#doubles as a suicide vest

[kaywavy]

bulletproof vest except it’s just reactive armor

[chuulyssa]

if your requests for the prompts are still open, could you do dazai for 1, 2, 5, and 8 if you haven't already? /nf

★ PROMPT ─ 1, 2, 5, 8

!! FT. ─ dazai

─ wearing his clothes

You finally entered the agency after staring at your reflection in the rearview mirror of your car for fifteen minutes. You snickered. Dazai's long sand-coloured trench coat perfectly hugged the shirt and vest you had also stolen from him.

You had barely walked a few steps when you saw Dazai lying down on the couch, wearing your hoodie? You gasped and hurried over to him, lifting the hoodie up to see what he wore under that. And sure enough, there was your favourite T-shirt.

You frowned, and lifted the T-shirt up too, to see what else the bastard had stolen. Unfortunately, you were met with his bare skin, and Dazai giggled, stuffing your fingers further under the T-shirt onto his chest. From the corner of your eye, you could see Kunikida glaring at the sight.

"You thief!" you screamed at Dazai.

"I could say the same about you, bella," he cackled. "I can explain, though! I was getting ready for work, and I looked into my wardrobe for clothes, but they were all gone!"

"All gone?" you sneered. "I only stole one pair."

"That's all I had," he said dramatically.

Kunikida was on the verge of tears.

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

─ helping you sleep

Dazai pulled the blanket out of his face after another 30 minutes of not being able to sleep, only to be met with the sight of you staring up at the ceiling, eyes closed, frowning and muttering something.

"What is it, bella?" he said gently. "Another dream?"

"I want to dream," you replied, sighing. "But I can't sleep."

"You could've said so," he said softly, and turned his body towards you before taking your hand and pressing it on his chest.

With his other hand, he stroked your face, your hair, your neck. Dazai slowly snuggled towards you and nipped the skin of your cheek.

"Can you sing me a lullaby?" you asked.

"Double-suicide?"

"No," you said and rolled your eyes, turning towards him and lifting your leg up to his body to spoon him.

He tucked you in and smiled softly against your ear, humming a made-up tune.

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

─ kissing

"One more," he said, and you smiled before kissing his lips. He was kneeling down on the floor in front of you as you sat on the chair of your table, unable to work due to the walking distraction in front of you. You pulled away and he whined once more.

"More."

You rolled your eyes and kissed him again. By now, your lipstick was staining several parts of his face, but he seemed intent on painting his whole face with the colour of your lips.

"More, more, more!" he mumbled, and you obliged, all too happy to do so. Dazai's hands reached your waist and squeezed both sides, before one went up to get tangled with your hair and the other pulled you closer to him by your shirt.

When you pulled away finally, panting and gasping for air, he merely giggled a little before pouting again.

"One last? Please?"

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

─ nightmare

Dazai was not unfamiliar with nightmares. Being in the mafia and losing so many people had turned him immune to getting upset over dreams. However, he wouldn't always be able to shrug off a nightmare - not when it involved you.

Dazai woke up in a cold sweat, mind reeling from the images of you tied to a chair, blood oozing out of your face. He frantically looked around and saw you staring right back at him, drinking water.

"What's wrong?" you asked. "You've been twitching around in your sleep for about a minute."

"H-huh?" he said, rubbing his eyes and pretending as if nothing was wrong. He got up slowly. "I'm okay. Just stressed."

"Didn't look like 'just' to me," you said, putting the glass back onto the nightstand and coming closer to him.

Dazai leaned in to touch your face, as if to make sure you were real and not just a figment of his imagination. He couldn't lose you, no matter what. You lay him down on the bed again gently and he obliged, snuggling up close to you like a lost kitten and burying his face in your chest.

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

[twenyonepilots]

i love the double album theory with clancy but i really think its meant to be a loop

it’s similar to Vessel in a sense where Vessel takes you on a journey from day to night starting with “i wake up fine and dandy” and ending with “now the night is coming to an end…take pride in what is sure to die”

so its not lost on me that clancy starts with welcome back to trench and ends with what i presume to be blurryface grabbing him by the shoulder

clancy, to me, is really about the cyclical nature of mental health and a decade long fight with depression/suicidal thoughts and having to live and try to grow and keep moving forward as you go through it

and you’re coaching yourself trying desperately not to fall back into the pit of despair even though you know how it works, you know the signs, you see yourself slipping, and you’re reaching out trying to hang on until you reach more stable ground its looking around and realizing that everyone you love is in it too everyone is dealing with their own peaks and valleys and its about reaching your hand out in the dark and hoping someone on the other side grabs on so you can cling to your life-vests, together. its about the constant search for moments of peace and just like how life ebbs and flows it always feels like the second you’re able to take a breath and just sit and listen to the birds chirp and the leaves dance in the breeze….blurryface(fear, self loathing and doubt)comes up and grabs you by the shoulder and rips you right back down the rabbit hole all over again

[aihoshiino]

chapter 159 thoughts!

Chapters Since The 143 Kiss Happened And Went Entirely Unacknowledged And Unaddressed Count: 16

Aqua Hoshigan Status: White

Surprise! As predicted by literally everyone in the fandom, the stab was a fakeout! To the shock of perhaps three people, no, one of the titular Kos of Oshi No fame was not, in fact, dying in an unceremonious cliffhanger stabbing - the only real question was exactly what sort of fakeout it was going to be. I did see quite a few folks suggest 'Akane in a wig and a stabproof vest' even in jest so congrats on calling it! Admittedly this is kind of silly but I would take 'silly' over the character assassination massacre that last chapter's apparent twist would've been any day of the week.

I guess if anything about this reveal surprised me it's that Kana wasn't involved at all…? Unless this is a double fakeout and something's going to happen at her graduation (which is not impossible for reasons we'll get into). Whereas all the buildup for Ruby (seemingly) getting stabbed basically only came in the same chapter it happened in, we've been getting some pretty heavy handed hints that something might happen to Kana for over 60 chapters now if my mental math is right - her parallels to not just Ai and Yura (i.e, our two on-screen victims), language associating her with the "type" we see targeted and that huge "Kana Arima will always protect Ruby Hoshino" red flag dropped by Gotanda, among other things. Kana is also the character who has the most actual direct parallels with Ai, where Ruby is defined mostly in how she differs from Ai… Or at least she does when the story makes sense lol. But I guess we'll see.

Either way, I personally have mixed feelings on Akane's involvement here, in this moment. On the one hand, I like what it represents about Aqua's development - the reason he and Akane broke up was over her 'endangering herself' but really it was because of Aqua's mortal terror over the people he loves being hurt in association with him. Letting Akane get involved here is an expression of growth and trust on his part and I do like that.

On the other… this is super Akane just being treated like a convenient device for the plot, as has happened to her before. It really feels like Akasaka has realized he made her way too competent as a character so he only busts her out to use as a blunt force tool to patch up his story. Hate that shit! Akane deserves better.

THAT SAID… Ichigo's involvement here is something I do straightforwardly like even if the execution isn't perfect. Now we're past the fakeout, I can say that my worst case scenario for The Stabbening was the "Aqua uses his 1337 surg30n ski11z to save the stabbing victim and make up for not saving Ai" because people have been predicting that Literally since volume 2 and I'm gonna be real with you, I've fucking hated it no matter the configuration of characters or events involved lol. It would, even if only subtextually, frame Aqua's self-loathing and suicidal ideation in relation to the incident as justified and that he somehow needs to 'redeem' himself for his failure of not stopping a grown man with a knife from stabbing his mother to death when he was literally four years old.

Ichigo, by contrast, actually is at least partially responsible for Ai's death. He is a literal agent of the system that abused and exploited her, he failed to support her properly as both her manager and her father and it's ultimately his commodification of Ai and B-Komachi as a whole that created the kind of fan attitude that gives birth to a person like Ryosuke. He's the person who actually needs to make up for failing Ai, so having him literally reenact that failing and getting able to do it right this time for the purposes of protecting Ai's beloved children is a direction for his character that I really like.

^_^ However! I do not feel anywhere near as positively about this retcon to Ryosuke and Nino's characters!!!!

like. come on, man. do i even need to explain why this is bad. even outside of how utterly transparent a retcon this is, these kinds of 'everyone is connected!!!' surprise twists are really not suited to a story like Oshi no Ko. They make the world of the story feel much smaller

In addition… it really feels like lately, Akasaka has this problem where he tries to make things more dramatic and complex by adding twists and reveals about Secret Additional Context like this to a character's behaviour but ends up just flattening them by way of making them more cartoonish as a result. Ironically, Nino and Ryosuke are both victims of this with this new retconned in connection and it cheapens not only their own arcs but their relationships with Ai (and how her own arc is informed by her relationship with them in turn) as a result. It's a cascade failure that wrenches everything else down along with it.

The other big reason this retcon frustrates me as much as it does is not just because it entirely shatters the logic of Ryosuke as a character but because one additional picrosecond of thought put into his could not only have prevented it, but even added to the story in some really meaningful and interesting ways. As other people are surely going to point out, this is an insane level of hypocrisy, so - lean into it! Make that hypocrisy explicit and textual!

Parasociality is already inherently illogical and the types of misogynistic hostile masculinity Ryosuke expresses towards Ai are already internally contradictory ideologies. Idol fan culture, too, is built on hypocrisy, especially in a gachikoi group like gen 1 B-Komachi. The girls are expected to roleplay as being romantically (and implicitly, sexually) available to their fans while also being pure and virginal to the point of farce. None of this shit makes sense! So leaning into that by explicitly acknowledging Ryosuke as a hypocrite and acknowledging these contradictory expectations could only have done the story well.

As it stands, this retcon just doesn't work. Like, look at the Ryosuke we see in those flashbacks - happy, healthy and functional enough to be close to at least two B-Komachi members. Are we really expected to believe that Ai rizzed him so hard she mindbroke him into being a Phantom of the Opera tier basement dwelling incel? Or are we supposed to believe Ryosuke was Like That simultaneously with him dating Nino? Literally no direction you come at this from makes any sense whatsoever lol

Ichigo supposedly knowing about them dating at the time also raises approximately one hundred billion questions. Primarily: DID NO ONE THINK TO TELL THE COPS AT THE TIME??? The guy who brutally murdered Ai in her own home just happened to be banging one of her coworkers who was known to have a bad relationship with her and this just… never came up?? Even though the news report on the incident explicitly says the police were investigating the possibility of an accomplice being involved?? AGAIN, NO MATTER HOW YOU APPROACH THIS TWIST IT JUST DOESN'T WORK…

I will say. For all my complaints, that final exchange between Akane and Nino, about how badly Ai and Nino ultimately just wanted to be regular friends… that really hit. It felt like a little flash of the messed up but deeply, achingly human Nino from 45510 I'd been missing so much every since she was turned into this weird caricature of herself. I'm still incredibly dissatisfied with the majority of her handling after the Movie Arc but if this is the note she gets to go out on, I'll take that W.

Concert time! Congrats to AkaMengo for creating a concert scene that annoyed me even more than the last one!

This is the sort of thing I mean when I talk about the ways in which the narrative has excessively favoured Ruby makes her come off as excessively self-centered in a way that is clearly not intentional. Not only does the story frame her as seemingly taking over the concert but she's also portrayed as the center every time she's on panel - even though that's Kana's position, that she only took in the first place because Ruby pressured her into it. This isn't something that happens by accident - in-universe, this can only have happened because the Strawberry Productions staff pushed Ruby into the center AT KANA'S GRADUATION CONCERT and instead of saying "hey, this is KANA'S GRADUATION CONCERT maybe she should be center", Ruby just went along with it. This is not my girl!!! This is not the Ruby of the First Concert arc!!!

No wonder there are in-universe fans getting pissed off. B-Komachi isn't even real and I'm getting pissed off. Like, can you imagine going to your favourite idol's graduation and her nepo baby coworker who's already constantly upstaging her is hogging the spotlight at her last ever idol performance? I would be physically incapable of not starting to throw rocks.

To make matters worse, the story is continuing to try and push what it flopped out last chapter of Ruby supposedly surpassing Ai as an idol. Like I said last chapter, I didn't buy it then and I extra don't buy it now!

Not only is the story still failing to do the work necessary to believably sell this, but the only way it seems to be able to try is to lean so heavily on Ai associated imagery that the whole thing is at risk of buckling under the weight - the double hoshigans, her outfit and even her popping Ai's iconic volume 1 pose. Not only does this feel generally unearned, it also falls flat as a moment where Ruby is supposed to be strutting her stuff as an idol because she is literally, explicitly, just imitating her mom.

Like… Remember when Aqua and Ruby had that big moment of Aqua telling Ruby not to try and be like Ai anymore and to get out of her shadow? Remember when Ruby and Kana had that heart to heart where Ruby said she'd be a star in her own way and she wouldn't be like Ai? How does that remotely cohere with the story relying so heavily on these callbacks? How am I supposed to believe Ruby has surpassed Ai and is shining in her own way when the seemingly only measure of success in this regard is how much she resembles Ai in the process of doing so?

Ruby has been catching strays left and right pretty much the entire time I've been doing these chapter reviews so let me be clear: I think this sucks because I think this sucks for Ruby. It completely undermines everything the story has previously set up regarding Ruby finding her own way of being an idol and it also cheapens the relationship she previously had with Ai's memory. Instead of the love and reverence she once had for her mother's legacy and efforts, now it feels like Ai has been used as a stepping stone to prop up Ruby's success story. The narrative is fighting for its fucking life to sell us on the idea that Ruby has surpassed Ai, but the execution is so ham-fisted that it ends up doing the opposite. By relying so heavily the imagery of Ai's radiance and her idolhood, it’s clear that the story doesn’t trust Ruby to stand on her own merits.

Like… fuck, man. Maybe this is a lot to read into four splash pages with no dialogue and maybe there's more to come from this concert - Kamiki is watching a live broadcast, after all, so the show is still ongoing. Maybe there'll be something in the concert to come that resolves some of my frustrations here. But this is all so consistent with the way the story has framed B-Komachi for almost 100 chapters now that it's hard for me to imagine it even recognizing that this is an issue, let alone taking the steps necessary to fix it.

And speaking of Hikaru………. man, what even is there to say about that ending lol

Much like last chapter, anything I could say about it necessarily relies on context and info we don't have yet. This is such an obviously deliberately provocative cliffhanger like last chapters that I don't see the point in trying to speculate too much about what it could all mean when Aka has historically gone hard on fakeouts. All I'll say is that like with last chapter's apparent twist, if the story is straightforwardly going to follow through on what is being presented right now with no additional twist, it will be much worse off for it.

At leas we'll find out next week whether or not that's the case. I ain't gonna lie I fully expected us to be on break again…

[yawnderu]

Mann Gegen Mann - Nikto x Reader

cw: descriptions of romantic(?) cannibalism, zombification, established relationships, double suicide after getting infected. Honestly just a dark and niche self-inducing fic, read at your own risk.

''Shh, shh...'' Nikto cooed, holding your bloodied body close to his as his gloved hand caressed your hair, trying his best to calm you down despite knowing your time was limited. Much to his dismay, you were bitten in the arm by a zombie before he could protect you. The zombie apocalypse hit the world unexpectedly, and not even the highly armed military bases could hold on for much longer against the horde of the living dead.

''It'll be okay, Солнышко. We're here.'' He whispered into your ear, yet you could barely register his words with the sound coming from within you, skin rippling from the inside as the virus fought its way into your brain, even when you tried to resist it. The urge to drink something was growing more and more, taking away your will along your humanity.

''I'm... so thirsty, baby.'' You managed to mutter out, looking up at him with teary eyes. The same beautiful eyes that once were Nikto's safe haven were slowly clouding up, breaking his heart as he knew eventually, they'd be a blank, milky white. Nikto sucked in a breath, biting the inside of his cheek beneath the mask as he nodded his head, hand gently still running up and down the length of your hair as he tried to think.

''Does it hurt?'' He knows it does. He knows the pain is agonizing, yet he was trying to gain time as he came to a decision. His brothers in arms are all infected or holed up God knows where, and despite being a highly trained soldier, armor and bullets can only get you so far against thousands of infected.

''Here.'' He gently sat you up, removing his vest before he lifted off his shirt, silently offering his body up for you to take. For you to always have a part of him, forever. Your hesitant gaze was met with one full of pure love, his baby-blue eyes glossy as he looked down at you, nodding his head to encourage you.

Your hand slowly trailed up and down his strong stomach, feeling up the muscle that you always adored. His breath hitched at the touch of your cold fingers, muscle rippling and flexing underneath a thin layer of fat. His eyes closed once your face got closer to his lower body, unable to hold in the thirst for much longer and wanting anything that could quench it despite knowing better.

Your cold lips kissed his abdomen, tongue licking up and down his defined abs before your teeth sank into him. Your bite was met with a pained growl, making you look up just to see Nikto keeping his eyes shut. You drank up the blood like a broken man finding shelter, finally finding something that eased up your thirst, yet your broken brain wanted more. Your jaw clamps shut on the skin you were biting, pushing your head back slightly to rip off the bundle of muscle and skin, chewing on it like it was your last meal- and in a way, you knew it was.

''Умница.'' He praised, eyes opening to look down at you lovingly, removing his gloves just to gently wipe the blood trail dripping down the corners of your lips, slowly pushing it back into your mouth. He sat down next to you, arm wrapped around your waist as he brought you closer, his masked face finding shelter into the nape of your neck.

Your own brain was struggling now that you had a taste of what you craved, your cognitive functions slowly but surely shutting down thanks to the infection. You don't register him lifting off the fabric part of his face cover until you can feel a set of teeth sinking into you, taking a bite of the supple skin and muscle on your shoulder, struggling to chew on and swallow the raw tissue.

Your hand goes to the bottom of his face cover, gently pulling it off and revealing his face. The face you saw only a year after dating, the same face he never thought anyone could ever love, the same face that was so scarred he barely looked human, just a husk of who he once was. His smudged eyeblack covers most of his face, yet he still looks like a work of art in your eyes. Your fingers trail up and down his cheek gently, feeling the bumps of the raised skin as you look up at him with nothing but adoration in your eyes.

''Promise you'll meet me there.'' Your strained voice asked and he nodded his head, allowing himself to be vulnerable, a privilege only you get to have.

''да, always.'' He nodded his head once, hand gently caressing the nape of your neck, his thumb tracing the outline of your jaw.

''Always.'' You repeated, looking down at the gun his other hand held on your stomach. It was a silent agreement, the corners of your lips tilting up into a small smile as your shaky hands grabbed the weapon, trigger finger itching once you held it against your temple.

''I love you.'' Your eyes were locked with his as he cradled you on his lap, lining you up perfectly so your head was right in front of his. His arms wrapped around your waist, a gentle kiss from his scarred lips placed on the back of your head as he held you as close as possible.

''We love you too.'' His deep voice replied, taking a combined deep breath when his hand held your wrist, helping your infected body hold the gun. You closed your eyes, blurry memories of your time together flashing within seconds, making you smile as the trigger was pulled. Limp bodies lying with each other, mouths bloodied as you both united until the very bitter end.

Солнышко= Sunshine.

Умница= Good/Smart girl.

[justcallmesakira]

“Can I have prompt 1 with dazai please 💕 thank youuu”

Fluff please sorry I forgot to put that I got excited 😭

"How he asks you out (hcs+scenario!)''

{Prompt 1, fluff}

Sypnosis: Ah! it almost valentines day! But dazai is still not sure how to ask you out, perhaps a double suicide or maybe a little date on top of a cafe?✧༺♥༻∞

Dazai x reader

Genre: fluff A/N: np it happens all the time tysm for requesting!!! now EATT DISSSSS. Also sorry its short! because my will to live rn is shorter!! :3

»𖦹⋆Strangers˚⋆« -Kenya Grace 𝟎:𝟑𝟒 〇────── 𝟎:𝟓𝟖 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻ ⋆˚｡⋆

Hcs:

He sucks at giving affection

OKAY OKAY JKJKJKJK (dont attack i am trying to be funny)

But seriously though this manwhore is so touchy with you everyone just goes "Arent the both of you already dating????😲😲"

My grammar is worse than dazais health and so are my jokes

Dazai is sort of dumb in giving affection, but still he will try to take you out on a date i think.

I am pretty sure he would make his problem on how to and what to and where to take you out EVERYONEs probelm at the agency

"DAZAI GO DO YOUR WORK INSTEAD OF PRETENDING TO BE SOME LOVESICK HIGHSCHOOL ANIME GIRL!!11!!!" -kunikida bcs he speaks in numbers :3

this man will definetly ask you out infront of everyone whether you two or dating or not- buttttt since tis is valentines so he simply asks you out with a playful smile if youd like to go out with him

Obv you thought he was joking since no way could he love you... Right?....

Hes so flirty with other girls but he actually seemed genuine so your face was like "😲->😳"

Dazai will try his best to buy you something though, maybe a bouquet of white and pink roses and tie a satin ribbon at the end and ask you out on a double suicide.

If anything the whole reason you and dazai are now sitting on top of a hill top of yokohama is because he asked you out on a double date-

wow totally normal!!!

so yeah yeah you two have some great time and yk bla bla romantic cheesy stuff.

𝓢𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓸⍣ ೋ-

You were casually outside the cafe of the agency, You had finally finished your work and eaten your lunch so why not go for a quick walk.

Just as you were about to pick up your tote bag, a long pair of arms hugs you tight, enclosing you in its warm clothed chest. At first you couldnt tell who it was but by the long arms and smoot fabric of a certain sooty vest coat you could already tell who it was.

"`Samu??!!" you exclaimed in surprise as your head rushes its thoughts out and instead turn to Dazais grinning face

"Now, now belllllla!" the man spoke, you could smell a fresh smell from his mouth, a nice and minty smell.

"What if it was some other guy holding you tight? It can become very tipsy ya know!! You should seriously woo your thoughts away before some one else can woo you away!!"

Dazai exclaimed jokingly, now now who was he to speak about your dating life like that! He wasn`t your boyfriend or anything...just a friend.

But the real reason you didn`t back away because you knew that it was dazai. Dazai Osamu, your collegue and your babygir-- i mean partner.

His sand brown coat having an unnatural warmth, his sweet and soft smile you could sense even without your nerve system, His long arms filled with different scars which only you could feel with or without his "stinky" bandages.

"Well that`s because your my close friend and i trust you, d-dont make it dirty"

You say a faint pink brushing over your cheeks as dazai finally lets you go and takes your hand instead and drags you to the footpath.

"C`mon bella! Lets go for a walk!" "Huh? now?" "Yes!!now!!"

He didn`t hold the conversation for long but instead linked your fingers with his and cheerfully skipped alongside the sidewalk like a little child going back to his parents.

He seemed happy?yet...nervous?

You two walked for a long time until you reached a park and finally asked him to sit down since he has been chattering nonsense the whole walk.

He smiled and said he will come back in a few moments winking at you.

You kept sat, It was valentines day today so you had work off early. It was nice to be under the setting sun with its light gracing your exterior beauty afterall only dazai could sense you interior beauty.

Finally a figure walks towards you and your eyes lits up with shock when Dazai kneels infront of you.

"Care to join me in a lovely double suicide at yokohamas hill top with the stars gazing at us, sweetheart?"

The man kneeling infront of you spoke out loud with a soft smile on his charming face as he gives you a bouquet of light pink roses with a satin ribbon tied gently around the end of the stack of flowers.

The mixture of feelings you felt was unexplainable as a faint pink splayed across your cheeks because you knew very well that he had asked you out on a date in just one sentence.

"Operation valentines day is: SUCCESS!" doctor yosano exclaimed with naomi by her side "Yay! they can finally get together. We finally did it yosano-sensei!!" Naomi whispered in happiness as they stayed behind the bush watching the two lovebirds.

"Um yosano-sensei, naomi-chan may i know why I am here dressed up as detective with you two?-- i mean i am happy for dazai-san and y/n but---" atsushi tried speaking out before yosano shushs him "Shut it atsushi love is in the air! i will pair you up with that red haired girl later" she nonchalantly spits out as the trio lowers their head again.

"YOSANO-SENSEI!!! d-dont stay stuff like that!! We are just friends!" "Yeah those two were "just friends' and look where they ended.

Apparently both of them had teamed up to make this happen even going as far as giving dazai the bouquet.

Now the date has just begun!

Dazai stood on top of a grassy meadow, he wore a brand new dark blue haori on top of his kimono which had the ukiyo-e of a tsunami imprinted on it.

He truely looked like a refined man.

You made your entrance with your cherry blossom kimono gracefully shaping out your body, the obi was a soft shade of yellow and the decorative obi string was neatly tied into a flower shape with your hair tucked all up into a bun with a sakura kanazashi.

The cherry blossom tree`s lantern which was dangling from a branch finished your look entierly.

Dazais eyes lit up as he turns to you, a soft pink brushing over his light tanned skin.

"My gorgeous, you finally came haven`t you,,,come sit down" he says in a much lower and calmer voice.

"You seem genuine tonight, Dazai" you remark as you gently sit beside him

Usually lovers in japan wear fancy and modern clothes on valentines day but for a lovely spot like this with a freshly bloomed cherry blossom tree, some traditonal kimono suites better.

You both had a long conversation, so long the lantern which was the only source of light burns out as pretty pink and red firworks paint the night blue sky.

Dazai laughs.

"Oh what did i do to deserve something as ravishing as you.." "Hu--"

Before you could pronounce your words dazais lips meet yours, you could tell what this feeling was but it was so addicting so comforting that it made you melt onto the kiss like a chocolate.

You kissed back because you know he would pull this.

A new firework shoots up in the sky, this time a warm, golden and touching yellow colour perhaps a new beggining aswell.

A/N: i enjoyed writing this alot hope u enjoy!!

tags!: @silverbladexyz @tojifile @biscuits-lovely-corner @kikosamus @riiwrites @atlasnessie @atsquie @heartsfourdazai @chuuyasboner @elizais @lanterndove @ruanais @darling--angst

[jamiesfootball]

Augusnippets Day 30

Alternate Prompt: overdose, self-harm

cw: drug use, overdose, attempted suicide, self-harm (by way of attempted suicide)

Summary:

“Roy,” Jamie’s voice breaks. “I did something stupid.” - Jamie made a mistake.

Here on AO3

“You’ve ever having one of those days where it feels like someone forgot to turn the lights on? Like you can still see everything and all, but that’s just your mind feeling in the blanks… It ain’t the same, ‘s not really there or nothing, and you know you should feel something about it, but it doesn’t… it doesn’t…”

Roy sets down his kitchen knife. Double-checks the screen on his phone, where the word ‘Prick’ is still proudly displayed at the top of the connected call. For reasons Roy can no longer remember, his profile picture is a photo of a gecko wearing a pink feather boa and sunglasses.

Nothing could be further away from the wet rasp on the other end of the line. The hoarse, dying slur, almost too low to hear.

Roy moves away from the cutting board and towards the windows, like having extra light will help him hear over the sudden pounding of his heart. “Where are you?”

A wet sniffle crackles at the other end of the line. 

“At home,” Jamie says. Below the off-putting gravel, he sounds tired. “I haven’t left the house in days.”

“Well, that’s part of your problem. You need to go outside,” snaps Roy. He curses under his breath; his fucking shoe won’t go on. “Are you – listen, just stay there, alright?”

“Roy,” Jamie’s voice breaks. “I did something stupid.”

“No.”

“I didn’t mean to,” he chokes, an awful hacking that isn’t natural, too wet and violent. “I didn't feel good. I didn’t feel anything. I just wanted to feel better. I’m sorry, I’m sorry-“

“No. Listen to me now, alright? You’re gonna hang up. You’re gonna call 999.”

“No.” Roy can picture him shaking his head. “No, I can’t. I don’t want. it’s- its not that big a-“

He stumbles on the lie.

Roy grabs his keys. He doesn’t close the front door behind him.

“Jay, I’m on my way, okay? We’ll figure it out together-“

The call drops.

Roy doesn’t remember the drive. He pulls up to the front of Jamie’s house. Leaves the car running. Punches in the door code. Probably breaks the latch, because it takes an eternity to unlock and he doesn’t have the fucking time to wait before pushing his way through.

The house when he enters is stifling in its silence, with not a slice of life to be found.

The living room is empty. Roy rounds the kitchen, eyes drawn  the tile, but there’s nothing – no body that’s gone cold. Nothing still and lifeless and moulded in the shape of his best friend.

He takes the stairs two at a time. If his knee screams, he doesn’t hear it. The distance between himself and the physical world remains at an arms length as Roy bangs open the bedroom door. The curtains are pulled shut to the world, and every mound of clothes on the floor casts shadows on the cave walls.

The bathroom is similar, empty and lifeless and undefinably wrong in a way that escapes Roy’s limited focus, beyond the fact that neither contains Jamie.

After he checks the guest rooms, his soul pulls him back towards the bedroom to stand in the doorway. It’s clawing at his chest, the feeling that he’s just missed him. That if stands on the precipice of this cliff, he’ll hear it. A pitiful whine, a croak, something, anything to prove there’s still air or a heartbeat or just a fucking chance that Roy isn’t too late.

But there’s nothing, and nothing is what walks down the stairs. Nothing stands in the middle of the living room, a lighthouse rotating back and forth looking for signs of life in a terrifyingly placid sea.

Small signals catch his attention, buoying him to one last strand of hope. Jamie’s bag, bright orange like a safety vest, waves for his attention. Jamie’s wallet with all its evidence of existence. His shoes; bright red, a happy red. Nothing like the scene Roy’s been envisioning. His cellphone charger-

His phone.

Roy fumbles his phone from his pocket. The stupid fucking gecko flashing across his screen when all Roy needs, all he wants, is a fucking glimpse of what he’s searching for.

He dials the number.

Billy Joel calls to him from outside.

Roy throws open the sliding glass door so hard he’s amazed it doesn’t shatter.

Sat against the wall of his house with knees tucked tight against his chest is Jamie. He stares up at him, stunned, his mouth mouth agape

“You told me to go outside,” he croaks.

His hair is stringy and unwashed under Roy’s hand. Tears streak his face. His complexion is sharply pale against the dark of his stubble, and his pupils blown unnaturally wide. Something chalky and wet sticks to his chin, and a matching patch on the back of his sleeve, and there’s apparently a whole upturned bottle of pills lost in the dark rank of his bedroom where Roy didn’t see it.

But he’s alive. Roy can feel his heartbeat where he presses him against his chest. He can feel warm puffs of air against his neck as Jamie sobs, as he apologises, as Roy rocks him, uncertain and unknowing of the future.

But he’s alive.

That’s a fucking start.

[izzysillyhandsy]

A cool death - Ed's theatrical, performative suicide

"You know, I thought I'd have a cooler death than this. Something like being eaten, eaten by a tiger, or massaged to death by mermaids, or… belly-flopping into a volcano."

It seems I'm not done analysing The Scene from S2E2. It is a wonderful scene, perfect for rewatching - the music, the lighting, the double meaning of the things being said and the things unsaid, and the way it almost feels unreal, artificial and staged.

This is Ed's arranged suicide and he is playing by his rules, expecting Izzy to go along with it (as per usual). And at first, Izzy responds to it.

It is obvious to everyone that Ed is a highly dramatic person who loves the fantastical, symbolism and storytelling; he has a rich imagination and loves to perform. With Izzy, this is more hidden (especially in S1) but in S2 it becomes clearer and clearer that, in that regard, he is not that different from Ed. Both of them creating Blackbeard (their greatest fuckery) is only one example. The Kraken and the Shark is another.

For almost their whole lives, Ed and Izzy have been performing, creating theatrical illusions of their preferred realities to keep them safe, in charge and help maintain a certain lifestyle. But these illusions also helped in covering up their weaknesses (Ed can't kill, Ed can be unstable, Izzy loves Ed far too much, they're incapable of letting the other go, etc).

So is it any wonder that Ed, at his lowest point and just wanting everything to be over with, views his own suicide as a form of fuckery? He needs someone to kill him (the no killing rule extends even to himself) and so he arranges reality in a way to make that happen.

And for Blackbeard, it can never be an ordinary, boring, basic death. His death has to be cool and pretty intense.

Luckily, he has just the right person for the job - the master of real, sincere intensity: Izzy, who would do anything for him, who'd play along and follow him right into the fantasy, who has been with him for so long that he'd just get it.

And Ed makes it completely clear from the start - "I had a dream about you last night. I dreamt that you killed me." - this is about Ed and how Ed wants to die, dreamt up to the last detail. He holds Izzy's gaze. "It was good for me." - please do this last thing for me. He softly touches Izzy's (ungloved) right hand while standing up and getting into position - "I was standing. Just like this."

Izzy, probably half delirious from bloodloss and pain, follows Ed's every move with rapt attention.

So, how does Ed arrange his death? How does he imagine his last ever fuckery, his last shared fantasy with Izzy?

The execution of a mythical creature

Ed positions himself very carefully, at a good distance to Izzy and between Izzy and the stairs leading up to the door, with rays of sunlight coming from above.

From Izzy's POV, Ed must look like an angel ascending to heaven. Ed's posture and especially the way he holds his arms - almost a crucifixion pose - add to the impression. The sunlight frames him like a halo.

Contrary to the beginning of the scene, Ed turns his back to his executioner and calmly closes his eyes. He stands tall, proud and beautiful, accepting his fate with grace.

Perfect, beautiful and untouchable

Ed might be at his most beautiful and sublime in this scene. He is calm, dignified and regal. Izzy isn't granted the same status.

While Ed is a statue of perfection, Izzy lies on a filthy bed below him, drenched in his blood and god knows what else.

He's sweaty, his hair sticks to his face and his clothes are rumpled (and Izzy is normally so well groomed). His leather vest and even his omnipresent right glove are missing, as well as half a leg. He's so weak, he probably wouldn't even be able to sit up properly.

Also, in stark contrast to Ed, Izzy is almost hysterical. He's laughing maniacally, his face is contorted, and he's wildly emotional.

Ed is above it all, tragically beautiful and serene.

Surrendering to his fate

Ed almost projects the image of a hero or a revolutionary being executed by an evil henchman. He's Ed here - not the Kraken or even Blackbeard. His fate is decided by Izzy, Blackbeard's first mate. I think in Ed's mind, it is fitting that the man who "egged Ed on" to stay in his Blackbeard persona finally kills him when he can't do it anymore.

When Stede left him, Ed returned to Izzy without any plan what to do next. When Izzy kind of decided for him (at least that what Ed tells himself I think) Ed realized that he couldn't be what Izzy wanted him to be any more. He escalated the Blackbeard fuckery to become essentially Izzy's worst fear and nightmare.

Now, at the end of it all, he's back to being Edward, Edward who just wanted to be himself. And the man who had controlled him for decades gets to execute him. One last time, Ed is at the mercy of Izzy.

It is a compelling fantasy.

And Izzy finally, finally decides to stop playing.

At the beginning, Izzy seems entranced, a little hopeful, nostalgic and maybe even elated (even if everythings fucked to hell, at least this Ed wants to share with him). But as soon as Ed gets into position and expects Izzy to act executioner to his theatrical, arranged suicide - he just can't do it anymore.

Izzy could never kill Ed in any circumstances, but this must have been like a slap in the face (or, to be as dramatic as Ed, a dagger through the heart).

Izzy destroys the fantasy by essentially treating Ed like a little kid - "Ooh, you scared, Eddie?" and "Clean up your own fuckin' mess". He's not playing the part Ed chose for him, this is not who he is.

Izzy is not Ed's executioner. He is not a maniacal puppetmaster. He's not a higher power and Ed's not at his mercy. Ed is not a perfect, untouchable mystical creature and Izzy is not a hysterical wretch.

When Ed leaves (slightly disappointed, but not surprised, maybe even grudgingly approving), Izzy kills himself. Without any fuckery, theatricality and without an audience.

With his trusted scene partner gone, Ed immediately abandons his dignified hero fantasy. He throws himself into his next fuckery - the deranged killer. I'm quite sure that one wasn't as meticulously planned.

But when Izzy inexplicably comes back, the tables have turned. Izzy, who has finally taken control over his part in their shared destiny, appears on deck in the midst of lightning strikes and thunder. Now it's Izzy who is calm, dignified and untouchable - a mythical creature himself. Back from the dead, indestructible, disarming Ed with an impossible shot.

And Ed? Ed is visibly impressed. God I love those two. For the last time, Izzy is giving Ed what he wants, but on his own terms.

Finally, the crew kill Ed in the most dramatic way possible, in the middle of a fucking storm, on a ship doomed to sink with every soul on board.

Ed and Izzy can be proud - this was the most impressive fuckery of their lives.

[penguinkyun]

chapter 159 review

trigger warning: this chapter deals with a canon suicide which will be referenced. please click off if it affects you! your mental health is important

this is the second chapter in a row thats accompanied by me having a fever. not sure if that says anything. anyway

i take back very little of what I said last time because the point about ruby not surpassing ai still holds, but at least she wasn't stabbed like ai. at least.

instead we got the comedy of akane wearing a knife proof vest with ichigo planning the whole thing. and yknow what im actually totally fine with this. its better than ruby being stabbed and its inadvertent subtext of "ruby is a better idol than ai, so much so she survived being stabbed" that comes with the scenario where it actually was ruby who was stabbed and survives especially with the surrounding hamfisted narrative of ruby surpassing ai

i really do like the significance of ichigo correcting his mistakes with ai by making sure no one dies in the second attack, because he is the character who has to correct his failures relating to ai's death. its great that he gets to do that in this chapter!

whats not great is him using a 19yo girl as bait in order to correct said failures. what if nino went for the throat? but then again it is in line with ichigo's character *gestures at him guilt tripping aqua in 108*

whats funny is that ichigo apparently knew ryousuke and nino were dating and just did not investigate her in the least. i could play devil's advocate for him here and say that even if he did investigate nino, ai hid who the father was and idk if nino wouldve given hikaru up at that point and theres no real way to get concrete evidence hikaru and ryousuke knew each other, not to mention goros death wasnt found out until 16 years later and even then you cant connect ryousuke to it, but thats all flimsy, paper thin justifications. cmon aqua was better at the revenge job when he was 16 and akanes been doing it better for years, ichigo do better you failed at investigating 101

(cinemasins voice) akane has double hoshigans in this chapter but last chapter she had only one hoshigan

get yourself a murderer who apologises after stabbing you

another giggle is ichigo going (shocked pikachu voice) NINO?! when her hood falls because like. Did You Not Know it was nino? like you really didn't? did you just expect someone to attack on the day of the final concert like what happened to ai? why would you expect that? i can definitively say aqua didnt tell him because aqua said shit in 155 to ichigo, but apparently neither did akane??? he really just expected it to happen. what was he gonna do if the attack happened at the concert?? what was the plan here ichigo??

155!akane: i cut my hair because i didn't feel the need to imitate hoshino ai anymore

158-9!akane: so i'll larp as her daughter instead!

i will say that this dialogue of ninos is actually what ive always thought was part of her thought process

Nino: "If Ai was nothing but an ordinary girl, what would that have made the rest of us then? I just want Ai to be “special.”`

my interp of nino was always that her idolization of ai was her coping mechanism for dealing with the Everything in first gen bkomachi, a coping mechanism that turned into an true belief after ai died because she doesnt want to face the facts about her and ai's relationship: that ai wasnt invincible, nino did hurt her and they never made up. its protection against the sheer grief and regret that would overwhelm her because she never received any closure in regards to that which was compounded by the disbandment of bkom a mere 2 years later, losing her boyfriend and her idol so horrifically (especially after she told them to die) and the years of mismanagement in bkomachi because. all she really wanted to be was friends with ai. and if they were really ordinary girls they would've made up, right? but they didnt and now nino has to live with that

nino saying she wanted to be friends with ai too is all the emotional catharsis and closure i had hoped she would get since 132 and im really glad to see that its here

unfortunately that catharsis is preceded by the plot contrivance that is nino stabbing ruby in the first place which is further duct taped together by the reason nino went after ruby which is that ruby apparently surpassed ai which — no she didn't

and that total plot device becomes even more bullshit by this chapter, where ruby is mimicking ai right down to the cut of her idol dress, her poses and double white hoshigans which gives the message that yeah. ai really was the greatest and most invincible idol who nobody could rival. because even in what is supposed to be rubys moment of triumph at reaching new heights, shes not allowed to do it by her own unique charisma.

ruby has to be shown surpassing ai visually, but because the set up was so utterly hamfisted, all thats left to show her doing so is making her do ai's own poses instead of letting what makes ruby an effective idol shine through, because her character has been so butchered, her original love and compassion for idols and life and the people around her were molded to fit whatever the plot needed to be that this moment, which is supposed to be ruby's shining moment, it just. it just rings hollow.

throughout the latter half of the movie arc shes been wanting to surpass ai on her own terms but shes not allowed to do so and instead ends up just being Ai. its all of the payoff with none of the required set up

speaking of payoffs and setups, kanas situation is the total inversion of this where kana has all the set up for her romantic resolution, her chance to shine the brightest on stage and turn everyones glowsticks white and there's absolutely no payoff. she isnt even the centre in her own graduating concert! aqua isn't there to watch her spellbinding performance because hes dealing with his father whos possibly an antagonist again so her one dream from 151 doesn't get fulfilled! she's gotten utterly pushed to the side because akasaka brute forced the "ruby surpasses ai" in 158 and realised it had to be fulfilled and thus we got whatever the hell was this final bkomachi concert. kana gets tiny singing panels with two dedicated to her solo act (which was actually nice to see at least she Did get the spotlight and her tearing up about graduating ;-;) while ruby gets the biggest, shiniest panels at kana's graduation concert and mem? who's mem? she's barely there and honestly feels like an afterthought with how her age scandal just had no tangible impact whatsoever on literally anyone! it just feels like a thread akasaka just wanted to get out the way

in general the handling of bkomachi's structure, especially now that kana is leaving and mem will age out soon along with her applying to colleges, along with how mem's reveal impacted their presence in the industry, and the impact of ruby's black hoshigan shenanigans severely skewing the popularity to her side has been incredibly lacking and its honestly just sad considering how important B-Komachi as a whole is to all of their characters.

and this scene just pisses me off entirely on ruby and bkomachi again but i ranted about that enough in 158 askhfskd moving on

coming back to nino and ryousuke for a second its honestly a little funny that nino's gay crush on ai was so strong she forgave ryousuke for jumping ship to another idol

on that note though it does touch on something re: nino and her idolisation of ai being her coping mechanism. of course everyone would move from her to ai, ai is the best , of course she would lose all relevance in bkomachi, ai is the best, of course her boyfriend would choose ai, ai is the best. it makes it easy for her to cope with being so strongly and so deeply in ai's shadow — if ai was imperfect that means nino would have to face the hurt, anger and sadness at constantly being second choice when in consideration with ai, that she would have to face that she deeply hurt ai, because that would mean ai was just as normal as her and that would mean that nino wasn't good enough. but if ai was Perfect then its obvious, isn't it? you pick the prettiest flowers after all.

although nino telling two people to die and then they actually do is. yikes. i want to hug her

speaking of ryousuke, the question of nino saying "ever since we let him die..." (mangaplus TLed it as "killed him" but that is a mistranslation which is also proved incorrect by this chapter) is answered here! i had originally assumed it meant they failed to stop him from committing suicide and that's...partially true. on the timeline, its a bit difficult to pinpoint when exactly nino yelled at ryousuke, but considering she says she forgave him for jumping ship and then says `when i told him to go die, he obeyed me just like that` when the visuals clearly show her in shock, that implies in the small window between ai dying and ryousuke committing suicide, he might have called nino in a panic, probably on a payphone and she yelled at him to die in her panic and anger at hearing yknow. that he killed ai. and that was his last straw and then she found him dead when she went to search for him

that still doesn't answer my question of how on earth ryousuke and hikaru got to the hospital ai was at

and so besides all of what i just said about nino, her and ryousuke is clearly a blatant retcon <33. none of it remotely makes sense in an in-universe context line up of events and like basically the only thing it confirms is that ichigopro really were lax about dating. net zero information gained

that being said akane implying that someone else was behind all of the murderous shenanigans going on and that someone being implicitly confirmed to be hikaru by aqua's dialogue is just...why? why bother with the nino red herring? it's a bit hard for me to put a finger on why exactly i don't really like this, but it's like. 154 showed him to be utterly defeated and depressed over ai still loving him and him having killed her and being the final end to their love story it really felt like hikaru was going to do something to make up for it! the 158 phone call even implies this! but by what akane and aqua say here, it gives the feeling of hikaru having been behind ai's and also now, what would have ruby's attempted stabbing? with making him do a deranged yandere smile to boot? it just feels off

i dont really want to make any predictions just yet so i'll just. watch where this goes

i did like aqua's mephisto jacket tho

no break next week!!!

[teddy-bear-baby]

Their Deadly Flower - Fourteen

(A/n: With the end of the fic drawing near, I'd like to take a moment to tell you all how much I appreciate everyone's support on my first fully released writing project. It really does mean the world to me and gives me the motivation to continue writing(Even if it's a slow process). I love you all, my Lovelies.)

Pairings: Ghost X GN!Reader, König X GN!Reader

Warnings: Heavy violence, mentions and depictions of torture

Prolog - One - Two - Three - Four - Five - Six - Seven - Eight - Nine - Ten - Eleven - Twelve - Thirteen - Here - Epilog

Bloomed in Poison - Prolog

     Ghost’s tired eyes widen at the sight before him. An angel had stepped into the room, covered head-to-toe in blood-soaked tactical gear. Bright white light illuminates the figure as they step further into the dimly lit room, though that could have just been his mind slipping further into madness. The lack of sleep and immense amount of pain he’s been put through have done some strange things to his head. He often found himself talking to conjured images of his team, telling them how much he missed them and needed them, only for them to disappear seconds later.

     Iris had been a particularly common and vivid hallucination. Popping up at least twice an hour to let Ghost know how well he was doing or to tell him he just needed to hold on a bit longer. Everytime it happened, he’d keep himself from blinking for as long as possible hoping to prolong the visit from his conjured lover and the brief reprieve it gave his broken mind. Even now, watching as Iris approached him with tear stained cheeks, the only thing he could focus on was keeping his eyes open to keep the illusion here with him. 

~~~~~

     Gone. She’s just gone. The moment you think you have the leverage to get Ghost and König back it all disappears. Rain had somehow vanished from the base, though you’re certain you saw her just a few hours ago in the mess hall. Maybe it was just bad timing and she had slipped out of the base just before you’d put the pieces together. Or maybe she’d seen you rushing down the hall looking like a madman on your way to tell Price. Either way, the lockdown and search of the premises had turned up nothing. She was gone without a trace of her ever having been there.

     “I can’t believe this shit,” You mumble angrily as you tighten your vest to your body, readying yourself for the suicide mission. 

     Soap sighs as he double checks the magazines for his rifle, clearly having had enough of this past week. “How did all go so sideways?”

     You couldn’t help but feel like it was mostly your fault. Obviously, Alice had it out for you for some reason, Ezekiel made that pretty evident. All the thought does is piss you off more. Deep down you knew that it wasn’t just a feeling, it was your fault. Your men were captured, in god knows what kind of state right now, and the team was going on a suicide mission because of something you’d done to Alice. Because you wouldn’t open up and spill your secrets to your ‘best friend’ or what you believed to be your best friend at the time. 

     A disheartened sigh falls from your lips as you continue to ready your gear, tightening straps and holstering weapons as your mind continues to lay all of the blame on you. It doesn’t make sense. Why go through all the trouble of hurting so many people because someone you don’t even like wouldn’t open up to you? Perhaps that wasn’t her reasoning, maybe there was something else causing her completely irrational plans. Or maybe they weren’t her plans at all.

     The emptiness of the halls and rooms has you thinking you may have been lied to. Or maybe you had the wrong warehouse. But that all-too-familiar magnetic buzz has you moving deeper into the building. Like a ship to a siren’s call, you lead the other four into the unknown, fearing the worst while hoping to find the source of your current hardship. Hoping, praying, pleading with whatever god would listen, to be reunited with König and Ghost. Whether you made it out alive didn’t matter to you anymore so long as you got them back where they were supposed to be.

      A long, disheartened sigh escapes your lips as you glance around the last hallway. Having found nothing but empty rooms and silent halls thus far, you begin to wonder if coming here was even worth it. What a waste of time and effort you may have put into a completely empty building after all the trouble you’d gone through to get here in the first place. Suddenly all the fighting and yelling at superiors didn’t seem right anymore. The fear of being fired from the only job you want, of being pushed away from your family again settles low in your gut like brick. 

     Those thoughts only last a moment as one of the men taps you on the shoulder. “There,” He nods toward one of the doors on the left side of the hall. It appears to be made out of solid metal and there’s a keypad on the wall next to the handle.

     Your brain fails you as you step closer to the door, all caution thrown to the wind as you grab the handle. It doesn’t budge, so you try again. And again. And again, until you're practically shaking the door free of its hinges trying to get it open. You want to cry as the magnetic pull grows exponentially stronger. You're on the verge of tears when you finally snap out of your little tantrum and pull yourself together. Now equipped with the knowledge that this door was extra secure, you take a step back and attempt to reassess the situation.

     Your head shakes on its own as you stare Price right in the eyes. “I won’t.” You’re not only disobeying his orders but you’re also directly telling your captain no. If it were any other man standing not even five feet from you, you’d probably be scared to death by the mere thought of telling a superior no. But this was Price after all, and he was like family to you and understood your side. “I can’t.” Your voice shakes with unshed tears as you continue shaking your head.

     Price nods slowly as he looks around at each of the soldiers standing around you both. “Alright.” He gestures to the four KorTac members. “Team two, you’re with Iris.” He steps forward and places his hand gently on your shoulder. “Lead them well. Bring ‘em home alive, yeah?” 

     Your eyes widen slightly as you take in the meaning of his words. Not even ten minutes ago, he’d been ordering you and all the others to climb into the armored vehicle so you could get the suicide mission over with. You’d stood there, unmoving as all the others clambered begrudgingly toward said vehicle. But you couldn’t move, you were glued to your spot stuck on the thought of your men being tortured for something that wasn’t their fault.

     Now, Price is telling you to take these four men and lead them on an unofficial mission to save Ghost and König. The thought of the repercussions this could cause flash only briefly through your mind as you look over at the team of operators. “Will you follow me? Allow me to lead you through enemy territory to retrieve Ghost and König?” You nearly choke on air as they all give nods and stand at attention before you. Clearly, they’d gained quite a bit of respect for you over the past two months, something you hadn’t expected at all. Especially not after the scene that had been caused during the training for your first mission with the group.

     It wouldn’t open. The stupid fucking door wouldn’t open. No matter how many different number combinations you entered, the damned thing just stayed closed. The only other way to open it would be to find a keycard with access to whatever system the electronic lock was linked to. That feels impossible considering the rest of the warehouse had been completely empty. Your hope of getting Ghost and König back was quickly diminishing as you did the only thing you could think to do, stare at it blankly.

     A growl of frustration bubbles up your throat as you throw a heavy punch at the keypad on the wall, watching as it cracks in half from the force. A few sparks fly from the broken tech as it begins to short-circuit. And then you hear, like the most beautiful song to ever be written, sung by the voice of a goddamned angel. The lock clicks open as the power supply to the keypad fails. 

     You huff out a laugh as you slowly push the door open, revealing a long concrete staircase. The irony of your anger issues tickles the back of your brain as you force yourself not to burst into a fit of insane laughter. For years you’d been swallowing down your anger, focusing it into your work and training, and all it took to overcome this obstacle was to let yourself feel frustrated again. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to show a little aggression and anger. 

     You shrug at your own thoughts and usher four men to follow you down into the basement. The cool, stale air filters through your balaclava as you descend the steps as quietly as possible. You make sure to keep your eyes trained on the opening at the bottom so nothing could take you by surprise.

     You're only three steps from the bottom when you begin to hear voices. Your hand shoots up over your shoulder as your feet come to a halt, signaling for the others to stop as well. Three distinct voices can be heard from around the corner, you’re able to pick up a bit of their conversation. 

     “Any new information from our puppets in there?” A gentle, sultry male voice questions, a small snicker following his question.     A deep, gruff male voice speaks with what sounds to be agitation. “Won’t say anything, not a word from either of ‘em.”

     A familiar sounding female voice chimes in, “Keep trying, one of them is bound to crack eventually. I’m willing to bet you could get the giant to talk first.” 

     That voice strikes an animalistic feeling in the back of your neck causing your spine to become unnaturally straight. It’s like nails on a chalkboard, raking against your eardrums in the most mind breaking ways. Rain’s face materializes behind your eyes, that all-too-familiar heat returning to your chest as you physically force yourself to stand still. The last thing you need right now is to lose what little chance you had of getting Ghost and König out of here alive. 

     Your breath catches in your throat as the realization hits you like a speeding truck. They’re alive. They’re here and alive. Relief floods your entire being, your shoulders loosening and jaw unclenching for the first time since they’d been taken. It feels as though you can breathe again, the stale air of the warehouse basement suddenly seeming as fresh as the ocean breeze. A small smile forms on your chapped lips, the thought of getting them out of here is the only strength you can find to hold back the tears.

     The sound of retreating footsteps is briefly stifled by the gruff voice once more. “I don’t think either of ‘em will crack. Been here for a week, beaten, tortured, threatened and still won’t talk? I think it’s time to give up and just off ‘em.”

     You swallow a growl that forms in your throat as you push the graphic images out of your head. You nod once and motion for the others to follow you as the footsteps continue to grow quieter. Poking your head out of the stairwell, you run your eyes over your new surroundings. Small tables and metal chairs haphazardly litter the large room. Most of the tables hold trash of some sort. Empty booze bottles and plastic cups are strewn across the stone floor. The place seems to be in complete disarray, which shouldn't be as surprising as it is.

     It didn’t take long for your small group to be noticed. iver heavily armed soldiers sneaking through rooms and halls that were mostly white and light gray were bound to be spotted eventually. On top of all the other disadvantages you’d found yourself to have, you hadn’t taken into consideration that breaking the keypad might send out a security alert. So, everyone residing within the small compound was aware of, and on the lookout for, intruders.

     While you’d never been a huge fan of killing people, you knew in some cases it was unavoidable. So when a few of the residents found you and your merry band of KorTac operators, your choices were to turn yourselves in and cause a ruckus, or subdue them by whatever means necessary. You all chose the latter, and proceeded to defend your freedom with swift, less than merciful deaths for anyone that tried to get in your way. 

     It seemed there were at least three hostiles for every corner you turned and two more for every room you looked through. Waves of people coming at your group over and over again as you make your way through what you had previously thought to be a small warehouse basement. That wasn’t the case at all though. In fact, there was an underground tunnel system tucked in the back of the original basement. Three whole underground floors, each of which contained housing units, offices, bathrooms and small kitchens. It was like moving through the equivalent of three military bases.

     You probably wouldn’t have made it this far if team one hadn't shown up thirty minutes ago. All of team two had sustained minor injuries, mostly bruises, small cuts and grazes from near misses of bullets. Ammo had been running low and you were down to two of your six combat knives by the time Price, Soap and Gaz made their surprise appearance. The confusion that overtook you nearly made you dizzy, until they explained what they found. What they found being absolutely nothing, which made this elaborate base make a hell of a lot more sense.

     “So, they’re alive? You’re positive?” Cautious concern and elation snake through Price’s tone as he speaks. His eyes are glued to you and the team you’d been leading.

     You nod slowly, honestly uncertain of how to answer without bringing the team’s morale down. “As of an hour and thirty-six minutes ago, yes.” You hadn’t seen Rain at all during your extensive expedition of, what you now suspect is, the organization’s new headquarters. Your eyes find Soap as he works deftly to rig a small charge on a security access door. The hope being it’ll give you all a quicker and quieter way to travel around the labyrinth of never ending rooms and hallways.

     Soap finishes placing the charge and ushers everyone around the corner of an intersecting hall. “Shouldn’t need this much clearance,” He shrugs as he peers back around the corner at the door. “But you can never be too safe.” He steps back behind cover and holds up the charge trigger. A small bang echoes through the hallway, causing slight ringing in everyone’s ears. “Maybe it was a bit too much?” 

     You snort out a laugh and follow Soap around the corner to the security door which is now blown wide open. “At least it’s open.” You shrug as you both walk into the room, monitors full of video feeds fill the back half. Your eyes widen slightly as you scan over each of the feeds, unconsciously looking for two very specific people. “Oh, God,” You gag as your eyes finally find the feed for the ‘interrogation’ rooms. 

     Tears fall from your lashes as you take in the horrendous sight of your men, bound and tied to chairs. The cameras face both of them directly, neither wearing their masks but both recognisable from the clothing they wore. Clothing you had seen them wearing just before they disappeared, only now it was cut open and stained the color of rust in some places. Cuts and bruises litter their bodies, fresh blood seeming to seep from their skin in places. Your stomach twists with the need to evacuate anything that may be contained within as your heart squeezes, trying to fold in on itself. 

     You knew it would be bad, you knew this is what was happening to them, but you could stand to look at it. Couldn’t stand knowing you were the reason for the days of torment your lovers had been through. And now, standing here, more or less fine, while they suffered endless amounts of pain, had broken you. Your usually strong exterior, your need to be fine even in the hardest of situations dissipates. The emotional turmoil you’d thought would be the end of you couldn’t compare to what they’d been through.

     Guilt and disgust fill you as you think back on how bad you’d felt for yourself. You felt pathetic, nearly breaking from their absence was so stupid in hindsight. You’d been so focused on holding yourself together while they’d been here, counting on you to come for them.

     They’d been paid a visit recently, that much was obvious and it made your blood boil with white hot rage. You want to shriek in anger, to wail in sadness and throw things. You don’t though, you keep it together as you knew you’d get your chance to be emotional once they were back in the confines of safety. Your eyes scan the screens once more, finding the room numbers before you turn and rush out of the security room. 

     The adrenaline coursing through your veins and the sound of your rapidly beating heart drowns out the calls of your team. You were on a mission and nothing would stand in your way. So they were either with you, or they weren’t. 

     The next twenty minutes blur in your head, flashes of the events that transpired are all that remain. Images of you sprinting through the halls, picking off the residents of the facility one by one. The cuts and bruises you’d sustained, the single bullet that had managed to hit you in the midst of the absolute rampage you’d gone on stick in the back of your head. You don’t feel them though, your whole body feels numb and you can’t think of anything but pulverizing the two people you know had a hand in Ghost and König’s torture. 

     You vaguely remember team two following hot on your heels as you massacred a fifth of the people on the third floor. They’d followed you without question, either having full confidence in your abilities or having that little control over themselves as well. It hadn’t really mattered to you either way, you were just glad to have some sort of backup when it came time to bust into the room that contains the holding cells. 

     Many well-equipped guards stood in your way, but you weren’t deterred in the slightest by their presence. Neither were the four men from KorTac. In that moment it became clear why they had followed you so willingly, all of them standing at your side waiting for you to give the order. Waiting for you to lead them into what would most likely be a bloodbath for your small, now ammo-less group. 

     “This will most likely end in at least one of our deaths,” You explain in a hushed voice as you glance between the four men. “You’ve come this far with me and not questioned any of my rash decisions, I wouldn’t blame any of you if this is not a risk you’re willing to take.” You swallow hard, nerves slowly wiggling their way past the wall of numbness and determination that had gotten you this far. “You’ve all done well and I commend you all for the bravery you’ve shown by blindly following my lead.” You salute them all as a show of respect, nodding in approval as they follow suit. “I’m going to turn around, you have thirty seconds to make your decisions. After that I’ll be moving forward with no knowledge of who has chosen to stay and who has chosen to go.” 

     You take a deep inhale and turn toward the door that would likely lead to your death. You wouldn’t make the choice for these men, you wouldn’t lead more people than necessary to their deaths for what felt like a selfish and reckless move. Your stomach churns with a mixture of respect and fear when you hear four sets of boots come to stand in a line beside you.

     “If we play this right,” Horangi pipes up quietly. “We can get weapons from a few of the guards before they realize we’re even here.”

~~~~~

     Blood. So much blood. Covered in it, head to toe and back again, absolutely soaked. Yours, Ghost’s, König’s, and everyone else you’d come in contact with in the past three hours. But most of it belonged to that prick who’d suggested just offing your men. It’s sticky and wreaks of iron, leaving a tingling sensation in the back of your nasal cavity. It serves as a stark reminder of the things you found out you were capable of about forty-five minutes ago and it’s the last sinsation you feel before everything around you fades to black.     Your whole body ached from a hard battle your team had barely won. None of you had escaped without injuries that ranged in severity from simple bruising to bullet wounds. Through all of it the only thing keeping you upright was the hope that that vile man hadn’t managed to follow through with his suggestion. 

     As the last guard falls by Soap’s hand, the whole group breathes a collective sigh of relief. The room grows deathly silent as we search the fallen guards for keys to the cell that Ghost and König were held in.

     You’re the first to enter the room, your feet dragging slightly as you step in and come face to face with the bruised and broken forms of Ghost and König. Your first instinct is to run up and embrace them but that thought is quickly stunted by the sound of heavy footsteps behind you. You think better of it anyway, better not to crush them in your embrace and further cause them pain. Instead you settle for a gentle caress to each of their cheeks as your team moves in around you, readying themselves to haul the two large men out of the underground compound.

     On the long walk back to the surface with the team carrying your most injured companions, your eyes catch sight movement out of the corner of your eye. Your head turns just in time to catch the back half of a man trying to sneak behind a corner. Unluckily for him, and luckily for you, your eyes are sharp from years of paranoia and working with 141 and you rush to subdue the man in hopes of getting your hands on Rain once and for all.

     Much to your surprise as you round the corner you find that the man is accompanied by the woman you’re after. Your heart pounds as the anger you’d recently resolved comes flooding back, mind reeling with all the ways you’d enjoy tormenting these two cretins as soon as you got your hands on them. The aching in your body is quickly forgotten as Rain begins to make a run for it. You move to follow, determined to take her down before she manages to disappear for the third time but this man, whomever he may be to her, steps in the way. 

     His form is larger than yours, appearing almost bodyguard-like as he blocks your path. His arms are outstretched so even if you attempt to move around him, he’d have a good chance of catching you. 

     Your anger turns to pure, unadulterated rage, watching over the man’s shoulder as Rain disappears around another corner in the maze of hallways. A frustrated yell falls from your lips as your eyes harden and move to the man’s less than pleasant face. “I’ll fucking kill you!” THe last word to leave your lips before you pounce on the man. Your hands find their way around his thick neck as he falls back from the sudden attack. You don’t give him a chance to react before using your grip to take the air from his lungs. Pounding his head into the concrete floor as the fire in your eyes intensifies.

     For ten solid minutes you remain on top of the man. Long after the light had drained from the man’s eyes and he’d stop clawing at your wrists. Still you continue to abuse the man’s body as an outlet for your rage. All of your usual management skills are gone and the anger deep in your bones, anger from years past, spurs you on. You only stop once the adrenaline that fueled you ran out completely. Your body grows weary as your arms fall heavily to your sides. It takes every ounce of energy and strength you have left to drag yourself out of the compound to the awaiting vehicle. You collapse inside next to Ghost and König’s unconscious forms before slipping into darkness yourself.

(Don’t forget to ask about joining the tag-list: @josieguts @strangepuppynightmare @theredviolets @poohkie90 @giulia2372 @fillechatoyante @buckysjuicyplums @running-writing @darkravenqueen98 @bigman101 @birdiiiiiiiiiii @kessi-21)

[xxavengingangelxx]

Long Way From Home 8/8

Ya'll know the drill. I assume this isn't ya'll's first rodeo when it comes to reading this but alas, because it's a dark fic, I will post triggers again. MDNI, 18+ TRIGGERS: Implied/attempted suicide, self-harm, torture, brainwashing, physical abuse, mind fuckery, Stockholm syndrome-related mental gymnastics, trauma bonding, mentions of foster care, threatened/implied/referenced rape, EXTREMELY dubious consent, flashbacks of torture, female being drugged. Self-hate in this one :( If I miss, any let me know, please! DARK FIC!

This fic is almost coming to an end...kind of. At an end! This will be the first part of the series. After MW3 comes out, I can start posting part 2. Now I've decided on an ending and just know I'm not a believer in happy, fluffy endings because that's just not real life. Read my other Graves/Reader fic As the; Rush Comes to see ;) @josieguts because they asked to be tagged :)

Thanks for all the love! I was so scared putting this out there.

-

Back on base, you learned that each Shadow kept track of how many enemy combatants they’d killed on the inside of their vests. They’d taken yours and proudly added two tally marks before giving it back to you.

One Shadow mentioned the possibility of you being charged with war crimes. Graves mentioned not to worry about it. The military thought you were dead and his company was in the process of creating another identity for you. Now, once you were on paper in Shadow Company, you had to be a little more careful about how you handled that anger in the field.

War crimes? You?

What did Graves say again? Don’t worry about it. Just another reason to stick around.

-

So they taught you less lethal forms of combat. The training had you on a hair-trigger and while you responded immediately to threats or attempts to grab you with nonlethal interventions, it was made clear to you that any threat on your life should be met with deadly force.

It got to the point to where you could seriously hurt someone with just your hands despite your small size. Add a sidearm or even a knife and that made you deadlier. Enemy combatant men especially just rubbed you the wrong way. They way they looked at you. Despite your gear they knew you were female. They’d smirk until they met your glare. It had gotten to the point to where just looking at an enemy made them do a double take. Your glare had that much hatred in it.

But they never limited your access to weapons, sidearms, or knives. Because they wanted you alive.

“But no more killing people just because, ‘kay, darlin’?”

-

But you kept at it, your anger getting the better of you in the field more often than not. Before you knew it you counted 14 tally marks on the inside of your vest. Shadows had added each one proudly. The more the more pieces of shit you killed, the less pieces of shit were left alive on Earth according to them. Graves didn’t care, either. These were terrorists you were eliminating.

It wasn’t really a problem because you were technically dead. No one could trace those deaths back to you. If someone tried hard enough, they’d be traced back to the only female operator in Shadow Company. You didn’t have a real name. You stuck out though. You were a lot smaller than the rest of the crew and you were the only one with pink accents to your gear. Despite the heavy equipment, your female figure was still obvious.

While raising hell in the Middle East you’d picked up a nickname. Several, actually. Because you were female, Middle Eastern enemy combatants, mostly men, had of course attached genderized terms to the epithets they gave you. Angel of Death was one. But the one that stuck and the one that Shadow Company picked up and labeled you with? Ice Queen, IQ for short.

Naturally, these sexist Middle Eastern enemy soldiers had assumed you and Graves to be a married couple because they could not imagine a woman your age not being married and not being under the control of a man. Graves had picked up his own monicker: Blue-Eyed Devil. Blue eyes were rare out here and so Graves also stuck out in a way.

The Blue-Eyed Devil, his wife the Ice Queen, and his men, Shadow Company were seen as terrorists in these lands and all of you had bounties on your heads.

-

Graves got less physical with you because you were entirely cooperative. There was not even the slightest disobedience left in your body or your mind. As far as you knew you and Graves were one. You were so far gone from your previous self but you didn’t know it. You’d forgotten who you once were. That woman had died long ago.

Graves sometimes still got physical with you, though. Just not like he used to. Instead of inflicting pain to make you suffer, Graves inflicted pain to elicit pleasure.

Some nights Graves was almost brutal. He’d have you on your knees before him, his fist grasping your soft hair in such a strong grasp that side of your head ached when he eventually let you sleep. You’d feel tears escaping from your eyes which were shut so tight it almost hurt as he quite literally fucked your throat.

And you…

You

Got

Off

On

It.

Graves could hold you down in bed and fuck you so hard you stayed in bed a little longer because you were nervous that others would notice you walking differently.

But that was okay. Because whenever he pulled that shit, you'd edge him mercilessly. Over and over.

But sometimes he became physical in an entirely different way. Sometimes you and him engaged in that delicious, slow burn sex that lasted…and lasted. It would leave you both hot, sweaty, and drowsy. Graves would lie in bed with you and just hold you sometimes. He’d listen as your heartrate went from rapid and erratic to slow and lethargic. He liked resting his head on your chest in between your breasts as you laid on your back and tried to fight off sleep. But he was like a warm weighted blanket and more often than not sleep won.

Sleep would often conquer you both those nights.

The room you shared was always private. Off limits. But you couldn't help but wonder what you both looked like. You under Graves. Sometimes your legs would still be spread with him between him. Sometimes he would just lie over you, legs and all. His face, especially his cheekbones would be colored red from your recent sexual efforts. His hair tousled and ruffled. He'd be on your chest trying to catch his breath while you ran lazy fingers through that messy sex hair. Your fair skin wouldn't be able to hide your post-orgasm blush, either. Your other arm would be rubbing his arm while your long hair fanned out behind you on the bed.

-

That mask you wore around everyone but Graves? It started to come off around Shadows. You saw them as older brothers, really. And they protected you like no one’s business.

One of those edgy, overly eager enemy soldiers had gotten the drop on you once when you had been busy trying to pull intel off an enemy device.

Said enemy combatant had been able to knock you off your feet. And climbed on top of you. He got four punches in, shattering your goggles and making the fragments scatter while some scratched your face.

Four hits.

Shadows were never far behind. You were never alone. The enemy soldiers had a nickname for Shadows, too. Hellhounds. Shadows were quick to pull this man off you. They dragged him off somewhere and tortured him slow.

They’d let you kill him.

You’d taken off the shattered goggles. They hurt your face anyway seeing as this motherfucker had caused your face to be cut in several places from the sharp plastic when they broke from his punches. You’d stopped wearing a mask around Shadows long ago. You approached said enemy and shot him point blank.

He made the 15th kill. Shadows added one more tally to your vest when you got back to base.

-

Addicted. That was the only term you would use to describe how you felt towards Graves and how he felt towards you.

Neither of you could function without the other for long.

You had no idea what you would do if something happened to him. Or if for some reason you were taken from him.

While on base you got whatever the hell you wanted. That top-of-the-line computer to run code with your hacker Shadow friend? Bought and paid for. Noice-cancelling headphones to blast music through? Done. “Just don’t run your hearing, ‘kay, sweetheart? I need you sharp,” Graves said. Graves loved showing off that he had a female on his team that was all his and so when you wanted dark pink highlights in your hair? Go for it.

You remembered your past, dead identity reading about trauma bonding and wondering if Graves felt bad about all the shit he’d put your through before you started cooperating. Sometimes when a captor started feeling for a captive they might look back and feel…uncomfortable…unsettled with how they had treated said captive in the past. You noted how Graves had not inflicted any of the torture you’d suffered since you got to his black site. He’d had his men do it. And he’d turned away more than a few times preferring they drug you than keep inflicting pain.

Sometimes you’d catch Graves looking at you. Not in a sexual way. Not a predatory way. Not in an I own you type of way. You couldn’t quite describe it. But you wondered if it was because he missed your past self’s easy smile and joking manner. They way you could always pull him into conversation no matter that kind of shit day he’d had.

But that wasn’t you anymore and you had no plans of returning to that persona.

You still hadn’t smiled.

And you still barely talked.

-

“Konni Group,”

“What?”

“Konni Group,” Graves repeated.

“What’s that?” you asked, attempting to catch your breath. You were laid on his chest this time, feeling sleepy after one of those slow burn sex episodes.

“The reason might have to team up with an old foe,” Graves responded.

[the-ace-writter]

Character profile for Under The Ivy (My new story)

Atticus Woodly Atticus is a 19-year-old college student with a double major in History and Art history (he takes music history classes and is in the orchestra playing the cello). He's about 5'8 and 127lbs, he has fluffy light brown wavy hair that's often messy from how he usually plays with it and runs his hands through it. He has pale green eyes and a light olive skin tone. He grew up in a middle-class family. His personal aesthetic is chaotic academia, and his personality type is INTP-T. He is a homoromantic Asexual and a hopeless romantic. He has ADHD, and several things surrounding ADHD, his adhd contributes to his creativity and unique perspectives. (Yes I know what they are and how to write this because I based him off of me mostly) Atticus's mother named him after Atticus Finch from To Kill A Mockingbird because of how much his mother loved that book. (TW: suicide) Atticus's most prized possession is a cello necklace given to him by his older sister Clara who committed suicide when he was 12. Her death has had a big impact on his life and since his sister was the one who always encouraged him to pursue whatever it was that made him happy and whatever he wanted to do and to not worry about the money. On a lighter side of Atticus' interests and hobbies:

Enjoys exploring art galleries and museums, often losing track of time while immersed in historical narratives.

Engages in discussions about literature and philosophy, often analyzing characters and themes deeply.

Loves attending concerts and performances, both classical and contemporary, finding solace in music.

Loves playing the cello it helps soothe him and regulate his emotions and express said emotions.

Atticus has a messy 1 person dorm though he'd call it organized chaos. If he can't see it, it might as well not exist. He likes a little bit of every kind of music so you never know what you'll catch him listening to. oh right, clothing he likes oversized sweaters, sweater vests, crew neck sweatshirts, and jackets. Baggy trousers, or straight-legged pants usually plain, tartan, or plaid of some kind. Old Converse, or combat boots are the main shoes he wears. He likes button-ups and turtlenecks, as well as vintage band tees or other graphic tees with book stuff or funny things or words that match his personality.

[astro-can]

Meaning of Life | soukoku | Chapter One

"ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅɪᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ?"

Nakahara Chuuya’s one wish in life is for Dazai Osamu to disappear forever. Or at least, that’s what he thinks. Dazai Osamu’s one wish in life is to find a beautiful woman to commit double suicide with. Or at last, that’s what he wants Chuuya to think.

a short soukoku fanfiction (around 3-4 chapters) tw: suicide and blood word count: 1.4k

Nakahara Chuuya was at his limit. 

He was walking to his favourite bar one late evening after a particularly tiring day. The Boss had putten him in charge of overseeing a suspicious group of ability-users in the north side of the city. The job could’ve easily gone to someone ranked lower than him, like Akutagawa or Tachihara, but Chuuya knew best to not disobey the Boss’s orders. Long story short, he managed to find out the identity and motive of the group, interrogate the members, kill the leader, and dispose of any evidence that the group ever existed. The job was fairly effortless, but then he was sent to pick up all of Elise’s clothes at the tailor. And that was no easy job.

I don’t know why Boss keeps giving me such useless tasks. I’m one of the five executives, for christ’s sake. I should be doing more than hauling fifty pounds of dresses for some young bratty girl.

Just when he thought his day couldn’t get any worse, Dazai Osamu showed up.

A coincidence? Maybe. But for his greatest rival and ex-partner to show up at the same bar at the exact same time as him, he doubted it.

Naturally, Chuuya picked up the nearest object (which happened to be a bottle of wine) and threw it at Dazai.

“Woah, woah, Chuuya-kun! No need to be so aggressive!” Dazai caught the bottle with one hand instead of dodging it and tapped the counter. “Get me a cup, bartender.”

The bartender was a middle-aged woman with short curly hair. She nodded and obliged. Dazai took a seat a few chairs away from Chuuya and poured himself a shot of the wine he had thrown at him.

“What the hell are you doing here, shitty Dazai? Get out of my sight before I pummel you to death!” Chuuya roared, scooting away from his enemy.

“Are you already drunk? It seems like you haven’t even drank anything yet, though.” Dazai flashed his infamous smile at Chuuya. He looked no different than he usually did - shaggy brown hair, a long beige coat, a dark vest over a dress shirt, beige pants, and a bolo tie held together with a turquoise pendant. His eyes were bright under the dim lights hanging above, although Chuuya could see a hint of exhaustion behind them.

“Allow me.” Dazai scooted over and started pouring for Chuuya. However, as he drew his hand back, he hit the cup and knocked it over onto Chuuya’s clothes.

“You bitch–! You did that on purpose!” A vein popped in Chuuya’s forehead as he grabbed a few napkins to clean it up. “I had this vest cleaned yesterday!”

“Well then, you can clean it again! Not that hard, no?” Dazai hummed.

That menace! “What are you even doing here? Doesn’t the President of the Agency get mad when you casually meet up with members of the Port Mafia?” Chuuya gave up on trying to get Dazai to leave, knowing that his efforts would be futile. He did increase the distance between him and Dazai, though. He wanted nothing to do with his former partner.

“I couldn’t care less if Fukuzawa-san found out!” Dazai exclaimed loftily. “It’s Kunikida that would scold me. But I don’t care what he thinks, so all’s good!”

He really doesn't give a fuck, huh? Fucking bastard. 

Did he want to see me? Is that why he’s here?

…As if.

“What about you, Chuuya-kun? What are you doing at a bar at this time of day?”

“Why do you care?” Chuuya snapped, tilting his head back and taking a shot. “Found any new suicide methods recently?”

“Why do you care?” Dazai mocked him, making a silly face. Chuuya slammed his cup down angrily and glared at him, activating his Gravity Manipulation to show off a dark red aura. “Calm down, Chuuya-kun, I’m just kidding!”

Chuuya-kun, Chuuya-kun. Tch, he needs to shut up. “I just want you to die already, goddammit!”

“But Chuuya-kun…I need a beautiful woman to commit double suicide with! Otherwise, it won’t be fun or meaningful!” Dazai said, eyeing the bartender. “Like, for instance…”

“H-huh?” The bartender’s face turned bright red when Dazai jumped up and gently grabbed her slender hands.

“Oh, gorgeous maiden, would you have the honor of committing double suicide with me? We could elegantly jump off a tall building together, for example, the Port Mafia headquarters…” Pink roses and golden sparkles were practically emitting off of Dazai, his cunning smirk now changed to a soft smile. He batted his eyelashes and leaned in, only an inch away from the poor woman.

Chuuya stared at Dazai. Normally, he would pull the bastardous boy away and apologize to the woman, but today, a different kind of anger washed over him.

That damn woman did not deserve to hold Dazai’s hands, and she certainly did not deserve Dazai’s proposal of double suicide.

Wait…what?

Am I drunk?

Why am I thinking like this?

He clenched his fists. Is Dazai pulling some trick on me to make me feel jealous?

Why am I jealous?

Since when did I get jealous?

“...Oi, Chuuya. Looking a bit pale there.” Dazai turned around, his left cheek red from the slap the bartender had just given him. “Already wasted?”

She…slapped him.

She slapped him?

Chuuya gritted his teeth and directed his glare towards the woman, who was now awkwardly shuffling away.

Then he realized what he was doing and stopped himself. Why do you care? You hate Dazai. You hate Dazai. You hate Dazai. You wish he would just die already.

While Chuuya struggled with his little internal conflict, Dazai side-eyed him calculatingly. Then the corners of his mouth twitched up, as if he had figured something out. “What’s wrong, Chuuya? Old age finally getting to you? Need me to crack some of those joints?”

“We’re the same age!” Chuuya hissed. He felt his face heat up from Dazai’s second statement. Stop it, dirty mind.

“Ah, but you’re so much shorter! And why do you look so sick?” Dazai showed no sign of stopping until he got an answer. “Is that just a thing that happens with short people when they’re at bars?”

Chuuya clicked his tongue in annoyance and hit Dazai as hard as he could. The latter doubled over in pain and grunted, muttering a few incoherent words under his breath. Chuuya found himself blushing, and immediately hid his face from Dazai. “...I’m the only one who’s allowed to hit you,” he whispered.

“What was that?” Dazai perked up.

“Nothing, go to hell! Why do you want to die so much anyway? If you want to commit suicide, then commit suicide, whether it be with a hot woman or whatever!” Chuuya yelled, annoyed by Dazai’s antics.

Dazai’s playful expression vanished and was replaced by a serious one. “Why do you think I always attempt suicide but I never commit it?”

“Huh…?” Chuuya looked up, startled by Dazai’s sudden change in tone. “Wha…I don’t know. Tell me.”

Dazai’s smile returned. “Wahahaha, it's a secret! You’ll have to find that out for yourself! 

“You—!”

The chair screeched back as Dazai stood up. He winked at Chuuya and left the bar after laying some money on the counter. Chuuya grunted, grabbed the wine bottle, and took a long swig. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a piece of paper on the chair Dazai had been sitting in.

“…” Chuuya snatched it up before anybody else could look at it.

Saturday, 11pm, south docks. Just you and me ᕙ(`▿´)ᕗ

He scoffed. So shitty Dazai came here for a reason. Some sort of mission? Why would we be doing it together? Twin Dark became no more after he left the Mafia.

Shouldn’t I run this by the Boss?

Just you and me.

Chuuya shoved the paper into his pocket and stood up to leave. He laid money on the counter and strode out of the bar, opening the door and inhaling the fresh air.

He took out a cigarette and pondered on whether to have a smoke before going home or not.

“Chuuya-kuuuuuun, you do know that you’ll die of lung cancer if you keep smoking, right? In that case, I’ll appreciate it if you keep going! You’ll be out of my life sooner, then!”

“Does he really want me to die of lung cancer?” Chuuya twisted the cigarette with his fingers and tossed it into the garbage nearby. The people around him moved away, scared of the scary aura surrounding him. He tugged his hat low to hide his sour expression and downturned lips, his hand trembling from an unknown feeling.

“What a jerk.”

line without a hook - ricky montgomery

chapter two

[eris-anansi]

Dreamwood 1999

Episode 5: Malice

After several notable businessmen are found dead, all lines trace back to a local lab facility that claims to be a wildlife research center.

CW: Implied murder, depictions of violence, character death, suicide

Associated Song: The Arctic Monkeys - This House is a Circus

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

Friday, October 1st, 1999.

“Mr. Wilson– come out, It doesn’t have to end like this!”

A desperate policeman called through a megaphone out to the man inside of Dreamwood National Bank. The building was currently surrounded by police and police vehicles. 

Parker and Thomas had just arrived on the scene and found Officer Darcy by one of the cars. “What’s going on here, Henry?” Parker asked.

“Hostage situation. That guy in there’s got an assault rifle and ten civilians. We aren’t sure what he wants yet and we’re trying to gain control of the situation.”

Parker nodded. He understood all he had to, as far as he was concerned. He started to approach the officer holding the megaphone.

“Parks, what are you–” Thomas started to ask, but he found it pointless to even continue.

Parker walked up to the officer with the megaphone and took it from him. The officer blinked, but did not protest. He let the Caldwell have his way. Parker spoke through the megaphone,

“This is your last chance to come out with your hands up. We have the entire building surrounded. There are helicopters and snipers. You are being recorded.”

No response came from inside the building. 

“I will only repeat myself once. The building is surrounded, you are trapped inside. We have snipers on the next roof over. Come outside with your hands up, or you will be forcing our hand.”

“Forcing your hand?!” A voice erupted from the inside of the building. Bitter laughter followed as the front door came open and a shape emerged. It was the shape of a tall and muscular man holding a rifle. His face was rough, but he was no older than Parker himself. He wore a bulletproof vest and a buzz cut. Parker swore he could clearly see the veins on the man’s face. Pulled alongside him was a bank teller, and the man had the gun pressed against his temple. 

Officers sprung into action, quickly leveling their weapons in the gunman’s direction. “Drop the weapon! Drop the fucking weapon!”

“Let the man go,” Thomas added. He remained focused on the bank teller, who was doing his best to remain calm under the insurmountable pressure.

Parker did a double take, squinting at the man for a moment. He swore he had seen him somewhere before but was struggling to retrieve the memory. 

“You’re forcing my hand, god damnit,” the gunman cursed, pressing the gun farther into his hostage’s temple. 

“Put the gun down, and we can talk about it,” Parker remained calm despite everything. He spoke in an even tone and kept his voice low but audible. 

The gunman scoffed at Parker. “That’s easy for you to say. Everything’s easy for you, Caldwell. Everything’s easy for you.”

“Please–” The bank teller pleaded. “Please don’t hurt me. I already gave you the money.”

Parker raised an eyebrow at the gunman. His first instinct was to respond directly to the comment, but he remained focused on the mission. “As long as no one is hurt, your sentence won’t be so severe. How does ten months in prison sound? If you kill that man, it’ll be ten years.” 

The gunman laughed out loud, “Are you- are you threatening me?? I’ve already lost everything,” he responded evenly. His eyes were wide and unhinged-- but something else was off about them. “You have no idea what it’s like, do you Caldwell? Being anyone but yourself. When you come back from the war, your return is celebrated-- but when I come back from the war, all I get is an eviction notice. Now my wife can’t afford her medication.” 

Parker remained steadfast. “I understand, sir, but–”

“No, YOU DON’T!” The gunman shouted. “None of you do! Look at you,” his eyes scanned the street at every officer pointing a gun at him, absentmindedly lowering the gun in his hand. 

Now that the gunman had lowered his weapon, Parker saw an opening. It would be risky, but he made his name based off risky maneuvers. 

The gunman continued on his deranged rant. “You’re all looking at me like I’m some kind of animal. I’ve had a long, hard fucking day-- do you have any goddamn empathy?!”

The bank teller started to cry. 

“Would you shut up for five minutes?!-”

BANG.

A gunshot rang out as Parker fired at the gunman’s leg. He stumbled back through the doorway and out of sight. The bank teller screamed and quickly made a run for the safety of the nearest police car. 

Parker breathed a deep sigh of relief. The hostage was secured. His gamble paid off. 

He didn’t have long to celebrate, though, as the gunman was seen charging out of the building at a frightening speed. Gunshots fired, and many missed him. Parker only had two seconds to register what was happening. The gunman, now without his weapon, was running straight at him. 

He could now clearly see the man’s face-- and his eyes. His eyes were pitch black with no discernable irises or sclerae, and the veins and arteries on his face appeared to pump black blood. Parker quickly withdrew his pistol and fired three rounds into the man’s chest, and he collapsed backward only several feet away from him. The man’s words flashed through his mind, along with the more recent images of his face. 

Thomas’ voice sounded distant when he asked, “Parker! What the hell just happened?!” Parker looked to his right and saw Thomas run to his side, kneeling down to inspect the body. His black eyes gazed up at the sky unblinking. Thomas stared in utter disbelief. Parker answered the only way he knew how to. 

“I… I don’t know.”

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

Sunday, October 3rd, 1999.

“I don’t think the stock market crashed recently, so how likely do you think it is that three businessmen offed themselves in the last four days?”

Parker, Thomas, Jeff, and a forensic team stood in a trashed bedroom fixated on the ceiling fan in the middle of the room from which a man’s body was hung by a noose. He had been quickly identified as one of Dreamwood’s wealthiest residents who owned a notable gambling casino in Boston. 

“Not likely at all,” Jeff cautioned. “This room is full of signs of struggle, and on top of that… what the hell is that, tar?” Jeff pointed out a thick black substance leaking down the side of the body’s face.

“No, actually- what is that?” Thomas squinted at it.

“There’s a note in his pocket.”

Jeff reached into the pocket and read the note aloud. “The truth is like a lion, you don’t have to defend it. Let it loose and it will defend itself. Signed, C.I. To Anderson.”

“Anderson?” Parker blinked. ”Who is Anderson?”

“Who is C.I.?” Thomas questioned further. 

“I’m thinking they mean the Anderson Facility,” Jeff concluded.

Last Parker left Dreamwood, he knew Anderson to be a research facility concentrated on the study and documentation of local wildlife. Most people were never allowed to enter the Anderson building, and it was widely understood that the U.S. government had some sort of stake in the entire affair. What that stake was had always remained unclear. If this murder had something to do with Anderson, then maybe today would be the day he would find out for himself. 

“That old glorified nature center?” Thomas questioned. “What bone could some murderer have to pick with those guys over there?”

Parker’s eyes narrowed as he thought aloud, “Maybe we should ask them.”

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

The Anderson Facility was a highly secretive place. It was heavily guarded at all times, and those permitted to enter were sworn to secrecy with all things concerning what was actually held inside the facility. Few local politicians were ever documented entering, and even fewer officers of the DWPD. 

However, Parker Caldwell was a special case. He was a Caldwell, for starters. He was also the son Jackson spoke highly of. His return was not only anticipated by Dreamwood’s public, but also by the superiors over at Anderson- including Mr. Anderson himself. 

When Parker arrived in the company of his partner, Thomas Wheeler, the metaphorical red carpet was laid out for them. The security on patrol were notified, and immediately made way for the two men to enter through the state-of-the-art automatic, electric fence gate which served as Anderson’s first line of defense.

Anderson was an outwardly humble building; it didn’t appear that large, and it looked to be a simple two-floor, rectangle shaped building made of brick. It was surrounded by a fence and under the constant watch of men clad in bulletproof armor. It silently overlooked the outskirts of Dreamwood, Massachusetts.

The interior, as Parker and Thomas would come to discover, was a portrait of opulence which contrasted greatly with the exterior of the facility. Marble floors, sterile white walls, and a mosaic ceiling spoke volumes to the kind of man the owner of the facility- Rory Anderson- would prove to be. 

“All of this for a wildlife research facility?” Thomas chuckled in disbelief. “I’m glad I chose to experience this sober.”

They were escorted down a long hallway by two identical receptionists- blonde women dressed in all white. “Mr. Anderson will see you now,” they said.

Thomas looked around at the place, whispering a breathless, “Wow.”

Parker simply stood and waited for Anderson. 

“It must be a special occasion when I’m visited by one of Jackson’s sons,” Rory Anderson hummed. He appeared out of a door in front of the two men. He was a prim and proper man with a clean shaven face and slicked back brunette hair. He wore a maroon suit with a white shirt and black tie. He held out an empty glass and one of the receptionist’s poured some expensive alcohol into it.

“Thank you, Margaret,” he nodded to the woman. He glanced to the men. “Care for a drink?”

“I try not to drink on the job,” Parker declined. Thomas nodded along with Parker, “Same here,” he lied shamelessly. 

“Very well. In any case, I’m eager to give the new Caldwell on the block a tour of our wonderful facility. I believe it’s what Jackson would have wanted me to do.”

“You knew my father??” Parker blurted.

“Everyone knew your father, Parker. Don’t ask obvious questions now,” he answered simply. “Although all of your burning questions will be answered in due time. Walk with me.” Rory turned on his heels and started down the hallway, expecting Parker to follow.

Parker and Thomas started to follow him, but Margaret and her twin appeared in Thomas’ way. They paused. Rory paused. He glanced back and said, “Your friend will have to wait in the lobby. I’m not sure if he can be trusted.”

“I’ve known Wheeler all my life,” Parker said. “If he’s not going, I’m not going. Simple as.”

Rory seemed mildly frustrated by this. He hummed, “Very well. The cowboy can tag along.” He continued down the hallway.

“Cowboy?” Thomas blinked. He mumbled, “I’m not a cowboy,” as he followed Parker who followed Rory. 

As they continued down the hallway, their surroundings changed. Windows in the walls gave way to peer into some rather interesting rooms and museum-esque exhibits. Among the exhibits were a plot of earth imprinted with a gigantic footprint simply labeled ‘Yeti’, and the skeleton of a three-headed human specimen. One window allowed Thomas to peek into a room containing an oversized Phoneutria nigriventer- a giant Brazilian wandering spider nearly the size of a large dog.

Thomas whistled. “This really does put the ‘wild’ in wildlife.”

“What do you do here?” Parker questioned, his eyes felt like heat vision against the back of Rory Anderson. 

“Surely you didn’t come all this way just to ask me that,” Rory responded. 

Parker narrowed his eyes as they continued to walk.

Rory simply chuckled. “You really are Jackson’s son. Welcome to the Anderson Research Facility-- not to be confused with the boys over in Silicon Valley. We do not specialize in eccentric machines here, we are in the business of studying that which lies outside of the realm we call ‘normal’. In a perfect world, we protect Dreamwood from the unnatural.”

“Seems like you’ve been slacking on your job then,” Parker observed. “My friend here and I have had to deal with some pretty odd cases in the last few weeks. The type of cases we can’t explain with basic science.”

“It may be possible that some anomalies have slipped under our radar,” Rory admitted. “We have been a tad overwhelmed as of late. Since Jackson died, things have been on a downhill spiral. Rest assured that whatever you faced was not the full brunt of the storm. We have been hard at work. It’s only recently that we’ve suffered a personal blow.”

All of this information hitting Parker at once left him with so, so many questions. The implications of Rory’s statement was also not lost on him- and it terrified him. If the last few weeks were apparently the least horrible thing that could have happened, what else could be out there?

“Storm?” Parker echoed, his voice bending in confusion.

“Personal blow?” Thomas ventured.

Rory stopped in front of a door. He waved a hand, and the door slid open on its own- like something out of Star Wars. “Step into my office and we can discuss it further in comfort.”

The office was a charming cross between a 1920s workspace and a Roman temple- with old fashioned furniture and architecture harking back to the age of jazz and swing, complemented by statues and images of Roman emperors and men of legend. 

In the middle of it all, in front of Rory’s desk, stood a young woman with a pointed stare and long, red hair. 

“Rory, we need to talk.”

Rory did not seem at all surprised by her sudden appearance and responded with a quaint grin, “Alison, I want you to meet detectives Parker Caldwell and Thomas Wheeler.”

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

Rory sat down at his desk and reached for a bottle of bourbon, refilling his glass. Parker and Thomas sat at the opposite side of the desk at the two leather seats provided. Thomas practically sunk into the seat-- he could get used to this.

“I didn’t know you were going to be giving them a tour of the facility,” Alison said. She stood off to the side of Rory, carefully examining the two detectives. 

“You’ll have to pardon her, above all else she is very security minded,” Rory explained. “It’s alright, Alison. Parker here is a Caldwell, and his friend is trustworthy. They’ve seen enough already and it’s high time we give them an explanation.”

Alison cleared her throat and glanced back at Parker and Thomas. “I heard Rory say ‘Caldwell’ earlier but it didn’t register. You are Jackson’s son?”

Parker gave a nod.

“It’s nice to meet you then, I only wish we could be meeting under better circumstances. I never met Jackson myself, but I’ve heard of him and the Caldwell family. I’m not from around here-- I’m from Europe-- but I understand what your family has done for the people here and I admire that.”

Rory nodded in agreement. “You have our sincerest condolences. I hope the person who murdered your father is soon brought to justice.” 

Parker nodded his thanks and, eager to change the subject, began with his series of questions. 

“So, you said you recently suffered a ‘personal blow’. Would this by chance have anything to do with the deaths of the three businessmen in the Dreamwood area? We ran background checks and found that they all were key investors of yours.”

Rory nodded slowly. “Yes. I’m afraid it does.”

“A few days ago, we dealt with a hostage situation involving a gunman with superhuman speed and strength,” Parker continued. “I shot him in the leg and he just… got up with no problem.”

“Like some kinda supervillain,” Thomas added.

Parker blinked at Thomas before proceeding, “Does this also have anything to do with you?”

For a split second, Rory’s cool demeanor was disturbed by a brief twist in his expression. “So they are using the formula…” He mumbled.

“Formula?” Parker raised an eyebrow. “What formula?”

Silence hung over the room for several seconds. Alison glanced at the floor from where she stood. The silence broke when she began to speak.

“As you know, we have been locked in a bloody stalemate with the East for the last two years. We lose more lives in the Gray War every year and if our soldiers are not delivered back to their families as corpses, they are delivered back as walking corpses. Empty husks of their former selves. Patriotism is beginning to wane. We had intended to create something that would give our military an edge against the East. A special serum that would enhance the strength of our soldiers-- a super soldier serum, if you will. And we succeeded. Though, like most good things, it proved to have adverse effects.”

There was that bad feeling again. 

“I think one of the most noticeable effects was the… violent outbursts. Rampages that would last for up to an hour if the subjects were not contained. Containing them also proved to be difficult as the strength enhancement worked remarkably well. They would also bleed this black, tar-like substance from their eyes which resembled the formula in color and consistency but differed in chemical makeup. Even after the initial outburst was over, the radical cosmetic and behavioral changes… they lingered. The subjects remained very violent and very unstable. Their bodies ultimately could not handle the serum and shut down after a day or so. The formula seemed to be… incompatible… with the human body. We were so close to a breakthrough, but several days ago somebody managed to breach security and steal the formula--”

“As well as our first surviving test subject,” Rory added.  

“Jesus H. Christ,” Thomas mumbled.

Something shifted in Alison’s eyes when Rory spoke. Parker struggled to read what it was. 

“And it is highly imperative that we retrieve the formula-- and Subject 009-- before they can be used to their fullest destructive potential,” Rory finished. 

“I wish you’d stop calling her that,” Alison said. “She’s a human being, Rory.”

“A very dangerous human now,” Rory corrected. “It’s likely that she’s killed people.”

“Do you have any idea who would want to steal from you? Any enemies?” Parker asked.

“We work for the United States government,” Rory Anderson plainly stated. “Their enemies are our enemies. Do you have any idea how little that narrows it down?”

Thomas sighed, “Wonderful. Just wonderful. We have another black-eyed superhuman on the loose, and possibly an enemy of the U.S. government in our town with their hands on a super serum.” 

“We have reason to believe whoever stole your super soldier serum has also been leaving messages for you,” Parker continued. “They’ve been leaving behind notes signed by a ‘C.I.’ One such letter quoted, ‘The truth is like a lion. Set it loose and it will defend itself.’ Is any of this familiar? Any idea who C.I. might be?”

“Communist intelligence?” Alison tried.

“A bit of a reach but it’s as good a guess as I would’ve offered. Frankly I have no idea who C.I. could possibly be,” Rory answered with a shrug of his shoulders. 

“What I can tell you, though, is that every businessman who’s been murdered by this C.I. character so far invested in the development of the soldier serum at one point or another,” Alison said.

“There we go. Our first connection,” Thomas nodded. “What else do you know? Are there any other investors we should know about?”

Rory and Alison glanced at eachother, as if to check with the other if they had the same thought. Parker noticed the realization in their eyes steadily growing into dread.

“What is it?” He asked, growing impatient. 

“Well, one of the people who poured considerable funding into the project was the Mayor.”

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

City Hall.

Dreamwood’s City Hall was getting ready to close, and Mayor Norman James Rogers had just turned off the lights in his office and was making his way out the door. On his way he passed the door to his secretary’s office. 

“I’m out for the night, Paula,” he announced without waiting for a response. 

He walked down the hallway with its beige painted walls and carpeted floors. After a short walk the hallway opened up into a wider room where two elevator doors stood on either side. Rogers called for one. The door soon opened, and he stepped inside. Only when he was inside the elevator did he acknowledge the man who already stood off in a corner of the compartment. He wore a black trenchcoat with a scarf which concealed all but his rough facial features. He had dark brown eyes and messy grey hair. A flat cap sat atop his head. 

“Where’re you headed?” The man asked Rogers.

“Down,” Rogers answered. 

The man said nothing in response, but he pressed for the roof of the building. 

“What the-”

“Don’t say a word, don’t scream,” the man spoke calmly, cutting Thomas off. He flashed the metal of a pistol from inside his trenchcoat. 

Rogers quickly threw his hands up in defense and slumped against the elevator. 

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

It was 10:52 PM.

Parker and Thomas rushed into the front lobby of City Hall, their guns at the ready. They weren’t sure what they would face at this hour of the night.

The first person they encountered was Paula, an office worker who was on her way out for the night. She paused at the sight of the two detectives, gasping in surprise. “What’s going on? Am I in danger?”

“That’s what we’re wonderin’,” Thomas replied. “Where’s the Mayor?”

“Last I heard from him he was on his way out the door. Why? Do you think something’s happened to him?”

Parker began to answer, “We have reason to believe Mayor Rogers may be in-” He was cut off by a distant cry for help that sounded an awful lot like Rogers. Parker narrowed his eyes and finished, “...Danger.”

Parker and Thomas made a beeline for the elevator, calling it down and taking it all the way up to the roof. 

Up on the roof, the two found Mayor Rogers standing at the edge of the building with another figure they didn’t recognize. He wore a dark trench coat and a flat cap, and his face was obscured by a scarf. He was holding a gun to Mayor Rogers’ head. 

“Hey!” Thomas called over. He pointed his own gun at the masked man. “Stop right there!”

The man paused and looked over at Thomas and Parker. Mayor Rogers breathed a sigh of relief, “Oh, thank god! It’s the Caldwell boy.” Frankly, he looked terrified. He clearly wasn’t used to having attempts made on his life. 

“That must be Mr. C.I.,” Parker concluded looking at the masked man. 

“You’d be wrong!” The masked man responded with a chuckle. His voice was gruff and raspy. “You’re makin’ a mistake, assumin’ C.I. is only one person.”

“I’d be happy to learn more about C.I. between the comfort of an interrogation table,” Parker hummed. “Now would you care to throw the weapon down? You’re outnumbered and we’ve got more boys on the way.”

“Outnumbered?” The man scoffed. “You really ought to be more aware of your surroundings.”

“Huh?-” Thomas started to look around, but it was already too late for that. A blur darted across their vision, Thomas’ gun fired off but there were no casualties. In seconds, Thomas was knocked to the ground by a second figure dressed in all black. Parker spotted the insignia of a red dot on the back of what must’ve been the attacker’s uniform. He quickly aimed and fired at the attacker once he got a clear shot. 

The figure in black cartwheeled out of Parker’s line of fire and landed several feet away. Parker and Thomas could now see her clearly. She had long, black hair, and pale skin with highly visible black veins and matching eyes. 

Thomas quickly pulled himself to his feet and dusted himself off. Meanwhile the masked man was slowly backing Mayor Rogers closer to the edge of the building. 

“Looks like we found Subject 009,” Parker said. 

“Quit standing around and help me!!” Mayor Rogers demanded. The masked man shouted at him to shut up. 

The distant beating of helicopter blades drew closer and closer from the sky. The masked man and Mayor Rogers were bathed in a spotlight that seemed to descend from the heavens, and a voice shouted through a megaphone.

“Drop your weapon and put your hands where we can see them! Step away from the Mayor!” Choppers had surrounded the roof of the building, and they could see armed policemen aiming from inside. 

The masked man did as he was told, discarding his gun and raising his hands to the sky. 

“That goes for your friend, too!” The officer with the megaphone shouted again.

009 started to make a run for it. Snipers opened fire, unleashing a hail of bullets that seemed to go right through her. Much like the black-eyed gunman Parker confronted before, she moved too fast for them to get a clear shot. He watched as she leapt off the edge of the roof and disappeared into the darkness below. Meanwhile, Thomas had already made his way to the edge of the building and was in the middle of handcuffing the masked gunman. The helicopters were landing. 

“You’ve got so much explaining to do when we get back to the precinct,” Thomas mumbled. 

Parker focused on Mayor Rogers. “You alright, Mr. Mayor?” 

“Now that I don’t have a gun pointed at me anymore,” he replied as he dusted off his suit. “Thank you, Caldwell.” 

“Don’t thank me. This would’ve gone differently if I hadn’t called reinforcements prior to us getting here. I had a feeling the test subject would be involved.”

“This town’s going to hell, I’ll tell you that much,” the Mayor scoffed. “Thanks to this whole debacle I’m going to be late for dinner. My wife’s going to have my head for the main course.”

From their right, the masked man cackled. 

“What’s so funny, tough guy?” Thomas inquired, making sure to keep a tight grip on him. 

“Being late for dinner is the least of his worries, that’s what,” he answered in a low voice. “I said you made a mistake assuming there was only one of us. Killing the mayor wasn’t even going to be the main event.”

“Main event?” Thomas snorted. “What’s this, some sorta carnival performance? You’re an awful clown. Stop bein’ so cryptic and give it to me straight, damn you.”

“Why should I? You’ll figure it out sooner or later.”

Losing his patience, Parker grabbed the masked man by the collar and looked him straight in the eye. “Alright, listen here. You’re going to answer our questions. First being-- where are you keeping the Malice formula?”

“What time is it?” The masked man inquired. 

Thomas checked his watch. “11:01, why?” 

He started to laugh again. “Ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes?”

“Until you find out exactly where I left it. I think you’ll find it to be fairly close to home.”

“Close to home…” Parker murmured before the realization hit him. “Oh god, the police station.” He shouted to the helicopters, “We have to go back to the police station!”

“How are we gonna get there in ten minutes?!” Thomas asked. 

Parker’s gaze settled on one of the helicopters that had landed. “We’re going for a ride,” he decided. He ran to the helicopter. Thomas glanced over at one of the officers that had joined them. “He’s all yours now. We’ll meet back at the station if y’all get there in time.”

Parker had already climbed into the helicopter and wasted no time issuing orders. He told the pilot to make a beeline for the police station. He figured they were dealing with a bomb and it was likely located somewhere on the roof of the building. Within no time, the helicopter was taking off for the police station. Thomas caught the aircraft just in time, climbing in just as it lost contact with the ground. 

“Whaddya think we’re dealin’ with, partner?”

Parker could already see the station in the distance. “Some kind of bomb likely containing the Malice formula. If it detonates, we might have an entire police station of black-eyed mutants on our hands.”

“Fuck…”

“That’s why we have to disarm the damn thing at all costs. The lives of all of our men are at stake.”

“Right.”

The pilot announced that they were nearing the roof of the police station now. It was only a block away from City Hall, so it wasn’t that long of a trip. Parker told the pilot to drop them on the roof and they prepared for whatever they were going to face when they got there. 

“Eight minutes,” Thomas said after checking his watch. 

“Alright, Tommy. You ready?”

“Do I really have a choice here?” With a grunt, he pulled himself up and leapt down from the helicopter. He rolled across the ground, performing perhaps the most graceful fall of his entire life. 

Parker followed close behind. He surveyed their surroundings looking for any sign of a bomb. He heard a faint beeping noise close by and followed it to an air vent behind the roof entrance. There, he found a jet black metal device the size of a soccer ball placed above the vent and secured by a claw. The device bore the same insignia he saw on the black-eyed woman, a red dot in a red circle. It beeped away, displaying a timer that read seven minutes and counting. Behind a glass, he could see the black liquid that filled it.

“We found our bomb,” Thomas said, appearing behind Parker. “Now how the hell do we disarm it?”

“See if we can open it or something,” Parker said more to himself than anything as he went to do that. He found a hatch where the device could be opened and he pulled it open exposing different colored wires inside. Two wires were yellow, one was green, one was red, and the last wire was blue.

Thomas shook his head with a sigh, “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“The whole station is depending on us. Which wire, Tommy?” Parker pulled a small blade from his trench coat pocket. It was sharp enough to cut the wires. 

“Red one feels too obvious. Go ahead and cut the green one, Parks.”

Parker took a deep breath and reached inside of the bomb, carefully placing his blade next to the green wire. “Hope you’re right about this, Tommy.” He closed his eyes, and--

“What are you two doin’ up here?” 

A voice grabbed Parker and Thomas’ attention. They looked in the direction of the voice and found an officer shining his flashlight in their direction. 

Parker showed his badge. “Relax, we’re DWPD just like you. Don’t panic, but there’s a bomb over here and I’m working to disarm it.”

“A bomb?!” The officer responded incredulously. “You can’t be serious. Let me have a look at it.”

Parker hesitated, glancing up at the officer and looking him over. “...Hey, can you show me your badge real quick?”

He heard the click of a gun. 

“Don’t waste your time, Parks,” Thomas said. He’d already aimed his pistol at the officer. “I’ve never seen this man before in my life, and I don’t need his badge to know he’s a fake.”

The officer’s expression shifted, something dark glinting in his eyes. He flashed a sinister smile and whistled. As if on cue, 009 sprung out of the shadows and lunged at Thomas, catching him off-guard. At the same time, the officer pulled out his own gun and fired at Parker, hitting him in the leg.

“Fuck!-”

Parker hissed in pain but he kept a tight grip on his knife. He managed to cut the green wire just before the officer shot him again, this time in the shoulder. He dropped the knife and saw the timer skip from five minutes to two. They just lost an extra three minutes, and Parker’s right arm was going to be a struggle to use from here on.

“Wrong wire, bucko,” the ‘officer’ sneered. He threw off his cap, revealing a bald head with a tattoo engraved on his forehead that was nearly identical to the red dot insignia. 

Parker cursed looking at him. “Who the hell are you people?!”

“The saviors of the new world,” the bald man answered with a demented smile. “We will begin with flushing out what remains of the Caldwell family.” He leveled the gun to Parker’s head.

BANG.

The man cried out and dropped his gun, grabbing his bloody hand and looking around for the source of the gunshot. He caught Thomas inches away from him just in time to receive a harsh knee in the crotch. He went down in an instant, and from there Thomas sweeped him to the ground. He was knocked unconscious. 

Thomas whipped around and sidestepped an attack from 009. He was hesitant to engage in hand-to-hand combat with 009. He wasn’t sure if he could hold his own against someone powered by government sanctioned steroids. 

“Parks, I could use a little help here.”

She snarled at him, lunging forward and grabbing in his direction. He ducked and rolled out of the way. “Parks!!”

Parker glanced between his partner and the ticking bomb. They only had thirty seconds left on the clock. His heart sank. “Keep her distracted,” he spoke calmly. “I know what I’m doing.” He hardly believed it himself but he needed to. 

“Damnit, Parker!” Thomas blocked a swing from 009 and felt his heart nearly jump out of his chest. He was way too close to the subject for his own comfort. 009 threw a round kick at Thomas’ head that nearly knocked him to the ground. He stumbled back, grabbing his head when he saw his cowboy hat hit the ground. 009 wasn’t finished quite yet, the black-eyed supersoldier continued to advance. 

Meanwhile Parker had just cut one of the yellow wires to no avail. Now all that were left was a blue wire, another yellow wire, and the red wire. He had fifteen seconds. Sweat ran down the side of his face like a river and he was having a hard time keeping his breathing steady. 

“Come on, come on… think, Parker. Which one is it?” His eyes darted from the blue wire to the yellow wire, the red one not even being a consideration. The black substance inside of the bomb was starting to reach a boiling point. Ten seconds. 

“Do something Parks!!” Thomas’ voice carried from behind him. He wrestled with 009, who was trying to grab ahold of his gun. It took all of Thomas’ willpower not to just shoot the damn thing. Rory made it clear he wanted the subject alive.

Five seconds on the clock now. 

Four. 

Three. 

Two.

One.

Parker cut the red wire. The timer came to an abrupt stop with a second to spare. With the last of his energy he reached into his coat and pulled out his taser gun, and fired at 009. She spasmed, then crumpled to the ground in front of Thomas. He laughed a little in disbelief, just happy to still be alive and sane.

“Jesus Christ,” Thomas dropped to his knees. “Never make me do that again, Parks.”

A maniacal laugh carried across the roof, pulling the attention of the two detectives. Their gaze fell on the bald gunman in the police uniform who Thomas had knocked out previously.

“It doesn’t matter!” He proclaimed. “Dreamwood will fall all the same, it’s written in the stars! Order is fragile and temporary, but anarchy is forever! The natural state of all things! Long live the Chaos Insurgency! Long live the Chaos Insurgency!” He shot up, pulling himself to his feet and making a mad dash towards the edge of the building. 

All Parker and Thomas could do was watch as the madman threw himself off the roof of the police station and into the oncoming traffic below. They heard car horns blaring and tires screeching followed by a loud crash as he hit the bottom. 

As the noise settled, Parker and Thomas glanced at eachother. “...Chaos Insurgency?” Thomas questioned.

“I’m losing too much blood for this,” Parker coughed, gripping his shoulder wound. 

“Christ, let’s get you downstairs.”

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

Following the standoff, Parker was taken to the police infirmary where his gunshot wounds could be treated. He was informed that the first Chaos Insurgency agent had also committed suicide in custody, leaving them with no one to interrogate. Subject 009 was returned to Anderson, and Rory thanked Parker and Thomas personally for averting what could have been a national crisis. 

Parker lay on his infirmary bed staring off through the single window in the room. It must’ve been two in the morning now, but he still couldn’t bring himself to fall asleep. He had too much on his mind. 

Thomas stood at his side studying his expression. “I know that look. Somethin’ is troubling you.”

“What isn’t?” Parker scoffed. “What the fuck is a Chaos Insurgency.”

“Beats me,” Thomas answered with a shrug. “All I know is they managed to give Rory a real run for his money and almost did us in, as well as the Mayor. We had a real run of good luck tonight.”

“Those weren’t Easterners… they weren’t communists… they looked just like you and me. They were able to blend in with the cops.”

“I know, it’s strange. Not everyday do we have to live in fear of our own neighbors.”

“What’s happened to our hometown, Tommy? First my father and now this. What changed to allow things like this to happen?”

“I dunno, brother.” Thomas glanced at the window, peering out at the full moon in the sky. It had an unnatural red tint to it. “I’m startin’ to think that nothin’ changed at all.”

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

Deep inside the Anderson Facility, Rory Anderson and his assistant Alison watched as armored guards hauled Subject 009 on a gurney back into a small metal cell behind a reinforced steel door. Her pure black eyes stared back at them like two black holes, with no telling what may have been going on inside her mind. 

Alison glanced at Rory. “What kind of monster have we created, do you reckon?” 

“Something powerful enough to bring the Chaos Insurgency out of hiding. I take that as a sign we’re onto something,” Rory concluded. He wore a smug grin on his face, truly believing this to be an accomplishment. 

Alison blinked slowly. “Parker Caldwell proved himself to be a valuable ally today, but I fear if you lead him to believe you do not have the town’s best interest at heart he may become an obstacle,” she advised. “Tonight put us on his radar.”

“I’m well aware and I am preparing for the possibility,” Rory said, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a cigar. Alison passed him a match and helped him light it. Rory took a long drag of the cigar before he spoke again. “Frankly my dear, Caldwell’s radar is the least of my concern. Something much bigger is coming soon, something even bigger than Jackson’s prodigal son.”

“I know, Rory. I know.”

“Then surely you must understand why the development of the Malice formula must continue with haste. Mere mortals alone cannot stand against the adversary that is on its way.” 

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

Author’s Lore Note:

“The Chaos Insurgency” is a rival organization in the SCP Foundation mythos.

In the Dreamwood AU, ”Malice” is an early form of the “Liquid Hate” serum from which Jane the Killer is born.

[x-heesy]

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When the pigs try to get at ya

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And if a nigga get a attitude

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Drop it like it's hot

Drop it like it's hot

Drop it like it's hot

When the pigs try to get at ya

Park it like it's hot

Park it like it's hot

Park it like it's hot

And if a nigga get a attitude

Pop it like it's hot

Pop it like it's hot

Pop it like it's hot

I got the Roley on my arm and I'm pouring Chandon

And I roll the best weed 'cause I got it going on

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When the pimp's in the crib, ma

Drop it like it's hot

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Drop it like it's hot

When the pigs try to get at ya

Park it like it's hot

Park it like it's hot

Park it like it's hot

And if a nigga get a attitude

Pop it like it's hot

Pop it like it's hot

Pop it like it's hot

I got the Roley on my arm and I'm pouring Chandon

And I roll the best weed 'cause I got it going on

Snoop

Snoop @wetwicksdry @luna-zylum @bko69er

Drop It Like It's Hot by Snoop Dogg, Pharrell Williams

[kallard]

Revenge is a dish best served cold

There's no honorable way to kill, no gentle way to destroy. There is nothing good in war. Except it’s ending.

((The following contains subject material that may be triggering to some. Themes included are graphic and intense violence and vulgar language. Read at your own discretion.))

“Danger!” a voice boomed from the speakers that were scattered in and around the base. “Core reactor meltdown in ten minutes. All personnel are to report to their designated evac route. Core will meltdown in ten minutes!”

(( Recommend listening: https://youtu.be/EO9x0y5lqD0?si=FisiqILX2wVUCaH2 ))

Major Marcus Senna shot upward in his bed at the sound of the alarm blaring throughout the base. He could hear boots slapping against concrete, several voices shouting out orders. Marcus threw aside his comforter and flew out of bed, running overt over to where he stored his uniform and weapons. He didn’t bother tucking in his shirt, nor was his uniform freshly pressed. If his commanding officer were to see him in such a state, Marcus would surely be running suicide laps around the base naked.

The door leading into his private quarters burst open and his secretary flew into his room. She looked at him with wide eyes full of fear, beads of sweat causing her bangs to cling to her forehead.

“Sir! We need to hurry, someone has activated the reactor’s self destruct!” his secretary told him, her voice shaking.

“Modia, it’s going to be okay. Please, go ahead of me and make sure my ship is ready for transport. I’ll go to the engineering bay to see what’s going on. Go on, get going. I’m right behind you,” Marcus said, switching to a soft, calm voice in an effort to calm the girl’s frayed nerves.

The girl didn’t say anything else as she spun around and ran back out of the room, almost crashing into a handful of soldiers putting their armor on as they moved. They barked at her, telling Modia to get out of their way. She made a noise of distress before vanishing into the hallway, the blaring alarm masking the sound of her footsteps.

Marcus swore under his breath as another group of his men ran past. He peaked his head out of his room, looking first left then right. Once the coast was clear he ran out of his room and took a left, running towards the general location of engineering. He moved as quickly as he could manage, his troops ducking out of his way as they made their way to their designated evacuation points. Most of these men would leave the base on one of the base’s five hypersonic assault carriers, each one capable of transporting ten troopers and two pilots, more than enough room for all of the men and women stationed here.

An explosion rocked the building, causing dust and small bits of debris to rain down on Marcus. This only caused him to run faster, fearing the worst. If he got there in time, he will be able to terminate the self destruct sequence. But that would involve in him getting to the console to input the commands before it was too late to cancel it. He prayed that he would make it in time. It’s not like the Empire was pumping out more troops and weapons to replace the ones that are surely going to die tonight.

Just as Marcus rounded the corner and the large metal double doors leading into the engineering bay in sight. Someone was standing in front of the doors was a man Marcus did not recognize. He came to a halt a few feet away from the stranger dressed for war. The man wore all black, an armored long coat hugging his torso, a tactical vest visible with a dozen spare magazines and half a dozen grenades. Marcus also spotted two shaped charges, praying that those were the only two the stranger had on him. Somehow he doubted that.

“Sup, Major. How’re things?” the stranger asked Marcus.

“Who are you and what are you doing to my base?! So you have any idea who you’re fucking with?!” Marcus snapped back as he drew his sword. “Get the fuck out of my way.”

“Nah, I don’t think so.”

(( Recommended listening: https://youtu.be/S176AKQhcCk?si=y9z3RRBeAVxk3TKw ))

The stranger roared as he charged forward. He ducked down and tackled Marcus to the ground, pinning him down with ease. The Major snarled and tried to grab the sword he dropped when the stranger hit him. Seeing this, the stranger laughed, took hold of Marcus’s hand and shattered the bones in his palm with a single press of his thumb.

SNAP!

Marcus roared in agony as his left hand was destroyed, his fingers dropping unnaturally backward, a gaping hole gushing blood having formed from the stranger’s thumb. What kind of man possesses the strength to literally punch a hole in someone’s hand with the use of some tool or obscene strength.

The stranger threw a punch and Marcus moved his head to the opposite side, barely avoiding the strike. The man’s hand left a spiderweb of cracks in the tile, his impossible strength surprising the Major. He only knew of a handful of men and women who had been fitted with prosthetics during the war. Many of them had died, or so he had thought. Two soldiers came to mind and the thought alone caused Marcus’s face to go pale as he realized who was on top of him.

It was the White Devil, Decimus Sas Panthera, the man responsible for squishing resistance movements. This man had more blood on his hands than Marcus did. It was then that Marcus realized that him and his men were dead. They just didn’t know it yet.

Kallard grabbed Marcus by the collar of his shirt and dragged him back to his feet. But, rather than standing the man back up, Kallard picked him up and threw him through the wall behind Marcus. He cried out in pain as the cinder blocks gave way and broke as he came flying through the wall. Marcus groaned and rocked from side to side, cradling his torso. Several of his ribs had broken when he was thrown like a child throws their toys around.

“Traitor!” Marcus shouted while he drug himself up back into his feet.

It felt like there was a fire in Marcus’s chest. A couple of the busted ribs were pushing up against his vital organs, dragging and scratching the sensitive organs. He brought a hand up to his mouth as he coughed up a lungful of blood and mucus.

“The Empire is dead,” Kallard said as he stepped through the hole he had made when throwing Marcus. “And I’m here to bury it.”

Marcus groaned and started walking forward. He flicked his hands off to the side, adjusting the fit of his sleeves prior to a fist fight. The Major took in a deep breath and readied himself for the shitshow.

Kallard brought up one arm to deflect a left hook Marcus threw at him. He watched as the Major yelped in pain, both arms wrapping around his chest. Without giving him any time to recover, Kallard surged forward and grabbed Marcus. He hoisted the bigger man over his head and held him in the air for a moment.

Dropping down to a knee, Kallard roared and roughly dragged Marcus down and over his knee. He heard the man’s spine snap before he started screaming in pain. His legs went limp and the seat of his pants were soaked with warm urine as he spiked his pants. Kallard rose back up to his feet, looking down at the broken man. He bent down and took hold of the Major’s shirt and dragged him away from the main building. He approached a light post and kicked Marcus into it.

“You’re going to sit there and watch all of your men die,” Kallard told Marcus while he wrapped a thick rope around the Major’s torso, tying him to the lamp post. “And you’re going to think about your actions, Major. You have maybe two minutes to make your peace with the gods.”

Marcus didn’t see where Kallard had disappeared to as the man appeared to simple vanish into thin air. He chalked it up to the pain clouding his perception of events occurring around him with a fire raging in his chest. Through the hole in the wall, the Major was helpless to watch as his men tired to make sense of what was going on. None of them saw the Major, nor did they really care where he was.

“Where is Chief Engineer Potitus?!” Marcus could hear one of his men shouting. “Why isn’t he working on the reactor?!” They didn’t know it, but the chief engineer was dead in his bunk, shot through the head with a single bullet, his brains splattered on the wall behind him.

The Major looked up when he heard one of the assault craft’s engines spooling up. He half expected to see one of his ships rise and shoot off into the heavens. Instead there were several loud gunshots followed by a series of explosions. Men and women could be heard screaming off in the distance, some more desperate than others. He did his best to look and see what was happening, but a large storage crate was blocking his sight.

The last thing Marcus saw was one assault carrier taking off and flying southward, only to be followed by a pair of ships similar to the carrier. Their engines kicked into high gear and all three vessels were gone, vanishing into the night with three loud sonic booms going off, one after another. It was then that the base’s reactor detonated. The explosion caused the ground to quake, large chunks of concrete and metal throw several hundred feet into the air and around the base like a giant shrapnel grenade going off. Marcus was killed instantly by a sheet of metal cutting his head off in one clean cut. Just as his body slumped to the ground the shaped charges Kallard had set went off, putting an end to the base once and for all.

Meanwhile, several miles south….

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Kallard swore again and again, looking down at the radar console. Two other crafts were in pursuit, their cannons belching fire as large caliber bullets wizzed by Kallard’s ship.

Kallard took hold of the yoke and knocked it to the right, causing the craft to suddenly fly starboard. He groaned as the intense G forces pressed down on his body, making it harder to breathe. His training kicked in and he started clenching his leg muscles and switching to a different breathing method. Panic began to set in when the edges of his vision started fading black. The yoke was then jerked backward, forcing the craft to fly upwards in a straight line.

“Seia! Flares, now, now, now!” Kallard tried to tell his sister, only growing angrier upon realizing she was gone. He could feel the white hot fury building up inside, something he had begun to feel whenever he thought of his deceased sister. It was a rage that drove him to the edges of the world, killing people who should have died years ago, but had managed to avoid facing their consequences by hiding in the fringes of the Empire’s territory.

Now that Seia’s death was fresh in his memory, Kallard reached over to his left and smacked a button labeled flares. He then leaned forward and peered out of the starboard porthole, watching as a series of flares were fired from hidden locations along the ship’s hull. An alarm sounded as the ship detected the launch of an enemy missile. Instead of hitting his ship, the weapon instead locked onto one of the flares, effectively saving Kallard.

“Scratch one bogie!” he told no one in particular.

Kallard brought a hand to prevent himself from vomiting all over the flight console as he did a barrel roll, narrowly avoiding more cannon fire from his rear. It seemed that the last ship had been undeterred by their comrade’s flaming death. Two more pings showed up on the radar, moving in quick to aid the surviving assault craft. Even inside the craft Kallard could hear the large rounds whizz by the cockpit, whistling as they flew through the air.

KABANG!

The craft was shook when an enemy round slammed into the loading bay’s closed door. A freshly punched hole was visible, the cold air from outside pushing its way into the carrier section of the assault craft. Undeterred by this, Kallard slammed on the brakes, causing his ship to slow down. The three ships in pursuit flew right past him, unable to remain at his backside.

With his enemies now in front of him, Kallard flipped up a toggle and flipped the switch under it, arming his ship’s missles. He drove the throttle forward and zoomed forward. The ship’s onboard computer system located the enemy craft with a camera, locking on once a clear image was established. A singular note tone began to sound from the console, signaling a successful target lock. A button was pressed and the missile took off.

BOOM!

The explosion shook Kallard’s ship as the rightmost craft burst into flames. Shrapnel rained down on the mountaintops below them, showering the native wildlife with burning hot shards of metal. The two remaining craft put their engines into max throttle, now trying to outrun Kallard. He adjusted the yoke a little and turned the craft port side, aiming his ship at the lead enemy craft. He took the throttle and pulled it back while his other hand started toggling different settings. He shifted the craft from ramjet to dcramjet, effectively doubling the craft’s max speed, allowing it to slip into hypersonic speeds with ease. Kallard pushed the throttle forward once more and was pushed into his seat.

There was a change in the engine’s pitch as the engines were shifted over to a mode that would allow it to travel much faster. By the time it had fully spun up, the ship was already zipping through the air at Mach six, close to Mach seven. The enemy craft were drawing closer and closer to the point where they were in weapon’s range once more. Kallard shifted the angle of his approach, toggled his ship’s fully automatic cannons and trained them on the craft on his port side.

The cannons issued a loud BRRRRRRRTTT sound as the gun’s multiple chambers were spun, allowing it to belch lead at a much higher rate of fire. The explosive tip rounds slammed into the craft, turning it from an engineering marvel into a flaming heap of worthless scrap. The dead bodies of its inhabitants would lay scattered on the ground around the ship, among a sea of dismembered limbs.

With one ship left, Kallard was on him like a cat chasing a mouse. He trained his weapons into the enemy ship and intentionally missed his next few shots, giving the illusion that he wasn’t as skilled with an assault craft as his foes were. The surviving ship lowered its speed and dropped behind Kallard and started to immediately open fire with its cannons while its missiles established target lock.

But Kallard was one step ahead of the other pilot. He smirked and toggled a switch, opening the ship’s bomb bay doors. There wasn’t anything big left in the craft, save for a few smaller bombs used for breaking up troop movements. He deployed the bombs as if they were sky mines, dropping them right in the path of the enemy ship. It shrugged off the first explosion, but by the third it was really struggling to keep up with Kallard. On the fourth impact the ship burst into a ball of flames, finally ending the pursuit.

“Fuck me,” Kallard muttered to himself, leaning back into his chair. “You see that shit, sis? I’m getting better, though I’m nowhere near as good as you were. I love and miss you.”

The ship’s weapons were then disabled now there was no further threat of a flaming death. The craft settled into a cruising speed at Mach six, soaring through the sky with ease. It had been a week since he set out on his mission, and with it complete, Kallard found himself setting a course for Hingashi. He could only imagine how worried sick his Raen friend would be.