at the voice just behind him and then stilled, completely, jerking still with a throaty groan. Not another word. Erin had sunk the knife into his throat, pulled it out, and dug into the soft flesh of his temple. She didn’t have a chance to linger on how good it felt when he grabbed her wrist. It snapped in half with one twist as he flung her off of him. She watched from the ground as he pulled it out, stumbling forward, practically disintegrating before her eyes. He was reaching for her, arms outstretched, but she couldn’t quite meet him in the eyes. Rage burned in those black voids, darker than anything she’d ever seen. Even now it horrified her, sending her clambering backwards. With a final step, he launched himself at Erin, the last of his skin peeling, melting to the floor. Grabbed her ankle, he hauled his rapidly decaying carcass forward, sheer will and pure, unadulterated hatred fueling those last moments on earth.

He knew his time had come but even now, he refused to accept it, desperately clinging onto this plane until his body no longer gave him a choice. His eyes locked on hers when he finally, finally stopped moving.

Felix could see it. The snap, the slight unhinge of the mind. The disconnect. It had been awhile since that old familiar thrill sat on his shoulder and grinned with him. It was a comfort to have one of his oldest friends back in his time of need. Even when Roy rounded on him, tossed him aside like something weightless, he felt grounded. Whatever magic Roy had coursed through the fae, who clutched his wounded stomach and wounded head yet still grit his teeth. He knew he would remember this, the moment when Roy’s lights went out and failure greeted him like a proverbial knife to the throat. As the fext withered and looked at Erin with the eyes of a man who knew he was dying, the fae snapped his fingers and laughed. He wanted it to be among the last sounds Roy heard.

As much as he would remember the fall of Roy Chambers, he would also remember the ones who had started it. Memories were a gift and he vowed to himself as he looked at Erin and Marley, that they would never be forgotten as centuries came and went. The weight against him fell away and he brought himself to stand on shaky feet. He could taste dark blood in his mouth and he blinked rapidly to right himself. Roy Chambers was nothing more than lifeless meat and bone. Bone that might be useful. Profitable. What better way to honor an enemy than by profit. He went to Marley and as he carefully assessed her head, he looked at Erin with dim eyes. Looked past the pile of flesh that rotted into the ground. It’d be impossible to thoroughly clean up.

“Didn’t really go according to plan, huh?” His voice was quiet and ragged. He didn’t smile. “It’s done and done but we gotta get her outta here, Nichols.”

Roy was dead. Erin sunk the blade in herself, twice, and his lifeless corpse sat rotting before her eyes. She kicked away the bony hand clutching her ankle. He was still again. Eyes glued to him, waiting, watching, like she was merely biding time before he spring back to life. When that moment didn’t come and Felix’s voice finally reached her, it took all she had to pry her eyes away. Glass crunched under her as she slowly pulled herself to her feet. Only then did she register the unnatural slack in her wrist and how it screamed in protest at the slightest movement. Her chest stung and every breath felt pricked like knifes against her ribs. Roy was dead. It was done. Felt like more than her brain could properly process, not when--Marley. Fuck. The icy fear that consumed her when she heard that sickening crack returned with a fury. They couldn’t stay here. Felix was right. Erin nodded, the world and most words not coming back to her as quickly as she needed it to. Roy was dead. It was the only thing truly processing, repeating over and over. As if she thought those three words long and hard enough, comfort or relief or anything would follow.

No, no--she didn’t have time for this. Marley didn’t have time for this. Felix wasn’t looking too hot himself but he probably fared better than either of them. “Can you drive?” She asked, rushing to Marley’s side. Still breathing. That was good. That was a good sign. Right? Fuck. Fuck. “Marley?” She called out to her, touching her cheek, willing her to wake up. Nothing. “You don’t get to tap out now, alright? You promised. We see this through to the end. Remember? You promised.” Dread built in her gut. She’d pushed her out of the way, took the blow. That could have been Erin. Should have been Erin.  

Roy was dead but that black fire still roared in her chest, as ugly and hot as ever as she helped Felix carefully lift her unconscious body. Panic swelled alongside fear, gripping her so hard she could barely breathe. Roy was gone and this had to be worth it. This all had to be worth it.

[mayihaveyournameplease]

TIMING: July 21st PARTIES: Beau @mayihaveyournameplease & Felix @recoveringdreamer LOCATION: The BMV SUMMARY: Felix comes to renew their license. Beau is there. It sucks for Felix! CONTENT WARNINGS: Domestic abuse tw (mention), grooming tw

In all honesty, Felix had no idea what they were supposed to do to get their license renewed. Leo had brought them out of the woods, so to speak, but he hadn’t done much in teaching them how to fit in with society. They liked to think they’d done a pretty good job readjusting by themself — thank you, Google! — but there were a lot of things they hadn’t thought about at fourteen which became much more important at thirty. Renewing a license was one of them.

The last time they’d done this, Leo had more or less done it for them. Their relationship had been a lot of that; Leo did things for Felix instead of showing him how to do it himself, and Felix was grateful instead of recognizing the controlling hand for what it was. They still hadn’t entirely wizened up to it, still sometimes found themself thinking of the relationship with nostalgia or blaming themself for how things ended. And they hated themself for that, too, just a little. 

But they were getting better. They were trying to get better. They were at the BMV, anxious without reason, were marching to the desk, were slamming their expired license down in front of the clerk. “My name is Felix Mendoza,” they said, “and I need to renew my license.” They’d been practicing the sentence in their head on the walk over, and it still jumbled out all at once, a little too quickly. At least they said the right name. That would have been embarrassing. 

—

The keyboard went clickity clackity under Beau's fingers as he stared at his computer screen. It had been a wonderful day at the BMV. Currently, he was pretending not to notice the weeping woman in front of him. "I'm sorry." She whispered. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I can't remember my name. I'm just so stressed. Please. I'm not lying, I'm sure that I filled out that form correctly. I'm just stressed. I've been under a lot of pressure and - " Beau lifted a singular finger, the universal sign for be quiet. A look of superior smugness washed over his features, bearing his teeth in his usual and well-practiced smile. 

"I would be so cheesed to help you. It would be my absolute cheddar to help you if I was able to, but without confirmation of your name, I just can't." Beau's smug smile failed at being comforting or pacifying. Beau ripped up the paperwork the lady had placed in front of him and tossed it in the trash can under his desk. The woman sobbed harder, being escorted away by the always-put-out security guard, Nick. "Next!" Beau looked down at his lavender cashmere sweater while he waited for his next victim, er, customer to come up. A piece of torn paper was stuck to it, he swiped it away with a scowl, quickly replacing his smile as his next patron came up.

"Nope, nuh-uh." Beau waved a hand in front of the person's nose. "We don't do names yet. One step at a time. You have to wait for me to ask for it, that way I can confirm you're the right person." Beau smiled. It was a genuine smile, he thought the person standing before him was cute. Brawny and toned, like they might be a fighter or something. Beau stood a little straighter on his stepping stool, doing his best to appear his tallest and most handsome self. "Now, let's take a look at that paperwork." Beau raised an expectant eyebrow, "You brought the paperwork, right?" Considering Felix Mendoza had just slapped their licenses down in front of him, and exclaimed their name, Beau made the leap and bounds in his thoughts to decide they didn't have it. Beau started typing and printing, and within moments he plopped the paperwork in front of Felix. "You can fill it out here, I won't send you to the back of the line again. I'm nice like that." A larger smile. He also planned on getting Felix's name. 

—

A sobbing woman was escorted out of the BMV by a security guard who looked more resigned than surprised, and the anxiety building in Felix’s gut grew. Was this a common experience at the BMV? Was he going to leave in a similar state? They hated how they felt when they grew frustrated, hated the way the jaguar in their chest always seemed to rumble when they felt this way. The jaguar was a protective spirit, but its idea of protection wasn’t always what Felix needed. Especially not in a BMV.

With the sobbing woman gone, the man behind the counter was waving Felix up to take her place, then silencing them when they went to say their name. Their mouth snapped shut quickly, and they looked a little sheepish at their mistake. “Sorry.” All that rehearsing, and they’d still gotten it wrong. Not only that, but they’d apparently forgotten the proper steps. There was paperwork involved? Hadn’t the paperwork been done when they’d gotten the license, or when it had been renewed before? It occurred to them, with a moment of dread, that they actually had no idea if their license was legitimate. What if Leo had just… used his fae tricks to get one without going through the proper channels? Would Felix get in trouble for that?

Their eyes slid over to the security guard, who’d returned to his post now that the sobbing woman had been led outside and sent away. The BMV was a government entity, right? Did that mean the security guard could arrest them if they had unknowingly done something wrong? Their eyes slid back over to the man behind the counter, not wanting to look overly suspicious.

“Uh, yeah, no, I can — I’ll fill it out. Sorry. My boyfri — ex boyfriend used to, uh, handle this kind of stuff for me.” Now if something was wrong, he’d know it wasn’t Felix’s fault. Right? Whether or not that would make any kind of difference remained to be seen. “Uh, can I have the, um… the paperwork?” 

—

Beau watched the person in front of him, their eyes slid from the security guard, then back to him. Beau smiled. Nothing new. Beau was always smiling. But this was Beau’s extra big, extra charming smile. It was a smile that said, you can trust me, I’m here to help you. Beau knew that was what the smile said because he had spent hours sitting in front of a mirror getting it to say that. Because smiles were not words, smiles were not bound to the same fae magic that bit his tongue every time he even thought of telling a falsehood. Wasn’t that fun? Smiles could say anything, and they didn’t have to sit behind cheese puns to hide true intent.

“Don’t worry about her. She’s just having a bad day.” Nothing there was a lie, the words flitted out of his mouth easily. “She’ll be back when she feels better. The BMV is a tough and stressful place for some people. Not me. I think that this is the best place in the world. The work I do here is so important. Helping people is such a rewarding job. I’ve never been more rewarded than when I started working in this field.” Because the rewards he gave himself were the names plucked straight from the mouths of those just trying to fill in their paperwork. Beau forced his smile to go even wider, because Beau was a predator, and the bearing of teeth would always be a threat.

Beau straightened up, straightened his sweater, and ran a hand through his hair. “Well, just call me your new boyfriend because I am here to help handle this for you.” Beau let out a belting laughter that caused multiple people to look up from what they were doing and look over at him. Beau slid the freshly printed warm paperwork in front of his newest victim. Then, with a flourish that was absolutely unnecessary, Beau pulled a flower from the pot on his desk. Except it wasn’t a real flower, it was a plastic flower firmly attached to a pen. He offered the pen with the smallest bow. “A pen will make filling out the paperwork much easier, don’t you think?”  

—

The clerk behind the counter was smiling at them in a way that was a little too big to feel natural. Felix felt like he was being sized up, somehow; it felt a little like when they first entered the ring to face off against a new opponent, when they circled one another just before the first bell went off. And in this corner, we have our reigning champ! The vicious animal from deep in the woods, the feral jaguar with jaws of steel. Give it up! Tonight, they’ll be facing off against… Some guy who works in a BMV! All they have to do is make it through a social interaction without making an ass of themself! Whaddaya say, folks? Can! They! Do it? 

No. No they couldn’t. Give them a boxing match any day, it was so much simpler. 

Apparently, this happened often. The BMV was tough and stressful, the clerk told them. The kind of place where people ran out crying. Felix didn’t belong here. Felix would have simply left, gone back out to live in the woods by themself where things like BMVs and security guards really didn’t mean anything, but Felix had a contract and Felix was stuck and Felix needed a stupid license to go to their stupid job so the stupid contract didn’t stupidly kill them because they were stupid. 

At least the clerk seemed nice.

But… maybe a liiiiittle forward.

“Oh. Ha.” The discomfort was clear in Felix’s laugh. “That’s, uh… That’s nice of you. I’m — I’m gonna be honest, I’m too stressed out to reciprocate.” Stressed about the BMV, stressed about work, stressed about Leo, stressed about life. Felix was having a bad time. So it went. “A pen,” he nodded, reaching out to take it. “Thanks, man. Uh, can I fill it out here, or should I go sit down…?”

—

“Right, of course, hahaha, I just…” Beau flicked a hand through his hair, looking away from the person in front of him. “I was just making a joke. You know. To ease the tension of the BMV. Because it's rough in here. Haha. Sorry! I didn’t mean for you to take it seriously. You know jokes right? You like jokes right?” Despite the constant stream of rejections Beau found himself facing on a daily basis the familiar sting still burned in his chest. Never good enough. Always rejected. The idea of getting to know each other, the idea that other people didn’t know him, the idea that relationships were work and not just things handed on a silver platter never crossed his mind. 

“You can fill it out here. If you leave my booth, you’ll have to go back to the queue.” Beau looked down at the numbers displayed on the screen. We are on 324 out of 639 tickets. That would make you 640 in que.” The ticketing system the BMV chose to employ wasn’t one that made sense. A lot of numbers were skipped in different orders, that way the BMV patrons never knew where they actually were in line, and they were just grateful when their number seemed to appear faster than they thought it would. It always seems like good luck to see a ticket go from five to twelve. It really made people feel like things were going their way. Just in time for Beau to crush those dreams underneath his little fingers as he stole their name.” 

Beau switched his gaze back to his computer. His fingers flew over his keyboard as he pretended he was getting work done. Normally Beau had no problem with sending people back into the queue. There was a delight in seeing their faces drop as they realized their long wait was about to be repeated, but as the day got later, more people filed in, so the wait would be longer than previously. However, Beau wanted this pretty stranger’s name. It felt right. He could play along. “Please hurry, I don’t want my supervisors to catch me being nice. Haha” 

—

Oh, no. They’d hurt the BMV guy’s feelings, hadn’t they? They’d been too harsh in their rejection, and that wasn’t fair. The BMV guy was being nice, was helping them out, was trying to do them a favor. Maybe Felix owed him a little bit of flirting in exchange for that. In their last relationship, after all, things had been transactional. They owed Leo for bringing them out of the woods, owed him for putting a roof over their head, owed him for loving them even when they were messy and unbalanced and difficult to be around. And he got so angry when he wasn’t given something he was owed. The last thing Felix wanted was a repeat of that here. Their eyes shifted to the security guard again, heart pounding. “Uh, no, not — I’m sorry. That was really rude of me. I like jokes, I’m sorry. I’m just stressed out right now. But you’re helping a lot, and you’ve been really nice. I thought your joke was nice.” 

The idea of going to the back of the line was almost sickening, and the relief when the employee assured them that he wouldn’t make them do it was intense. They offered the employee a grateful smile, looking down at the form as they filled out the information. Some of it, they left blank; they didn’t think they’d been convicted of violating any major motor vehicle laws in the last ten years, but what if they were wrong? Their eyes flittered over to the security guard again, which, yeah, okay. They were in Full Anxiety Mode here. They got that. The security guard wasn’t going to drag them out for answering a question on a form wrong.

Finishing up the form, Felix nodded to themself and slid the paper back to the BMV clerk. “Sorry. Yeah, it’s done. Uh, I think I got everything.” He hoped he had. Being sent to the back of the line — and worse still, getting the kind employee in trouble for helping them — sounded like the absolute last thing they wanted to do. “Uh, what, um… What’s next?”

—

Finally Beau was being given the praise he deserved. The cutie in front of him was praising his jokes. Beau preened like a bird, smiling and turning side to side ever so slightly. Pleased with the result of his actions. “Yes, my jokes are nice, aren’t they. I’m glad you’re smart enough to recognize that.” If Beau was his optimal self he would have fifty pairs of lips, that way he could keep adding smile upon smile. Instead, he was forced to let his smile grow bigger, stretching his cheeks to uncomfortability. “I’ve got a lot of jokes, you know.” He added, leaning forward, chin on his hand as he batted his eyes towards his newest most hopeful companion. “I’m a silly guy.”

Beau watched, enraptured, while Felix Mendoza filled out their paperwork in front of him. The little flower at the end of the pen swayed back and forth on the pen. After a while Felix was done and asked Beau what they did next. Now it was Beau’s fun time. Beau smiled harder, again. Beau slid the paperwork back to him, and slipped on his half-moon glasses. He didn’t actually need them to read. He just thought they made him look more distinguished. Beau was a distinguished gentleman, after all. 

“Now we’ll go over some details, confirm it's you, then renew your license. Easy as that.” Beau let out a small laugh, tapping the paper. Beau did note the lack of the thank you, but decided not to think too much about it. Some people just had no manners. Felix Mendoza was stressed, after all. “Okay, the first security question is the easiest, it’s so silly that they make me ask it, but you know how bosses are.” Beau drew out the moment of joy, the moment he’d been waiting for this whole time. “Alright. Security question one, can you give me your name?” 

—

The clerk seemed happy… or, he was smiling, at least. But it was difficult to determine if it was a genuinely happy expression or not. There was something unhinged about it, like he was a moment away from breaking. Felix had never worked customer service before — they’d been just on the cusp of being old enough for employment when they were plucked out of society by their father, and Leo had never wanted them to work during their relationship, so their first experience with a ‘job’ was at the Pit — but they knew it was stressful. Their older brother had done retail for a while before their father moved them all out into the woods, they remembered how angry it made him. Felix imagined working in the BMV was similar. The poor clerk was probably frustrated, probably spent all day being yelled at and abused. Maybe something as simple as laughing at his jokes could really help him out. 

“Well, uh, if you want to tell more jokes, I can listen. I like jokes.” They could… pretend to understand the clerk’s jokes, even if they weren’t sure they actually would. They’d gotten good at laughing at things they didn’t actually find funny, gotten skilled in the art of keeping people happy by pretending to understand them. The moment the thought crossed their mind, Felix felt guilty for the comparison. It wasn’t right to put this stranger in the same category as Leo. He seemed like a nice guy. He didn’t deserve all that.

Letting out a nervous chuckle, Felix nodded. “Right. Easy.” Was anything ever? Just existing in society felt overwhelming sometimes, like they were waiting for some inevitable other shoe to drop down and crush them. “Yeah,” they chuckled again. “Bosses are the worst.” At least the BMV probably didn’t make this guy maim people for them. Felix glanced to the security guard again. Hopefully. “Right, um, my name is Felix Mendoza.” 

—

“Of course you like jokes. What a relief. I can’t stand people without a sense of humor. They are so annoying, don’t you agree? Like learn some thinking. They’re always like “that’s not funny.” But what are they upset about? Huh? It’s just words. It's not like it can hurt them. If it bothered them so much, maybe they should lock themselves indoors and shelter themselves from the real world.” Beau let out a string of laughter, as if anything he’d said had been funny. Beau’s secret was that deep in his heart of hearts, he hated people. 

The words were said. Beau could feel fae magic, the magic of the world and its make up, shift around them. The threads of Felix’s life rearranged themselves and a crucial thread was snipped away and stitched into Beau. Another day, another name. Beau’s smile instantly changed from forced to genuine, reaching up to his eyes and shining down at everyone in the BMV. This was the moment that he lived for. 

“There seems to be a problem with your paperwork.” God he relished this. The anxiety that ran over their face, he knew that this would only cause their heart to race and panic as they realized they didn’t know their name. “I don’t think that's your name.” Beau leaned forward again, sliding the piece of paper towards Felix. Beau pointed to the words. “You’re not lying, are you? I can’t stand liars. It would really suck to know that I am going out of my way to help you, only for you to lie to me.” Beau let his smile falter, he let himself play the part of hurt victim in the scenario of his own creation. “I like you, you know that right? I’ve done nothing but want to help you. So why can’t you be honest with me?” It was a game of cat and mouse, and Beau was a cat devouring his mouse. 

—

“Oh, I…” Felix didn’t agree with that. They didn’t think it was right to suggest that anyone lock themselves away for not liking a certain type of humor. Again, they thought of Leo and his tendency to rage the moment Felix didn’t see something his way. And again, they felt tremendously guilty for comparing a stranger to the ex who had picked them apart so meticulously. Why were they assigning Leo’s faults onto a man who seemed to be trying to help them? It wasn’t at all fair. Were they so damaged that they couldn’t have a normal conversation without that nauseous feeling seeping through? God, they felt ashamed of themself. “I guess it is a little annoying. But everybody’s got their own sense of humor, right? Some people’s just don’t vibe with each other.”

Something strange washed over them as they said their name. They almost didn’t realize it at first, almost didn’t clock it until the clerk spoke. Their brow furrowed as they looked down at the paperwork, the words strangely blurred where they’d written their name. Like they couldn’t quite make out what they’d put there. Then the clerk was asking them if that was really their name, and — and they didn’t know. They didn’t know what their name is.

“No!” They stammered, anxiety clinging to their chest. “No, I wasn’t — I didn’t lie. I’m not a liar. I promise, I’m not a liar. I’m just… There’s something wrong. There’s something wrong with me.” Panic seized their chest, breath coming quicker than it ought to. They felt wrong. Something was wrong, and they didn’t understand what. “Please, please help me. I like you, too, you know? I — Please don’t kick me out. Please. Please help me.” The world felt like it was closing in on them. They knew they needed to calm down before the jaguar mistook their panic for danger and reared its head, but they didn’t quite know how. “Can we go somewhere? Um, me and you? I need — I don’t — I need to go somewhere.”

—

"Having your own sense of humor is one thing, but ruining it for everyone else?" Beau asked, eyebrows raising high into his hairline. "What gives them the right? You can think a joke isn't funny, but that doesn't mean you should take away other people's jokes. Listen, all I know is if you're going to go boohoo crying all sensitive as a snowflake over a little tiny pansy ass joke, then you don't need to be in the real world. You can stay safe and sheltered in your own home and away from anyone else with common sense." Beau let out a loud as if everything he'd said had been hilarious. As if implying that people who were sensitive to others' jokes were the joke. "How about they get sensitive to ruining my vibe?" Beau threw the word vibe back at Felix, adding a harsh emphasis to it. 

None of that conversation mattered though. Not when the true prize was reached. Beau watched as the realization that Felix didn't know their name washed over them. Panic distorted all of their features. Beau, personally, thought they looked cuter when they were panicked. Much more interesting. Definitely, like someone they wanted to get to know. "Are you sure you didn't lie?" The question was condescending, but not as condescending as the voice that he said it in. Desperation was a good look on so many people. It tore the options from before them and gave them one linear path. A path that led them straight back to Beau, and his mercy. Beau's smile softened in the way that a knife's edge is soft. 

"Go somewhere? I'm on the clock?" Beau looked down at his computer and started typing things. "No, I'm a good guy. A kind guy. I do want to help you. I can take my lunch break early. Where are you taking me?" This was fun. Delightful. The fae hadn't had this much fun in a while. Most people started crying or screaming or a combination of both. Not once had a person ever asked to go somewhere with him. That was disappointing, wasn't it? Beau was great to go places with. People should love doing things with him. Where would the human formerly known as Felix take him? Excitement drummed within him. He exited behind his desk and made the one-minute trek around all the work station to the door to the waiting area. Then the one-minute trek back. "Alright. Lead the way, let us go wherever your precious heart desires." 

—

He seemed… really worked up about this. Felix had learned not to argue when someone was this impassioned about something, knew that disagreeing with the wrong person in the wrong moment never led anywhere good. This man wasn’t Leo, and it wasn’t fair to compare the two, but he still reminded them of their ex. They still couldn’t help but think of the consequences they’d face when disagreeing with Leo during times when he was this worked up about whatever it was he was saying, and they didn’t want to repeat that now. So Felix shifted, shrunk in on themself a little. Mumbled a quiet, “You’re right, sorry,” that was more instinct than it was anything genuine, and hoped it would be enough.

They almost missed that feeling of smallness when the panic washed over them, when their name was a thing they could no longer grasp. “No,” they said quietly, shaking their head. “No, I didn’t — I didn’t lie. I didn’t, I swear, I don’t — I don’t. I don’t lie.” This, too, was the ghost of an old conversation, an argument Leo had started often. You lie, Felix. You’re a liar. You know you are. You lie all the time. How can I trust you? You’re probably lying to me right now. But they weren’t. They were sure of their name when they’d said it, they just couldn’t remember it anymore. How could they explain that to a stranger? 

“Sorry. No. Yeah. No. Sorry. You are. I know. Sorry.” The words tumbled out, the sorries like punctuation marks at the end of each stilted sentence. Panic was clawing at their throat, choking them. What were they going to do? They couldn’t even go to the BMV and get a license renewed without royally screwing something up for themself. Leo had been right, hadn’t they? Felix was useless on their own. But the BMV clerk, far more accommodating than Felix deserved, agreed to take his lunch break early. The relief felt like a physical thing, nearly knocking the balam off their feet. “Is there — Is there somewhere we can sit? Please, I’m sorry. I’m just — I don’t know what my name is. I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad. Can you help me? Please, I’ll give you anything you want, I just need help.”

—

Felix rolled over easily, so easily that Beau didn't notice there had been any disagreement at all. Because that was how all people should treat him. That was exactly what he deserved at all times. Unquestioned and one hundred percent agreement. Beau let the trace of that conversation disappear. He had nothing else to add, Felix had already agreed with his obviously right opinion. 

"You don't lie?" Beau cooed the word, Beau dragged out the simple sentence as if it was a kindness to Felix and not a blatant manipulation. "Of course, you don't lie." Patronizing, demeaning, dehumanizing. It said, I want to believe you but the evidence is before us and the evidence doesn't lie, does it? The evidence speaks the truth and the truth is Felix isn't your name. "You know you never have to lie to me." Soft, kind, as if Beau didn't know he was purposely grabbing a knife and twisting it deep within a panicking Felix's heart. 

"I accept your sorry, but sorry doesn't fix this situation, does it?" Beau placed a gentle and affirming hand on Felix's back, leading the panicked individual out of the BMV. The day was bright and warm, a gentle breeze pushed at his brown hair letting the tips of his greenhorns peak in and out of view. Felix was making a lot of big claims as Beau steered them to a bench and sat them down. Beau didn't sit down. Beau stood because when people sat Beau got to be taller than them. Beau liked how powerful that made him feel. Beau loved the power he held in this situation because he held it all. Felix was nothing without Beau. Felix was crumbling away, and only Beau could save them. Beau was indulgent on this delectable power. 

"Anything I want?" Beau repeated what Felix had offered. "I'm not mad, just disappointed. When I saw you I thought you looked respectable. Like an upstanding citizen in this town. But listen. I want that for you, I want to believe that about you. I think you have just made a little mistake and we can fix this. Together." Beau was grabbing Felix's hands in his own perfectly manicured ones. Felix's hands were rough and coarse. "If you promise me you will give me anything I want, I can fix this for you. But you have to promise." 

—

The clerk’s tone was soft, but with an edge to it. It was so much like Leo, so much like the arguments they used to have. You know I love you, Fe, but you’re being really stupid right now. It’s okay. I know you didn’t finish school. You don’t have to be smart. I’ll be smart for you, okay? Just trust me. Do you think I’d lie to you? Do you really think I’d do that? Felix felt their heart in their throat, pounding against their pulse point in a desperate thrum. They were being stupid here, weren’t they? They were so anxious, so terrified, and for what? The BMV clerk was trying to help them, and they were still comparing him to Leo. 

“I’m — I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t lie. I’m not.” For a moment, it was like they were back in that apartment they’d shared with Leo. They were trying, so hard, to convince the clerk that they were telling the truth. Trying to convince themself, too, even though they knew they were being honest. But, like Leo, this clerk had planted that uncertain seed of doubt in Felix’s mind. Were they telling the truth? Had they gotten confused somewhere along the way? It happened sometimes, didn’t it? Felix wasn’t smart, wasn’t good at remembering, wasn’t good at much at all. Maybe they’d gotten something twisted along the way. Maybe Felix really wasn’t Felix after all.

The nameless person leaned into the clerk’s touch, desperate for something to ground them. If they’d been looking a little closer at the clerk, they might have seen the horns peeking through his hair. They might have even known what that meant. They spent plenty of time with fae at work, after all, knew the spriggans on staff and the nymphs who sometimes fought in the ring. But they were beyond paying attention now, beyond recognizing much of anything. Panic gripped their throat, and panic was all that existed.

So they missed the rest of it, too. The familiarity of the request for a promise, the way it was so like the contract they’d signed. “I want to fix it,” they said desperately. “I’m not a bad person. I’m not.” They wanted to believe that, too. But it was so hard to believe things when they were the only one saying them. If the clerk said it, maybe it would be easier to accept as truth. “I promise. I promise, I’ll give you anything you want. Please, just help me get my name back. As long as you do that, I promise.”

—

Promise. Poets wrote so many poems about love and sorrow, but not enough about promise. The word was beautiful. Intoxicating. Powerful. It stripped people away and built others up. It armed Beau with more power than a spriggan should have. Fae magic was in effect the moment Felix made a promise. Threads of magic wrapped around Felix binding them, then waited, it had to wait. The bind would only tack effect if Beau followed through with his end. "Your name is Felix. It's your name, and I return it." The thread of magic wrapped itself around Beau, binding them together through promise. Til death do them part. The death would be Felix's, of course. If they ever chose not to follow Beau's instructions. Because Beau held all the power here. 

"All fixed." Beau pat Felix on the cheek. As if he was still doing Felix a prolonged and gentle kindness. As if Felix should be thankful that Beau was so kind to fix all of this, this problem that he had created himself. "Now come on and get up. You have a license to finish renewing." Beau led Felix back into the BMV, back to his desk, and back to work. As Beau typed away at his computer, he barely registered what he was doing. Felix had supplied Beau with such a potent promise. There had been no limit to how many times Felix would do anything Beau asked. There had been no stipulations. 

"I want you to hop on one foot while we wait," Beau told Felix, just because he could. For his own joyful amusement. Beau made sure to drag out the paperwork he was doing just to keep Felix in a prolonged state of obedience. So other people in the BMV could take in the sight. They didn't know - they couldn't know- just how much power Beau held in this situation, but he wished he could tell all of them. Revel in this victory. It hadn't even been a hard-fought one. Felix had been pathetic, sad, and giving. That was going to make this all the more fun.

Eventually, the new driver's license was printed and Beau was sliding it over the table to Felix. "Here you go. I want you to keep me in mind always. Visit me soon. Stay in touch. We'll have a lot to talk about. I just know it." 

—

The nameless person was unaware of the magic that bound them. One might think that, after dealing with binds in the Grit Pit for so long, they’d have some way of sensing the shackles they’d placed around their own wrists, like some strange instinct that could warn them of the dangerous deal they’d entered into. But, unfortunately, no such thing existed. There were no warning signs, no alarm bells. There wasn’t even a sense of deja vu to fill their stomach with dread. They had no reason to suspect that the helpful BMV clerk was anything but that.

Especially not when he returned their name to them.

It flooded them all at once, that quiet realization. Felix. Their name was Felix. Of course it was. How had they forgotten that? How had they ever thought differently? The relief slumped their shoulders, and they offered the clerk a grateful smile. “Thank you,” they breathed. “Wow. I can’t believe I forgot that. That was — That was really stupid of me. I’m sorry. That was stupid.” They were stupid. Leo always said so, didn’t he? He’d been right. This was proof of it.

Without really knowing why, Felix lifted one foot off the ground as the clerk prepared the paperwork. It wasn’t that bad of a request, anyway; with their distinctly cat-like reflexes, Felix was plenty capable of balancing. Still, they got a few weird looks as they stood, waiting patiently and obediently for the paperwork to be finished. It seemed to take a while, but Felix had no real concept of how long it should take. 

Finally, the clerk slid the license across the table, and Felix lowered their foot back to the ground. “Okay,” they agreed. “I’ll, uh… I’ll talk to you soon.” They were friends now, weren’t they? Felix and the kind clerk at the BMV.

They thought it was going to be really nice, having a friend. 

[corpse--diem]

An Offer You Can’t Refuse | Felix & Erin

When: Very shortly before Big Felix Featuring: @streetharmacist Summary: During a drink to celebrate a job well done, Erin and Felix decide they’re not quite finished after all.

It wasn’t a conventional location by any means, but the way Felix saw it, they had left convention behind a few miles back. Dale was dead. Bea was alive. There was plenty of reason to celebrate. And what better way than watching humans embarrass themselves at the Siren’s Serenade? With an Absinthe Hemingway in hand, he sat at one of the tables farthest from the karaoke stage. He didn’t mind a spotlight or two in the slightest but...time and place. It could come later. Roy Chambers. The name Erin had mentioned. It made sense why it lingered in his dome for so long. It was a familiar name. The kind that bears repeating. A few utterances invoked the spirit of old connections and he was nonetheless eager to share. If only to see where the threads all went to. Felix took a sip and eyed the door as he waited. The way things were, it was a matter that certainly demanded to be discussed.

Finding Felix in the Siren’s Serenade crowd didn’t take long. Hard to miss the only guy in the place with sunglasses and Erin made a mental note to sensitively bring that up someday. She took just a moment to ready herself, straighten up, shake the tension from her shoulders. The job had been taken care of - Dale was dead. No cops were breaking down her door. Felix was being paid in full again. Generally speaking, things were that surface-level kind of okay that made meeting up for drinks not nearly as terrifying as it could have been. “Some real beauts in here tonight, huh?” She greeted him with a warm grin. Thank God he’d picked a table far, far away from that mess. The whiskey she ordered when she passed by the bar came as she settled into the spot opposite him, and was quiet otherwise until the plucky server left them alone. “How’s business?” Erin asked over the top of her glass, watching the curve of his lips in lieu of black glass. “Running smoother, I hope? Now that you’ve got that big ol’ bald roadblock out of the way.”

“You really missed out on a winner earlier,” Felix said as he sat up a little straighter as Erin approached the table. “Just when you thought folks got tired of Bohemian Rhapsody, bam, there it is again. Just a pitch higher and a pitcher more drunk too. You gotta love it.” He adjusted in his seat, propped an ankle up on one knee as he settled. At her question, he smiled and took a sip of his absinthe. “Business? Well, it’s business and business is booming. I think it’s the encroaching summertime. Really gets the people in a certain sorta way, y’know?” It wouldn’t do to mention how much he and Blaine had discussed how sad the youth of White Crest could be. It was an off time for most and when that was the case, it was an on time for them. At big ol’ bald roadblock, he gave a loud laugh and set his glass down. “Well heck, I can say that the push and pull is making a lot more sense and that’s always real nice to see in my line of work,” he admitted with a tilt of his head. “And yours? It’s not, ah, going under, is it?” He smiled. “Surely it’s not. Certainly not after a loss like that, huh?”

Erin spared a glance at the travesty on stage and immediately winced. “Does that mean that A Whole New World duet I was looking forward to with you is off the table?” She asked playfully, trying hard not to watch his smallest gestures and movements with too much scrutiny. Something had changed. She wasn’t sure what exactly, and it wasn’t something she’d be quick to call it trust. Maybe she should have been more unsettled by how easy it was to joke with a man who was basically an accomplice to the murder she organized. “Yeah? Glad to hear it. I’ll take it that means all is well.” She shook her head, eyes dropping to watch the ripples slam against glass. Oh boy. She’d need an emptier glass before she asked him to shine a light on any of that. Wouldn’t be good. She looked up again at his question. “Well, losses are my gain, generally speaking,” she shrugged. She sat back, tapping her finger against her glass as she contemplated her next words carefully. “Honestly?  Retirement is starting to look pretty damn good right now and I gotta tell you--the packages available in our line of work? Not great. I know our buddy Dale would agree.” Warmth flooded her cheeks and suddenly she swore she could feel the heat brimming from the crematory chamber that very same man had left this world in. She paused, pushing past it and ease into another smile. “I’m hoping maybe you do too.”

“Oh, I won’t turn down a duet but let’s see how things are a few weeks from now, huh?” Felix said, mouth more in a curved line of knowing than anything close to a smile. “I’m nothing if not in it for a chance at some old-fashioned theatrics.” He loved his shadows without question but put the right spotlight on him and even a guy like him wanted to shine. And on the off chance it was the light of an interrogation room, he could make do. If he were someone else, gifted with the same knowledge, maybe they’d be put off by the way Erin smiled post-murder. Maybe even by how he did. They’d certainly be put off by the way they laughed and clinked glasses. Their stomachs wouldn’t handle it. Some people were just hungrier. A fact of life that his teeth fit around just fine. He could smile around it and he did so. “Oh yeah, very well but things could always be better,” he said with a thoughtful hum. “But ain’t that just how it is? Place like this, with what it has going on, it’s hard to ever really be satisfied since the work is never really done. I mean, you get it, right? All things considered, you got job security for life.” He tipped his glass towards her with a low laugh. As she spoke, he considered what she said carefully. There wasn’t any buzz in his chest other than the absinthe on his tongue. Words were everything to fae. They meant the slimmest difference between being in or getting out of a bind. “Hoping I do too, huh? Sounds to me like you’re looking for a newer, better deal. Very FDR of you, I dig it,” he said as he leaned forward intently. “Since we’re on the subject and all, I’ve got some information you might like to hear. About the ol’ bossman of yours.”

Old-fashioned. Erin had to laugh at that. Seemed to be this guy’s MO. It worked for him. “Why am I not surprised by that?” But he wasn’t wrong, about any of it, and part of her wondered if Dale had done them both a favor. He’d been the catalyst, the wild card that had spurned all of this on. Pissed Felix off enough to darken her doorway that fateful evening, stirring up tempers and trouble for them all. She could admit she’d grown comfortable, almost complacent in her rage, stewing and simmering. Now it was boiling over almost recklessly. It’d brought her here. If there was any hope to be had, it was right in front of her. Felix was quick. More knowledgeable than he let on. And sharp. She could tell that much already. Judging what side of the blade she fell on here was harder to distinguish but she knew she wanted to one the right one. “There’s always a better deal,” she nodded at his words, matching his dry smile. “Just ask any of my vendors though--I’m a hell of a negotiator.” Her eyes jumped from her drink to his sunglasses, momentary uncertainty flickering across her well set poker face at the mention of her boss. So much for that. “Do you? And how much is that gonna cost me?” She asked, shrugging nonchalantly. If she’d learned anything, it was that nothing came free. “If it’s worth anything at all. If you’re about to remind me that he’s a son of a bitch, trust me. I’m well aware.”

“You’re not? Dang, I gotta keep working on my front then.” Felix said with a smile as he unfolded an old matchbook and lit himself a cigarette. He waved the match out, breathed in nicotine, then breathed it out the side of his mouth. The karaoke choice shifted to something poppy that he didn’t recognize. It was bold what he and Erin were doing. Discussing dark things in the dim light of a karaoke bar. That was half of the thrill, really, the likelihood of being seen by the forces they discussed. Even if they were, no one would think anything of it right then. They were just chatting. See them now, but when the knifepoint touched to a neck with a pulse that hammered so hard the knife trembled, they might have wished they looked harder. Death granted a keen hindsight to the dying. One last gift. “Oh, I believe it. Death is an awful expensive business and while dirt naps are cheaper sometimes, can’t fault someone for wanting to rot in mahogany,” he said as he pulled the cigarette from between his lips and tapped it against the ashtray. “But gotta say, it’s good to know that you ain’t satisfied with all this business yet because I ain’t either. I think we can get dealt a better hand here.” He smiled. Erin was sharp. Quick. That was good. He appreciated the kind of company that could cut thin but cut deep. “Not much,” he admitted vaguely. “As for what I know, this guy, Roy Chambers? He ain’t just here. I’ve got some fellas in New York that know the name. He’s got his fingers in a lot of pies. A lot of pies that other people have made. Now that? That doesn’t sit right with me at all. Between you and me, guys like that shouldn’t have so much. It’s unseemly.”

There was something so incredibly appropriate about Felix lighting up that cigarette. Shadowy booths, shady conversations, smoke billowing around them in the dimly lit bar. Theatrics, case-in-point. Erin shook her head slowly, barely suppressing the smirk that lifted the corner of her lips. All they needed now was a black and white filter and a costume change to truly set the mood. “New York?” she echoed, raising her brows. Shit. This guy was a bigger deal than she anticipated with a reach like that. She could practically see the cogs and wheels spinning behind Felix’s glasses. “Of course he did. He probably thinks he’s the Elon Musk of White Crest,” she said, rolling her eyes. Didn’t surprise her though. Greed fueled monsters like Roy Chambers. He was a glutton, and a comfortable one. Constantly hungry, constantly devouring. Already trying to take bites out of her with her mother’s bones still stuck in his teeth. Her jaw set tightly and she glanced up from the napkin corner she was picking apart. “That’s a lot of pie, though. Sounds like you’re thinking about taking a few slices for yourself, yeah?” They were tiptoeing around it but there was no mistaking what Felix was implying. “If you’re offering--I could eat.”

Felix nodded through the smoke. “Yup. Makes sense. White Crest isn’t exactly a hub for this kinda work. Not really,” he said as he raised a hand and spread his fingers out. “He’s got a nice web here, sure, but a guy like this, it’s always bigger.” He smiled to himself then as he shifted forward and lifted himself from the shadow of the wall. He grinned. Erin got it. He had a feeling she would. She was tired of it and when people got tired of bullshit, they got restless. Proactive, even. And they made it known in ways that wouldn’t readily be forgotten. “Precisely, precisely.” His word manufacturing slowed as he got to thinking, his tongue pressed against the top of his mouth. “You see, I’d be fine taking a figure off or two, free up some space,” he admitted with a shrug, his tone easy. “Could do that, sure. It’d make things a little easier, you know, for you and me.” He gestured between the two of them. The grin he wore lessened by the second. “But I don’t think we’d be satisfied. Half-measures don’t sit right with me. Half-measures get you right back where you started.” He shook his head and looked at Erin. There wasn’t any concern or doubt in him. She got it. “Nah,” he said as he stabbed his cigarette into the ash tray. “We take off the whole fucking hand.” He laced his fingers together and sat up. “These debts you inherited? A couple Roy phalanges ought to cover it. With interest.” Money was a motivating factor in plenty but getting a guy back, that went further. It lived longer. “We do this? Really do this? We’re square for life. So yeah, Ms. Nichols, I’m offering.”

There it was--the proposition Felix had been inching toward since Erin had sat down across from him. At some point she knew it was coming. Maybe he needed someone low on Roy’s radar, capable of stomaching the hard jobs with a motivation matched his own. He sure as hell looked at her like he’d found someone to fill that slot. She could do it. He just needed to say the words and make it real. When he finally did, something dangerously close to hope woke with a hard start beneath her ribcage. She hadn’t expected that but she couldn’t pretend that it didn’t feel good. Her mind had been made up long before she finally spoke. 

“Let’s really do this, then. Let’s cut off the hand. I’ll take the whole damn arm if that’s what it takes,” she answered without hesitation. Bit back a big, sharp grin. If they failed, they died. That wasn’t lost on her for a second. She’d been in survival mode for so long now though that it was easy to forget what she was doing now was purely existing. It didn’t sustain or nurture. Just kept her alive enough to trudge through the next day. It was time. She was ready to live again, even if trying was the last thing she ever did, and she met Felix’s hand halfway across the table. “I’m all in.”

[corpse--diem]

Blood On Your Knees | solo

Summary: A plan comes together. When: Sunday, June 7th Guest Starring: @streetharmacist and @detectivedreameater

“You have one week.”

Roy’s voice echoed in her head, followed only by the silence that came with that smirk of his. The one that knew Erin couldn’t fight this. Knew that he and he alone had all of the power between them. And now that Sunday night had arrived, it meant two things: Dale would be due for his weekly pick-up and that her time was up. This was happening. This was really, really fucking happening.

Trying to focus on anything but what she was about to do had been a complete joke. By the time Friday rolled around, she gave up on work all together and put her energies where they needed to be. Planning and preparation was a fluid motion once she let her brain do what it needed to.

When Sunday night came, it was all set. Every part. She was ready. And even if she wasn’t, she had no choice.

Just as Erin predicted, Dale didn’t see the blow coming when he strutted into the funeral home basement like he had every other Sunday before then. One good knock upside the head with the baseball bat laid him flat—no fighting, no bickering, no squirming around the inevitable. She couldn’t afford those kind of mistakes tonight, and she’d been right for thinking that. A cold chill went up her spine when she found the rope alongside the gun on the inside of his jacket. Seemed like Dale had plans tonight, too. She wouldn’t allow her imagination to wreak havoc. Put her nose to the grind and got to work.

It got easier once she cuffed him, rolled his behemoth of a body into a black body bag. Easier. Fucking weird thought too. But he still alive. Just out like a light. The corpse lifts had done the rest of the more backbreaking work for her, and before she knew it, she was slipping him into the back of the hearse. Like any other body on any other day.

The warehouse set up at Finney Docks was just a short drive from there. He’d woken up at some point, which made it easier to slip him inside. Blood dripped profusely from the splinter above his eyebrow. He tried to argue, to fight, to beg for his life--but when she cocked the gun against the back of his skull, for the first time since she’d known him, Dale shut the fuck up. Nic had shown her the very basics of how to handle the pistol in her hands, how to make it do the one thing she needed it to. Enough to handle herself right here and now. And maybe it was the gun, maybe it was the foreboding darkness of the dusty warehouse and a baseball that had struck the fear of God into him good and hard. Maybe he just knew his time was up, but he marched onwards into the building.

“Sit,” she instructed simply, giving him a shove towards one of two metal folding chairs in the center of the large room. Her hands were shaking but she gave no indication of it in her voice. It’ll be over soon, she kept reminding herself. It was her or him. Her or him. Those were the only two options.

His bloody, cracked smile unnerved and disgusted her in equal measures. He must have cracked a tooth or two when he face-planted in the basement earlier. It took him a moment, sluggish and disoriented, but he managed to sit.

“Guess this means you’re breakin’ up with me, sweets?” Dale chuckled until a cough overtook him. Spat blood at her feet. Metal handcuffs rattled against the chair as he struggled to get comfortable. For all his bravado, he was fading a little bit at a time.

There were a thousand things she’d been dying to say to this ogre of a man since the moment she’d figured out what he’d done. What he was going to do to her. And she’d be a liar if she pretended she hadn’t pictured whacking him with her baseball bat months ago. He deserved it. He deserved this--but now that she was faced with this--with him--the only thing she felt right now was sick. Roy’s smirk flashed in front of her again and she steeled up quick. Just get this over with, she told herself. But then his goddamn voice broke through her thoughts.

“Christ almighty. Of all fucking people, it ends with fucking you.” His laugh was low and sardonic now. He knew it was over, just as much as she knew did. Knew he’d gotten himself in too deep to back out. Knew he’d been outsmarted. Dale grit his teeth, trying to hold back his seething while she still had that gun in her hand. He honestly had to wonder if she even knew how to use the damn thing.

Fuck it. If he was gonna go down, he’d go down swinging.

“I guess you wanna know why? That’s why you brought me out here?” He asked. Knowing how this ended didn’t mean he couldn’t at least try to buy himself more time.

Erin shook her head, taking a seat in the other chair across from him. Raised a brow and shook her head. “I really don’t care why,” she shrugged. When it came down to it, it was greed. It was always greed. Greed and fear and idiocy. That’s what had put her father into an early grave, hadn’t it? Her elbows rested on her knee as she leaned forward, the gun still aimed at him. “I brought you out here so no one would hear you scream.” Not her best line, or the most original. Just the honest truth. 

He stiffened at that. Still, another strained laugh overtook him and this time he shook his head. “Oooh, real fuckin’ tough now, aren’t ya?” He craned his neck, taking a glance around, as if somewhere within the shadows would be a way out. “Nah, I don’t mean that. Think it’s pretty obvious.” He dropped his head back, giving it a good roll, easing some of the tension from his neck and shoulders. When no hint of recognition flashed over her face, just more confusion, he gave a hard pause. Oh, perfect. This was the set up he was looking for. Tit for fuckin’ tat.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know about Mama Nichols? The hell was her name. Didi? Deb?” He made a smacking noise with his lips when it came to him. “Diane.” He met her eyes with that question and her face gave her away the second he saw the blood drain from it. She sure as fuck hadn’t expected that.

“Oh, you’ve got no fucking clue.” He gave a heartier laugh this time, throwing his head back.

Erin stood so fast the chair behind her clattered to the ground. “I swear to God, Dale,” she tensed, both hands on the gun as she pointed it just inches from his face.

His smile soured. “I’ll tell ya if you give me a kiss--” he barely had time to make those obnoxious puckering motions before Erin pulled the trigger. She hadn’t meant to--didn’t even think when she did it. Some instinct had been prodded and a white hot bolt shot through her. She dropped her hand and the bullet obliterated his kneecap. The sound was deafening and the shot startled even herself as it gave a little kick. But fuck did his howl of pain sound sweeter than anything she’d heard in months. “Jesus Christ, you crazy fucking bitch!”

Holy fuck, she did that. She shook but didn’t move. Didn’t back off. “Talk,” she shouted above his crying and she pointed to his other knee. That anger was alive, unfolding and taking control. Doing what needed to be done. “NOW,” she instructed, kicking the leg she’d just blown a hole in.

“Your dipshit dad got behind! He--he--” Dale was stuttering, gritting his teeth through the pain, but he made sure to show that he was cooperating. He was still baffled that the mortician had it in her. “Chambers wanted to send a-a message. Fuck. Wanted to make sure he knew his place, that--that this wasn’t some friendly neighborhood loan shark kinda set-up he had going on.” Dale hesitated, taking a moment to holler out another string of obscenities  Found her eyes again just for a second. Something he didn’t want to say was written in every pore, every dark crease filled with dried blood. Knew his time was coming to a close real fucking soon. But she saw it. That fear. He swallowed hard, took a long look at the gun. Now that he knew she wasn’t afraid to use it, he was going to make sure this hurt as much as the fresh new hole in his fucking knee did.

“Last thing his old lady ever saw was my beautiful, shit-eatin’ grin.”

Erin couldn’t breathe. For a few seconds, she genuinely had forgotten how to. Everything was red. All-consuming, molten red.

The whole fucking time--

“You--” the rest of the words caught in her throat. Dale. She slowly lowered the gun as it sunk in. Bile rose in her throat and she was seconds from losing it. And if he hadn’t taken that time to kick the gun out of her hand with his one good leg, she probably would have. It was a stupid, last-ditch effort on his part and he hurled himself at her, slamming her back into the concrete below. Swore she saw actual stars when he slammed his whole head into her face, dizzying her up enough to give him time to hobble a few feet away.

It took some effort but she was on him before he could get even close to the gun or the exit. One good kick to the legs floored him. And another once he was down. Another, and another, one to the gut and another at his head. Her mother’s smile flashed in her mind’s eye and she finally stopped. Had to force herself to stop. No, no, no. He didn’t get to go out like this. This was too easy. Rage had replaced every other quaking emotion inside of her.

Erin caught her breath, wiping a shaking hand over her mouth.There was blood on her lips and she could feel the warm pulse where his bald head had slammed into her cheek. Her other hand waved to the shadows around them, beckoning them forward.

“This is gonna hurt,” she promised.

The element of surprise was an often overlooked thing. But it had its uses, and it had proved very useful for everyone tonight. Because even as Dale lay face down in a pool of his own blood, he hadn’t seen this last surprise coming, had he? How could he have? He had no idea about her. And when she’d stepped from the shadows, pulling them around her like a blanket as her body came back into the world of the visible, his eyes widened in disbelief. Red eyes formed in the room around them and shone directly down at him, a wicked smile below.

Marley walked calmly over to Erin and Dale, sputtering on the ground. She supposed she could’ve stepped in earlier, but this was Erin’s prey, and she was there to act when wanted. If he’d gotten to the door, she was sure she would’ve stepped in-- she wanted to see this man suffer, too. Perhaps not as much as Erin did, especially after that riveting exchange about her mother, but that didn’t change the fact that Marley would relish in destroying a man like Dale. A man who took advantage of those weaker than him. Well, now, he was the weak one.

She didn’t bother with the gun next to her, or the one on her hip.

Instead she kneeled in front of him, grabbed his chin, made sure he was looking directly into her eyes. “I would say I wonder what a man like you fears, Dale,” she cooed, “but I already know.” Still, she let it was through him, over him, consume him. He was crying out within a few seconds and she was smiling. The taste of it was like a fresh spring’s water and she lapped it up.

But it was time, now, and for Erin, she would make sure he suffered. Nothing quick, nothing easy. Her hand smothered his mouth and lips, and as she drew it away slowly, so did she draw away his breath. He gasped and gagged for air, wheezing as his lungs expended themselves. Minutes passed as he gaped for it, inhaling uselessly. His face turning red then blue then pale, eyes searching desperately.

But by the time she stood up straight over him, hand balled into a fist, he had stopped sputtering. She opened her hand and blew into her palm, as if blowing away the ash or dust of his breath. Turned back to look at Erin. “What next?”

In the end, the long sleep came for everyone. Even the fools that thought they were above it. It would get their hands on them and drag them down, one way or the other. The fae had spent a few days ruminating on the concept of mortality and he had to say, Dale’s blood went real well with the Hawaiian shirt he wore. Really brought out the desperation and stupidity in his eyes. Felix wasn’t the type to get up close and personal, even though the knife up his sleeve digressed. He saved that for special occasions. The real black tie events and Dale wasn’t one of them. As angry as he was about missing money, this wasn’t entirely his gig. Not yet. He was content to watch from overhead, arms leaned against the warehouse railing as shadows clung to him.

It was a familiar kinda tragedy that had befallen the Nichols family. Everyone had their moves to make in the great game. Dale had made his and now his knees were blown out. These things happened. Felix liked to guarantee that they did. But Erin, well, she had done all this on her own. Put the pieces together. He smiled from on high as he listened to Dale’s sputtering. What Marley did, she did well. Very well.

He lit a cigarette and took in a long, feel good drag. What a night. Be seeing you, Dale.

A small flame burned in the dark as he headed down the metal stairs. Wandered out from where the shadows draped over him.. Cigarette in hand, he came to stand by Erin as the breaths from the broken came and went.

“A real creative way to make one’s bones. I dig it,” he said, eyes on Erin from between the slight gap of his glasses. At Marley’s question, he smiled thinly. “Y’know, bones ain’t too bad a foundation to start with.”

For all the death Erin in her life, this part—where the lights went out behind a person’s eyes, and suddenly they weren’t a person anymore. This part, that exact moment, was uncharted territory. A morbid fascination kept her eyes locked on Dale, even as Marley strutted from the shadows. There it was again. Fear poured from him in unbridled waves.

Erin pulled one of the seats up, settled in, and watched. Marley was more terrifying than she had anticipated but she appreciated the dedication. She only flinched a little when his screams turned shrill, when he choked through sobs to beg for mercy or for his hell to end.

Had her mother plead for the same thing?

Her fists clenched tightly when Marley went for the killing blow. This part too was fascinating. Watching her work, taking her time in ending it using only her hand as a weapon. Her explanation hadn’t done the actual task justice. Whatever she was doing, she took her time. Made him struggle.

And then she saw it—the lights went out. It was over.

She heard Felix beside her, heard Marley’s question. Her throat was raw and dry and her focus remained on the corpse. There was no relief. No muscle in her unwound and only some of that anger was dissipated with Dale’s last breathe.

This wasn’t over. She didn’t know how or what that meant when it popped into her head, except that it grew louder. Clawing for attention above all other thoughts. Second only to it was Roy Chamber’s smile, slipping in like a weed. But they were waiting on her. She had to say or do something now. The plan. There was a plan. A snap as loud as splintering wood echoed in her head and she pulled herself together. Nodded at Marley, even if that small thanks felt wholly underwhelming in that moment. It was all she could manage. And Felix had his proof. Took care of the problem, just like she’d promised. Roy has his pound of flesh. Erin had gotten more than she’d bargained for from it all. Answers she didn’t know she had questions for. Fuel to a fire.

But it was done. It was all done.

“Not bad at all,” Erin finally spoke, clearing her throat. Her jaw ached and her lip cracked open again. Something to remember him by, she supposed. She stepped towards Dale, gesturing towards the very limb, very heavy shell of a man. A long sigh fell from her as she glanced between the two. “Give me a hand?”

Her night, at least, was far from over.

[corpse--diem]

Bad Beat | Felix & Erin

Summary: “In poker, bad beat is a subjective term for a hand in which a player with what appear to be strong cards nevertheless loses.” Date: Present Featuring: @streetharmacist

Felix Doyle liked to stay in touch with people. He was a talker. Liked to know how people were doing, what they were up to, when they were going to pay him back. Whether it would be sooner rather than later. If they even could or not, which was always a particularly fun discussion. Lately, however, someone he had been in constant conversation with had upped and apparently died on him. Doing a thing like that often left a debt unsettled and when it came to Jack Nichols, it left a particularly large debt behind.

A large enough debt that it warranted a house call.

He didn’t make a habit of visiting funeral homes. Not unless he wanted to be warmed by that confirmation that, most certainly, an old enemy was dead. He approached the Nichols’ funeral home with a very different mindset. Just wanted to talk, that was all. He adjusted his violet tie before he slipped through the dark and found a window obscured entirely in the dark. It occurred to him that he hadn’t exactly checked the business hours. Then again, death hardly ever did that either, which he thought over as he slipped open a window at the back of the house with a straight-edged knife.

He stayed in the dark as he shut it behind him, more shadow than anything human shaped as he looked over the main room. Didn’t seem there was anyone near. Time as it existed stopped for the fae as soon as the sun stopped showing its face. He took a moment to knock on the inside of the door before he took a seat in the reception area. In the dark, he adjusted his glasses and waited.

For the first time in nearly a month, things were running normally. Smoothly, she’d even dare to say. Almost as if things hadn’t come to a grinding halt for far longer than she’d have liked, and for reasons she liked even less. But that was over. Thank fuck, that was over, and Erin could finally pour those frustrations out in the constant stream of death that ran through this town more consistently than the rivers that found Dark Score Lake.

A full day’s work was coming to an end. The rest of the staff had gone home for the night, and she was getting ready to close the books when she heard the knocking from her office. Loud knocking. Echoing like it was coming from inside–which was impossible, right? She’d locked the doors hours ago. Fucking awesome. Erin truly loved when people just showed up mysteriously in her home. Pulling out the knife Nic had left behind from her drawer, suddenly very grateful for his forgetfulness, she stashed it in the side pocket of her blazer, easing her way out into the reception area. 

“Hello?” She called out, stopping to a halt when her eyes landed on the man in sunglasses. Fuck. Was this a bossman thing? “Can I help you?” She inquired carefully, trying to stay friendly should this be an actual customer in need of her services.

Funny how the funeral home didn’t feel as sterile and emotionless as a hospital did. Guess something had to be warm after a body emptied itself. Other than the crematorium, of course. Felix tapped his fingers against his dark grey dress pants as he waited. It was a bit of an unorthodox house call to make, but considering the circumstances, it was the only type of call he wanted to make. Phone calls didn’t suffice for the important questions. Like where his money was.

He picked his head up as she entered the room and straightened himself up slightly. A businessman’s smile curved his mouth as he stood up. All business with no soft edges to be readily found.

“Hi,” he said, a smile around the words. He made no move to go towards her, instead pocketing his hands and putting his weight onto one foot as he crossed it behind him. “I’d say so, yeah. Erin Nichols, right? There’s this little problem I got, you could say. You see, there’s just a little something I’d like to get settled. Worked out, even! Its sorta outstayed its welcome and I wanted to check in. Keep a finger on the pulse and all.”

His head tilted slightly.

“It’s a matter of wanting to lay something to rest? You know how it is.”

Something was off about this guy. His smile was sharp and his answers circled slowly around her questions. It was already getting on her nerves. Whatever this guy wanted, everything in Erin’s bones told her this wasn’t an above board visit. Did her best to keep her smile friendly despite the confusion that touched her narrowed brows. “I do,” she nodded, making sure to remain a good few feet from him. “Better than most." Her eyes flickered past him to the door. The lock was still firmly in place and no visible signs of tampering from the advanced alarm system she’d spilled a considerable amount of money into installing. Seemed to mean fuck all these days, apparently. That knife was burned a warmer hole in her side pocket. 

"Well, I can’t tell you how sorry I am if you’re here about a recent loss,” she started, braving a few steps forward. “But it’s a little late and we’re closed to the public for the night.” Not entirely true but she gestured towards the door anyway. “How about you stop by tomorrow morning and we can talk then, Mr.–Sorry, I don’t think I caught your name?”

“I had a feeling you might,” Felix said. “See, I had a really good feeling that you would. That’s why I wanted to come here. It’s looking like I made the right call.” She seemed a little nervous, maybe even a little on edge. He supposed that was fair. A stranger for all intents and purposes had broken into her business. It was fair to be alarmed. As fair as it was to check on investments long overdue, or so he thought. There were some things where fairness didn’t play too large a role.

“It’s not so much a recent loss,” he said as he adjusted his cufflinks. “More the kind that’s been accumulating and it takes a real toll when it gets to a certain point. The point that has brought me here to you.” When he smiled, it was a small and quick flash. “Mr. Doyle will work just fine for this, Ms. Nichols, and unfortunately, mornings don’t work for me and I don’t think this can wait. It’s a matter of debt that I’d like to discuss.”

Erin did her best to follow this man--Mr. Doyle--as he spoke. The longer she listened, the more she appreciated the way he weaved his words like he was telling a story. Careful consideration given to every syllable and each word placed with intent. He clearly thought highly of himself for this show he was putting on.

It's a matter of debt.

Those words set off ever alarm bell in her mind into a shrieking mess of panic. Her back stiffened and her body stilled, hoping he couldn’t see the noise building behind her eyes. Panic quickly gave way to anger. God, did these assholes ever let up? She was a funeral director for Christ’s sake. It was very simple and here he was, no doubt asking for me. How and why this continued to get more complicated was completely beyond her but she could feel that pit in her stomach burning hot and bright. Her eyes didn’t match the smile she forced back onto her face, arms crossing across her stomach. Fingers hovering inches from the knife there. 

“And what debt is that, Mr. Doyle?” She spat out, tilting her head slightly to the side, trying not to let the irritation in her tone completely swallow her own words. “If you’re here on behalf of your associate, you do know Dale’s already popped his cheery little head in here, right?

The fae laced his hands together. Something Felix had said elicited a quick reaction. It seemed that he might have hit a nerve. The right one too, at that. Good. That meant that he and Erin were likely on the same page. Any smile he had faded back into the dark from whence he had come. His face was still water.

“A rather large one, Ms. Nichols,” he intoned with a lifted brow. His thumb moved idly along the skin of the back of his hand. His posture shifted languidly, both feet flat on the ground. “Guns and drugs are pricey, sure, but other things cost a little more. Like blood. And bones. In the end, it all costs. It adds up. It spills over. Things get owed.”

He adjusted his glasses.

“It’s the one you just so happened to have inherited,” he continued. “I offered your dad a hand when he got himself in too deep and oddly enough, even with that particular clock stopped, the numbers are still ticking up. May he rest in peace.”

He shifted. Cocked his head.

“Dale? Can’t say I’m all too familiar with a Dale.”

Oh, this guy had a lot of nerve. It occurred to Erin suddenly--was this him? The him? The man who hid in the shadows and whose name she hadn’t earned the privilege of obtaining. Always demanding more. One thing after the other, a slow escalation. First it was organs, then supernatural parts, andj ust last week Dale had shown up with a body. Pointed to the cremation room and a Don’t make me spell this out for you, dear. And Erin just had to hop to it. No questions asked. And while she’d seen glimpses of what the man was capable of, fear wasn’t the emotion scratching at her insides. It was anger. Expanding, needling and poking uncomfortably and uncontrollably under her skin.

“I’m aware of how businesses operate, Mr. Doyle. Even unconventional ones like yours,” she seethed. The debt. The fucking debt that was going to haunt her until the day she was in one of these fucking caskets. Her eyes watched his body language, waiting for some tell that’d let her know it was time to run.  “Dale,” she repeated, barely hiding her annoyance now. “The mouth breather you send traipsing through my house and business every week for collection.”

She watched him, waiting for that recognition to flicker across his features. It never came. Dread and uncertainty fighting for attention above her anger. “...Who are you?”

“So I’ve been assured. The place is lovely and it would be a shame for it to go under.”

His own voice lacked any of the prior pep he had at the beginning. It wasn’t the first business conversation he had and he was confident that it wouldn’t be the last. That confidence coalesced with mild annoyance. Something didn’t add up. Felix didn’t like that. Not. One. Bit. His hands unwound and slipped into his pockets, his head cocked. Mouth breather. Did he look like he was interested in putting mouth breathers on his payroll? Not dang likely. He bristled at the accusation. There were plenty of things he could be rightly and unquestionably accused of but this--

Wait.

“Collection? I have barely collected a dollar, let alone a cent, in weeks. That’s why I’m here. Because the money hasn’t been showing but it sure as hell has been spiriting itself away, Ms. Nichols. Isn’t that odd for a dead man?” He said, head tilted downward as his brows raised. Then he shook his head, his smile one with teeth before he spoke. His words didn’t match the smile as he seethed. “Who the fuck is Dale?”

It was better before you got your grubby hands on it, Erin thought, her sense of self-preservation reeling her in. If this was her boss, something she was quickly beginning to doubt, mouthing off to a man who likely magicked his way in could be the last thing she did. “It is. We’re a damn pillar of the community,” she answered dryly and left it at that.

There was a noticeable shift in Mr. Doyle’s mannerisms. Now he seemed agitated and his confusion was on par with her own. “Dale, uh--” she faltered for a moment, shaking her head. She didn’t even know his last name. “Bald guy, Hawaiian shirts. Wears those chunky gold necklaces you just wanna--” she gestured towards her neck and pulled on an invisible chain. She’d fantasized about that one more than once. Exasperation had her stepping closer, shaking her head. “No--I’ve been paying you, or whoever, on time, in full, every week,” she insisted, her eyes frantically watching. Still waiting for something to dawn on him. 

That’s when she paused, planting her feet again, realizing she’d stepped closer to this stranger than she suddenly felt comfortable with. “You didn’t answer my question,” she stood firm on this, shaking her head. She’d had enough. “My dad was an idiot, so if I do owe you money? Fine. Add it to the pile. Why not, right? But you’re not going to just waltz into my business--my home--and start demanding things without a better explanation here.”

“With the pillar that it is, it makes you wonder what might happen without it. I’ve certainly wondered.”

The fae nodded some, a look of the very slightest appreciation on his face. He would be even more appreciative of such banter if he had his fates damned money. But he didn’t and his appreciation ran shallow like a nick from a razor. His patience ran just as thin too but he waited. Felix listened. As she explained what poor fashion choices this Dale figure made, he looked away in thought. A hand slipped out his pocket as he rubbed at his jaw. His teeth clicked together. Something was more than wrong.

It was fucked.

“Ah, but you haven’t,” he said. “I’ve been getting breadcrumbs in comparison to what I should be getting. I don’t know who the hell Dale is but I know a Big Carl and that sounds a lot like Big Carl. He’s the reason I’m here. He’s the one that’s supposed to get the stuff from you.” The last time he had seen Big Carl, the guy was in and out. Fast enough that Felix hardly got a word in as he looked at the sad amount of money that had been thrown on his desk. He had been bitter ever since. Felix had thought little of it at the time, about as much as he usually thought of Big Carl.

“On that, you and I agree. Your dad wasn’t so money smart, bit off a little more than he could chew, and I was there to help a guy out. That’s what I do. I help people. Communities, even.” He didn’t smile. “But not without the expectation that at the end of it all, I get what I’m owed. That’s how this works. Your dad knew that but he just kept chewing.”

Erin only entertained his thinly-veiled threat with an eye roll. There were bigger issues at hand. And, apparently, a Big Carl. The thought of there being another fashion-dense ogre of a man sliding through Mr. Doyle’s circles was as unlikely as it was nightmarish. “That’s Dale, then,” she confirmed. “Or Big Carl. Whatever.” That fuck. What had he done now? “I don’t know what he’s doing, and I don’t have any proof he’s actually doing anything, but something stinks, and it’s not coming from the basement. Think we can agree on that much.”

He knew her father. Of course he did. “My dad was an idiot,” she huffed in response. Even this guy knew it and more than likely took advantage of his desperation and stupidity. A new kind of worry built in her gut as she ran a hand over her mouth. “Whatever's going on, it’s not me and I swear I can prove it. Wait here--” she nodded, backing up slowly as she moved down the hall, still in his line of sight. She was sure he trusted her disappearing into a room alone right now as much as she trusted turning her back to him. After digging briefly through her desk, she was rushing back with a small, leather ledger.

“My dad must have gotten rid of or just didn’t write any of his transactions down. Which, I get. Paper trail. But it’s probably partly to blame for how fucked over he was at the end,” she said, giving pause. A flash of his blue eyes nestled between decayed flesh jumped in her mind’s eye. She cleared her throat to shake it off before handing it over. “All of our transactions. Every penny since I’ve taken over.” It was mostly in code, and probably easily decipherable to even the most basic cop. But a book of scribbles and numbers held less weight in comparison to the very solid, frozen evidence under their feet. If she was going to go down, it sure as shit wasn’t going to be because she couldn’t keep track of her books.

Felix’s stance shifted and he started to move. To pace. A habit of his when he started to consider the most efficient yet lesson-learning way to dismantle someone. Big Carl. Dale. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t a stranger to names upon names. He had taken more than a few himself. His lip curled slightly as he took in a slow breath. Stopped walking. The anger was laced with excitement. How long had it been since he had been two-timed? By a man that willingly wore Hawaiian shirts no less? He looked at Erin from the corner of his eye.

“I don’t mind the stink of a few dead bodies,” he finally said. He faced her and cocked his head to the side, his expression less than pleased. “But it appears that we can agree on that. For now.”

As she told him to wait, he nodded and set about to his idle pacing as he lined up his thoughts. When she returned, he took the offered ledger. Shifted his glasses up to look at it with bare eyes. What was written on the ledger in regards to lighting, to him, was the full amount of what he should be receiving. Reality differed. His smile grew, teeth visible.

“I’m getting maybe a tenth of this,” he said as he slid his glasses back on. “That’s funny. That’s really funny. This hasn’t happened to me for a very long time.” He had underestimated Big Carl. Maybe he had lost his touch. He was bubbling with fury. “I’m thoroughly entertained. What do you know about him?”

He believed her. He was pissed, and everything about that sharp smile still made Erin’s blood run cold, but it wasn’t for her. It was for the bald-headed asshole who got nothing but pure joy out of pissing her off on a weekly basis. Her fury towards Felix suddenly veered course, finding a new home. She wasn’t this guy’s biggest fan but common ground had settled her some.

“Not much,” she shook her head, crossing her arms. “I know he corresponds directly with our boss. He’s the money guy or something. Makes all the pick-ups throughout town, however that works. But he comes through the back, same time and day every week. Which is incredibly stupid, by the way. Told him that much too, but the guy’s got the most fragile ego I’ve ever seen. He was waving his gun in my face to shut me up like I’d just insulted his entire bloodline.” She ground her teeth together, trying to recall any other small details. Most of the time she did everything in her power not to think about Dale.

“Flashy. Braggy. Loves to show off whatever new watch or jacket he’s got that week like I give a shit.” Fuck. Seemed stupid obvious in hindsight. She just figured a guy in his position got paid a hell of a lot better than her. Rolled her eyes and scoffed bitterly. God, this guy was stupider then she gave him credit for. “Guess he doesn’t think of me as a threat.” That was putting it lightly.

Felix listened to every word she said carefully. White Crest wasn’t a particularly large town. Not in his eyes. Small towns had this capacity to suffocate that intrigued him. Constricted yet somehow more freeing than a city could be. It was charming the way a coral snake could be if one confused it for a milk snake.

“So he keeps to a schedule,” he remarked. That was good. Very good. Nothing made a job easier than a predictable idiot too puffed up to notice he was sinking. “I like that. We can most certainly work with that. And I am awfully curious about this boss of yours.” He huffed a dry laugh at the mention of an insulted bloodline. If Felix had his way, there wouldn’t be enough blood left in the man to determine which line went where. Now that their ire had changed from being directed towards each other to someone else, someone far more worthy, the tension in him unwound. Erin’s hatred for Dale was near tangible like heated iron. It wasn’t something he could wield. But she certainly could.

“It’s good that he doesn’t, you know.” His smile bordered on serpentine. “See you as one. People like that never realize it until that curtain comes down and they’re left to wonder where everyone went.” He looked at Erin for a long moment before he extended a hand. “I’m glad we’ve met, Ms. Nichols. Circumstances and all. Would you let me know the next time you see Dale?”

“I’m pretty curious myself,” Erin agreed, casting a quick look his way. “And I could say the same about you, Mr. Doyle.” Her immediate fears were calmed for now, she assumed. He wasn’t gunning for her throat and he seemed nearly as convinced as she was about the true culprit. Still--that borderline insidious smile of his knew he was handing her a gift. Dale was the kind of guy who couldn’t see past himself. Didn’t want to, didn’t care to. She wasn’t even a speck on his radar. Two birds, one bald, ugly stone. All she had to do was accept it.

Felix extend his hand towards her and she just watched, hesitant, like this was some sort of trick. Maybe they’d built trust on a more solid foundation. Maybe she’d never see this guy again. But considering it was the professional thing to do here, she shook his hand firmly in return. 

“I don’t think he’s going to bother you much anymore,” she said simply. The words came out so easily, so confidently, it surprised even herself. The implication was pretty clear. This one was hers and fuck it--she was taking it. Nerves buzzed beneath her skin and something in her felt just that much lighter, but stronger. Like she’d reclaimed a sliver of the power she’d lost the moment she found her father’s half-assed note and a bag of frozen hearts. “I’ll remind him I’m still around.”

There was still a debt to be paid, after all.