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soapsilly · 1 year ago

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Haunted House - Bucky Barnes Halloween Imagine

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Request: Hi can you write a Halloween imagine where Bucky and his girlfriend go on a mission together. Where they are staying at is haunted. Bucky doesn't really care but his girlfriend is scared and when whatever is haunting the house starts hurting her Bucky gets protective.

(L/N) = last name

Requests are closed for the moment!

I know it is way past halloween but this was really hard to write because I’m really not into ghost stories, so I hope this is alright.

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“Mr. Barnes, Ms. (L/N). Have I made myself clear? This mission is simple. In and out. I expect your report on my desk no later than thursday morning”, Fury ended his briefing with a stern look, “and Agents, I don’t wish a repitition of what happened on your last mission”

Bucky and (Y/N) weren’t only mission partners but also in a relationship. (Y/N) was the S.H.I.E.L.D agent responsible for the reintegration of agents that have been missing in action. That included Steve Rogers and also James Buchanan Barnes but both her and Bucky discovered that they had a lot in common and so they fell in love. That love, however, was ground for quite a few distractions on the missions the two of them had together - nothing grave but certainly enough to make Fury keep his eye on them.

The mission itself wasn’t complicated. There was this old shag near a little village in the mountains, S.H.I.E.L.D picked up some spikes of energy coming from it. Fury suspected it to be a cover for Hydra experiments and it was (Y/N)’s and Bucky’s mission to infiltrate the shag and eliminate the threat.

“Do you think I should pack sunglasses?”

“We’re going on a mission, Doll, not on vacation”, Bucky was amused by his lover’s question.

“I knooow”, she drew out her answer, “but to my defense, we never get to go on vacation. There’s always a mission or an alien invasion or whatever... you know the drill”

Bucky was still in awe of how much the world has changed and how casual his girlfriend was about it.

“How about we go on vacation after this mission? Just the two of us, huh?”, Bucky suggested.

“As long as it’s really just the two of us this time... you know, I love Steve but his alter ego should really be Captain Cockbl-”

“Doll!”

*******************************************************************************************

“You’ll take the front, I’ll take the back”, (Y/N) ordered via the intercom.

Neither of them could know what they were to expect once inside, so they prepared for the worst, but once (Y/N) made her way into the first room there was nothing.

“First room is clear”, she informed her partner.

“Clear”

Once both of them met in what looked like it used to be a living room, confusion was written all over their faces.

“There’s nothing here. Are you sure we haven’t missed something?”, (Y/N) inquired but she received nothing but a shrug from Bucky.

“Maybe there’s an underground lab? Or a secret room?”, he suggested but neither was the case.

(Y/N) defeatedly plopped down on an old sofa. Once her body hit the cushions a thick cloud of dust rose into the air, making the female agent cough violently.

“What are we going to do now? There has to be a reason this place radiates energy”, she sniffled.

“I guess, we’ll have a look around town”, her boyfriend shrugged, “maybe the townspeople can tell us a little more”

And so the both of them switched their mission uniforms for undercover clothing and made their way into town. Eventhough, they tried to blend in they stuck out like a sore thumb. It was a little town where everybody knew eachother - so two strangers running around asking questions were bound to raise suspicions with the people living in the village.

“Do you see how they’re looking at us?”, (Y/N) muttered to her partner while walking over the market place, his hand in hers to uphold the picture.

“I guess they don’t get tourists here often...”, he answered back.

“Wait, let me try something”, she walked up to one of the vendors, “Hi! I’m Leigh Ann Smith-Washington”, she held out her hand to the man, who just looked at her but didn’t make any attempt to actually shake it. “Well... My husband, Kai, and I are Podcasters, ya know? Travelbloggers if you will”, she paused to let her words work for her, “We already went to the Grand Canyooon, the Rocky Mountaaains, Mount Rushmoooore...”, she drew out the last syllables counting down on her fingers, “right now we’re thinking about trying something new, ya know?”

Bucky watched his partner trying to conceal his amusement. The air-head role wasn’t something he was used from her. He knew, though, why she chose to play up the ditzy-ness. If she came across as non-threatening, the chance was higher for the other person to give her the information they needed.

“We’re thinking about making some podcast episodes about some lesser known locations, yeah? There’s so much competition in the podcast-scene... Everybody always thinks about true crime but lost places and paranormal sightings are also reaaaaly popular”, Bucky wondered how long she could keep the act up, “Well, since all the super famous places like the Niagara Falls and so on are already covered on the super famous podcasts we decided to look for some not so super famous places. And we found this lovely hut on that little hill just outside of town.. Do you know it?” - There it was! The man reacted. At first it was barely noticeable but enough for (Y/N) to dig deeper.

“Well, anyways, we’ve been staying there last night but we got, like, totally weird vibes from the place... like the Feng Shui was totally off, ya know? And then we tried to do some research online but there’s barely any cell phone reception out here. We do want our listeners to really have a good experience though... so is there anything you could tell us about it?”

She nodded enthusiastically but the vendor just shook his head.

“I’ve got nothing to tell you. And to be honest, you should really leave. It’s for your own good”

With that the vendor just left the two of them standing with a puzzled look on their faces.

“Guess, it’s back to square one now...”, she sighed.

“I enjoyed your performance, Leigh Anne”, Bucky teased, “and we’re married now, huh?”

“Ah shut up. But did you see his reaction. There’s something up with this hut. Something is weird about this place....”

The two didn’t even get the chance to make a new game plan since two children approached them starring at them with their big eyes.

“Excuse me, Lady! Did you just say you stayed in the haunted house?”, one of the little kids asked (Y/N).

“Yes, but - Wait, what? Haunted house?”, the agent wasn’t sure she heard the right.

“Well yeah. Everybody knows it’s haunted. A long long time ago there was a lady in that house and - and”, the little boy was stumbling over his own words, “she was supposed to get married but her fiance cheated on her so-”

“So she killed herself!”, the other child couldn’t hold back and finished the story for her friend.

“Ah I see”, Bucky was amused by the ghost story but didn’t pay children any more mind. He gave them some money so that they could buy themselves some candy but then turned back to his mission partner.

“Guess we’re really back to square one”, he laughed but (Y/N) didn’t join in on the laughter. In fact, she was looking rather pale.

“What’s up with you?”, Bucky furrowed his brows.

“I’m not going back there. In that haunted house”

“You believe those kids? That story about the rejected bride? That was already old in the 40s”

“Okay, even if - and it’s a big if - but even if the house was really haunted, where’s the problem? You fought aliens and mutants... How come you’re scared of ghosts?”

“Aliens are physical. So are mutants. You can touch them, kick and kill them. Ghosts? Metaphysical. Supernatural. How are you supposed to fight a ghost?”

“Well, good thing ghosts aren’t real then”, her partner grinned and threw his arm around her.

*******************************************************************************************

(Y/N) didn't know how he did it but Bucky somehow convinced her to returned to the shag for some further investigation. And so she begrudgingly found herself on the dusty sofa again while her partner was tinkering around with all kinds of tools to maybe pick up those ominous spikes of energy again.

"I really still don't think this is a good -", she stopped abruptly.

"What?", Bucky asked but didn't really listen.

"Didn't you hear that?"

"Don't be ridiculous", Bucky laughed.

"No, no I swear there was a sound... Sort of... a wailing? I'm telling you it's that ghost lady. Let's just go and tell Fury everything was clean. It wouldn't even be a lie... Not completely at least"

Just as Bucky was about to answer a candle holder crashed down from above the fire place, making (Y/N) shriek.

"What? And now you're trying to tell me that's the wind or what?", she gestured towards the broken metal on the floor.

"I must admit, that's a little weird but still no reason to worry"

When the female agent heard that, she had to take a few deep breaths to calm herself from the desire to attack her boyfriend then and there.

As if someone or something had read her mind she was abruptly jerked away and thrown through the room like a ragdoll.

"(Y/N)!", Bucky barely even had time to register what happened before a deafening shreaking sound could be heard all throughout the little hut.

"What is this?", the Winter Soldier screamed over the sound.

"Oh, well. What do you think?", his girlfriend tried to catch her breath but no such luck. She was barely back on her feet as she felt an icy hand on her throat lifting her up from the floor and into the air, making it hard for her to breath.

Bucky felt panic rise in his chest. This didn't make sense... Ghosts? But now believing in anything but a ghosts became less and less rational. Especially now that he could see a grotesque figure floating right before his eyes. A spindly woman in a worn white dress holding up his mission partner by her throat. Her hand looked almost decayed.

He tried to attack the woman from behind but none of his attacks did any damage. As the ghostly woman turned around to defend herself from Bucky's attacks. But as the soldier came face to face with the ghost, what he saw wasn't a corpse but rather a beautiful bride plagued by grief.

"Do you see what I see, (Y/N)?"

"Right now, all I see are stars", she tried to joke as she recovered from the lack of oxygen.

Much to her surprise the spurned bride did not attack the assassine though. In fact, she seemed to have forgotten about the fight momentarily.

"Bucky! You must remind her of her fiance!"

"If I'm her fiance, what does that make you?", he shouted back.

"The homewrecker I guess"

The ghost Lady turned back to (Y/N), her once beautiful face morphed back to a ugly visage, throwing her up against the brittle walls.

"What do I do?", Bucky seemed panicked, now understanding what his girlfriend meant when she said fighting ghosts seemed impossible. His laid-back attitude long gone now that his lover was in danger.

"Find something- AH!", she could feel the bones in her arm start to break, "find something that belongs to her and- I don't know... Burn it!"

"How do you know that?", Bucky he shouted towards her as he tried to get how down from the wall somehow.

"I don't. Saw it on some TV show", she answered, "Buck, does that really matter?"

"The whole house it hers. How the hell should I know what it is I need to burn?"

"I don't care. Burn the whole damn house down if you have to!", she shrieked as the first bone in her arm snapped.

Bucky started to randomly pull things out of their places. Cupboards, drawers, cabinets - but most of the stuff he found was either worthless junk or had turned to dust already. The only good thing was that the ghost let Bucky basically free reign to search whatever he was looking for as it was busy with (Y/N) at the moment.

"Buck", he heard her screaming from the living room. His heart was racing. She was right. He shouldn't have convinced her to return to the damn hut. She knew it. Of course, she did. He mentally cursed himself. How was he supposed to explain that to S.H.I.E.L.D.? How could he live with himself if something serious was going to happen to her?

He whinced when he heard yet another scream of agony from the adjacent room. He had nearly disassembled the whole room - that by the looks of it must've been the bedroom - when he finally found an old box underneath the bed. Inside, the soldier found many letters, a velvet ring box with an engagement band inside and a old and dirty veil. Bucky really had no idea which one of the box's contents it was that bound the soul of the ghost bride between the worlds but considering (Y/N)'s scream from the other room and the growing noise levels, he didn't really want to play a guessing game. Instead he just decided to light the whole damn box on fire and hoped whatever he was looking for was in there.

"I hope you were right, Doll...", he muttered to himself.

Right after the box went up in flames the shrieking sound was back but louder than before and for a moment Bucky thought his eardrums would rupture from the sheer volume of it. He feared that burning the bride's belongings didn't have the desired effect but rather pissed her off even more. He quickly made his way into the living room again, just in time for him to see the ghost set aflame in the middle of the room and his girlfriend lying on the floor - motionless.

He headed over to her, not caring if the ghost could possibly still be dangerous. All that mattered at the moment was that (Y/N) was safe. Once he reached her, he let out a sigh of relief when he saw that she was indeed still breathing. But upon seeing her battered and bruised state, he immediately cursed himself yet again. How could he have let that happen?

"Agent Barnes here, mission accomplished. Agent (L/N) is hurt, please get us out of here ASAP", he spoke into his earpiece.

He tried to lift her as gently as he could so that they could leave this place sooner rather than later. He released a shaky breath he was holding when she whinced as his metal arm touched her bare skin. He took that as a good sign - eventhough she still didn't gain her consciousness back.

He waited for the jet that would bring them both to safety outside of the hut, finally respecting her wish for her to not wanting to be inside the haunted house. Unfortunately a little too late.

"Hey Buck", her voice pulled him out of his thoughts, "I was right by the way". Her voice was weak and raspy but she still tried to smile up at him before whincing in pain.

"Yes, you were, Doll", he chuckled, "but I'm not surprised"

************************************************************************

"What did I tell you?", to say that Fury was a little less than thrilled was an understatement, "What did I tell you, Agents (L/N) and Barnes? I wanted a simple mission. In and out. In and out. Do I look like a man, that likes surprises?"

(Y/N) and Bucky shrunk in their seats. Getting yelled at by Fury strangely reminded them of being reprimanded by their teacher - but worse somehow.

"To be fair, Sir. You don't really look like a man that likes anything", (Y/N) tried to lighten the mood, which seemed to actually have the opposite effect.

"Do you realize what this means? Not only do we have to now investigate aliens and Hydra but also we'll have to open a whole new task force for the paranormal and ghost sightings!"

"And we'll be glad to assist wherever possible", she slowly stood up from her chair, grabbing her boyfriends arm in the process, signaling him to do likewise, "as soon as were back from vacation of course", she quickly added as she pulled Bucky with her out of the room.

"AGENT (Y/N)!!"

"Run, run, runrunrunrun", she laughed.

The both of them finally slowed down several corridors later.

"You know here are cameras everywhere, yes?", Bucky grinned at his girlfriend.

(Y/N) panted still not properly healed from her injuries.

"I don't care", she smiled back at him.

"I'm sorry about our vacation plans", he turned serious for a moment. He knew how much she wanted to finally go on a beach vacation - swimming, sun bathing, cocktails on one of Tony's private beaches but (Y/N) was still pretty bruised up, which was the smaller problem, but the bulky cast around her arm made swimming impossible and sweating in the sun with her arm in a plaster didn't sound appealing to her either.

"Are you kidding? Any vacation right now is like a damn luxury. Granted - a cabin in the woods is rather ironical but how high are the chances of this shit happening twice?"

"I mean... It's more of a lodge but the irony is not lost on me", he chuckled. Her ability to find humour in everything was one of the things he loved about her the most.

"I'm just gonna say goodbye to Steve and then we can head out"

"Bucky, I love you. And you know, I love Steve. But if you offer him to join again, I swear the two of you can go alone and I'll enjoy my time alone here in the spa", she warned her lover.

"Cross my heart and hope to die", he leaned over to peck her on the lips before heading out to his best friend's. For a while she just stood there watching after him, mentally preparing herself for the very real possibility for Captain Cockblock to join them on their vacation - but if she was honest with herself, she wouldn't have it any other way.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan imagine #winter soldier imagine #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #winter soldier x reader #sebastian stan x reader #avengers imagine

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cannedcrow · 2 months ago

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Arbitrary Darkness (HC Monster Hunter AU) Part VIII

A/N: Hi again! Back with another chapter of Arbitrary Darkness, in which Grian gets to do crimes.

~ Rb if you enjoy! <3 ~

Part VII - AO3 - Masterlist

Grian flipped habitually through the post, sorting subconsciously through the overimaginative zealots and genuinely concerned civilians that made up his correspondences.

He vaguely reminisced about the night previous ... he couldn't help but remember Pearl, the way they'd chatted flirtily ... the way that night could've gone had Mumbo not interrupted. Bloody cockbl- ok, fine. Maybe he should have been more careful not to hit on his friends coworker. No doubt he'd have another chance to meet her - after all, she was still working with Mumbo. If he was entirely honest though, he'd probably have had an easier time going home with Scott - although that fling would certainly end with him being torn apart at the bottom of the canal. He looked up as Mumbo walked in, tying his tie with his usual precision.

"Mind making a pot of tea?" He asked by way of a greeting.

"Morning to you too," Mumbo grumbled, heading to the kitchen.

Grian, skimming a letter, didn't respond. A close neighbor ... change in behaviour ... his skin is sallow now, his eyes look empty and haunted, and his clothes always seem to be stained with slimy green. He's been odd, reclusive ... wouldn't have interfered, but I caught a glimpse of him wandering home the other night ... soaking wet and had blood all down his front but didn't look hurt... Next day I saw the news in the paper about that man who fell in, and you'll have known the state they found his body in ... I hope it isn't true ... Grian folded the letter thoughtfully. He'd never seen a drowned in such an early stage - that had to be the answer. He leant an arm on the chair arm, cupping his chin.

There wasn't any cure. The Hermiton Canal was swarming with drowned - suicides, accidents, even murders - they didn't have the coordination to climb up the few ledges out, but they were numerous enough that there was an open bounty for civilians who disposed of them from the bank. It wasn’t definite that the man in the paper was directly related - gruesome deaths weren’t uncommon in New Hermiton - but the rest added up plenty. Chances were the poor bastard had fallen in for some reason.

He sighed, standing and accepting a cup of tea from Mumbo.

"Why the drama?" Mumbo inquired.

"Got to go kill a dead man today," Grian replied easily.

"Typical Monday then eh? Pearl and I are on a similar mission. Gonna go have a chat with some scumbags about our other dead man."

Grian eyed him severely, "Be careful mate, take a weapon. No offense, but you give off something of an easy-target aura."

Mumbo sputtered on his tea in indignation, dripping on his neat tie. "I give off nothing of the sort! Now look what you've done."

"You'll live," Grian snickered, leaving for his own room to get ready as Mumbo looked reproachfully down at his tie.

Grian leant against the back wall of apartment 183 on Capercaille Drive, subtly looking through a small rear window. A man lay slumped on a dishevelled bed, not having bothered to put the blankets over himself. The small room was lit only by the weak light that slipped between a tiny crack in the drawn curtains through which Grian had been spying.

As he watched, the man awoke, starting slightly. He rolled over and stood limply, moving as though his limbs were someone else's, leaden and unwieldy. He seemed to already be struggling with motor function, fumbling lamely with a matchbox as he attempted to light an oil lamp, but the task evidently lost his attention. He shuffled out of the room, and as the light passed over him, Grian noted his ragged clothing, stained with dark brown and green. Definitely blood, and definitely algae. He must be past changing clothes.

Grian easily made his assessment. He tested the window gently, trying not to make a noise. Unlocked. Makes sense. Opening it carefully, he slipped in, palming his netherite hunting blade. He wore long, thick leather gloves when dealing with this type - more developed zombies, or drowned that had actually drowned in the water, had a dangerous (bloody painful) bite and oftentimes, long, dirty fingernails that'd give you a nasty infection if they broke skin.

He trod lightly, trying not to elicit a creak from his heavy boots on the floorboards, following the creature's tracks to the doorway. He passed an open door to the bathroom, where a tub of stagnant, dirty water sat undrained. Down a short hall was the kitchen, where he found the man standing at a counter. The room was deteriorating steadily, trash and moulding food piled haphazardly, cupboards open and several things knocked over. He seemed like he was attempting to make tea, spooning loose leaves into a mug and pouring what looked like spoilt milk directly into a kettle on the stove. Grian couldn't help his curiosity - he'd never had a chance to examine a drowned in this stage. It was as though he still was following old human habits, a burnt instruction book in his head that he felt the need to complete, but without any purpose. A pang of sympathy hit him. It was tragic, really, but it would only get worse as his brain and body continued to deteriorate.

The man knocked his milk bottle over, and it smashed on the floor, splashing lumpy milk everywhere. The man stared at it, seemingly confused. He looked around the room, as though for someone to blame, and his gaze landed on Grian.

He didn't appear shocked to see a strange man standing in his house, and stared at Grian - the whites of his eyes had a bluish hue, while the irises and pupils had taken a greyish cast. His fair hair was uncombed, and his skin looked spongy and pale, like it'd been submerged in water for days.

"Hello," He mumbled at last.

"Hi," Grian replied, guardedly. The man shifted towards him slightly, pale eyes unblinking and fixed on Grian.

"What can I do for you today Sir?" The man spouted mechanically, catching Grian off guard. Old habits, perhaps? Wonder if he works in a shop of some sort.

"Well, I suppose it's more what I can do for you," Grian responded graciously. The man didn't seem to hear him though. He continued to stare, then shuffled closer. Grian tensed as the man closed the distance, curling his hand firmly around the blade.

The man ran his tongue along his teeth. That stare was really starting to unnerve Grian, and he shifted his stance. The man made a move suddenly, baring his teeth and making an uncoordinated lunge towards him.

Grian stepped easily out of the way, wrapping an arm around the unbalanced man's neck. He thrashed like a fish on the deck of a ship, then focused his gaze on Grian's glove and sank his teeth in. Grian hissed at the pressure and drove his knife into the man's stomach, angling up past his ribcage before letting him fall to the ground. The man let out a strangled cry - he must still have some concept of pain.

By the time Grian had stepped to the side, massaging his aching forearm, The man was still again, eyes vaguely pained as he batted drunkenly at the profusely bleeding wound in his belly, the knife still lodged up to the hilt. He seemed to have reverted to his previous state of lost confusion. Grian crouched near him, pulling his blade out with a jerk.

The man looked at him blankly as he bled, losing the little that drove him quickly. "Sorry ... couldn't ..... help ... today," He mumbled regretfully.

Grian stroked the man's hair gently, not sure where the gesture came from. "I'm sorry mate," He drove his blade through the man's skull and heard the thud as the tip hit the floor. The man stopped moving immediately.

There wasn't any real sense of doing good as Grian shut the apartment door behind him. He sheathed his blade as he began the walk home, pondering the tragic man. It felt more like killing a person than a monster, even though he knew what the man had done and would do. That's the job though, isn't it? Damage control. At least he hadn't had to check if the drowned was affiliated with the Eighth Circle.

He dropped a form by the police station as he passed, letting them know he'd disposed of his quarry. He couldn't help his growing discomfort each time he went in there. It seemed as though his experience at the Eighth Circle had brought back a trace of his old insecurities about being found out, an idea that everyone could see what he really was. What they thought he was. You think you’re like them, then go - take off your cloak and gloves and wait for their gratitude ... see how different they think you are. Tango's words echoed in his head as they did often these days. It was stupid really, to let such a cretin affect his mentality in any way.

When he returned home, he felt more drained than usual. He wrote a quick letter back to the informant who'd inquired about the drowned before setting about supper - somehow he felt Mumbo would appreciate it.

Mumbo returned a few hours later, looking little better than Grian.

"How'd it go?” He motioned to the stove, “I made soup.”

Mumbo scowled, removing his tie with a jerk and serving himself, "How did trying to have a civil conversation with nutters go? I won't be having them round for supper anytime soon."

Grian laughed, "You'd love Joel."

Mumbo shook his head in annoyance, stirring his soup. “Couldn’t get anywhere with them. They won’t say a word of sense to anyone who looks authoritative. Guess they assumed we were cops.”

Grian raised an eyebrow, unsurprised. “Makes sense. You’re not all that used to dealing with that sort. You want some muscle?”

Mumbo surveyed him doubtfully, “You’re not exactly what I’d call muscle,”

“I’m more intimidating than you. Not to mention threatening and killing is my job, which I’ll remind you I’m excellent at.”

Mumbo cracked a smile, talking through a mouthful of soup. “You want in then? We’d be glad for the help.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full," Grian chastised petulantly, "-and yes."

Grian set off with Mumbo and Pearl in the early evening a few days later. They passed easily through the more populous parts of New Hermiton easily before the streets started to shrink, becoming far less crowded and far more dingy. Broken glass, syringes and other litter were strewn about here, stained housefronts hemming the tiny streets - the government didn’t seem interested in cleaning up this part of the city. Hogshyde Park loomed before them at last - a sparsely wooded section that claimed to have once been a well-groomed park. The only evidence of the body was framed in forgone police tape, already tattered and abandoned.

“Where’d you two go yesterday?” Grian asked, looking around warily.

“The Pigeonhole,” Pearl supplied, “That knot of little alleys at the eastern end of the park.”

They headed there, looking as casual as possible. Grian had recommended the two forgo their professional attire, which thankfully, they’d heeded. They passed by several people who were asleep or otherwise unaccounted for before coming across two men sitting against the wall, nursing a lilac-hued bottle between them. Mumbo nudged Grian subtly, breathing ‘these two,’ in his ear.

The pair looked up as they approached, meeting Grian’s eyes with the predatory gaze he was used to.

“Not you lot again,” growled one, a dark-haired man with pale blue eyes and a rumpled dress shirt.

“Us two again,” Mumbo agreed cheerfully, “We were wondering if you happened to have remembered anything of note about that dead fella who turned up the other day.”

Grian kept his arms nonchalantly crossed over his chest, knowing his capelet would rise just enough to show the bottom of his holsters. His netherite hunting blade gave him the usual sense of security, nestled in his palm like a beloved pet.

The man retained his casual demeanor, even as his eyes flicked to Grian's weapons.

“Can’t say I do remember anything,” he said easily, “what about you, V?”

The other, a man with a sharply featured face and a wifebeater, shook his head wordlessly, commandeering the bottle from his friend.

“That chorus fruit liquor?” Grian chimed in curiously.

The two looked slightly surprised. “Yep,” V agreed.

Evidently there wasn’t much hope in playing the friend game.

“You mentioned someone last time we spoke, if you remember,” Pearl intoned, “Tacitly, sure.”

The dark-haired man eyed Pearl harshly, “Look sweet, if I were you I’d leave us all alone here. You’re aiming to get yourself stabbed,” he looked her up and down, “or worse, dressed the way you are.”

Pearl took a step back, looking rather taken aback, while Mumbo remained, crossing his arms in an unaffected manner.

Grian prickled in anger, but kept still. No force until necessary.

"We don't have anything for ya mate, leave us be," the man continued with a grin, evidently pleased with the effect he'd had on Pearl, "No one knows what happened to that guy."

The other man had slumped back, presumably interested only in finishing the chorus fruit liquor.

"You don't know anything that might've attacked him?" Pearl pressed, "Anything he may have taken?"

"'No clue. It's just another death; why would we know anything?"

"Surely it makes sense to assume there's some sort of community here, no?"

"You're annoying me love," V drawled, stretching and sitting up, "I think you're the type I prefer not to talk," He lunged suddenly, swinging the bottle towards Pearl with unexpected precision.

She leapt back and he struck her shoulder just as Grian intercepted, shoving him back against the wall and holding his knife to the man's stubbled throat. With his other hand, he pressed a flintlock to his companion's stomach. The dark-haired man flicked his eyes towards him angrily, but he was smart enough to keep his temper.

"They did ask politely," Grian said, pressing his knife harder, "Tell us whatever you have to say and you can get back to stealing enough money for a day's worth of liquor."

V scowled, but pressed his lips together tightly in defiance.

Grian glared towards the other man, hoping to get his message across, but he stayed silent too.

Grian huffed out a breath, standing. Mumbo shot him a look of confusion as Pearl rolled her shoulder.

The dark-haired man grinned as his friend chuckled. Then Grian smoothly aimed his gun and shot the recumbent man in the thigh. A thrill rushed through him as the man screeched, curling into himself and holding tight to his wound. The other moved to help, but pricked his neck on the knife Grian had placed there.

"You can help him if you want," Grian said coldly, "All we'd like is to know anything you can tell us."

He only scoffed, "I don't even know the guy, mate."

Grian shrugged, "It's all the same to me. If you're not happy with that, then you can tell us or I'll drive a knife through your throat and you can drown on your own blood," He pressed further, sinking the blade in until blood began to blossom.

Panic finally flashed in the man's eyes, and his words spilled out easily.

"I- Ok mate, I knew him. We were friends. He introduced me to this new substance. He got it from some guy here in the Pigeonhole - Bones, he called him, but that's just a nickname, obviously. He looks weird; has some black markings on his skin. Muscular; black hair and blue eyes, too. I don't know what it is, we just call it black blood. just looks like tar - ya slit your skin a little and smooth the stuff over, and it absorbs. That's as much as I know."

"That'll do," Mumbo said coolly, ending the tirade.

But Grian hadn't been listening closely. His eyes were entranced with the blood leaking from his knifepoint, the iron scent that had pervaded the area. Adrenaline seemed to be rushing through his bloodstream and he was vaguely aware he was salivating as his heart sped into a staccato. He hadn't let up on the slight pressure, and the man whimpered. He tightened his grip on the handle. Violent energy seemed to be building in him, he wanted to drive the knife clear through, to claw open the man's ribcage, to -

"Grian?" Mumbo voiced in concern.

"Get this crazy fucker off me!" The man yelped, trying to press himself further against the wall.

Grian lurched backwards, stumbling to a standing position. He rubbed a hand along his wrist, gripping tightly til his claws pierced through his gloves and into his skin.

"Sorry," He muttered, hoping his horror didn't seep into his tone, "Got distracted."

"You crazy bastard," The man muttered, rubbing his neck.

"We appreciate it," Mumbo told him simply, eyes on Grian.

They made their way back through the park, Mumbo and Pearl chatting in excited, low tones about what they'd learned, but Grian couldn't share in their mood. He trailed after them, sickened and frightened by how he'd felt in that moment - the way he did feel. He'd assumed he could handle it, handle roughing up some junkies - but the urge was still in him. It had hit him like a ravager and he'd almost lost control. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been that close to blood - human blood - that wasn't his job. Even when Tango had taunted him at the Eighth Circle... He snaked a hand up his sleeve and sank his claws into his forearm, drawing blood in his attempt to stabilise himself.

They reached home after what felt like double the time it'd taken to get there.

"Oi G, want to pop into the Foxhole?" Mumbo called cheerfully.

Grian summoned a quick grin, "I'll skip it tonight mate, I've gotta get to sleep tonight,"

Mumbo looked at him searchingly for a slight moment, then smiled warmly, "I'll be back in an hour or two then. We'll take a shot for you."

Grian bid the two goodbye as he headed indoors. Thank god for Mumbo. He wearily discarded his weapons, eyeing the bloodied knife for a long moment before cleaning it off. He ignored the scratches on his arm and went to bed, curling into himself hopelessly. He should've been more careful; shouldn't have let himself get so easily ensnared in that situation. It was too dangerous - He was too dangerous. He just had to be more careful, keep far away from these things.

He fell asleep swarmed with thoughts of blood, tragedy and self destruction.

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