#do i reload a save. no. no no no. cannot. must continue forward.

[lukeskqwalker]

I FUCKED UP !

[letsplaydcttrpg]

Strangers in Paradise pt 13 - The End (? Again?)

Start this module here!

Previous part here!

Links to all posts for this module in the pinned post!

Lasso Jamal I: "Yes," you say, raising your lasso over your head. "He will tell us all we need to know." Suddenly Maurice Diawara interjects. "Are you going to use some form of persuasion to get him to speak?" he asks. "Yes," Hellene says. "But Jamal is an ambassador, as are we all," Maurice says. "He must be treated with the utmost of respect." "Ridiculous," says Kwa. "If he has nothing to hide, let him submit." "We cannot allow him to spread poison among our sisters," Hellene says. You step forward and put an end to the discussion by gently lowering the rope over Jamal's head. He trembles as the power of Gaea flows through his body. A golden glow bathes his face; the room goes silent. "Why do you want to harm the mission to Themyscira?" you ask. "To prove that women cannot properly rule themselves without men. Such ideas threaten all my beliefs." "Who told you to distribute the amulets?" you ask. "No one," he replies. "You work entirely on your own?" you ask. "I never saw the amulets before that stranger ran through my room tonight and awakened me," Jamal continues. "My plan to ruin this mission was to find the negative side of everything and generally cause tension." You stare at Hellene in horror. "I have made a terrible mistake," you say, slowly taking the rope off Jamal. "This is an outrage!" Jamal bellows, returning to control of his own body. "Making me reveal such things! They are my own private thoughts! I demand to return home at once!" You attempt to reason with Jamal, but he is vehemently insistent. The other ambassadors, appalled at such a manipulative display, have lost most of their desire for staying and much of their respect of Amazon culture. The decision to leave quickly grows into a unanimous one. The return trip is uneventful, as are the ambassadors' respective reports on their experience in Themyscira. THE ADVENTURE HAS ENDED

Whoops! Turns out they did not appreciate the whole lasso thing.

So we reach another point where our decisions have ended the module. That said, I was just earlier today talking about being the kid who stuck a million bookmarks in the choose your own adventure book to try and find all the endings, so I'm gonna throw out the "Reload Previous Save" option again if people want to see what could have happened! Or this is the end and we've made our bed and have to lie in it. As always, it is up to you!

[whats-rambled-rambled]

Smoke & Mirrors - part 3

Neil x Reader

Chapter 3: You know me too well

(see chapter 2, 1)

summary: The mission. And some blowing off steam after that.

warnings: alcohol mention, some violence, language and other explicit things, 18+ and I MEAN IT EVEN MORE THAN BEFORE

author’s note: I need to thank @vaneilla​ for planting the karaoke scene into my head. I found her choice of song absolutely glorious, and it evolved into... oh, see for yourselves.

As for everything else - I don’t even know.

4k words, bloody hell.

Anyway, enjoy and let me know what you think, please?

___

“Thanks for nothing, Wheeler.”

She looked up from her tablet only to see a completely resigned Ives faceplanting on the couch in front of her. As she raised a brow, her glance drifted to The Protagonist pacing back and forth next to the window. 

When TP noticed the question in Wheeler’s eyes, he sighed. She realized that Ives must have filled him in already.

As if he could read her thoughts, the boss said, “Apparently, they’ve been at each other’s throats all day”

“You’re both damn lucky you don’t have to deal with their bullshit out there,” groaned Ives into the pillows.

Wheeler shook her head and a corner of her mouth curled into a knowing smile. 

“A little patience, guys. It's all going according to plan."

Ives muffled huff was enough of a comment, but TP stopped his pacing and shot her a confused look.

"How so?"

Wheeler bit her lip. It took her one minute around them in the canteen to guess what had happened. But if that somehow wasn’t obvious to her colleagues, she was in no place to share the information.

Of course, for a second she was tempted to say “oh, they fucked”,  just to watch Ives’ and TP’s reaction, but she knew better than to do so. Moreover, she had a weird feeling that those two morons would start being weird around them, and that wouldn’t help in the slightest. 

“Trust me, they are close to figuring it out. And then-...”

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

You rushed to the next cover, sending a round into a merc running in your direction. As you slid behind a crate and started reloading your rifle, the rest of the squad slowly made their way through the abandoned apartment complex. How all those mercenary groups kept getting their hands on inverted materials was beyond you, but as the boss was trying to figure it out, it was up to the ground teams to secure the cargo. 

"What's with the silent treatment today?" Neil’s voice rang in your earpiece. 

Your eyes quickly located him at the other side of the corridor. Even from a distance, you could see his raised brow as he glanced at you right before heading into the next room. 

"I'm focused on the mission,” you scoffed, checking out on the team before moving further ahead. “You should try that one day." 

As soon as you entered a new location, a bullet whizzed past you and your reflexes kicked in. A quick shot and you spun on your heel, hiding behind a pillar. 

Meanwhile, Neil glued his back to the wall. As another merc walked past him, he disarmed them in one swift move, tossing the gun away.

"Nah, I’m good,” he said casually. You watched him as he ducked under a fist flying at his face and threw a kidney punch himself. “Multitasking." 

You snorted, quite amused, jumping out of your cover to down two more men coming in. You caught Ives’ murderous glare as he moved past you, motioning you to keep up the pace. Nodding, you followed him into a staircase.

"I must admit, not hearing your voice almost made me forget how annoying you are,” you huffed through comms to Neil. Ives shot the merc waiting for you around the corner and you moved up. “And as I don't believe you can actually stop being annoying,” you continued, taking a position at the door, “but how about you don't talk to me ever again instead?" 

You heard footsteps behind you and as you looked over your shoulder, you saw Neil standing right there with his pistol cocked in his gloved hands. He leaned in, a smug grin plastered on his face.

"And lose that spiteful edge to sex we have going there?" he teased quietly and chuckled as your eyes widened at the audacity.

Wishing you could just shoot him in return, you turned away and entered the corridor. Ives waited for you at the door to another unfinished apartment and as soon as you reached him, he blasted through it, while Neil and his team took the door at the other side of the hall.  

"We, and I cannot stress this enough, do not have anything going there, blondie," you uttered through gritted teeth, sweeping through the rooms.

Sharp laughter resonated in your earpiece. 

"Sure sounds like someone needs round two, though."

Your mind involuntarily wandered back to the events of that late evening in the locker room. Neither of you has mentioned it for the last couple of days, and you kinda hoped it would stay that way. Not that you could ever erase it from your memory. And the worst part was, there were moments you were no longer sure you would ever want to.

A movement in the corner of your eye. 

That confusion might keep you up at night, but with daylight, you came back to your senses, and a little remark was not enough to cloud your lightning reflexes while you held a gun. A shot echoed through the room and another merc dropped to the ground. 

"In your dreams," you scoffed on your way back to the corridor. 

"Funny you should say that…" 

You noticed Neil walking into the line of fire in the last second.

“Watch out!” you shouted, grabbing him by the vest and pulling him back inside the apartment. You shoved him against the wall and pressed your forearm to his chest to keep him in place as the round meant for him cut through the now empty hallway. While the rest of the team returned fire and pushed forward, you caught a glimpse of fear in the blue eyes just before Neil managed to compose himself. The corner of his lips twitched into a nervous version of his usual half-smile.

For fuck’s sake...

“Well, this brings back fond memories,” he panted, raising an eyebrow.

You flashed your teeth and pressed him to the wall even harder. 

“Shut up and focus, goddamnit, or I swear I will let you walk straight into the next rain of bullets,” you fumed. 

Your serious glare made Neil gulp and nod slowly. You took a step back as you exhaled shakily. 

Readjusting the rifle’s strap, you shook off any remains of panic from your system. Neil watched you with an indecipherable expression on his face as he reloaded his pistol. You met his eyes, just to make sure he was good to go. Finding there what you were looking for, you smacked his arm lightly and ran towards the sounds of combat.

You joined your squad, focusing on providing support as you closed in on the final location. Neil rushed to the front of the action, and even from afar you could see his moves got more vicious, every blow and shot landing now with deadly precision. For a second you wondered what exactly got triggered inside of him back there.

Whatever that was though, it wasn’t enough to hold his tongue for too long.

"Hey, at least now you had a chance to slam me against a wall."

You rolled your eyes and sighed dramatically, already regretting saving his infuriating ass. 

“You know, I daydream about strangling you more and more often every day.”

A few shots later, the all-clear sounded through the earpiece. You moved to secure the exit as Ives checked the contents of the crates in the back of the room. 

Neil took a position right next to you, eyeing you curiously.

“Is it a threat or a promise?”

Seeing the familiar roguish sparks sent your blood boiling.

You narrowed your eyes, letting a sly grin on your face.

“Do you really wanna find out?”

“You two either kill or fuck each other already,” huffed Ives, walking by you with the most done expression you’d seen on him in years. “Whatever you decide, please keep it off comms, eh?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, trying not to blush furiously. Neil’s failed attempt at stifling an amused giggle wasn’t helping in the slightest. 

As you finally looked back at the bane of your existence, he tilted his head, biting his lip before speaking up again, and somehow you knew exactly what he was about to say.

“I’m up for whatever.”

You groaned.

...yep, that was it.

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

One of the teams’ unwinding rituals included going to the nearby pub for drinks and karaoke. You weren’t the biggest fan of singing in public yourself and no amount of alcohol could change that, but you never skipped the opportunity of watching your squadmates getting shitfaced and pouring their hearts out through the mic. That night was no different, and even though you were taking it easy with drinking, the rest of the crew was already deep in the party mood. 

You watched Wheeler singing Black Velvet from your spot at the counter. You used to spend much more time together, but she’d got designated to leading inverted teams and you got stuck at Ives’ squad. Not that you were complaining. 

You always had good banter with him, and even the unfortunate beginning of your relationship wasn’t enough to change that. You ended up being good friends and you knew he always had your back no matter what. Even when he was absolutely tired of your bullshit. 

You cringed at the memory of his comment earlier that day. 

And because the universe wasn’t done with tormenting you just yet, you felt Neil’s presence next to you. You turned your head and glanced at him, ready to meet his aggravating stare. To your surprise, you found him standing there with his eyes fixed on his drink instead, evidently having an internal battle with himself. 

Neil noticed your puzzled expression and took a big sip from the glass before looking at you. A sheepish smile on his lips was something new, and it only made you even more confused.

“Hey,” he said, raking the fingers through his hair. “Thank you. For earlier.”

“Don’t mention it,” you huffed, frowning slightly.

“It’s nice to know you have my back, just in case.”

You were annoyed that he was making such a big deal out of it. But there was something in the blue eyes that softened your gaze and you gave Neil a reassuring smile.

“Of course,” you said and cleared your throat. “Besides,“ - a corner of your lips twitched - “I couldn’t let you get killed in such a stupid way right under my nose, I wouldn’t want it to taint my next eval’.”

“Sure,” he shrugged. “No other reason?”

“Like what?” 

You regretted asking the question as soon as it left your mouth. Because of course, Neil’s eyes lit up in response and he smirked.

“You would miss me.”

"Ah, there it is," you snorted, fighting the urge to punch him. "For a moment I was scared I was starting to like you, thanks."

He chuckled. “Oh no, we wouldn't want that now, would we," he teased, leaning your way with a roguish smile.

You clenched your jaw, trying to ignore the heart fluttering in your chest.

Neil hummed and downed his drink. A mischievous spark in his eyes suddenly made you nervous. 

“What now?” you asked, dreading the answer already.

Neil’s expression was nothing but innocent. 

“I believe it’s my turn.” 

You watched him make his way to the mic. Letting out a deep sigh, you shook your head. 

That man was going to be the death of you one day.

You finished your drink and joined the rest of the team in the booth right in front of the makeshift scene. As soon as you sat down, a familiar song started and your widened eyes darted at Neil, who was just casually adjusting the rolled-up sleeves of his striped shirt. 

...it must have been a mistake.

His wicked grin as he met your horrified gaze was enough to tell you he knew exactly what he was doing.

He started singing with no hesitation, smiling to himself.

Under the lovers sky

Gonna be with you

And no one's gonna be around 

Neil’s eyes fixed on you and he raised a brow. A small incoherent noise escaped your mouth, luckily drowning in your squad’s encouraging whooping.

If you think that you won't fall

Well just wait until

'Til the sun goes down 

You met Wheeler’s amused look over the table.

“Why is he that way?” you whined, hiding your face in your palms. 

Underneath the starlight, starlight

There's a magical feeling so right 

You could hear the smile in his voice and you forced yourself to glance back at Neil. 

it will steal your heart tonight 

Catching your eyes again, he winked, making you exhale sharply in response.

You can try to resist

Try to hide from my kiss

You thought about the way you evaded his kiss at that locker room and your chest tightened at that memory.

Don't you know, don't you know

That you, can't fight the moonlight

He knew the song by heart, and you couldn’t wrap your head around that fact.

Deep in the dark, you'll surrender your heart

But you know, but you know that you

And by the way he commanded everyone’s attention, you saw it wasn’t his first performance. 

Can't fight the moonlight. No

His voice was clear and he was definitely having fun up there.

You can't fight it

...too much fun, if anybody asked you.

It's gonna get to your heart

He walked up to the booth and a spike of panic flashed in your brain.

There's no escaping love

He made his way to Ives, a mischievous grin lighting his face.

Once the gentle breeze

Neil ran a finger along your friend’s bearded jaw, leaving Ives frozen in shock. 

Weaves a spell upon your heart

Neil turned to you and your breath hitched as you realized what was about to happen.

No matter what you think

A few steps more.

It won't be too long

He stopped right in front of you.

'Til you're in my arms

He leaned your way, putting a finger under your chin and tilting it up gently.

Underneath the starlight, starlight

He moved even closer, his eyes wandering along your features.

We'll be lost in the rhythm so right

The emphasis on the last words combined with the look on his face made your mind go blank.

Feel it steal your heart tonight

...that was clearly his plan for the night, huh?

You forced yourself to start breathing again as Neil chuckled through the next line. 

Bloody hell, you hated the effect he had on you. 

You caught a glimpse of a smug smile before he turned away. Leveling your breath, you watched as he stepped back on the stage, hoping he wouldn’t have any other stupid ideas.

But Neil seemed to be satisfied with what he’d put you through and just continued the song. 

He even aimed for one of the high notes, scrunching his nose and giggling as his voice wavered for a second, and you couldn’t stop your lips from curling at the sight. There was something endearing in his joyful demeanor out there, and you wondered how many sides to him you had yet to discover.

Before you had a chance to get too soft, he finished singing and looked at you again. The dark shade in his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. 

You needed another drink. Stat.

At least he had enough decency to let you collect yourself before he joined you at the bar. Neil ordered a vodka tonic and leaned his back against the counter, eyeing you curiously.

“So?”

You stifled a giggle, shaking your head. “For a second I thought you might start dancing on the counter."

He laughed at the reference.

"And for a second, I thought about doing that,” he said, reaching for his drink. He smiled slyly at your amused snort and continued, lowering his voice slightly, “but I didn't want you to lose your mind. Or faint, for that matter… I want you conscious for later."

Neil took a sip from the glass, savoring the effect of his words on you as you stared at him with a slack jaw.

"You want me--"

"Yes." 

You blinked rapidly, composing yourself. The last thing you needed was to give him the satisfaction of making you flustered so easily. 

But you couldn’t resist playing his game even for a moment. 

Just to see if he would back down.

"And what is it exactly that you think it's gonna happen later?" you said, taking a step in his direction. 

Neil raised a brow, turning your way. His gaze flared up as he searched your eyes for your intentions, moving even closer to you.

"Spoilers.”

"Riiight,” you smirked. The rising temperature between the two of you was slowly hazing over your mind, making your breath shallow as you taunted, “Or maybe you're all talk."

The throaty chuckle sent the heart racing in your chest. 

"Want to try me?" he teased, grazing his knuckles against your bare arm, and it took all your resolve not to tremble at the sensation. 

The pulse pounded in your ears as you took his drink from his hand, finishing it in one swing. You looked into his eyes, dark and yearning, and a corner of your lips curled.

"Well, no need to wait 'til the sun goes down', anymore."

“Blimey.”

A few moments later, you found yourself in an empty restroom, tugging at Neil’s shirt until your back hit the cold wall. His wicked grin widened at your eagerness as he grabbed your waist with one hand, running the other one through your hair. You splayed your palms on his heaving chest, moving them up to his neck to pull him closer. 

Neil tilted his head and leaned in to kiss you, but just as your lips were about to meet, your whole body tensed and it was enough to make him stop instantly. He pulled back to look at you, concerned.

"What's wrong?” he asked in a husky voice. 

You huffed, frustrated. At your own reaction. At him suddenly being all gentleman about it. And at yourself again, for not appreciating his concern. 

But it wasn’t the right moment to talk about it, and you were pretty sure he would be all weird about it if you didn’t say anything. 

"It's just--... “ you hesitated, your mind rushing to find any plausible excuse. As you finally found one, your face lit up and you nibbled at your bottom lip, staring at him challengingly. “Don't you get all soft on me now, blondie." 

You almost squirmed under his predatory gaze. Neil brought his hand to your throat, and as his fingers wrapped around it, he leaned to whisper to your ear.

"Suit yourself."

When his teeth grazed your earlobe, you gasped, feeling the feverish heat rushing through your veins. His mouth trailed down your neck as he moved his hand higher, tilting your chin with his thumb just before he brushed it against your lips. You shut your eyes and bit back a moan, feeling Neil smiling and then he ran the tip of his tongue along the crook of your neck.

All of the sudden, you heard voices on the other side of the door. Before you could react, Neil grabbed your hand and pulled you into the stall at the farthest corner of the restroom, turning the lock and pinning you to the wall again with your wrists above your head.

You exhaled sharply as you spotted the roguish sparks in his eyes. 

As some people entered the restroom, Neil stroked your temple with his nose and breathed, “Looks like we need to keep quiet.“ 

You swallowed hard and shuddered, the pulse thumping in your ears.

Still keeping his fingers wrapped around your wrists, his other hand wandered down your body slowly. He studied the way you melted into his touch, taking pleasure at the sight of the animalistic need that clouded your eyes. The last coherent thought left your mind when you felt his hand sliding under your dress, grazing against your thighs, higher and higher, and you bucked your hips, silently urging him to keep moving. 

Neil’s lips parted slightly and he leaned in, kissing your neck just as his fingers trailed under the hem of your panties right to your pulsing core. You threw the head back against the wall and your thighs tightened involuntarily as if to prevent him from backing away now.

“Christ, I’ve barely touched you and you’re already this wet,” Neil chuckled breathlessly to your ear and yanked your underwear down your legs in one swift motion. Securing the grip on your wrists, he palmed over you again, moving his hand back and forth, his digits pressing against your folds firmer with every stroke and you let out an inaudible gasp, feeling the fire at the pit of your stomach growing by the minute. 

But when his thumb started rubbing circles over your clit, you buried your face in the crook of his neck to stifle a cry ready to escape your mouth any second now. Without skipping a beat, Neil gently tapped his foot on the side of your shoe and you instantly followed his suggestion, spreading your legs for him. He hummed in approval, slipping one, then two, fingers into you, and you sank your teeth in your bottom lip as the sudden bolt of pleasure seared your every nerve. 

Neil picked up the pace, curling his fingers inside you just right, and a quiet moan built in your throat and you nuzzled your face into his neck even further; the spicy scent of his cologne ingraining in your hazed mind with every shaky breath you took. 

Feeling you getting closer to the edge, Neil let go of your wrists and pushed you back on the wall. Cupping your face with his free hand, he pressed a thumb against your mouth firmly. You panted heavily as he kept tracing your parted lips in almost the same rhythm as his fingers slid in and out of your throbbing core. You closed your eyes as the fire from the pit of your stomach almost consumed you. 

And just when you thought that you couldn’t take much more, you felt the pad of his thumb grazing against the tip of your tongue at the same time the other one flicked your clit. Your mind went blank and you sucked on his finger, trying to muffle a whimper.

“Good girl,” Neil breathed into your ear. “Now come for me.”

And so you did, your every particle dissolving into a blissful pleasure roaming through your body wave after wave. 

When you regained your senses, you were greeted by the self-satisfied grin you knew all too well. You scoffed and shook your head, too much of a mess to form a coherent comment. You listened for a second, trying to figure out if there was anyone outside, but it seemed that you two were alone, at least for now. Then your eyes wandered down and your mouth watered at the sight. 

Without thinking twice over it, you palmed the bulk in Neil’s trousers, looking up to meet his gaze. 

The hint of surprise mixed with the sheer hunger in the dark blue eyes made your racing heart skip a bit.

"Are you sure?" he rasped, placing hands on your waist.

You nodded, your fingers already fighting with his belt. 

"Stop talking."

Neil raised a brow, amused. 

"Maybe you should ask nicely."

You looked at him in disbelief and turned towards the stall’s door, huffing, "Maybe I should leave you like this."

Neil wrapped his arms around you.

"Mhm," he murmured into your neck as he squeezed your breast, his other hand sliding down your body.

"Fuck--" you gasped as his fingers pressed to your clit again.

His throaty chuckle vibrated on your back.

"What was that?" 

You moaned, rolling your hips to brush against him.

"...please."

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

You dampened a paper towel to clean your smudged makeup.

"Wanna grab something to eat?"

You glanced at Neil’s reflection in the mirror, watching as he tucked the shirt in his pants.

"You're reading too much into this,” you tried to make your voice as casual as possible.

"I wouldn't dare," he laughed, joining you by the mirror. "What if I promise not to talk to you unless you ask me to?" 

You mused over it for a moment, staring at Neil’s attempts to fix his messy hair.

"And if you break the promise?"

The blue eyes met yours and lit up.

"I'll let you punish me however you see fit."

You scoffed. 

...but then a corner of your lips twitched into a half-smile.

(next chapter ->)

[dovesandsparrows]

Kidnapped: Part 4

( first entry - previous entry - next entry )

The gentle hum of the hover-truck does nothing to calm Angela’s nerves. The arcade is not far down the Hyperlane, but with the van embroidered with the Overwatch symbol, it lags across the tracks, and the road stretches on and on, the end just too far to grasp. She sighs, bowing her head, to picture Genji looking up from behind one of the ancient game machines upon their arrival, beaming as the team had elected to join him after all.

That was the best possible outcome of this trip. Suited in her Valkyrie, however, with a silent Lúcio in deep contemplation beside her, and Hana steel-lipped at the wheel, it feels more like an official mission than worried friends in pursuit. Genji is not a mission, nor is he simply just an agent. His rescue should be their priority until he is home safe in her medbay, for a thorough checking and care.

Home safe with her, and his friends, whose usually bubbly-selves are so withdrawn with the worrying news of his disappearance. It nags at her too, like an ache in her chest she cannot soothe. Her face must display it at this point, because as Hana directs them off the Hyperlane, Lúcio pats her knee, then leans forward to say to the driver, “Are we close, Song? I’ll chuck on my gear, get a scope of the place from the outside. See what I can find.”

She hums in approval, then glances in the rearview mirror at Angela. “You and me for the good cop, bad cop, Doctor Z?”

Speaking with the patrons and staff at the Arcade, Hana intends to ask, when Angela simply would prefer to chase straight after him. Track down this Sombra article, cipher her last known sightings from Talon-monitoring satellites, find her before something bad finds Genji. (Winston had already told her Sombra is far too elusive for the imagery to detect, but it was worth asking, and still lamenting about now.)

Short of Hana’s joke, she replies, “I’ll speak with the owner, yes. You can join Lúcio if you want, I will be fine.”

The stunted answer makes Hana blink, to stare back out to the road. The Arcade is at the end of the street, all bright colors and taunting. “Oh, okay. Uh, Lú?”

“Nah, two people on deck would be good. Maybe you could mingle, there’d be a fan or a hundred.” He hangs over the front seat, fingers framing an imaginary Hollywood sign: “the famous D.Va, in the flesh, on world-saving business! Her prime informant: the arcade dweller.”

Hana giggles, slapping his hands away as the car cruises to a stop besides the decorated building. The display is enough for Angela, who slides out of the car, and treks straight into the Arcade. It’s smaller inside, but the levels climb up higher than she allows her eyes to follow, instead her gaze is set on the counter immediately in front, and the attending with a name badge that says “Jason”. He’s staring googly-eyed at her, whether it’s at the suit or simply her, she cannot tell.

“Ohhhh, hey,” he croons, as she approaches. “The big bosses rang, told us you were coming. Overwatch. I never thought I’d even see you guys in action, let alone meet you. It’s Mercy, right? You’re Mercy, the angel, you’re so coooooool-”

“Yes, I’m Doctor Ziegler. I need information regarding-”

“And D.Va?” The attendee’s attention is stolen as Hana strides in, only in a loose version of her MEKA suit, but still in-gear all the same. She beams at Jason, moving to give him a high-five.

“Hey dude! You can call me Hana, and Doctor Z here, she’s cool too.” She leans on the counter, and Angela tries to relax, reminding herself they are all here to help. “They told you what happened to our agent?”

“Shit, yeah, scary stuff. Talon was here. I could have died, y’know, was texting my boyfriend about it. Then I told him: Overwatch is here, so I really got nothing to worry about, huh.”

“We will try our best to find him, and to secure the grounds,” assures Angela after a deep breath, complete with a patient-brand warm smile. “One of our agents is currently scoping the exterior, we’ll go over the inside.”

“For sure, Doctor. We’ve got everyone on the ground floor, cleared out where it happened so it was clean for when you guys got here.”

Sure enough, the floor is packed with gamers of all shapes and sizes, some with eyes glued to screens, others watching them with mixed expressions of confusion, awe, disbelief and suspicion. It is only small down here, it seems tables and machines have been mashed together like a jigsaw to make room. The capacity of the room means all of the game advertisements - some posters of Hana, too, she realises - cannot be seen among all the people. There is a low murmur from all the patrons, talk of their games, their characters, the goings on, or simply the passing of their lives. Angela hadn’t noticed any of it on her march up to the bench. That, or she chose to ignore it, thinking during such a dire situation as this they would have at least closed the building to the public.

Apparently not. Many things had changed during the war. The refusal to cave to fear was one of them, but it called into question where to draw the line at “stupid”. Allowing people to remain here, with possible Talon activity confirmed in the area, was definitely stupid. Yet she couldn’t dwell on it now, what’s done is done, and unfortunately not her business. Genji is her business. Finding him, making sure he is safe and well.

“Thank you,” she says, shaking the tension from her voice. Genji’s status could worsen if she’s clammy like this, and regardless, it’s unprofessional of her. Better status should be expected of an agent of Overwatch, and a doctor, to not let the situation get to her.

“I’m gonna go make some friends,” Hana announces proudly, giving Jason some finger guns, then disappearing off between the machines, like she’s a part of the scenery, colors and all.

The attendant takes her into the staff area, introduces her to the other staff, and the manager. They are kind, and make her a coffee as she peruses the video footage (erased), reviews the entries to the arcade today (clean), examines the grounds (bare) and checks in with Hana for witnesses (nothing). It turns out, to her utter dismay, Talon may have just committed the perfect kidnapping.

It tortures her, so she reviews where he was taken again: an upturned stool on the third floor behind a machine entitled “Omnic Kong 3”, a nearby open window with nothing but sky in its wake, and the absence of Genji. It’s also when Lúcio chooses to appear in said window, making her jump so much he begins spewing apologies.

“But hey, uh, Doc Z. You’re gonna want to come up and look at this.” Her heart leaps: he’s found something, finally, a lead. Something to grasp, to confirm to herself Genji isn’t entirely out of their reach. “You got your Valkyrie activated? Follow me up here.”

The window is only small, but so is she, climbing out of it with ease. She sits three floors up, legs dangling over the edge, to give a weak smile at Lúcio across the way. He’s perched on the wall next to her, skates grinding in a whoosh sound against the bricks. He glances above his head, where the gutter of the roof begins, something heavy in his eyes.

Her heart leaps, even more than when she activates the Valkyrie suit, pushing herself out of the window. The suit catches her, a quiet pulsing as the wings strain to keep her afloat above the ground. Once the slow descent starts, Lúcio climbs the rest of the way to the roof, so she beckons the suit to follow him.

He’s hunched over a tray, only about the size of her hand, but it is more than they had a second ago.

“Took me a while to find, but hey. Here it is.” He toes the tray, disgusted. Angela crouches down to examine it. “Looks to me like the dart they used to sleep him, they probably shoot him through the window. Hung down, one shot: bam!” He reloads an imaginary finger gun. “Then nabbed him back up here with the translocator, and took off.”

“I’ve seen this technology before,” Angela confirms, with a sigh. “It’s stolen from Overwatch, Ana Amari used the same technology. Almost had it perfected before she was killed.”

“You think it can lead us to him?”

She considers. “Perhaps.” The headache nabs her suddenly, pulling at her temple, beckoning towards the sleep dart debris in the tray. She massages it away with her hand, the other lifting the head of the dart with a gloved finger. “Talon likely finished the technology. If we find out how, we can track down the chemicals they used to do it. It’s a unique serum, it…. Shouldn’t be too hard.” The glimmer of hope she allows herself is minimal, but there. Lúcio is beaming, at least.

“That’s great news! I’ll get onto the others right away, I’ll find Hana! I’ll meet you down in the foyer!” He’s disappeared over the edge of the roof before she can say another word.

--

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[iwantthedean]

Angels Among Us

Sequel to The Demon’s Pet.

Part Nine: Prepare

Word Count: 2035

Pairing: MoC!DeanxOFC

Summary: Dean and Zephaniah’s story continues as he fights against The Mark of Cain taking hold, and she avoids waging war with Heaven.

Warnings: Language. I think that’s it?

Masterlist

In the months since she had last been in Hell, Zephaniah had recalled the experience with little more than fear and anxiety. When she walked into Crowley’s dwelling this time, however, she did so with a cold look in her eye and all the confidence in the world.

Two demons stopped her outside of Crowley’s throne room. She held tight to the demon knife in her hand, prepared to defend herself but assuring them she was not here to attack anyone.

“Then why are you here?” one of the demons pushed.

“I have a proposal for your king.”

“Let her in,” a voice bellowed from the other side of the door.

Zephaniah nodded to both demons before letting herself through the doors. She approached Crowley where he was slumped to one side on his throne, looking far less than amused.

“Have you finally come to get your revenge, Zephaniah?” Crowley asked, his tone conveying his boredom.

“Not today. Sorry to disappoint,” Zephaniah smirked. “I seem to have reached a certain level of desperation, and I – God help me – need your help.”

Crowley perked up. “You need my help? Well, you have my undivided attention now, dear girl.”

“Months ago, Heaven asked me to prevent Dean from releasing The Darkness. I didn’t know that’s what it was at the time and – anyway. I have denied them several times over, and I’ve killed three angels in the process of figuring out another way to prevent The Darkness from being released. Nathaniel is leading the cause now, and, despite warnings from Castiel, I’ve chosen to maintain my stand against them.”

“Honestly, Zephaniah,” Crowley said, standing from his chair. “I can’t say I’m not impressed. I’m still curious, what could you need me for?”

Zephaniah took a deep breath. “Nathaniel is going to wage war against me, and anyone who stands with me. Castiel and the Winchesters will stand with me, but that may not be enough. When I thought of anyone who may have something against Heaven that would be enough to fight in this war with me, you were the first that came to mind.”

Crowley tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “Why does this feel like a trick?”

“It’s not a trick, Fergus,” someone spoke up from behind Zephaniah. “The girl is truly here for your help.”

“Mother,” Crowley sneered. “I’d hate to think that you planted this seed in her head.”

“The idea was all her own,” Rowena assured, standing next to Zephaniah.

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Oh God, the two of you in cahoots with each other? I truly am being punished.”

“Your mommy said you could come out and play, Fergus,” Zephaniah smirked.

“Do not,” Crowley hissed. “You two women will be the death of me.”

“If we’re lucky,” Zephaniah mumbled under her breath; she immediately held up her hands in defense and apologized. “That was uncalled for. Crowley, I’m being serious about this, I really am. I brought Rowena because, while she was not the first person I thought of to have join us, she was the next. She has already agreed to join us, and I brought her with me as a show of good faith. I want us to win this war, but we cannot do it alone. And, come on – you cannot tell me that you would pass up a chance to kill some of those feathered dickheads.”

Crowley took a deep breath and considered her carefully. “What’s in it for me?”

Zephaniah glanced at Rowena, who stepped forward. “If we win this, Zephaniah has agreed to give up her soul. In order for that to happen, however, you must agree, Fergus, to allow me to be your second in command.”

“Win, win, win,” Crowley replied in a sing-song voice. “I suppose I can accept both of those conditions. Count me in.”

 With newfound confidence since Crowley was on board, and Rowena was on their side, Zephaniah decided it was time to re-train a little bit, for all of them. Castiel spent the next twenty-four hours leading them all through a crash course in fighting angels. When the training came to an end, they were all exhausted. Sleep was more of a priority than eating, as was showering. Before they retired to bed, Dean and Zephaniah took the time to down a glass of whiskey each. They were sitting at the table in the war room, and Dean was working up to ask Zephaniah the question he already knew he didn’t want the answer to.

“How’d you get Crowley in on this? And Rowena?”

Zephaniah polished off her drink. “I did what I’ve always done, Dean. I did whatever I had to do to keep us on the winning side.”

“What did you do, Zephaniah?” This time, there was no mistaking the adamancy in his tone.

“To get Crowley and Rowena, I had to get both of them,” Zephaniah said. “Crowley would only agree if I would give up my soul, and Rowena gets to be Crowley’s second-in-command. All of that is contingent upon our winning this war.”

“Yeah,” Dean scoffed, “because we’ll all be dead if we don’t win it.”

Zephaniah pushed her whiskey tumbler around in the ring of condensation on the, wooden table. “We may all die anyway. But the more people we have on our side, maybe we stand a little bit more of a chance.”

Instead of the angry reaction Zephaniah had expected from Dean, she saw tears gather in his eyes.

“You’re giving up your soul for me,” he said on a shaky breath, as though it wasn’t real until he said it out loud. “That’s the absolute last thing I ever wanted for you.”

“I know. Even when you were a demon, you tried to stop anyone from convincing me to give up my soul. It’s my turn to protect you now, Dean. I’m not sorry and I don’t regret any of the choices that I have made.”

Dean squeezed his eyes shut then, allowing the tears to overflow and make way down his face. Zephaniah left her seat sit his lap and hug the man who held her heart as close as she would allow. His tears, as much as they broke her heart, also gave her the slightest bit of hope that there was true love in Dean’s being for her, not only a connection created by The Mark.

 Several days went by with nothing much more to do than wait. The Winchesters, Zephaniah, Castiel, Crowley, and Rowena – their small army – filled the time as best they could.

Crowley returned to Hell to mind his minions while waiting for the war to break out. Rowena studied the Book of the Damned, giggling every now and then at the pretty little spells she was finding.

Castiel spent his time between Earth and Heaven, making last ditch efforts to avoid violence between the two worlds. Nathaniel was having none of it, it seemed, no matter how many offers Castiel attempted to negotiate on Zephaniah’s behalf.

Not that Zephaniah was offering anything. She told Castiel to go ahead and do what he thought he could do; she trusted his judgement. In the meantime, Zephaniah, Dean, and Sam continued to train and do as much research as they could. There were several possible outcomes for this fight, and they all knew there was no way to be entirely prepared for all of them – or any of them, really.

She had just finished reloading her favorite handgun when Dean found her in the shooting range. He admired the way she handled a gun that was just slightly too big for her hands, compensating by adjusting her grip and minding the angles of her shot.

“If you’d relax your shoulders a little bit, your shot would be perfect,” Dean said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Zephaniah considered him momentarily before making the small adjustment. She emptied the magazine into a grouping of shots with expert precision.

“Thanks,” she said, setting the gun on the bench in front of her.

Dean leaned against the bench, arms still crossed over his chest. He stared at the ground, trying to figure out how to put his thoughts into words. There were things he wanted Zephaniah to know; things he didn’t want either of them dying without having been said and known.

“When I was a demon and I showed up in that hotel room the first time, Zeph, I think I knew right away that I was going to be addicted to you – and it wasn’t The Mark. It was something more.” He opened his mouth to continue, but Zephaniah cut him off.

“We aren’t soulmates, Dean. I told you that. We’ve both read the lore on it, and this is not that at all.”

Dean nodded. “I know that, but I also know it’s more than The Mark. You saved me from all the worst parts of myself. Even when I tortured you, when I tried to push you away – you’ve stayed close. Even now, when you don’t believe that this is anything more than the root of all evil pulling towards your soul, you’ve stayed. Maybe I’m wrong – sure wouldn’t be the first time. Either way, no one has stood by me like you have. That’s reason enough for me to love you.”

Zephaniah couldn’t help her breath catching in her throat. Maybe they weren’t the kind of people who labeled their relationship or put emotions into words, but this, what Dean had said, meant the world to her.

“I’ll let you finish up here,” Dean said, interrupting her silent thoughts. He kissed her temple, then left the gun range.

With all manner of emotions bubbling up in her chest, Zephaniah loaded the gun’s magazine again and emptied it out again. When all those tiny explosions were not enough, she leaned on the bench in front of her, and cried.

 The knife in Zephaniah’s hand was weighty but she was already in love with the weapon. Castiel had stopped her in the hall as she swiped quickly at her tear-stained face. He had made the knife himself; he was vague about its creation, telling Zephaniah only that it held elements of the demon blade, an angel blade, and even the Spear of Destiny. Though he didn’t say how, Castiel assured her that the blade had been tested on both species, as well as some others. Besides The Colt, Zephaniah now possessed the most lethal weapon in existence.

“Dies Irae,” Castiel said, reading the script on the blade of the knife. “The name of the weapon.”

“Day of wrath,” Zephaniah translated out loud. “I’ve heard that phrase before. I researched the prophet Zephaniah once, when I realized where my name came from. Much of the book Zephaniah wrote is a warning of the return and wrath of the Lord.”

Castiel nodded. “That’s right. It seemed fitting.”

Zephaniah nodded. “Thank you, Castiel.”

Castiel gave her a single nod before Zephaniah headed to find Dean to show him the gift from Castiel. His room, however, was empty. Zephaniah frowned; his belongings were still there but Dean was nowhere to be found.

Her eyes landed on white envelope on the pillow she used when she slept in Dean’s room. Setting the Dies Irae on the nightstand, Zephaniah picked up the envelope with trembling hands. It had her name on it; she tore into the envelope quickly.

A picture of the two of them, one she remembered Sam getting a lot of shit for taking. She had no idea that Dean had a copy of the picture, until now.

It was one of the few nights between Dean being cured of the demon disease and Heaven’s interference in their lives that they had all been able to just relax. Dean was sitting against the arm of the couch, and Zephaniah had her legs extended over his lap. They were looking at each other and laughing at something funny one of them had said.

Zephaniah flipped the picture over. When she read the message in Dean’s scrawl on the back, her heart fell to the floor.

Don’t come find me, Zeph. My turn to stand by you, no matter what.

[literarygreg10xsmenow]

~ 'The Rails, Some Hemp, and A Hanging' ~

/* ‘The Rails, Some Hemp, and A Hanging’ ~ ‘A livin man, a livin man… I wants to be a livin man. In all da world, he moves around, he walks around, he turns around… I sees each tree, I reads each vein, I hears each worm upon each leaf… The buzzing flies, the splashing fish, they moves around this livin man… A livin man, a livin man – I want to be a ‘Living Man.’ ~ ‘The Rails, Some Hemp, and A Hanging’ "A Believers' View" By Gregory V. Boulware, Esq http://therailssomehempandahanging.blogspot.com/ http://hbcu.com/content/358995/the-rails-some-hemp-and-a-hanging https://www.amazon.com/Gregory-V.-Boulware/e/B00OI16PDI/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0%20 The Sun hadn’t risen to light up the world this morning. This pain-in-the-ass of a war has proven fruitless. It has put us all in a terrible bind. The ‘Blue-Bellies’ outside were laughing and joking right under the window of my jail-cell window. And as I recall, I think I could see several ‘darky’s’ planting, plowing, picking, and singing in the distance. The damned ‘Yankees’ have taken all that belongs to us…  A couple, maybe three of four birds chirped and sang in the distance. There could not have been any more than that, I’m sure. The Yankee soldiers outside reveled in their mastery while enjoying the aromatic scents of ‘Hemp’ and ‘Moonshine.’ There was no other way to get liquor other than someone making it themselves. There was no store-bought liquor to be had for miles in any direction. The company had its share of ‘shiner’s’ on both sides of the war-torn fences. Their horses bayed and pranced in the cold damp yet dark beginning of the day’s morn. My hanging tribunal was short and to the point. My foolish guilt could not be reversed, albeit, my hatred for these ‘Blue-Coats’ and their Black supporters surpasses my pain and sorrowful agony. I do long for the fragrance and joys of home… My dear sweet ‘Abbey,’ my darling wife and young’uns; my plantation and memories of France cut at my brain. In France I was broke, poor, and penniless… Here in South Louisiana, I have become rich, powerful, and wholesome. I have more than a hundred acres of land manned by two-hundred and eighty-five of the best young and strong Black livestock in the territory. Four hundred head of cattle graze on my lands. The farmyard houses chickens, geese, ducks, pork, and several dozen head of living horse flesh along with a few dogs and cats. I am a very wealthy man indeed.  These invaders, these usurpers, these Black-defenders who have confiscated our properties…must all return to their northern domains and domiciles or die. We have made and taken great lengths and efforts to drive them out. They will not relinquish our belongings…they will lose theirs! Cowards and subordinates have taken the places of my one time friends and neighbors. They have cravingly crept into running, hiding, and collaborating with the disciples of the leader of reform, abolition, and reverse slavery for white land owners and the young’uns. I sir, will not allow it, not at all. Someone ought to put a bullet in the head of that tall and long bearded charlatan in that ‘White-House’ Capital of theirs! I will fight them to my last breath. I will spit on thee and kill thee upon sight of your blue coats. Bounties have been imposed on you white folks who hire, save, utilize, employ, and/or hide any Black run-away slaves or so-called Union Soldiers. I will kill them, and kill them until I can kill them no more. I will shoot their horses, cook their dogs and livestock…and hang anyone who interferes. Their buildings, houses, transportation, bridges, and trestles are game subjects for the targeting of my wrath and abhorrence for their tyranny! Resistance will not be futile. Did I kiss my wife and daughters this morning? I, for the life of Me do not recall. I cannot remember! The drifting tufts of the smoking hemp are most gratifying… I’d like a pipe-full. My pipe-full, did I leave it on the terrace table next to my comforting rocking-chair? I do believe that I have. I left it for my return to relaxation once the bridge is blown. That will stop the intrusion, the advancement of these ‘*****-lovers’ from coming down here, through here. The morning…its’ beginning was indeed ominous. It was strangely and mysteriously overcast with heavy thick clouds of gray and dulling-whiteness overhead. One bird made a noise that I could hear. The keys of the jail-house door clang and rattled. No breakfast did I receive; no water for washing or drinking was permitted either.  The voiceless ‘Blue-Bellies’ had come for me. It was a time to reflect my misgivings. Do I have any? I wonder. The coldness of the morn and the trembling of my fear, have caused me apprehension to begin the procession to the bridge. I did resist. I did struggle against them, my enemies. But it was all for naught. And then I complied with their directions. We marched from the jail-house toward the desolation of the ‘Owl Creek Bridge.’ A Posted Warning: ‘ORDER…ANY CIVILIAN CAUGHT INTERFERING WITH THE RAILROAD BRIDGES, TUNNELS, OR TRAINS WILL BE SUMMARILY HANGED!’ ~This 12 of April 1862~ The posted sign warned all who would keep men as slaves while opposing a right and just law. But this stalwart southerner, tried to blow up ‘The Owl Creek Bridge’ anyway. “Yes, something occurred at ‘The Owl Creek Bridge’ one morning during the war. It was a chilly, misty, and cloudy one at that. I was a private when we hung em.” The officer continued on with his recollection. “He was defiant as hell, right up until the end, well, least ways when we put that ‘hemp-rope’ around his neck. We tied his legs and feet so’s they won’t kick and flail. He cried. We then stood his cowardly ass atop a nice new plank…and dropped him like a sack of ‘tatter’s’ in the drink. Lucky for him there was no ‘gators’ swimming about.”  The drum-roll sounded. A bugle blew the morning ‘reviles.’ An owl was heard hooting just as I heard the commander bark the order: ‘FIRST SQUAD, STAND-FAST! FORWARD HUPP!’ Then, the sound of marching boots…including those which covered my feet. The owl began to sound like a child’s whistle, a flute, or maybe a turtle-dove. The first Sergeant; with my eyes I did see him un-winding and unraveling the knotted hemp. This was being done in preparation for the perfect noose-fitting around my neck. It simply did fit just perfectly. Wet from perspiration, my jet-black, long wavy hair did drip the sweat all over me. Blowing through was the wind, but not through the dead looking, leafless trees all around. They just stood there staring at me, laughing at me without an ounce of pity or sorrow; the dead looking, and lifeless gray things. They appeared to be burnt wistful embers of black, gray, and white sinews. The snow fell from the sky a few days ago. I trembled. I heard my pocket-watch tick… “Take his watch!” A voice ordered. It was taken away as I stood backward upon a fresh new plank of wood. Was I dreaming this horrible thing? Abbey, Abbey, my dear darling ‘Abigail.’ Am I not home with you and the babies, my darling? Do I feel the warmth of our bed and the tender bliss of our happiness? ‘A living man, I want to be a living man…’ My dearest, I am with thee, I see thee – I do; I feel thee. ~ ‘A livin man, a livin man… I wants to be a livin man. In all da world, he moves around, he walks around, he turns around… I sees each tree, I reads each vein, I hears each worm upon each leaf… The buzzing flies, the splashing fish, they moves around this livin man… A livin man, a livin man – I want to be a ‘Living Man.’~ “At ten-hut!” shouted the commanding officer. I cried some more… Plunging down, down, and further down into the cold, cold drink, I was suddenly shocked. The cold icy-water pulled me straight to the bottom. My shiny new black knee-high boots filled with creek liquid. I was forced to part with them once I was free of my bonds. The fish gazed and gawked from in front of me and from behind every crevice. I hurriedly swam to the top for air. At the surface, there was plenty to be had. I heard the birds singing and chirping. I saw the flowers and blooming blossoms on the trees. A beautiful spider was mending her web as a wondrous green frog leaped from one leaf to another… A shot splashed close to my left ear. I saw the soldiers up on the train’s bridge. They were training their weapons upon me…they are going to shoot me, to kill me!  They were steadily shouting at me as I quickly swam away. I swam very fast as though my life depended on it. I outswam their bullets. Under the water, the fish and a tortoise joined me in the trek. I surfaced for air and swam a bit further. A ‘Cottonmouth’ saw me and wiggled in my direction. Diving beneath him allowed an avoidance. They kept shooting at me with handguns, rifles, and cannons. The hemp was still about my neck. Somehow, it had broken from the fall off the bridge. “He must be hanged! Sergeant, give the order to open fire!” “Yes sir!” “If it’s necessary, fire the cannon as well!” “PRESENT YOUR ARMS! STAND FAST MEN! STEADY MEN, STEADY…AIM, FIRE! HE MUSTN’T ESCAPE! THERE HE IS…HE’S STILL MOVING. HE WON’T GET FAR. HE’S LIKE A RAT IN A TRAP… IN A TRAP, A TRAP, A TRAP! FIRE AT WILL!” They continued firing and reloading. The bullets and shells hit all around me in the water. The more I swam, the lesser the fire-power. The white-water rapids were now upon me. They threw me this way and that way, hither and fro…they carried me closer and closer towards home. The forest changed from cold dead limbs to lively and beautiful green leaves with healthy foliage upon the ground. I ran heavily through the fields and into the woods. I ran and ran for what seemed like endless hours. The gunshots and cannon-fire drowned and disappeared in the distance behind me. Then suddenly a familiar pathway opened up in front of me. It pointed, beckoned to me to come hither. The trees, the tallest redwoods or dogwoods that I’ve ever seen stood on either side of the roadway. Wagon traffic must have traversed these woodlands. The pathway was worn well. I ran and ran some more…I ran toward home. It was familiar, yet it was not. The twenty foot tall wrought-iron double gates stood closed at the end of the pathway. They opened wide upon my approach and closed tightly behind me after I’d passed through. I kept on running, running towards home. My shoeless feet bled as I began to walk. I’d fallen from running. I was tired but rejuvenated with my new found freedom. I began to skip through the *****-willows. I then saw it. The multiple tall white columns that adorned the veranda was a welcomed sight indeed. My heart jumped and skipped with gladness. The porch, upon which my rocking-chair sat, the table whose top kept good my corn-cobb pipe filled to the brim with the best flavored hemp, accompanied by a bowl of my savory smoking tobacco. Next to it was my little brown jug. The mansion’s multi-paned windows gleamed in the bright and warm sunlight. The immaculate and tasteful clothing that I wore were now tattered, dirty, and full of filth. They were shredded to mere rags. I did not care. I was home. There she is, there she comes… My dear sweet and most beautiful Abbey. I could hear my children laughing and playing…she ran to me – for me…Abigail, my loving wife. She saw me running toward her. I could not get there soon enough, fast enough. My rags flittered in the racing wind. What was left of my once magnificently embroidered vest simply hung from my shoulders. My pantaloons were mere shreds about my hips and thighs…I did not care. I was finally and completely home! She reached for me and hugged me. She kissed and caressed me. She held me tightly. I felt her breast upon mine. I felt her warm and full lips upon mine. Her heartbeat was strong as she held me fast and firm. I was home – fully and completely home. “This is strange dear Abbey…it’s eerily and suddenly quiet. Where are the ‘darkies?’” She quietly smiled. Her pearly white teeth and ruby red lips simply smiled at me. Her beautifully long thick black hair flowed with a sudden gust of wind as she kissed me once more. “To bed my dear…I wish to bed thee now. It seems like it’s been so long since we’ve made beautiful love. The warmth of you and our bed will feel oh so very delightful, indeed. Where are the children – where are all the animals?”  She hugged and kissed me some more…and simply smiled as we turned toward the house and the bedroom. I was happy, oh so very happy and relieved. I began to cough…it grew worse and would not stop. Abbey smiled and reached for me with open arms and a deliciously delightful kiss that I did not, could not receive. The pain in my neck…on how painful it was. “My ears heard a pop and a snap while my eyes beheld the bridge full of soldiers above and the cold murky water flowing below… The steady swinging portrayed the cold gray sky and the wispy willows of the dead and lifeless land …all about. My mind’s ear heard singing. It was the voice of a Black singing an old familiar song of the south. Was this sound also a dream?” ~ ‘A livin man, a livin man, I wants to be a livin man… In all da world, he moves around, he walks around… I sees each tree, I reads each vein, I hears each worm upon each leaf… The buzzin flies, the splashin fish, they moves around this livin man… a livin man, a livin man – I want to be a ‘Living man!’ ~ ~ Peyton Farguhar was just plain stupid. He was not a soldier nor was he involved in the activities of the war. He was a civilian southern plantation owner with a family and the owner of slaves. Peyton was a secessionist who wanted to be a soldier. He wanted to strike a blow for the sovereign states of the south. Farguhar suckered himself into involvement by acting on an opportunity to fulfill his wish. “I’ll blow up the damned bridge!” He was warned not to take action on his own by participants of the horrible conflict and that of his close friends. After his capture and sentencing, he dreamed of home and family like so many of the Black slaves once did, the people he despised, with his neck in a noose. The bridge intended for destruction, stood over ‘Owl Creek,’ bearing the plank that bared the weight of the doomed believer of the confederacy. Peyton Farguhar wished that he’d remained at home. ‘The Bridge’ ~Pg., 13-14, ’HALLOW,’ a journey into now and then~ ‘Occurrence At Owl Creek Bridge’ Ambrose Bierce, ‘The Twilight Zone,’ Rod Serling “A Living Man,” Henri Lanoe ~BoulwareEnterprises~ http://www.BoulwareEnterprises.com