#enrolled agent training

[the-midnight-blooms]

PRETTY GIRLS MAKE GRAVES | smg

pairing: spy!song mingi x assassin!reader AU: marriage of convenience au (inspired by spy x family, set during the cold war) word count: 19.0k warnings: blood, violence, mentions of death, strong language

masterlist

Apollo, to many, is an Olympian deity in classical mythology, characterised as a being of light, truth, music and prophecy. A strong entity bestowing his benefaction upon the humans who revelled in his myth.

To the Agency, Apollo is a venerated spy whose identity is obscured by the night, hidden in plain sight as he traipses the corrupted land atoning for all of its sins. There wasn't much to be said about Apollo, except for the many that were blessed enough to catch glimpses of his shadow looming in the restive airs.

He was handsome, with a cutthroat jawline, siren eyes and pink lips. He was tall, therefore heightening his attractiveness; which he was not oblivious to as he strode down the hallways of Headquarters seeing his fellow female colleagues steal glances at him only to hide behind their desks in a desperate attempt to conceal their blushes. Apollo was indifferent to their emotions, in his line of work there was no time for love, hence he was perfectly content with remaining single and rejecting all marriage and courtship prospects. Such was to only be pursued if he was on a mission.

Harsh winds roar in the dim wake of the evening light that streams over the serene atmosphere, oblivious to the churning pit of darkness overwhelming the esteemed states. The great wheels of the steam train grind against the train tracks where Apollo is settled in a private compartment, the sliding door sealed shut as the carriage sways from side to side. Before him sits a decoded letter from his superior, Athena, his sharp eyes reeling in the information.

“Good day or, perhaps, evening, Apollo

Well done on your last mission. Thanks to you, you have managed to restore a moment of peace to both conflicting states.

Your next target is the ex-member of the Agency and Chairman Hades. He is a great threat to the truce between Hala and Westonia. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to infiltrate 'The Cosmopolitan' and obtain information regarding his whereabouts and any seditious activities from his wife Park Eunha, alias Persephone.

In order to achieve this, you will get married and have a child."

Excuse me, what?

"Hades has gone into hiding, therefore it is currently unable to track him down. The only way to locate him is by extracting this information from his wife, who, herself, will not readily give this information. His children attend a nursery school, where some of the mothers congregate and form close friendships with Mrs Park, joining 'The Cosmopolitan'.

You will have your child enrol in this school and have your wife infiltrate one of the social gatherings. The enrolment deadline is drawing near, meaning you have 13 days to pull this off.”

Where am I going to find a wife and child in thirteen days?

Releasing a deep sigh, he leans back in his chair caressing his temples.

For the peace of Hala and Westonia, Apollo will do what he must.

"This is one of our single-family apartments. The unit comes furnished, including central air conditioning and heating, and… Um, sir?" The estate agent stands awkwardly at the door as Apollo's careful eyes observe the contents of the room. On the second floor, it overlooks the city with easy access to the fire escape. The walls have good soundproofing, and despite the fact some of the floorboards are out of place; there's enough gap to hide some of his equipment. Best of all, there are no wiretaps.

"I'll take it." He proclaims eagerly. A relieved grin settles on the estate agent's face.

"Excellent, Mr Song now if you sign these documents..."

Name: Song Mingi.

Occupation: Physicist.

Quite a job to be having in the midst of a Cold War, but some of Hades' associates work down at that end in a research lab and what's better than killing one bird with two stones. Besides, Mingi doesn't remember much about his father other than the fact that he was a physicist; so he supposes the job he has created for himself has sprung from a personal touch. It's a good way to not get lost in one's forged identity, like how some agents keep their initials the same so they can remember who they are.

"How nice that you and your family are moving into a new home. Do you have a boy or a girl?"

Uh—

"We'll find out soon." He ignores the look of bafflement on the man's face before grasping the keys in his hand.

“Take whichever one you want.” The orphanage director scowls at all the children running around chasing each other. It's Mingi's time to look puzzled, the establishment itself is particularly run down, the ceiling looks as if it's going to collapse in on itself. Though he supposes these kids will all have complicated pasts, so it will be easy to manipulate. "Looking for any child, specifically?"

“Around 5 years old? One that can read and write.” He ponders out loud. He needs a child with potential to pass the entrance exam.

"In that case...we have Mieun." He gesticulates to the little body in the corner, sitting on the window sill with her legs crossed. Her hair dark, wide eyes boring into the abacus resting upon a stack of encyclopaedias. “Go on, say hello.” Tentatively, Mingi approaches her, the worker loitering behind him. He'd love to get Mieun out of his hair, the devious child is notorious for biting. Clearing his throat, the child turns to meet his gaze before looking back at the abacus.

"Mieun, will you not say hello to the nice man? He might be your new daddy." Her head whips in Mingi's direction, her doe eyes looking at him up and down.

"Appa?"

"Yes, yes. This is your new Appa." The man provokes with a sly smile; the sooner she's out of his hair the better. He's even willing to get rid of her without the paperwork, she doesn't even have a birth certificate having just been abandoned outside the orphanage two years ago.

Hold on a minute. Mingi cranes his neck to meet the Orphanage Director's gaze, huffing before looking back at the child. Well if she can read and write...

"Appa!" She squeals, kicking her feet. Her arms stick out towards him and Mingi sighs.

I guess this child is mine now.

Outside of his apartment complex, he stops at the steps looking down at his daughter. He registers how little she is. Was he that little at four years old? He remembers being the tallest in his nursery. Lifting her up from the floor, he makes his way into the flat—the old ladies coo at Mieun who simply blushes at them. He cannot deny she is a cute child, however he cannot get too attached. After all, when the mission is over he may have to send her back. Or, if he has enough pity, put her in a better establishment.

"Right, this is your new home." He declares, Mieun immediately darts towards the TV, her finger hovering over the buttons to change the channels. Her wide eyes are merely two inches away from the television screen; he deduces it's not good for her eyes immediately yielding her small body back to the sofa. "House rules. One, sit on the sofa when you watch television. Two, when I watch the news, you watch the news. Three, you eat what you get given or go to bed hungry. Understood?" Her baby head bobs up and down in agreement, he raises an impressive eyebrow, he didn't think she'd agree so quickly. Before he can blink, she crawls towards him wrapping her arms around him, her face snugly fits in the crook of his neck—Mingi freezes in his spot.

"Papa." She squeals, "I want a hug."

Ah, so this is her negotiation.

Tentatively, Mingi's powerful arms encircle her delicate frame, drawing her closer to him. They cocoon her entirely, enveloping her in his warmth. Mieun's long lashes flutter gently as the comforting heat that surrounds her sings a careful lullaby, basking her consciousness into the distant seas.

Understanding the other party is the first step towards peace.

Apollo learns very quickly that his daughter's love language is physical touch. Perhaps she is touch starved, a consequence of her infancy being wrought with neglect by her biological parents. In every moment of the day, she must be attached to her father, refusing separation. Whether it's hugging, holding hands, sitting on his lap: distance is not an option. It's somehow difficult for a man who can not remember a time where a touch felt like it was borne from the conquest of love rather than violence. Each vibration against his skin feels like the burning of a hot knife pressed against the surface of his body. He gulps, as Mieun swings her limbs around his long legs, he knows he cannot outright neglect her right for affection, but he doesn't know long he can cope with the hugging and kissing.

"Mieun please get off me, I need to go shopping." Her tiny brows furrow as tears begin to spill from her wide, innocent eyes. With lips that quiver with each sob that wracks her small frame, Mieun's fists clench at her sides, and her chest heaves with the effort of each breath, as if her tiny body cannot contain the overwhelming surge of emotions. The tears stream down her flushed cheeks, catching the light, as her cries grow louder in desperate need of comfort. Releasing a defeated breath, he raises her from the ground, hesitantly, pressing his lips to her rosy cheeks. "Fine, I'll take you with me." Grumbling, he fits her coat around her, hauling her out of the home with him.

The kitchen is bathed in the golden light of the early morning, casting gentle shadows across the room. The air is still, cool with the quiet calm that only the dawn can bring; he huffs as an unusual feeling of unsettlement roams within him. He has just posted Mieun's application form for Hala Academy, he knows that when he's found his wife he'll sneak in and write her credentials in on the form, which he has currently left very ambiguous.

"Fatherhood is a funny look on you, Apollo." A familiar figure wanders into the apartment, Mingi rolls his eyes as he attempts to feed Mieun another spoonful of porridge. He heard the merciless pounding of his platform dress shoes from the bottom of the staircase, he twists his neck observing the Black Cat's disposition, who's adequately dressed in a three piece suit, hair slicked back and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his long nose. In fact, his attire almost mirrors Mingi's who somehow looks better than him in it.

"What are they calling you here?" Mingi inquires, hastily shoving the spoon inside Mieun's mouth before she can refuse. Her face scrunches up in protest before distastefully swallowing what she deems gruel.

"Jung Wooyoung, an office worker in the City Hall." Apollo can trust the Black Cat to go for the most boring jobs— they pay a lot.

"I thought you were doing the The Graveyard mission?"

"I will after I'm done here." A beat of silence fills the room, before Mieun's whines permeate the room; shrinking under her father's hard stare she receives the last spoonful of porridge before scampering to the television to watch the latest episode of the notorious spy show. "So Hades has been a bad boy then?" Mingi raises a brow at the subject before placing the bowl in the pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

"That's one way of putting it." He retorts, plainly, with no enthusiasm to continue the issue, but he should know better. Wooyoung is exceptionally prying. "I wanted to help but Athens told me—,"

"What, exactly, is your point, cat boy?" He mocks, jaw clenched.

"Are you not in the slightest bit, hurt? Like, at all? It is ok to feel angry and disappointed, he was your best friend. You knew him better than anyone." Apollo's head dips beneath his shoulders, slender finger tapping against the worktop as he comprehends Wooyoung's sympathy. He's not wrong in any sense, but being a spy does mean disregarding one's emotions for the betterment of the country.

"No. I really couldn't care less." Wooyoung hums, unbelieving of Apollo's statement. "I need a favour from you. Collect me the records of all the single women who live in Oka. I need to find a wife." The Black Cat wolf-whistles, ignoring Mingi's scowl.

"What's the magic word?" He teases, ignoring the look of vexation that exceeds on his associate's face.

"Please!" Mieun shouts, jumping off her seat as she pads to the television to watch her cartoons.

She really should start revising for that entrance exam.

"I copied all the files of unmarried women from the City Hall." Wooyoung throws the files down onto the coffee table, whilst grumbling. "I'm doing way too much for a mission that isn't even mine." Apollo highly validates his help, even if he'll never show it. Mieun looks up from her seat at the coffee table, where sheets of arithmetic are littered across; her father has already got her working on Hala Academy's entrance exam.

"Why couldn't you just marry Demeter? Everyone knows that woman is head over heels for you." Mingi shoots Wooyoung a look of annoyance. Demeter, alongside Apollo, is one of the best spies in the field known for her ability to extract information out of almost anyone without the use of torture. Apollo finds it impressive considering he’s had to get his hands dirty a few times. Regardless, she’s also known for pining over Apollo seeing that she’s attempted to pursue him a multiple of times, and has failed: horrifically.

He supposes that if he was that much in love with another, he wouldn’t want to let go of them too—but then again Apollo has never been in love (and doesn’t intend to either) so he cannot help but frown at her.

Grabbing both his and Mieun’s jacket off the hook, he kneels down to wrap her in the duffle coat. Wooyoung purses his lips, visibly impressed.

“Mieun and I are going to the library, I need a bunch of physics books because my knowledge has rusted."

Morana, to many, is a tyrannical mythological being characterised by death. rebirth and dreams. To Legion, she is their truest assassin, notorious for being Death's greatest servant providing him with an abundance of souls to take over to the afterlife. She held an unwavering stare as she grasped the night’s weapon, striking it upon Legion's enemies. Led by a convoluted moral compass, the mere concept of her seemed unreal, there was no way a being could be so light on her feet that when she travelled, it was like she was floating through air. Yet, she did it as if it was a gift she was born with.

Morana proved to be the stark opposite of her male counterpart. Where kidnapping, maiming, murdering and torturing was frowned upon by the Agency: Morana openly exercised her free will without a second thought. However, where the Agency ensured their members never had to worry about money: Morana was denied the privilege of having all resources. Granted her practises supported immoral beliefs, but her devotion to Legion remained unrivalled, thus heightening her formidable reputation as the highly skilled assassin.

They say she is unabridged of a ghostly void, holding no space for emotion as the potent elixir of death dribbles from her lips. Perhaps she is death, even. In the form of a human woman, estranged from society for the scar cutting down her face. It's not poignant, but the fact that it is there, is enough.

The esteemed mercenary sits in the public library, deciphering the message that was allotted between the pages of the book that she was told to retrieve. A key, she’s informed in the possession of a woman named ‘Park Eunha’, who runs a club that goes under the name of: ‘The Cosmopolitan.’ Letting out a relentless sigh, she caresses her temples, knowing this is not a mission to complete in days but rather months.

It’s easier to infiltrate the club with a child, but where on earth is she supposed to get a baby from?

"Miss?" Her head snaps up from the book, snapping it close and holding it close against her chest. Her gaze drifts to the volunteer who awkwardly shuffles her feet, staring back at the librarian in anxiety. Truth be told, the volunteer is slightly scared of her for reasons that Morana will never know why. It could be the scar. Smiling to alleviate her nervousness, she nods to instigate the volunteer to speak. "Mrs Sam is calling you."

Sauntering down the aisles, she makes her way to the front desk where the old lady stands amongst other women Morana's age. The old lady smiles, leaning on her walking stick before she speaks. She pauses, a breath hitched in their throats. It's weird how they're afraid of a little grandma with dementia but the old lady loves her library and will love those who cherish the essence of literature with her. She says nothing in the end, scuttling back to her office, to find the sheet of paper with all her notes on. Everybody loves Mrs Sam, Morana included who has a soft spot for the geriatric and little children. Coincidentally, they're the largest demographic that even still attend libraries (aside from university students who attend out of obligation rather than interest).

There are four librarians, excluding Mrs Sam. Morana, herself, Riko, Inger and Jia. The volunteer (whose name she will never remember) loiters by the typewriter machines being the antisocial one out of them. Inger is from Germania but moved to Hala with her husband and son on account of his new occupation here. Out of the other librarians, she is the nicest and most tolerable. Sometimes she can stand Riko, when they keep a distance and exchange polite words, but Jia. Jia, Morana cannot stand and refuses to. All she does is whine about how she never got an admittance into medical school—even at her big age of 28. Morana knows Inger can't stand her too, but neither would dare to admit that out loud since Jia is Mrs Sam's niece. They stand at the front desk as the library slowly fills in the early hours of the morning, a slight chatter amongst them before a haughty laugh escapes into the air.

"Only a man would do that, don't you think Inger?" Jia prompts.

"Ach yes, but my husband is too afraid of me to say no if I asked him to do basic household chores."

"Atta girl." Riko adds.

"What about your husband?" Jia looks at her, with her wide eyes before her lips form an 'o'. "I forgot you're not married, sorry, it's just we are all so I assume you are too." It feels like a taunt, it is a taunt.

The women of Hala firmly believe that marriage is at the heart of a fulfilling life for a woman, therefore those who are unmarried are readily ostracised. Living in the midst of strained tension between Hala and Westonia means that individuals' lives are now invaded by the secret police, probed to see if they’re involved in espionage; she knows that if she wants to stay alive or out of the public eye, she’ll need to get married. Unfortunately, there are no “Find my Husband, and quickly” schemes in Hala. The best bet is to finish her mission and leave Oka.

“Does anyone want to man the desk?”

“I’ll do it.” Morana offers, to which they appreciate. The married women disperse throughout the library with their trolleys to return the books back to the shelves.

Mieun's heavy pants enter Mingi's ears as he finishes taking the final step, making his way into the warmth. Her short legs could not make it past the fourth steep step, her arms holding out for her father to pick her up. He shakes his head at her, he must admit her into a sports club; how embarrassing would it be if one learnt that a child of a spy was unfit?

The library exuded an air of quiet reverence, the room was rather grand in scale yet suffused with a sense of seclusion; the scent of parchment and aging wood lingered in the mien. Muted light of the early morning faded through the tall, arched windows spilling across the worn carpet and leather-bound novels— poised delicately upon timber stretching at least seven feet from the ground. Nestled in the corners of the library were a circuit of soft leather sofas. With the current of academia, Mingi struggled to find the children's section, his eyes occasionally flickering to Mieun's eyes lit up in wonder as her gaze bored into the array of books. He did have to bring home a massive stack of encyclopaedias she refused to give back to the orphanage director.

"Never mind, just keep them." It wasn't like any of the other children were interested in reading, to the same extent as his daughter anyway, he claimed.

"Ok, why don't you look for something to read? What about this one: 'The Tiger Who Came To Tea?'" She shook her head. "'The Tale of Peter Rabbit'?"

"I've read that. I wanna read that book." Raising herself to her toes, her finger points to the spine of a book, Mingi crouches to pull it out.

'Harriet the Spy'?

"Are you sure? Might be a little hard?" He's not sure why he's second guessing her reading level, he has watched her read a children's astrophysics book but the cleverest children in Hala are scrutinised carefully. Intelligence is a curse, not a gift. "What about 'Winnie the Pooh'? My favourite character is Tiger." Mieun holds her ground, trying to pry 'Harriet the Spy' from his hands.

Very well.

"I like Roo, Papa." She scuttles past him to look into the boxes that are low enough for her to rummage through.

She'd make a good spy.

Manning the desk is probably the most boring task when there are no takers of books. The job is a little too easy for her taste, but the hours are great—it's better than working a measly corporate job in the City Hall where it's customary to stare into a document for over thirteen hours. Her primary role is the bringer of death, Magere Hein—as they would say in Germanian, and there are plenty of bodies this city needs disposing of.

A little body dashes towards her, her eyes lit up, watching as a mop of raven hair bounces up and down—her brown duffle coat is one size too big for her, black tights are too small. The skirt is the only one of perfect size. Her parents must be horrible at sizing.

“Hello, darling. How can I help?” She makes a poor attempt at trying to put the book on the table that’s too high up for her. Gently taking her arm, she guides the girl to the smaller table.

"I want this book." She cheers, it seems above her reading level.

“Mieun, don’t run off again.” Her head piques up from where she’s looking at the child, to find a tall man clad in a suit. A stack of books rests in his arms. “Sorry about that Miss, my daughter would like to check out this book.” Her eyes dart between the book, then himself.

Surrounding him is a stream of intimidation, perfection and control. His beauty is unparalleled, his suit is of perfect size hugging his physique with such perfect solidarity. Not a single strand of hair is out of place, his dominance keeps his daughter standing beside him with a decent posture as if afraid of his vexation. Her eyes paint a line down to the bridge of his nose over the curvature of his plump lips. No pimple, no pustule, no redness on his face. He is not a labourer, his hands are not calloused as he places his own books down on the desk; tender, one—no—two paper cuts indent his right index finger. He works a desk job, not at the City Hall. The physics textbooks tell her everything.

"No problem!" She chirps, opening up the book to the front page to steal the front card. "What is your name, darling?"

"Song Mieun! I am Papa's real daughter!" She cheers, a smile tears through her face as her father clarifies the spelling of her name.

Mieun, why would you say that? A look of quiet fear flashes over his face, gone unnoticed by the infamous assassin.

Stamping the due date box, she slides the card to the side to file it behind the circulation desk later. Then, she stamps the back of the books. The only pitiful thing about being a librarian is sending out notices for overdue books when you have to rifle through stacks of book cards. "You have two weeks to read the book and return it, ok?" Nodding eagerly she grabs the book from the table dashing towards the sofa in the corner of the room. Her father releases a sigh of despair turning his gaze back to the librarian.

Mingi finds she emanates a resolute presence, preceded by composure. Her shoulders are tense, her posture straight as she is ready to defend herself against something. It had dropped when she spoke to Mieun, now alone with himself, it is there again. There's also something about the way she carries herself, like an unmarried woman would. Perhaps her single state is due to the faint scar running down her face.

There are many things he cannot deduce about her, it astounds him.

“And these are for me…” He trails off placing down an abundance of physics textbooks. She completes the same order of work as she had done for Mieun scribbling his name down on the sheet paper, the way she masticates the syllables of his name on her tongue does not go unmissed. It slips from her lips in such a dulcet way, he feels warmed by it. "Thank you, Miss."

Teikoku Research stands, proudly, in the bustling arena of the city of Oka; the hum of pelican crossing signals the pedestrians to move as the cars stop, patiently, before the stop line. At half eight in the morning, the city is already alive with small feet pounding down the roads and adults pushing their way through the teeming crowds to get to their workplace on time. At half eight in the morning, the citizens of Hala are not friendly; not when money is their lord, saviour and religion; they may have recovered from a recession but Hala is constantly wrought in a fragile state of political unrest. Mingi's towering frame pokes through the sea of heads dashing down the crossing, his gaze fixated on the tall building in front of his eyes.

Whilst he awaits to hear back from Hala Academy, and Mieun stays with Wooyoung, he needs to work on Project Waffe, Hala's very own development of a powerful weapon. To avoid suspicion, he applied to the vacancy via the traditional route and passed the interview with his exemplary record as an atomic physicist.

His polished black shoes click against the marble flooring, leather satchel clutched in hand, his immaculate disposition summoning undivided attention from the passer-bys. A man stands in front of the double doors, almost as tall as Mingi himself, a little thinner, blonde hair with a frame of rectangular glasses sat on his crooked nose. He wears a dark grey suit, a little shabby, though it seemed as if he forgot to iron his clothes the night before. As Mingi approaches, he clears his throat, polite smiles exchanged between them.

"Mr Hans Schmidt?" The older male nods, gesticulating for the spy to follow through the doors.

"Welcome to your first day at Teikoku, you must be a spectacular man of a sort, Tanaka isn't easily impressed." Mingi remembers the old, short man, bushy eyebrows glaring daggers at Mingi throughout the interview.

Hans Schmidt rambles about basic housekeeping rules, quickly points at key rooms Mingi may have to wander through in the building. Has him wave at the tea boy, the receptionist and a few other 'crucial' members of staff before completely diverting the topic of conversation.

“I’m assuming you have a wife, Mr Song?” Hans asks, his thick Germanian accent spilling through. Fifteen years in Hala, but some things will never change.

“Ah I did. Unfortunately she passed away five years ago during childbirth, so it’s just been my little one and I.” A crushing stifle oppresses the air as the two men walk in synchronisation down the hallway.

“Ach, I’m so sorry to hear that. The little one is five, ja? Girl or boy?” A genuine look of compassion pulls over Hans' face, which Mingi perceives as a possible indicator that he has experienced some kind of loss in his life. After all, Hala has been in and out of dictatorship and stuck in a century old feud with Westonia, everyone has lost someone.

“Correct, she’s five. Her name’s Mieun.” Mingi smiles as he proudly announces his daughter's name. This baffles him.

“What a beautiful name. I have a young one, Luuk. He will be starting Hala Academy, in about a few weeks time. Will she be attending H Academy too?”

“I should hope so.” Hala Academy are very picky when choosing from their candidates. There is a list of criteria, Mingi is unsure if he will be able to fulfil when he walks around the city unmarried.

“Well, this is your department Mr Song. Your supervisor will be here, shortly, to direct you. I hope you enjoy your service in Teikoku. And, remember, no question is a stupid question.”

When the day is over, Mingi closes the cap of his pen, organising the sheets of paper neatly, into a folder before packing his satchel to leave. He bids his supervisor goodbye before rushing out of the building to catch the bus home. It is five 'o'clock in the evening, in Hala, and the roads are much quieter than they were in the morning—a cold gust of air slaps across his face before he double takes reeling in the figure walking past him.

Every evening, for the next week, he finds her at the bus stop, five minutes past five waiting for the bus that arrives at nine minutes past five. Sometimes he walks slowly down the staircase, to realise he must rush across the road to catch the bus that has arrived early. She stifles a giggle as he stumbles onto the bus, panting as he slides onto the seat next to her. They share a smile before she begins interrogating him about his daughter.

One evening, she is not at the bus stop, or the next and Mingi walks the long route home to try and find her at every stop. He's unbeknownst why, but she's the only choice for a wife he has otherwise his mission has already failed. There she is, standing outside of a convenience store, bags in hand, nose nestled into a scarf searching her surroundings.

Is she waiting for someone?

“Sorry Miss, are you waiting for your husband?” The grip on his own bag tightened as her doe eyes stare up at him.

"Mingi? What are you doing here?" A pause lingers in the air as he contemplates his next few words. They stand outside the shop, the dusk seeping into the sky as the roads begin to empty, its silence reminiscent of a time before.

"I didn't see you at the bus stop, so I was worried about your whereabouts." He utters.

Morana blinks twice before regaining a hold on her rationality. "No, I'm not married, Mr Song. I was just waiting for the next bus."

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed. In that case, would you like me to walk you home?” His offer is one forged of consideration, a type she has never foreseen before—it almost has her wondering what has intrigued him to display an act of compassion, towards her. “Never mind, I shouldn’t have even asked. Lead the way, madam.” He’s a gentleman, bred of a unique kind that seems to have gone extinct.

“Your wife is a very lucky woman, you’re a very polite man.” She begins, as they stroll down the cobbled pavement to her home.

“She was.” Was? As if having read her mind, he continues. “She passed away during childbirth, it’s only Mieun and I, now.” Her lips uplift into a sympathetic smile, as if to reassure him of his loss. Morana does not remember her parents herself, after all she was taken in by one of Legion's assassin's at nine years old.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Now I understand why the baby’s clothes are all the wrong sizes.” The joke rolls off her tongue effortlessly, but is replaced by a sense of unease as he's quiet for a second too long.

“Oh it’s that noticeable?” The anxiety prescient in his tone warms her, he's evidently a man who cares.

“Perhaps I could go shopping with you! To shop for Mieun, I mean.” She quickly adds, as her face turns beet red in embarrassment.

“I’m afraid you’d have to marry me first.” A quiet laugh escapes her lips, she shakes her head at his proclamation. "I'm serious, Mieun would love to have you as her mother. She's finished her book already, and pesters me to take her to see you." Morana is in awe, Mieun is a darling. (And her father is, too, of the attractive kind).

“Marriage, marriage, marriage. It's all the women of Hala care about." A sigh of despondency is released before she confesses to him, "Truth be told, the women at the library were going to report me to the police for suspicion of espionage, all for being single. If you were being serious, I would actually take you up on that offer." Mingi stops in his tracks, the luminous blaze of the streetlight forms a halo over his slicked back hair. She, too, stops in her path, turning to face him.

“Would you be willing to be my wife, so Mieun could have a mother?" His question suspends in the thoughtful atmosphere, the minute wisps of wind are hitched in their wake as they anticipate her response.

“Yes.” She answers, a relieved smile settles on Mingi’s face. “I guess, I need someone to be a mother to and your child needs a mother.”

“So you’re saying it’s ok size up for trousers, shirts and dresses?” Mingi quizzes, as he browses with his wife in the girls sections.

“Yes! It’s much more comfortable, leaves room for movement and she can go a while wearing them too. Saves us buying more clothes until she’s grown out of them.” Her eyes searched across the racks until they bore into a dark brown skirt. “We should get this! Then Mimi and I can wear matching outfits!” She squeals, a soft smile painted on her husband’s face before she rifles searching for the right size. Glancing over the price tag, her movements falter before Mingi takes the skirt from her hand to rest it over his arm, like a rack.

“I like that blue dress.” He points out, ignorant of the price tag. “It’s similar to yours.”

They’re Mr and Mrs Song now, it somehow feels odd that with some sudden twist of fate, she now remains at his side—her name in conjunction with his. Who ever would have thought that the enigmatic librarian had caught the eyes of the quiet, single father? Yet it had happened, and in a whirlwind she had moved into his home, and was practically sharing a room with the man. He was more than happy to give her the spare bedroom, though she had insisted that sharing a room wouldn’t make Mieun feel that there was some sort of particular divide between them. After all, this relationship wasn’t just orchestrated for the world, but also for their daughter too. She needn’t know that this was merely a marriage of convenience.

Morana learns off Jung Wooyoung, the civil servant at the City Hall, who often decides to drop by for dinner. Mieun calls him a ‘Cat Boy’ to which this confuses her.

“He somewhat resembles a black cat, don’t you think?” Mingi provokes at the dinner table as Wooyoung rolls his eyes. Morana takes the time to observe Wooyoung’s disposition carefully. She’s seen him before, but where?

“Has he told you about Hala Academy?” Wooyoung prompts, she nods as she chews her food. "Hear that Mimi? You have to get in, it's what would have Amma wanted, right?"

Would I—oh…

Mieun's real Amma.

"I thought...your wife passed away during giving birth, how would...Mimi know..?" She tentatively raises, stopping in between words in some hope that Mingi picks up what she wants to ask.

“It was one of the things we used to talk about when she was pregnant with Mimi.” As married couples do.

As lovers do.

"I'm sorry about Wooyoung bringing up my ex-wife, that idiot always says the first thing that comes to his head." The tablecloth in hand wipes down the surface of the ceramic plate before he settles it down onto the pile of dry dishes. Shaking her head, she waves him off as she organises the containers of leftovers in the fridge. They may have not been married very long, yet some odd systematic domesticity is established through their routines. Every evening, she will wash the dishes as Mingi clears the table. Mingi dries the dishes and she will arrange the leftovers into smaller bowls, then wipe down the table; then wash the cloth. Within it, they will always talk about their day, gossip about co-workers before exchanging gentle smiles.

"It's ok, Mingi. I know you don’t see me as a replacement for her.”

“That doesn’t mean I still don’t value you, and your role in this household. First and foremost you are my wife and Mieun’s mother.” He, quickly, interjects—his stern expression tightly fixed on her. Some odd consternation steers in her, his sincere words are the first to be spoken to a man of his kind. He is a rare creature, she deduces. Yes, many are tall and handsome; but the soft-spoken and considerate have gone almost extinct. Almost, she remembers, her husband exists. Song Mingi, exists and is hers.

It's enough to make a grown woman swoon at night.

Hala Academy stands in the centre of Oka, in all its grandeur—its imposing silhouette barely visible in the moonlight, now towering over them. A loft edifice of dark, weathered stone, the building perpetuated an air of class and sophistication subduing the couple with a sense of inferiority. The arched windows were adorned with intricate wrought ironwork, their glass panes slightly fogged with age. Ivy crept up the sides, entwining with the stone, the main entrance called for them; above, a stone plaque read simply: Hala Academy. Pushing past the mahogany door, the entryway was lit by the flickering glow of gas lamps, the stone floors covered by traditional Persian rugs. The ceilings were high, the walls panelled with a rich, dark oak, the corridors were long and narrow and despite the array of candles in their pristine silver holders it still felt significantly cold and dim. On the contrary to its suave demeanour, the rooms are filled with anxious parents and carefree children; excited chatter infiltrates out into the entryway.

They look like a composed couple, with their outfits that complement each other, colours and styles an ode to their age-old marriage and comprehensive understanding of all matters intelligent. Mr Song, the physicist, and his wife, the librarian, stride into the rooms, their daughter settled at her mother's hip, elegant in her smart clothing. Still, she doesn't understand why Mieun could not wear pink but according to Mingi, "The school's dress code is black, maroon, grey and dark brown. It’s better to follow their dress code. Remember, the first impression is the last impression."

Ah yes, 'to impress'. That is the main reason that they're here: Hala Academy organises interviews for all candidates that have fit the school's criteria. This is where the children must complete a 'simple', two-hour entrance exam, which topics include: Literature, Mathematics, Science, History, Geography and Politics. At the same time, the parents are interviewed to assess 'Familial Politics'. In other words, children of divorcees, single parents, parents who are separating are not given an admission on the grounds that their child will not perform well. It's a clever tactic as most parents would be too concerned about their child's education than about their marriage. As grim as it seems, this is one rigid rule of the eminent 'H Academy' and is the primary reason it stands as the world's best international academy.

Mieun has skipped to the exam hall, standing behind a line of nervous students all sweating and shaking as they receive firm looks from their parents. Morana deems she is the only child that has been kissed goodbye, standing with her husband in the foyer awaiting for them to be called to interrogation. An old man, with short grey hair, a pair of half-moon shaped glasses and a cane stands outside of the door—his hawk-like eyes, cautiously, observing his surroundings.

Andrew Anderson, Mingi recalls. An ex-Westonian Major turned English teacher, who has a keen eye for marriage authenticity. He also retains the excellent sixth sense of seeing through lies and has even made a mother run out of the room crying snot and tears. Anderson makes, seemingly relaxed, interviews intense; cutting down the candidates down to the bone.

"Mingi." Mrs Song whispers, he averts his gaze to her, leaning down slightly as her lips inch closer to his ears. "I think we should hold hands." She professes, her fingers grazing against his own. He noticed Anderson's hawk-like gaze from across the room. Whilst is constantly watching, Mingi is constantly performing. Enveloping her own smaller hand within his, they share a polite smile before he smooths the crease on her blazer collar.

We must prove to them that we're a happy couple.

"Mr and Mrs Song?" Their heads pique up in synchrony, somehow the grip on her hand has tightened as they scuttle towards the office, feeling the burning stare of a number of parents, who are too, awaiting their turn in anguish. The room is particularly large, like most of the rooms in the academy, with a sizzling fireplace crackling embers; daunting, as if the couple were expectant of their death. There are three interrogators, inside the classroom, Mr Anderson, Mr Jansen and Mrs Beck, all of whom Mingi is thoroughly educated on. Upon Mrs Beck's allowance, they seat themselves together on the plush sofa opposite.

The Songs shall prevail in this game of information warfare.

"Mr Song, I was informed that this is your second wife, may I ask how you met?" Mrs Beck asks. She's a mild-mannered woman, very conservative and prioritises logic; the older students love her with her concise explanations of advanced biology. Nevertheless, she's an exceptionally 'gradist'; therefore only intelligence entices her.

I see we're getting straight to the point. He looks over to Mrs Song, who matches his placid composure. "I met my wife in a library, I was in awe of her grace. Ever since the passing of my first wife, I've been hesitant on moving on but on meeting her, I felt that I had been given the privilege of being able to fall in love again." Mrs Song returns his smile, clutching the fabric of her silk dress to steady herself.

"And what about you, Madam?" Beck inquires.

"Mingi is a wonderful person who cares so much for his daughter. He's also exceptionally considerate of me." Before Beck can open her mouth to retort, she is uncouthly cut off by her colleague.

"Why would a pretty girl like you choose to be with a man with baggage?" Mr Jansen inquires, furtively, leaning back in his chair, ignoring the aghast stares of his associates.

"Why that's uncouth of you, Jansen." Beck hisses, she quickly dismisses Jansen's question proceeding forward with the interview. "As for our next question: Could you tell us why you chose to apply to Hala Academy?"

"The quality of the instructors at this establishment is superior. Of course, you are all very knowledgeable and cultured, and are excellent at guiding your students to fruitful pathways in order to become successful citizens of Hala." Anderson nods his head, impressed by Mingi's elegant response.

"Now then, how would the two of you describe your daughter? Are there any strengths and weaknesses we should be aware of?"

After a single pause, Mingi opens his mouth, contemplating his words. He remembers having this conversation with his wife last night. "Mieun is a very inquisitive child, she's quite reserved at first—which isn't necessarily a weakness but after some time she's exceptional at opening up and conversing with others." Morana watches as the deputy headmistress scribbles down her notes on the clipboard, she can just about make out some of the letters; although the pink flush of her cheeks is discernible as Mingi speaks.

“It's a shame this whole second wife/second mother ordeal is quite a...tragedy for you, Mr Song.” The deputy headmistress looks up from her clipboard, sending her colleague a look of irritation; she finds some of Hala Academy's traditions to be rather...unconventional.

"I think it's hardly unfair to be penalised on the account of death, don't you think? After all, he is a man and what use is a man without a woman and what use is a woman without her husband." Mrs Song interjects, her head held high challenging Mr Jansen's cunning gaze.

"Jagiya—" Mingi reached out for her hand, squeezing it gently to dissipate her brewing anger. Yet she ignores his attempts at trying to conceal her animosity.

"Lest we forget, you're on your third marriage—aren't you, Mr Jansen?" A spectral silence is suspended in the air, all three of the chairman's jaws go slack in sheer astonishment. Mingi narrows his eyes at her, how much does she actually know?

"And just HOW would you know that?" He barks at her, fists clenched, restraining himself from baring his teeth.

"Courtesy of Mrs Jansen, she often visits the public library and we've got chatting." Her shrewd stare boils Jansen's blood, she's eerily calm despite having ripped open his lies apart.

"The library?" A deep chuckle is eructed from Anderson, leaning forward on his cane. "I thought your wife was dyslexic? Humour me, Mrs Song, what does she like to read?"

"She has a taste for erotica." A wave of startlement succeeds the room, the face of each male going bright red--even Mingi. "The world will read what it cannot get." After a tense moment of silence, she stands up from her chair.

“I’m sor—,”

“No.” She holds out her hand to cease his futile attempts at an apology, perhaps it should be her who apologises. She did just ruin his career. “You can apologise when my daughter scores top in the entrance exam. Auf Weiderhen.”

“I’m so sorry, Mimi, I ruined your admission with my short temper.” Sulking, Mrs Song wraps the blanket tightly over her shoulders before sinking her face into the armrest in despair. Her daughter falls onto the space beside her, wearily attempting to pry open the blanket.

“Mama, opennnn.” Mieun whines, lifting up her blanket she shivers slightly before her daughter crawls in next to her, both girls cocooned warmly in the blanket. “It’s ok, I think I did good. I am sooo bad at geography, I hate it.”

“Well it’s a good thing Hala Academy lets you choose to either keep the subject or drop it in year 8.” Mingi, ambles into the living room placing the tray down on the coffee table before sitting on the leather chair adjacent to the sofa. “You said nothing wrong, we can just hope Mieun has performed well.”

A letter slides in through the letterbox, hitting the ground with a gentle thud as the family settle themselves around the dining table; in the early hours of the morning. Morana freezes, as Mieun climbs down from her chair to pick up the letter.

"It's from the school!" She cheers, which has Mingi springing up from his seat to grab the letter. Restlessly, he aptly tears the seal, his sharp eyes scanning the contents of the letter. He remains silent, in a state of shock as he reads, and re-reads. "Appaaa, what does it say?" Mieun prompts, tugging at his dress trousers. Standing up from her seat, Mrs Song, considerately, seizes the letter from her husband’s grip.

"MIEUN! YOU SCORED FIFTH! YOU'RE GOING TO HALA ACADEMY!" Morana shrieks, she swoops up the tiny body in arms, spinning her around both of them screaming and laughing as Mieun's father takes a seat on the sofa. His ears drown out the discourse of passionate laughter, his back hits the soft fabric with a thump, eyes fluttering shut.

Happiness. Is this what it is supposed to feel like?

"Like I said, if it's getting too much for you, you don't have to work. I earn good enough for the both of us." Mingi explains, as he leans against the kitchen worktop watching as his wife, skilfully slices the vegetables with point blank precision. It's odd, he thinks, that each slice is exactly 1.3cm in thickness. Despite the full background check Mingi has run on her, a small figment of him believes that there's more to her than meets the eye; as if the interview wasn't a testament to that already. Flicking her gaze over her shoulder, she returns back the pot of stewing broth.

"I like to be kept busy, besides the library isn't too far from Mieun's school so I can drop and pick her up." He can't help but agree with her, though if she's in one place at a time and not scuttling all over the city, he'll find it much easier to scrutinise her: if need be. His ears dial out the sound of the pots whirring, and the obnoxious commotion of the broth boiling; attuned to the light patter of feet trailing to the front door. Before the fist pounds against the wooden door, "Mingi, will you get the door? That will be Mimi."

The knock doesn't resound. It never does, Mieun doesn't knock in the 30 staggered seconds it takes him to reach the door, because she's too busy grabbing sweets off the granny in the neighbouring apartment to them.

How did she know Mieun was at the door?

Her slender fingers dance across the surface of his lips, his brown eyes fill with tears, muffling incoherent noises as a devilish smirk is strewn across her lips. "Quiet." She snaps, picking up the scarlet red telephone; placing it to her ears. "Stella, darling, I'm great—will you shut the fuck up like I told you to?—oh, just some pathetic guy, I'm killing him soon anyways— No, sorry, I'm picking the..." Her dagger cuts cleanly through the air, lodging straight into the midline of his torso, the metal, deviously, sunk its teeth into his skin, tissues erupting into a roar. "I think I was very clear about telling you to shut up. Sorry, Stell, I'm picking Mimi up from school. Send the cleaners, please." Her stilettos echo in the abandoned building, carelessly making her way around the masses of dead bodies lounging on the Grim Reaper's bridge.

"MAMA!" She shakes her head at her daughter's congenial nature, as she dashes towards her, after waving her little crowd of friends goodbye. They're all children of very wealthy families, Morana notes all of their faces and the mothers that wave their children over to them. Luuk Schmidt, that's Inger's son, who sends an amiable smile; he blushes slightly at Mieun's actions. Sasha Ivanov, daughter of the CEO of a large pharmaceutical company. A few other children whose parents are politicians, doctors but none are important to her. Finally, Park Kira. Daughter of Hades and Persephone. Morana can't help but be impressed at Mieun's friend group, it must be her intelligence and undeniable beauty. "What's for dinner today?" Ruffling Mieun's hair, she guides her daughter out of the exit as they discuss dinner options.

“Mrs Song?” She turns in her step to look behind, a woman slender in physique with a fitted dress, long, black silky hair stares at her in sincere judgement. She is dressed to the nines, but Morana's sleek look somehow makes Persephone feel inferior.

“Good afternoon, Mrs Park.” Her hand settles on her daughter’s shoulder who stares back at Kira, sensing the underlying tension between them. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” She instigates.

“My daughter, Kira, would like to organise a play date with your daughter—if that’s ok with yourself?”

“Ah yes, of course. Mimi, would you like to play with Kira over, let’s say, the weekend?” She suggests, darting her eyes to Eunha who gives a subtle nod of agreement. The weekend works best for them. Mieun is quick to agree, Morana is relieved—she admits she would be annoyed if her daughter disagreed; that would soil her mission.

"If you don't mind staying over, Mrs Song? The ladies and I usually arrange a tea party but seeing Kira only wants Mieun over, you and I can have a natter, can't we?" Morana conceals the smirk simmering beneath her skin, a look of innocence feigned instead.

"That would be lovely."

Mingi is mildly taken aback by how quickly Mieun has become close friends with Park Kira; yet, he is not one to complain as his wife eagerly announces that both of them have been invited to the Park Estate. Absent-mindedly, he fiddles with the microchip between his fingers, watching as his wife slips on a pair of pearl earrings before hastily rummaging through her cupboard for a pair of heels. He remains silent, simply observing from the corner, as she flurries around in a slight panicked state.

To begin with, Mingi is cautious for two primary reasons.

First, Mrs. Park had always been considered a reserved woman, and the idea of her inviting another woman to tea—especially one not a member of The Cosmopolitan—strikes him as somewhat dubious. Second, Mrs. Song is an enigmatic figure. Though he can't tell if it's because his knowledge of women is rather lacklustre, or that it is, in fact, the truth that she has somehow been moulded into a different human. There are late nights she justifies by claiming to close up the library, and the bruises that mark her body seem to be symptoms of anaemia. Her sharp intellect, which many attribute to her love of knowledge, only adds to the mystery. If she really was Mieun's mother, he would have been able to understand why the child was so bright. Therefore, the chip isn't just to spy on Park Eunha, it's for her too.

Stealing one last glance of herself from the mirror, she turns on her heel, summoning her husband's attention. Her hands clasp into fists at her side, "How do I look?" She asks, softly, her breath like a cloud of heaven, dropped from the sky to bless his ears with her voice.

"Beautiful." A relieved smile settled on her lips, he stood up from the bed, strolling towards her. He stops in front, adjusting the clip in her hair and smoothing down the collar of her dress shirt. "You are beautiful." He whispers. His sincerity has her heart fluttering in awe of him—their intimate moment is cut short by Mieun stomping into the room.

"Mama! I can't find my red shoes!" Shaking his head at her, Mingi ushers her out of the room towards her own as they begin to hunt for her 'Dorothy slippers'; as her father likes to call them.

The Park Estate stands as a grand testament to an ancient opulence, nestled amongst sprawling acres of manicured grounds. It's coppery stone façade, boasts arched windows and intricate wrought-iron balconies. In the middle, stands a large water fountain where mist lightly sprays against the surface of the cobblestone path that paves the entrance down to the home. With Mieun sitting in her arms, she tightens her grip sauntering down the lane, to the doorway of the home where the household's domestic staff run up and down the corridors. Morana shifts the weight of her feet, standing uncomfortably in the foyer as she is instructed to wait for Mrs Park; Mieun wiggles out of her grip persisting to be put down. Inside, the rooms are vast and richly decorated, with heavy velvet drapes, antique chandeliers, and polished mahogany furniture. The manor emits the quiet confidence of old money, with its precise refinement. There is no doubt Eunha keeps the household on a tight leash.

The terrifying click of heels down the staircase snaps her away from her thoughts— her gaze follows Eunha walk down with Kira skipping to Mieun in front of her. “Mrs Song! Welcome! Come join me in the parlour, are you ok with Mieun playing Kira outside? My butler will supervise them?” She nods in agreement, pinching Mieun’s cheeks before following the lady of the household. She’s seen this place before, having infiltrated it, under the cover of the night, they've just passed the East wing where she knows Hades keeps his information. Passing the butler perched outside Eunha's wing, he swings open the door before gently shutting it behind them. They settle on a plush maroon sofa, her weight sinks the sofa enveloping her in a secure warmth.

In the shadowed silence, a figure glided effortlessly through the corridors, his every movement fluid and purposeful. The air was thick with an oppressive stillness, broken only by the sigh of relief as he watches his wife saunter into the room, unbeknownst of his presence. His butler's attire blended seamlessly with the surroundings. Nestled among the towering oak doors and gilded arches, he ventured deeper into the quarters; the glint of the brass handles guiding him through the halls. Each nook and cranny was carefully articulated into his mind, he knows to the right unfolds Hades' rooms but the study is more useful to him. Shallow breaths infiltrate the tense atmosphere, his hand brushing the surface of the door handle, twisting the knob before pushing himself in.

In the drawing room, the delicate clink of porcelain on fine china punctuated the room, the faint scent of chamomile filling the air. The assassin sat with poised elegance, her fingers wrapped delicately around a teacup; beneath the soft, maternal façade, lay a woman far more dangerous than she appeared. Across from her, Eunha sipped her tea with a languid grace, unaware that the pleasant conversation flowing between them was, in fact, a carefully crafted performance.

"Well I told you about our meet cute, where did you and your Mr Park meet?" Morana feigned a melody of curiosity with just the right amount of innocence.

"Our marriage was arranged, you see. My father was eager to marry me off, and consulted the youngest business partner that he knew. At the time, Hw—Seo—." She stutters over her words, Morana narrowing her eyes as Eunha presses the tips of her fingers to her mouth; she is unsure of how she is supposed to address him. "Seung Cheol wasn't interested in me but my father is a persuasive man." A faint blush falls on her cheeks, yet Mrs Song nods her head with a mild understanding.

"Well, all things work out in the end, don't they?" Eunha's hands tremble slightly as she lowers the teacup from her lips.

"I guess." Releasing a shaky breath, she regains her carefully, composed exterior. "Where did you say your husband worked again? Teikoku Research? No wonder, your daughter scored top." Morana lets out a succulent laugh, leaning back into her seat.

“Yes, but do not ask me of the specifics of his job role. I’ve often wondered about the more… serious matters, the ones that always seem to pull our husbands away at the oddest times. Does your husband ever speak of such things? I imagine his work takes him to all sorts of places, doesn’t it?” A moment of silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken tension. Then, with a smooth, calculated grace, Mrs Park replied, her voice now a shade colder.

“My husband is a very private man. He prefers not to discuss his affairs with me.” The assassin leaned back slightly, her smile never faltering; the pieces were starting to fit together. With a casual flick of her wrist, she refilled both their cups, her eyes scanning the room for anything out of place.

"Of course," she said gently, eyes glimmering with a hidden agenda, "Some things are better left untouched, aren’t they? After all, what would us, women, understand?" Eunha's eyes glaze with an amalgamation of emotions that include sadness and fear, it betrays the façade she has tried so hard to maintain. She is just too innocent for this world, forced to hide and stay quiet under her husband's sins.

Mingi creases his brows as he adjusts the ear piece glued to his canal; Mrs Song's artful questions are something for him to praise as he assesses there is an underlying current of inquisitiveness laid within them. Something that extends the mere nature of curiosity, as if there is some deeper knowledge she is aiming to acquire. At this point, it is hard to believe that this arrangement doesn't benefit her in more ways than one. His hands rifle through the cabinet of useless files, sliding open drawers, slender fingers sliding down each corner of furniture in an attempt to find something. He should know better, Hades would never keep something so valuable to him in sight, and by Eunha's own statements, it seems she isn't exactly willing to disclose any information about her husband.

"Is your husband affectionate, Mrs Song?" His cheeks heat up in embarrassment, freezing in his action as he anticipates his wife's response. A chorus of high-pitched merriments entrail in his ear.

She...giggled?

"We've held hands and Mieun isn't my biological child so I think that tells you everything. What about your husband, is he affectionate or does he like to keep to himself, too?"

"When I see him, again, usually at this time of year, he might give me a kiss on the forehead if he's in the mood."

Usually at this time of year, huh?

He probes his head for important dates, anything that could provoke Hades' entrance into Oka. His ninth wedding anniversary is coming up soon, if his marriage means anything to him.

"I'd love to stay longer, Mrs Park but I think my husband might be getting hungry, hence I have dinner to prepare." The resounding click of heels against the ancient wooden floorboards, tears him away from his thoughts. He aligns the sheets of paper back into a uniform fashion, before his eyes dart to the copy of the 'Odyssey' perched on the table. Two copies.

Both Apollo's and Hades'.

"We had samgyetang, and then played tag before the old lady told us to go inside." Her stubby finger points to the butler, who sends Mrs Song a sheepish smile. Adjusting the scarf around her neck, the two girls embrace each other before bidding their goodbye's. Before her, Eunha knits her brows, staring ahead of the figure sauntering to them. Calculatedly, she throws her eyes over her shoulder before, briskly, spinning on her heel.

“Mingi? What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be seeing Wooyoung to the train station?”

“Yes, but then I missed you.” She blinks once. Then twice. Thrice, for consolidation. Stalking towards her, he presses his lips to her forehead, breath catching in her throat. His pinkie finger slides under the collar, swooping up the microchip before placing his hand into his blazer pocket. “Besides, the days are getting shorter and it’s unsafe for my wife and child to walk home, unchaperoned.” Eunha coos at the couple, her lips twist into a genuine smile as she ushers for Kira to come back inside. Scooping up Mieun's figure, she rests her head on his chest, sliding another arm around his wife's waist before they bid a final goodbye to the Park's. Mingi wonders if Eunha has recognised him, whether it be from his stature, to the sound of his voice. After all, they've met in a time before. A time where Hades had introduced him to his wife.

"I didn't know you were growing out your hair, what's with the change?" Both agents are crouched behind a low wall, the cool wind tousling their hair.

"Just felt like it. Why is it weird?" Hades asks after a single beat.

"Apollo, there's a target—" The gun fires at the target behind him, hitting his enemy straight between the eyes.

"No, it's not weird." It's Hades' turn to fire his gun behind him. "I think it's a good look actually, where are you hoping to grow it out to?" Gunshots resound the air, bodies dropping to the floor like dominoes.

"Just above my shoulder, maybe I'll dye it later."

"No, don't be an idiot—."

"Are you both, fucking, deaf?" Athena snarls, panting as she lands on the roof out of breath. "There's a fucking bomb about to detonate in about two minutes and you're sat here like you're having a tea party."

"Now, now, Athena, all that language isn't good for the baby." She rolls her eyes at Hades' remark, as they tumble through the skylines as fast as they can. "Oh, Apollo, will you come meet my wife? She's been asking about you."

Apollo huffs, as he skids across the cobbled rooftop. "You know, I still can't believe you're married."

"The Dad was paying good money." They both snicker, as Athena rolls her eyes.

Men.

The wind submitted to her every command, the delicate air carrying her away through the desolate city with a melancholic heart. Her body fell into the shadows as she leapt from one building to another, Morana's movements were slick. Careful. Deliberate. Perched like a spider on the wooden ledge of a collapsing ceiling, she cocks her head to the side as the room fills with important disciples of her establishment. They stand in their long black robes and silver masks, in two long rows either side of the room, awaiting for their leader to arrive. She has never met the Liege, not in person anyway, and she doesn't intend to either. A meeting with their leader means death. Instead, her legs dangle over the edge, eyes fulgurating around the room as she notices an influx of her fellow assassins enter; tucked away in corners. They wave at each other in their own funny little fashion. Morana is one of three women called, so she blows her kisses to the men, who are evidently charmed by her. Whilst seduction is not her best skill, her undeniable beauty has always drawn the scrutiny of lustful men.

"Let the meeting commence."

"May our client, Hades, come forth." A man steps out from the line of men, standing in front of the leader— he, who himself is masked in gold, clearly distinguishing himself from his disciples. "How may we help you, Hades?" The assassins' taunting laugh resounds in the room, their figures unseen as they become at one with the shadows.

"I see that my key is both a magnet for Legion and the Agency, yet should I remind you that setting your hands on it would merely mean imminent death?" His voice is deep, emanating with an authority that commands attention; his words reverberate through the air like a distant thunder preceding his primal essence. "You promised me, you would take out Apollo."

"You did, when the time comes, I will send my men." The Liege promises; it feels rather hollow in comparison to the weight of Hades' intimidation.

"You don't see me as a threat, do you?" He taunts, instigating a spectral silence to befall over the room. "In fact, make it interesting, send me your best and I will send you their head."

“Oh I will send you my best, and she will give me your heart.” A sea of eyes flicker to the corner of the room where she is enveloped within the barge of shadows.

“Everybody has a weakness, Your Honour. Even your General Morana.” Her brow raises in interest. She, herself, wonders what her greatest weakness would be.

“And only God would know what it is—do you believe that there is a God, Hades?”

“I believe that there is a higher power.”

“Then do you believe in fate or destiny?” Morana's eyes narrow, where, exactly, is this going?

“Somewhat, what should I make of this, your Liege?” Hades responds, as if he has read her thoughts and is disinterested in his Liege's provocations.

“That fate has parted you from my General to save the satisfaction of your blood befalling on her hands.” The night releases a harsh sigh upon her Liege's declaration, her hand slides off the aging timber of the abandoned church, feet fixed to the narrow ledge she stands upon. Her body shifts, ever so slightly, the moon casting a fateful light upon her body, illuminating her presence. Those who have not seen her, have seen her now. Hades has seen her now.

"Where have you been?" He sits in the armchair, just across from the fireplace, a steely gaze boring into her. With a breath hitched in her throat, she remains silent as he approaches with an air of intimidation, his round glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, loose strands of hair framing his sharp cheekbones; clad in grey sweatpants and a baggy jumper as he towers over her. There's no doubt Mingi always looks good, but when he's stripped bare of his sobriety: he looks even better. With the minimal distance between them; she cannot help but admire him— god, he's beautiful in some sort of sadistic way. As if he stole the fires of beauty from Aphrodite and had been carved from her prowess. As if he was forged from some kind of celestial plane, naked to the human eye, forced to submit under his divine grace. He's apollo, a thing so eternal. His large hand moves to settle on her delicate waist, "I was so worried about you. Where did you go?" His whispers are echoes of hymns sung by a choir of angels.

"I—,” She stutters under his potent eye, heart palpitating faster than it has ever done in a life-threatening mission. Hell, she's even been close to a detonating bomb and still, it is Song Mingi, who has raised as the beat of her heart as if he is the vessel that keeps her moving. Her fingertips graze the soft fabric of his sleeve before firmly resting on the back of his neck, his siren eyes flutter under her supple caress. Why does he feel so weak? "I went on a walk." Snickering at her own poor excuse, she dares herself to not move, the warmth from his palms is all she needs.

"A walk?" He repeats, raising an eyebrow in inquisition. Her eyes trickle to the mole beneath his eye, she wonders what it would feel like to just press her lips against it.

"Yes, there's a very nice park around the corner. I don't recommend going around this time though, there's many prostitutes." She warns.

"Ah, all the more reason to go then." He jokes, Mrs Song snorts, her chest suspiring as the melodious chorus of laughter spills from her soft lips. A grin pulls on his face, when she realises: has she just seen Mingi smile for the first time? Snaking his arms to her back, she is pulled in, sinking into him, feeling the weight of his chin upon her head. "I'm joking. You’re enough for me.”

Stella. An associate of Morana, or rather she likes to call her, a subordinate. The infamous assassin strolls into the library, making her way down the aisles where a woman stands on the farther end, stacking books onto the shelf. They're all books in a language, foreign to Hala, hence who better to ask than the woman herself whose name roams the seven seas. "M." Stella greets, with the subtle dip of her head, her grey eyes boring into the decaying books on the antique shelf. "Alles ruhig an der Westfront." Her mutter prompts the book to fall out of the shelf into Morana's hands, her heels click purposefully on the floor towards the front desk with Stella passing by, throwing down War and Peace.

"Why did they send you here?" Morana asks, as she files the card behind the front desk. Stella eyes the lollipops in the jar at the front desk that Mrs Sam has left to lure the kids into reading books.

"Didn't think marriage was in the cards for you but then again, I don't know you that well." Legion doesn't think she can balance domesticity and murdering. "Though, your husband is one hunk of a man. I'm almost jealous." Her fingers flip open the pages of All Quiet on the Western Front, slipping out the clean sheet slotted between the pages, tucking it into her skirt pocket.

"Is Legion questioning my capabilities?" To any other they may have been perceived as two devotees of literature, with the way Morana tilts her head to the side, Stella clutches her book as if she is conversing about it. "They can cut ties and I can find jobs elsewhere, I don't need them but they need me." Her shrewd, low voice sends a scathing shiver down her associate's spine.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that." As Riko slips into her line of sight, Morana slides out a sheet from under the desk, handing it over to the lady in front; taking the hint she receives the paper with a smile.

"I would be because I didn't sleep my way up to the top, I'm not tied down by my body." They switch to a dialect of Arabi. Stella's grimace doesn't go overlooked by herself. The telephone at the front desk sends a startling ring, Morana steals the line before Mrs Sam wakes up from her nap and answers it, baffling the caller.

"Hala Library, how can I help—Mingi? You're going to be home late? Ah ok, yes the school bus will drop Mimi. What about dinner? Ok. I'll see you at home, don't overwork yourself." Within Stella's eyes there holds a barge carrying her emotions, her morals, her modesty; all trapped in neat containers that she had locked away when she had devoted her life to Legion. Morana has sent a sturdy blow to those shipments, kicking the balance straight under Stella's feet. "Oh baby, don't be so upset. Next time try to use your head, instead of your heart."

Ahead, the coffee shop came into view, its warm, amber glow spilling through the large windows, contrasting with the sharp chill of the evening air. The door swung open with a soft chime as Apollo stepped inside; the aroma of freshly brewed coffee hit him first, its comforting bitterness masking the tension that coiled beneath the surface. He sends a single nod to the barista before slipping his way to the back, where he saunters up the stairs and to the room right at the back. The café is a front for Agency business and each aspect of it coordinates to its said trade.

A current of air follows his salient prescience into the room, where Athena is perched behind a desk, bayonetta glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose. Her eyes flicker up at Apollo, through the top frame of her glasses, she closes shut the file she was scrutinising; sliding it across to him as he takes a seat in front of her. They speak of important fixtures with minimal words, he takes the hint that the file is important to his current operation.

NAME: ? ALIAS: MORANA BODY COUNT: 100+ CLASSIFICATION: DANGEROUS

His sharp eyes stare at Athena from across the table, "Do you want to tell me something I don't already know?"

"You're not the only one after that key. According to one of my informants, Hades is essentially under Legions' witness protection but they want what he has. As Morana is their most powerful associate, I have a feeling she's after that key too." Yet, it has always been hard for him to identify her in a crowd of people. She is at one with the night, blended amongst the silhouette of buildings, blinking down at him with the stars — mockingly, as he searches the ends of the earth for her.

"Well it would be helpful to know what she looks like, or even if I was just at that meeting." He resists the urge to scowl, throwing his head, long limbs slumping across the chair; a stark juxtaposition to his usually composed act but here he is with his age-old friend— Apollo can be a different man here. "December 16th, Moscow. We lost all five of our highly-trained operatives to, her."

The wind howls, as an unbridled phantom slips through the slither of light beaming from the transparent windows of their base. Apollo rubs his hands together, the frictional forces generating heat as his body withstands the harsh pressures of cold lacerating their supple skin. He remembers sliding his unwavering gaze over to Hades, who stares in such an unemotional state at a photo of his wife, thinking if the man truly loves her. But love is not an emotion neither of them can ever afford having. Athena rests her hand on her baby bump, it's a wonder the board has still deemed her fit to run missions in the field. He recalls the silence of the moment, as all three of them eventually lock their gazes onto the burner phone. When it buzzes Athena throws her whole body for it, only for her steely face to drop at the news; they've never seen her this disappointed before.

"We've lost all five of our contacts. Apollo, I need your eyes. You, with me." Athena and Hades disperse from the base faster than he can blink, his tall body dashes over to where his sniper is. His siren eyes peer through the cold, glass lens of his sniper scope, following the swift movements of his associates as they dart towards the building opposite to them, but that is not the focus of his attention. Rather, it lies in the window, fronting his own—where his client lies; dependent on the Agency's protection. In the darkness of the room, a shadow moved with unnerving precision, closer towards his client. His finger brushes across the trigger guard Hades dashes up the staircase, a full floor below where chao is about to ensue.

A gleam of silver haunts Apollo, the projectile scream of his *client* terrorises the air. Hades has stopped in his path, Athena's gaze snaps up to the staircase laid before her.

Three fingers raised: the forefinger, middle and ring, on her left hand. Her M.O.

Morana has seen them.

"You've got one more week." Stella adds, sipping on her cup of tea as Morana stirs the brimming cup of coffee almost overflowing into the porcelain saucer. Mieun pats her arm gently, ushering for the half-cut muffin. "You'll make her plump with all of those sweets." Morana gives her subordinate a harsh stare before handing over the muffin.

"She's a child, besides she doesn't eat sweets at home." Griping, she downs the coffee in one gulp, wiping her lips with the handkerchief. "What are you doing about, Hades?" Stella waves her away her question, as if it's pointless. Perhaps it is, even if Legion gifts him her presence; it will be his heart that she ships back to Persephone.

"He's just a loose end. If the worst comes to worst, take him out. Even the Agency doesn't need him, they just want to stop him, imprison him, whatever. Who gives a shit, just get that key." Stella darts her siren gaze across the cup, "Oh, and be careful about Apollo. He's probably after that key too. So make sure he doesn't get his hands on it."

It is her turn to dismiss Stella, "That man can't hurt a fly."

"Careful, sixteen men down in three minutes. You've done twelve in four." Cocking an eyebrow in amusement, she leans back in her seat, tucking a strand of hair behind Mieun’s ear. “You’re getting soft.”

“Careful.” Morana mocks, a flicker of the devil himself tugging on her sharp features. “I can dismember you with that butter knife.” Stella smirks.

There she is.

A deep sigh rolls from his pink lips, he scrunches his nose before placing his coat on the peg. A faint aroma of washing up liquid lingers in the air, he passes his gaze through the immaculately clean kitchen. It's 8PM now, Mieun has closed her books and gone to bed, whilst his wife occupies the living room with a book in hand. He settles next to her, resting his briefcase onto the table casting his gaze over the words scrawled across the page. "What are you reading?" He asks, so innocently, as if he hadn't come back from a small mission of defusing a bomb in Oka's clocktower. Most likely a Hades antic, he thought as Athena paged him.

"White Nights by Dostoevsky." She remarks, turning a page, before her gaze moves to him. "You know, he mentions Nastenka’s name at least 138 times or so in the entirety of the novel and she never asks for his." He hums in response, shifting his body to face her.

"I couldn't imagine someone saying my name that many times, in a lifetime." A thought so literal to her entity. Hasn't she only been gone by her alias?

"I can start now if you'd like. If I go at the correct rate, I can reach 138 by the end of the night." Mingi, light-heartedly, jokes. Shaking her head at him, she closes the book in hand. "You know I realised that I haven't taken you out on a date in a long time."

"You've never taken me out on a date."

"We snuck out for cake two weeks ago. Wasn't that a date?" Mingi argues, as a grin forces his way to his lips. He frequently feels a peculiar consternation with his wife. Apollo always knows the right things to say, yet with his wife he does not quite know where his rationality disperses to. He’s always been a stoic man, yet with her his cheeks hurt from smiling so much. "I can take you out next week." After the mission. After he has dealt with Hades and hands him back to the Agency.

"Oh no, I can't. I'm closing up the library— what's that? Is that a cut?" A small gash permeates down the side of his face, almost obscured by his long locks. Ah yes, he also had to encounter a few loose ends. 'White Nights' is abandoned somewhere, and Mrs Song scuttles to the kitchen coming back with a damp cloth. "How did you get this?" Mingi can't help but feel intimidated by her authoritative tone, her clothed finger gently rubs down his temple—most of it is just dried blood. He watches the way her eyebrows furrow with careful concentration, softening as the touch of the soft curves of her lips.

"I'll take you out on a date, Mrs Song, next week. Whether you like it or not."

Morana stood motionless atop the clocktower, the night air biting against her cloak as the sprawling city stretched beneath her feet, its lights flickering like a thousand unbroken stars. Her cold, unwavering gaze was fixed upon the distant horizon, where the grand silhouette of the Park estate loomed. With an almost imperceptible shift of her weight, she descended from the tower, moving with the practiced grace of a shadow. Navigating the winding rooftops, the pulse of the city was drowned in the rhythm of her movements, both purposeful and silent.

With poise, she slips between the cracks of Park’s security force, sliding through the window; the tips of her toes trailing amongst the floorboards towards Persephone’s rooms. It’s a shame that a woman bred from the tree of debauchery could not be as conniving as her predecessors. She’s cut from a fabric of sheen, of delicacy and vulnerability — Eunha adores her husband and would lay down her life for him, but the key is not with her. It's with him.

A patter of silent footsteps crawl into the room that she’s concealed within. Yet she’s not alone, the rooftops are busy with another figure. Apollo, probably. Her lips curl into a knowing smile.

This is going to be fun.

Simultaneously, another two figures draw into the room — as if the next act of this grand performance has begun. A spectral stifle diffuses through the room, Apollo stood with his usual stoic presence, the weight of years spent in the shadows barely registering on his sharp features. With a gaze cold his siren eyes were neatly obscured behind his hood and mask; there resigned a flicker of painful nostalgia as he casted a calculated gaze over his adversary. Standing across from him, Hades cut a striking contrast. Tall and slender, his figure was draped in a dark, almost ethereal manner. His raven-black hair framed his face in a way that softened the sharpness of his features. He was clad in a dark, tailored suit that gave him an air of nobility, exuding a quiet, unsettling charisma. Where Apollo had once been his friend, Hades had become a phantom—an enigmatic figure who walked past the line of salvation, to damnation. Apollo’s lips twitched slightly, not quite a smile, but something borne of recognition. "I never thought I’d see you again, Seonghwa." He said, his voice low, cutting through the silence.

Hades met his gaze, his lips curling into a smirk. "And yet, here we are," He responded coolly. Hidden in the shadows of the room, Morana breaths ceased as the deep voice travelled to the crevices she was tucked within. Apollo. There was something so familiar about his voice, as if she had heard it before in a comfort that only existed when the stars were untamed by the night. His figure too, tall with broad shoulders. His face. She just needed to see his face. "I've missed you, brother."

"You can't call me that." Apollo interjects, steadfast in his words. Not after he had spent haunting nights mourning the loss of one he had poured his heart out to and trusted, as if there was the same blood running through their veins. Seonghwa snickers, shaking his head slumping down onto the maroon leather chair legs sprawled out before him. His nonchalance startles Mingi for a split second, with his rationality restored the spy subtly begins a careful stance, almost slipping from Morana's field of vision.

"I really pity you, Min. You've always been blinded by your allegiance to the Agency. No matter how intelligent you are, you'll never realise that their morals are just as convoluted as any other network of assailants I now work with." A single blink, Seonghwa cocks his head to the side, a nefarious smile tugging at his lips. "What is it about the Agency that makes what they do right? The fact that they're legal?" Morana can't help but agree with Hades, the Agency have got their fair share of dirty secrets and innocent blood on their ledger. At least Legion takes out those the Agency holds a blind eye to.

"You've never been a rule follower, Seonghwa." A vicious drawl of laughter empties into the room. "Let's just end this here, tonight. I'll ask you nicely, hand yourself over to the Agency."

"Or?" Seonghwa provokes, resting his chin in the palm of his hands. A cold gust of air permeates into the room, the window is large enough for her to fit through.

"Or I will hand you over to them myself, bloody, bruised, broken or dead."

"That's my boy." Hades rises from his seat, Apollo takes a step back initiating a threatening stance. Morana darts from her corner, swinging her body towards Hades, her fingers reaching for the silver chain looped around his neck. With a robust pull, she tears the chain from him before tearing her body out of the window with Hades firm behind her.

The moon hung low, casting silver shadows over the sprawling mansion; Morana leaped from rooftop to rooftop, her heart pounding like a war drum. Each footfall was silent on the slate tiles as she darted past chimneys and skylights, her eyes briefly scanning for Hades behind her, then Apollo behind him. Quickening her pace, the rush of wind in her ears nearly drowned his menacing laughter. Apollo observed, his pulse racing as he followed Hades' every move. He propelled himself forward, landing just behind Seonghwa.

Hades lunged forward, his long strides closing the distance between them in seconds, his slender fingers curled around her forearm. With a swift movement, he pulled her towards him, fist connecting with her jaw in a brutal punch. The crack of bone echoed in the night air, and she staggered back, her vision momentarily blurred. “Is that all you’ve got?” She spat, wiping blood from her lip. She pivoted, launching a kick aimed at his abdomen. Just as Hades advanced again, a blur shot past, and Apollo tackled him from the side, tumbling across the rooftop - the tiles scraping against their skin. "Oh no, darling, this ones mine." Tearing away from Apollo's mighty grip, Hades charged at Morana like a bull, his fury driving him forward. With little time to react as he closed the gap, in a swift motion, she drew a knife from her belt and thrust it forward, the blade glinting in the moonlight. It found its mark, slicing into his shoulder. Grunting, Seonghwa stumbled backwards, falling to his knees and he began panting heavily.

Apollo flickered his gaze between Morana and Hades, before darting her way, himself.

I still need that key.

No myth, no legend or number of transcripts could truly depict Morana’s brutality; he’s lost count of the number of punches she throws per sequence, her movements are fluid and she moves in such fashion, that it seems inevitable that she will win. Blood dribbles, ruthlessly, down his mouth, he spits it out before turning with a crazed look. He must win now, to get the Key. To complete the mission and save Hala. To go back home to his wife and daughter.

Swinging her leg, a powerful squall of wind hits Apollo’s side, whilst her leg is still heading for his temple, he leans back, swooping his longer leg under her feet. Losing her stance, her body falls backwards, back hitting again the slate pummelling a wave of agony through her. Apollo dives, straddling her hips, securing both of her hands above her head. His fingers loop around the hem of her mask, her eyes widen in realisation of his intentions. Wrestling his robust grip, her hand fires out toward his own mask; before they know it the pair rip, synchronously, rip away their disguises.

It has never felt so quiet in Oka. Nor in the Park Estate, even when the owner’s staggered breaths persist through the silver dagger pierced through his collarbone. At the moment, Apollo doesn’t care about Hades, Athena will get to him should he decide to run away. His eyes cast over Morana, her identity no longer obscured by the night. Years chasing after her, running through files, latching onto every clue of her. Years of chasing, for her to become his wife in a single night.

“You—Mingi?” She questions, with staggered breaths as he rises from his knees, feet frozen to the ground as he stares down at his lover in confusion. “Mingi? Who are you?” She asks, her eyes flooding with tears in quick realisation that she had almost slaughtered her husband.

Yet all Mingi can feel is his heart shattering, the pieces sinking into an abyss sailing over the length of his body.

She’s a liar. So is he.

“Mingi! WHO ARE YOU?” She shouts, lips quivering as she, pathetically, fights back the tears. He cannot speak, she’s grabbing his shoulders now, throwing questions at him, shaking them. Screaming at him, holding herself back from pounding her fists against his chest; she may just batter the air from his lungs. “You lied to me! You-you said you were, you said that—,” She stops, breath lodged in the crux of her throat. Song Mingi has said a lot of things. None of them have ever been true.

“You lied to me t—,”

“You’re Apollo.” She interjects, the pieces have fallen into place. The lies, the façade, the quick thinking. The baby, the apartment, his coordination. The late nights, the cuts and bruises, the exhaustion. The warning from her establishment of him, a spy, roaming the city terrorising the land with his altruism. Protecting the demons from her wrath.

Apollo is here.

Apollo is him.

Apollo is Song Mingi.

Apollo is my husband.

“You’re Apollo.” She repeats, her voice cracks, palm pressed against her mouth to hold back the pained sobs. Because she knows what they really wanted her to do to him. Because it’s finally registered for some reason, that of course, Apollo is Song Mingi and she is just a woman riddled with hurt.

"You’re Morana." Tears well in the corners of Mingi’s eyes, his chest tightening as he struggles to breathe. A hollow sorrow envelops him, his heart aches—a stinging pain that pulses through him with each passing second. Each second surpasses in anguish, his head throbs, heart palpitating; feeling as though the ground beneath his feet was slipping under him. His sadness swiftly morphs into something darker, more dangerous, as the anger intensifies—raw, uncontrollable. "You lied to me too." Mingi's voice trembles, laden with fury, yet there's an undercurrent of sorrow that seeps through. "You’re a threat. A danger." He hisses through gritted teeth.

“Oh, how rich of you to say that to me when you’ve got just as much blood on your hands.” A shaky breath escapes her lips, eyes glossing with tears. Moving her body away from him, she takes gentle steps away from the rooftops, leaving him stranded with Hades. He lets her, because Mingi already knows that from the moment she knew of his real persona, he had lost her anyway.

Her back collides against the wooden panels, she grits her teeth as Mingi holds an unwavering stare, her shoulders plastered to his hands. The dim light of the living room drapes over the side of his profile, his hard eyes penetrate into her own. Tackling his brute force, she pushes herself off from the wall, his neck strangled by her forearm. Falling to his knees, his fingers claw at her strength every wheeze like a beg for salvation. Reluctantly, he stops prying away from her; her heart skips a beat at his subservience. Instead, he raises three fingers, like her M.O. Her eyes well up with tears, again, the grip around his neck loosens. Mingi pants for air, his wife turning away from him as pearl tears slip down her cheek. “I can’t do it, I can’t hurt you like that. Not now that you’re you.”

“How didn’t I know? How did I just foolishly believe that you were my wife?” Whipping around, her eyes fulfil with a sense of fury.

“I am your wife, Mingi. I’m also the mother of your daughter. Before you, I am a member of Legion.”

“You were my wife and the step-mother of my daughter. You are first and foremost a member of Legion.” Stepmother. How is it possible that a word can hurt more than an open wound? 'First and foremost you are my wife' he had once proclaimed. Men are such liars. "I've thought about it. I want you gone. I will willingly let you take my life, but I won't live with an assassin. It is against everything I stand for." He squeezes his eyes shut, an odd tingling sensation filling his nose. His throat burns with dejection, heart consumed by such sorrow. His hand grips the arm of the sofa, in hopes he won't bow before her. All he wants to do is kneel under the jurisdiction of her love; his poor heart has been compromised by her.

"I thought you stood for me." Mrs Song whispers, curling her paling fingers into a tight fist.

“Leave.” Is all that he can say. Her vision blurs as she shuts the door to their shared bedroom, reaching for the suitcase above the wardrobe. When the night sighs, and she knows Mingi has collapsed on the sofa, Morana sinks to her knees as tears spill down her cheeks, tickling her jawline before they patter onto the floor. Painful wails permeate the air, pharynx wrought with suffocation as she can barely breathe under his despotism. But his judgement is neither tyrannical or unfair. Rather it is justified, and she had just grabbed the short end of the stick. 

The following morning is sombre, her suitcase and bag are left near the front door. With the key given to Stella, she's no longer required to stay in Hala, but there's a small cottage on the outskirts of a village that she's been allocated a temporary stay before her next mission.

"Amma, are we going on holiday? I still have school tomorrow." Mieun's doe eyes stare up at her as she's perched by the doorway, slipping on her shoes. Mingi stands just behind Mieun, resting a hand on her shoulder, uttering for her to do her homework. "If Amma's going on holiday I want to go too."

"Mimi, listen to your Appa, ok? Amma is just going away for a while, for work." Not a complete lie. Her gaze is firm on her daughter, refusing to look back at her husband.

"You'll be back?" Her voice is timid, as she begins to realise that her parents have not shared an interaction since the morning has begun. Before she can speak, Mingi has already denied and Mieun's eyes brim with tears. Turning away, the door is swung open, bag slung around her shoulder in an attempt to hurry before she reasons with Mingi to stay. They both know it's not possible, their morals are too different.

“Mama!” Mieun’s painful sobs fulfilled the atmosphere, her arms outstretched for her mother, pearly tears streaming down her little face. “Mama, come back!” The ropes tied to her heart snapped under her innocent wails, bags dropped at the door rushing back towards Mieun. Mingi steps forward, yet before he can blink his daughter’s little body is swept up in a safe set of arms.

“Just let me hold her, Mingi. One last time. Let me hold her, please.” Her daughter’s body rocked within her arms, little hushes ceasing her sobs followed by soft sniffles. “It’s ok, Mimi, Amma is here. I’m not going anywhere.” This false delusion, she prays, her daughter does not hate her for. Soon, she will have nothing but the mere thought of Mieun to soothe her. Then at one point, Mieun may not even remember her at all. That’s the thing about children, they are blindly devout to the pursuit of love — hearts so pure even her daughter doesn’t know her parents’ hands are drenched in blood.

“Mimi, Amma won’t be gone for long.”

“Promise?” A breath is hitched in her throat, followed by an overwhelming urge to erupt into a fit of terrorising sobs.

“One way or another, Mama will be back. Ok?” The tears are gently wiped away from Mieun’s face, her eyes flickering towards Mingi’s stoic demeanour. It hurts her. Did she mean absolutely nothing to him?

The autumn air carried the scent of fallen leaves as Mieun stepped out of the ivy-clad institute, her plaid skirt swishing around her knees. The clocktower chimes as the hour strikes three, her obedient eyes scour the sea of parents awaiting to pick up their children. She knows it's her father who will be picking her up; affirmed by the recognition of his tall figure standing by the wrought-iron gate, a small smile on his lips. However, it is her mother she is always seeking, standing closer to the entrance of the school her black kitten heels firm into the cobbled pathway. With a small grin, Mieun runs to him, he meets her halfway. She never needed to meet her mother halfway, she's distinctly told him this on many occasions. Mingi reaches for her leather satchel, encapsulating her minute hand into his; before he can proceed forward he is stopped by a soft voice.

"Mingi." He turns, meeting Park Eunha, who is holding Kira's hand. There's an amalgamation of Eunha's emotions in her eyes: hurt, guilt, betrayal, sadness. She must have only learnt of her husband's demise now. It's interesting, to him, how a woman wrought with poise and sophistication is now so timid before him. "Uhm, I haven't seen your wife in a while, is she ok?" His heart stuttered in his chest, sinking below the cavity. Mingi does nothing but nod because the thought of her does nothing but render him silent. Before he can move away again, she stops him.

"I don't blame you, for Seonghwa. He had it coming. I was just hoping you'd let me know when I can see him again, or if there's anything I can do to discharge him, a sum-," Mingi pivots, furiously, on his heel yet his hate is shattered as soon as he is met by her innocent face.

"No amount of money in the world can compensate for his sins, Eunha. You'll be contacted when you can see him."

He travels through the skylines in the midst of the night, just like his wife used to, soul heavy with emotions that he attempts to bury each night Athena sends him on a mission. One after another, each dreary escapade, the sounds of bodies thudding on concrete does not bring him relief for every sigh that the earth takes with its pollutants gone.

"You're not the same Apollo." His superior retorts as he throws the folder onto the table. With a raised eyebrow, he dismisses her words, watching her carefully as her steely eyes reel in the report. "Your wife is Morana, isn't she?" Gulping, Mingi resists the urge to nod. For every time he is reminded of her, it hurts.

"Was." He interjects.

"Oh you got a divorce?" Profusely shaking his head, she scoffs, "So then she's still your wife then, isn't she? Tell me, is she pretty?" Briefly Mingi shuts his eyes close, as if he's reliving the days where he would wake up to her puffy face, her pouty lips and ruffled bed hair.

"She's my Aphrodite."

He stood tall on the edge of the rooftop, dark silhouette blending in with the shadows of the night. The cold breeze tugged at the collar of his black coat, but he didn’t flinch. His gaze, sharp never left the building across the street, where chaos was unfolding. The sounds of muffled shouts and the occasional crack of glass echoed through the air as a fight broke out on the upper floors. His breath misted in the night air, siren eyes scanning each movement, analysing every shift. He had seen this kind of thing a thousand times — the slow resolve of control, the way the violence spread like wildfire — but tonight was different. As the moonlight flickered behind the building, Apollo’s sharp eyes caught a glimpse of something in the fray. A flash of familiar movement — a fluidity in the chaos.

There, among the shadows of the fight, was a figure he knew all too well.

His wife.

Morana moved like a shadow, each strike landing with precision. Her movements were both theatrical and deadly, as though she was in complete control of the situation. His breath faltered as a sigh escaped, shifting his position as he leaped from one rooftop to another towards the fight. Towards her.

Yamuriko - a beautiful small town on the outskirts of Hala, near the mountains as its name would suggest. Legion's safehouses are usually located in rural, unnoticeable areas. In a cottage, just about two miles away from the centre, the esteemed assassin sits on her porch as a steaming cup of jasmine tea sits beside in a fancy porcelain cup, one lowly assassin's are not even entitled to have.

"You look pathetically bored." Humming, she looks up from where she was staring intently at the lush grass, into her peers' eyes. 'The Black Fox' stares down at her from where she is sat, a folder fixed between his fingers. "Missing your daughter?" He questions, settling beside her, his broad shoulders almost push her out of her seat. Shuffling down, she simply hums holding out her hand for the file.

"Yeah, I miss my daughter too." A quietude is held amongst them, at least 'The Black Fox' can go back to his daughter. Her husband won't take her back. "I miss my wife." Biting on the inside of her lip, she flicks through the file, ignoring his words.

Site: Oka, Hala

A trembling whisper, "I miss my husband, too."

Releasing a sigh wrought with exhaustion, she takes her seat on the limp torso—her head sinking beneath her shoulders. Eighteen in two minutes, thirty seconds. Maybe Stella is right, she's gone all soft and slow. Tugging off the hood, she rips away her gloves, stuffing them deep into her pockets before her eyes steal the hands on the clock, again. Her ears tune into the heavy footsteps of a figure dashing up the staircase. Right, left, right, left. It holds a certain weight that she has only heard in its less panicked state. "I never thought I'd see you here, Apollo." Her voice holds a slither of spite, she raises her head slightly as the enigmatic figure stands, plastered to the doorway. A shaky breath escapes from him, as he seals the clasp holding his dagger. "I just realised, I have ruined your job, again. " Morana's taunts disorientate him as he takes careful steps towards her, pushing his way through the room full of dead bodies. It's her, she's taking his missions. Killing all of his men, so mercilessly he was forced to believe that maybe the devil had really left hell. He remains silent, whether to provoke her or that her presence has really left him stunned; he will never know. It disgusts her, like excess skin and oily hair, like grime under nails and unclean spaces. She feels so repulsed by his ignorance of her, all this for him to say nothing and stare into her as if she is nothing but a transparent soul, eradicated from his life.

"It’s been six months and twenty-seven days since you left." He utters, his large hand moving to raise her chin—as she stands to her feet, his eyes are complete with grief.

"You counted the days."

"Do you want me to tell you the hours?" Her fingers curled into fists, her body trembling as she fights to keep the tears at bay.

He even counted the hours.

His palms gently cradled her face, a quiet warmth in his touch, his lips move in disorientation as if he is unable to commit to the words that are begging to be expressed. She laughs, it almost startles him yet he holds his ground with concerned eyes boring into her. The laughter becomes less sardonic, brewing into a melancholic kind wrought with immense agitation.

It’s no longer laughter.

It’s sobbing.

“I don’t know who’s worse, or if we’re just as bad as each other?” He remains as quiet as the night they both revel in, in a state of despair that for the first time he is the villain in this story. “Every moment I had spent with you, I felt like a wife and a mother. I believed I had a husband providing for me and a baby who needed me to keep her warm.” They’re words she has spent nights scribbling away in books until the words can no longer form the same sorrow that resides with her. Words she had so wished she had least spoken aloud to him, on the night he let her go.

“Instead. I got a man who deceived me and a child that still thinks I’m her mother. I don’t care that you hurt me, but Mieun? Is she even your baby? I could never forgive you." Tearing away from his grasp, the warmth of his touch dissipates leaving her separate—yet wholly yearning for his touch, every fibre of her being aches for him. To be held by him, to be loved by him, to be honoured and worshipped; why were these notions of the past?

“I—I adopted Mieun for the sole purpose of this mission. I just needed to get to Hades and you were both the key.” Scoffing, she averts her gaze outside of the window; Legion has always been two steps ahead of the Agency, has he not realised how useless Hades really is? Closing her eyes, her chest surges as it fills with the burning sensation of despair.

"What have you done with her now? Where is she?" That same authoritative tone, no longer withstanding care.

"She's still with me. I am not a tyrant, I would never send her back to that orphanage." He argues.

"Well, I wouldn't know Mingi because I don't really know you, do I? As far as I believed, I was wrong."

"Don't say that." His voice is weak and almost cracks under her brusque proclamation. “I’m struggling.” He confesses, they may have just been the two hardest words Apollo has ever proclaimed in his lifetime. His whole life he has lived, pushing away his emotions, trapping them in Pandora’s Box, as if were to be so vicious plague to horrify the earth. He never said anything when the Agency cut him down to the bone, he never said anything when Hades had betrayed him, he never said anything when she left. Anticipating his next response, she fears moving. It’s always been hard to elicit a response from Mingi, so staying still, giving him time and space is perhaps the best she can do in this reconciliation. “I’m struggling without you. I cannot breathe, I cannot sit or stand. Or breathe, or eat and drink.” He makes his way towards her, again, craving her touch like it’s oxygen, Mrs Song lets him because the truth is she’s been suffering without him, too.

"Just please come home and shout at me, scream at me, tell me how much you hate me. I let you back, just come home.” He begs. Mingi sinks to his knees before her, siren eyes welling up with tears, lips pouting as he almost screams in agitation. He was just supposed to be here for the mission, now here is wrought in a state of vulnerability— betraying his morals and beseeching for his wife.

How can you say that after much you've hurt me?

Her palm connects with his cheek, a jolt of pain rushes through him, sending a wave of electricity through his supple skin. “I hate you!” She howls through tears, the anguish in her voice terrorises him. Her fists grab his collar, sending an outbreak of beats that hurt even more than the last. The sight of his cheeks rushing red makes her cry more. “I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!” A sudden pause, and she sinks to her knees to meet his eyes; before another relentless influx of torture permeates her body, instigating her wails to plague the earth.

Falling to her knees, her head sinks into his chest in a frenzy of emotions, his palm presses against her back to steady her. Her body wracks with a profound anguish as he encases her frame within his hold. “Come back to me, please.” He rocks her back and forth, her cries cease under his benefaction.

“But—,”

“If there is a world in which I can hold you, love you and be with you eternally, then I want it to be this one.” He proclaims.

“And your morals you have sworn allegiance to?” She questions, his fingers move along the surface of her supple skin, wiping down the tears staining the front of it.

“Oh my Aphrodite, I have sworn my allegiance to you.” Scoffing, Morana buries her face into his chest, concealing her cries by baring her teeth. But Mingi has always made it so easy for her to be vulnerable around him. “Let me forget my morals tonight, let me take you home with me Mrs Song.”

“Tonight you forget your morals, tomorrow will they be there again?”

“Perhaps, but the heartache I feel in your absence is much worse.” There is no dilapidation of his essence as the words release from him, a catharsis is purged from the pits of her arrogant soul. May it be that they’re the light and the dark, or that their loyalty will soon again divide them. But Mingi knows this much is true: he will find his way to her. Shifting his gaze to her, he finds himself lost in the depth of her eyes.

“Your next mission, should you choose to accept it,” She begins, her voice a soft yet commanding whisper, “is to be my husband for all eternity. To never leave my side, to never lie to me, to love me until your heart stops beating. Tell me, Agent Apollo, do you accept?”

•••

All Rights Reserved © the-midnight-blooms

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, REPURPOSE, OR PLAGISRISE ANY OF THE WORK HERE

‘mieun’ meaning beautiful grace.

A/N: FINALLY! WAR IS OVER! I love spy x family so much, I remember watching s1 and thinking, which ateez member gives loid forger vibes, and my brain went: mingi. I don’t know if it’s because of the dilfism, but Mingi felt so perfect to me? as always, BIG THANK YOU, to @poartz-writes because she’s always my go-to when i need a cure for writer’s block.

Question: Any guesses on who ‘The Black Fox’ is? 👀👀

let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for any future fics I post!

tag list: @n0v4t33z @potatos-on-clouds @jjongwho @devilzliaison

[sagan-starstuff]

XF Meta: Scully's Medical Training Timeline

At the request of @randomfoggytiger, I wanted to do my damnedest to make Scully's education and training timeline make even a little sense. I'm a physician (specifically a specialist in adult infectious diseases), and it's fairly clear to me that CC and Co probably didn't actually talk to any doctors about how medical training works. Love my girl - I'm a Scully Effect kid, I don't think I'd be a doctor at all if it weren't for the inspiration of Dana Scully. But her timeline is...iffy at best.

Disclaimer: My medical school and post-med school training occurred from 2009-2018, Scully's occurred in the 1980's-90's. From what I can tell, the durations of many residencies and fellowships don't seem to have changed much, but I can't say that for certainty for all programs at all institutions. I am also from the US, so I cannot speak to medical training in other countries.

Our girl was born in 1964, and so unless she skipped a grade (which some schools would do if students were classified as "gifted" or otherwise exceptional, she would have graduated from high school at age 18 in 1982 and went straight to college. Let's assume she didn't skip a grade, for the sake of argument.

You have to have a Bachelor's degree to apply to medical school. These degrees typically take 4 years, though if someone arrives at college with credits from dual-enrollment high school classes or AP exam credits OR if they take summer classes some people can complete them in 3 years. I don't know what the availability of dual enrollment or AP classes was like in the early 80's (and like CC, I'm too lazy to do the research to find out), so we can assume that Scully graduated from college in 1986.

Medical school is 4 years long - no shortening this at that point in time, and even now in almost all cases. So that puts medical school graduation in 1990 IF she's following a traditional timeline and went straight from college to medical school.

Now, if someone is going to go into practice they have to do a residency in at least one of a variety of specialties (Internal Medicine, Pediatrics, Surgery, etc.) in order to be board certified and practice independently. There are very, very few job options in clinical medicine if you DON'T do a residency, so if you want to practice, you have to do it. Residencies can be anywhere from 3-5 years, depending on the specialty. You can also further subspecialize after a residency by doing one or more fellowships (typically 1-3 years depending on the fellowship) before sitting for your board certification exams and starting independent practice. For example - after medical school I did a 3-year residency in adult internal medicine, then a 2 year fellowship in adult infectious diseases to be eligible to sit for the boards and enter my specialty, so 5 years further training after medical school before I could get a job, get board certified, and practice.

Scully is a forensic pathologist. She would have had to do a 3 or 4 year pathology residency (both were options at the time) followed by a 1 year forensic pathology fellowship. You CANNOT perform autopsies right out of medical school, if you are going to be a forensic pathologist you HAVE to do this training. So, following a traditional timeline this puts her as having completed forensic pathology training in 1994 or 1995. Pilot starts March 7th, 1992, so this is loooooong after she's canonically already an FBI agent and teaching at the academy.

But our girl's a smart cookie, so let's take a little leeway with her timeline. Let's say she skipped a grade some time in K-12. This puts high school graduation in 1981. Let's say she ALSO graduates with a bunch of AP credit and does summer semesters and finishes her undergraduate degree in Physics in 3 years. This puts her as starting medical school in 1984, with graduation in 1988. She'd still need to do that pathology residency and forensic pathology fellowship - let's assume a 3 year residency, then 1 year fellowship, so she'd finish training in 1992.

Still doesn't fit.

Let's go totally off the rails here - we know Scully was recruited out of medical school to the FBI, so she didn't do a traditional residency at all - UNLESS the FBI has an internal forensic pathology residency. It would HAVE to be accelerated in some way - some programs combine residency and fellowship by giving less elective time and more focus to the fellowship content. It's not common but they exist. Let's say in theory the FBI has an accelerated forensic pathology residency that takes 3 years, in addition to the 20 weeks of the FBI academy training. This has her finishing residency AND FBI academy training some time in 1991.

This is the ONLY way she could have finished forensic pathology training AND the FBI academy with enough time to be a fully certified forensic pathologist and FBI agent with some time left to teach at the FBI academy before being assigned to the X-Files on March 7th, 1992.

I can suspend my disbelief enough to be on board with this. You'd have to be pretty damned special, which we know she is, to get recruited out of medical school by the FBI. Maybe they even developed the accelerated combined residency/fellowship just for her! She's Dana Katherine Motherf***ing Scully, people!

Now, IWTB is where things get REALLY unbelievable. (Disclaimer: I have not watched IWTB since seeing it in theaters in 2008. I'll get around to rewatching it someday soon. Probably with a bottle of wine. Not a glass. A bottle.)

Mulder and Scully go on the run in 2002. We don't know how long they were in the wind, but by 2008, she's been allowed to resume a career and is practicing at Our Lady of Sorrows. Clearly in pediatrics - but general pediatricians sure as hell don't do stem cell transplants, so she'd almost certainly have to be a pediatric oncologist. We aren't told what her specialty is specifically, but that's what she'd have to be to do a stem cell transplant.

(That scene in the OR isn't even what stem cell transplants LOOK LIKE but that's a rant for another day, back to my point.)

MEDICAL BOARDS DON'T JUST LET YOU CHANGE YOUR SPECIALTY FOR FUNSIES.

(Deep breaths. Serenity now. Ok, let's do this.)

Scully would have had to do an ENTIRELY NEW residency AND fellowship in order to practice as a pediatric oncologist. Pediatrics residency is 3 years long. Pediatric Hematology/Oncology fellowship is 3 years long. In order for this to be even remotely possible, she would have had to START residency in 2002 to finish fellowship by 2008 and start her job at Our Lady of Sorrows.

And she's a former FBI agent harboring a known felon, on the run from government officials and alien hybrids who want her and Mulder dead.

There is absolutely no way even the smallest, most hard-up pediatric residency program is going to accept her with that hanging over her head. I'm not going to get into all the details of how rigorous and stressful the post-medical school residency application and match process is, but even if she didn't apply until she KNEW it was safe to come out from underground, she'd still have to explain a multi-year gap in her resume/CV to the program directors. Multi-year gaps in career and training without a reasonable explanation like a medical issue, time off to care for an ailing family member, time off for research, time away in a different, legitimate career are NOT looked on kindly when applying for residency positions. She would have a HELL of a time getting into a totally different residency.

It could happen - if anyone could do it, she could. But there's absolutely no way there's enough time for her to complete that training by 2008.

"But sagan-starstuff, it's CC, it's X-Files, we know there was no show bible and no one but the fans gave a shit about continuity or things making sense, there's no logic just vibes"

I KNOW, OK. I KNOW. And I love this insane, beautiful masterpiece anyway. I love exploring the possibilities of how and when it all could have happened with my fellow insane Philes who work so hard to glean meaning and order from this perfect mess of a show.

But couldn't CC have talked to one (1) doctor about what medical training is like at some point between 1993 and 2018? Just one?

Anyway. Yeah. That's my meta. Scully's training timeline makes no goddamned sense. Compels me, though.

@randomfoggytiger, this is for you. Honorable mention to @precedex-files who I ranted about this with in messages a while back.

[stsgluver]

tags. criminal minds x jjk, eventual gojo x reader, basically just a backstory to drabbles in this au, no plot, overview, some characters are based around criminal minds characters

serial killers were once considered an american phenomenon — a consequence of culture and inadequate socialisation. however, if there is one thing all countries have in common is just that: serial killers.

japan specifically devised a new department to help tackle the growing issue posed by these deranged individuals: jjk. within the jjk, the most notorious unit is the bau — behavioural analysis unit.

ssa yaga masamichi leads as unit chief and has done so for the last decade. he has accumulated almost two decades of experience on the job and, prior to that, worked as a prosecutor. he is considered cold and abrupt to those unfamiliar with him but is deeply admired by his agents for his tenacity and drive to put evil away.

utahime iori is their stubborn technical analyst with a competitive streak. she was recruited by jjk after her father was arrested on significant drug charges and she successfully managed to hack into the criminal database and remove them. her little sister was to be moved into the foster system had she not since she did not have the money to support her. jjk offered utahime a job and then helped to ensure she could take legal guardianship of her little sister. she hates going out on the field and loves her little cave of screens.

ssa shoko ieiri is a former pathologist turned agent. after finishing medical school, she spent two years working as a pathologist when she became involved in a serial killer case. she had been the first to identify a specific signature across three different bodies and alerted local authorities who brought in the bau. for two weeks she spent a lot of time with these agents and, once they left, decided that just determining the cause of death no longer appeased her ambition. she enrolled in the next behavioural study class ran by a former bau agent and within several years made it onto the team. she is cocky by nature and often clashes with the local authorities due to her blasé attitude and blunt words.

ssa (dr) gojo satoru is a genius and he knows it (and he makes sure everyone else does too). with an eidetic memory, there is not much that gets past him. he's arguably the best agent when it comes to speaking to families and interrogation, as he has the widest range of personalities and can quickly switch from bubbly and playful to imposing and serious. little is known to the team about his life before the bau - only that he has several phds to his name (but he hates to be called dr).

ssa ln yn was personally recruited and brought to the team by yaga once you had completed the basic training due to your unique perspective as the daughter of a serial killer. yaga had been on the team for around five years when he'd put your father away for the murder of eight young girls. your mother was dead too which meant that you were forced into the system at only ten years old. he'd maintained contact with you, encouraging you into jjk and then into the bau. you're the most approachable and one of the hardest workers on your team, although you often overcompensate for your unresolved guilt around your father.

not much is known about ssa geto suguru prior to the bau as most of it has been redacted. what is known is that he was enlisted by the government to join task forces and commit acts that the government would deny ever took place. despite how scary he seems on paper, geto is sweet and caring and always puts his team first. he has literally jumped into a burning building for gojo one time after negotiations went wrong.

nanami kento is the communications liaison for the bau. often mistaken for an agent due to his strong build, he in fact hates the idea of being on the field. he dislikes violence and prefers to do whatever he can to help victims and the public by communicating with the unsub through media.

[flowery-laser-blasts]

Within this world we love we’re just like beans in a Naco, packed tightly!

I really like the concept of SPYxFAMILY's finding love in a found family. Not blood related but bound together. Gotta catch up on episodes uuuu...

But yeah little evil-in-the-make kiddy Ron got a hard grip on my heart.

Synopsis CRIMExFAMILY KP-AU?

Drew Theodore P. Lipsky, but to the world known as Dr. Drakken, is on a mission to take over the world by pulling the heist of the century; stealing the [classified] from G.J.

Through criminal intel, he finds out that there's an academy in which a lot of G.J.'s agents children go to either in order to get ahead in society or train to become future G.J. agents.

So what do you do? Adopting a kid ofc.

Ron Stoppable, a kid with mystical monkey powers that he obtained by accident, ends up in the care of the mad scientist. Lucky them!

Ron gets enrolled into the academy who in turn ends up in the class of Miss Go. Who unbeknownst to everyone is in reality the world's greatest assassin/burglar. She too had the idea of getting closer to G.J. by directly being in contact with their children cause hey, kids tell LOTS of stuff.

Drew gets a job as school nurse/doctor(???) and works closely with Miss Go. Eventually both of them know that the other knows a bunch about G.J. and coincidentally the same [classified] both are after.

Neither of them know their true identity and both of them use make up to hide themselves in public.

Ron accidentally ruins all preparation for the capers with his monkey powers. Eventually all three of them find out what's going on and work together. Ron doesn't want to lose his new found parents once the goal is obtained and so he often tries to get them to hook up and fall for each other. In the mean time, there's girl in Ron's class, he tries to impress her but... he's evil and she's training hard to become a future G.J. agent!

That's basically what I got in my head.

[nihonio]

Character Summary: VÍCTOR PENZ

FULL NAME

Víctor Penz

ALIAS • "Lighthouse" (callsign) • Vic (general), kid (general) • Blondie (by Rex), goldilocks (by Rex)

AGE • 22-24 (beginning) • 30-35 (current)

DATE OF BIRTH • July 22nd

PLACE OF BIRTH • Villa Gessel, Buenos Aires, Argentina

NATIONALITY • Argentinean

TRAINING

• National University of the Arts, Buenos Aires. Visual Arts Orientation. • Universal Training Courses for New Agents at the Foundation. • Basic Training Course for SWAT units provided by the FBI. • Advanced Orientation and Field Assessment Course (FBI).

RELEVANT EXPERIENCE

• Management and containment during Incident 097-20██, La Boca, Buenos Aires. • Field work and non-anomalous interventions, SCP Foundation. • Incident-146 "Fungicides," 201█, Site-████.

SPOKEN LANGUAGES •Spanish (main) •English (second language) •Portuguese (limited)

PSYCHOLOGICAL REPORT

The phrase "it's like talking to a wall" was a bit of an understatement at first. This boy has been quite a challenge, at least for the first few sessions. He refuses to answer when I ask him about his life prior to the Foundation. I don't consider pushing him to be an alternative; instead, this becomes a matter of rapport, either that or…. Let him get used to seeing me at the end of each week on his calendar.

Fortunately, the time and effort invested paid off. I went through trial and error until I was able to engage in a fluid conversation with him, but I finally did it. We were able to talk about his first months of training and his current situation at work, although he still refuses to answer some questions from time to time. […] I was not able to find out much about his colleagues and his relationship with them, but he did tell me that it was around this time that he met specialist Steffano "Seams" González, who was one of the instructors in his group. He seemed oblivious as to why the fellow agent took an interest in him, but implied that the standard training and living conditions at Site-28 were not of his liking. (Aggravated by his history/maladaptive behavior?)

He came to some sort of agreement with Site management, and is now living and training with González. Reading his previous records, it seems that this change has helped him psychologically. He seems more relaxed than in previous interviews conducted when he first came in, but he still does not seem completely comfortable during our sessions.

His first field operation was recently, and he had no problem talking in great detail about what happened, how they dealt with the situation, and about his teammates. At least until he realized that, according to him, he was rambling. It was the only moment during the interview where a topic genuinely sparked his interest.

Slowly, he is adapting to his new life and it sounds like his instructor is helping with the necessary encouragement. I will have to keep trying to find out more in the next interview.

— Dr. William T. Falcone, Department of Psychology.

-----

APPEARANCE Blond male, 169cm, weighing about 97kgs (214lbs). Fair skinned with freckles all over the body. Wears glasses. Usually seen donning baggy or sports-like clothing. Has fourteen (14) piercings located through the body (nine located in the ears, three in the face, one in the navel). Posseses a tattoo depicting a lighthouse over a stormy sea covering up to the right scapula to the upper part of the latissimus dorsi. — Surg. Steffano Damiano González, SHRP Head.

STORY SUMMARY

He was part of an isolated group of anartists during his university years, becoming directly involved with works and exhibitions. The subsequent separation from this group ended up launching his career at the Foundation. After collaborating to avoid an anomalous catastrophe during an exhibition, Penz was enrolled as an agent and sent to Site-28 to begin his training.

Standing out for his more artistic vision in problem solving and his physical performance during his career, he caught the attention of the then trainer and agent Steffano Gonzalez, who sponsored him for several years under an experimental project inspired by US military mentoring.

Participating in advanced training in tactical response and special hazards suppression, he was able to lay his foundations as an auxiliary member of Mobile Detachments during his inclusion in the particular SHRP (Special Hazards Response Protocols) group financed by the Foundation.

Due to his art education, during his years working at Site-28 he discovered his vocation for the exploration of anomalous terrain and buildings where it was regarded necessary to capture them in drawings. This, and his previous knowledge earned him a place as a consultant in the Department of Anomalous Art after the retirement of his professor.

He is currently in charge of SHRP, where he coordinates most of the operations. He works at irregular periods in the Anomalous Art Department, teaching classes for agents and recruits within the organization and is constantly on the move for his collaboration with other Sites and Departments where visual records are required during scans and raids.

ADDITIONAL READING: SHRP series hub written by me and oniricshogunsoldier SCP-ES-222 written by Eduteck

[wid0wd]

black widows. who are they? here's a few bits of lore taken from various comic runs:

the program is called black widow because it refers to spider AND its purpose to train girls into becoming ruthless spies, but generally the trainees are given other names ( both as identities and code names if you will ) not necessarily spider themed

the mcu turned nat's backstory into an hive mind sort of situation but what you need to know is that actually:

the trainees go under a biochemical engineering process where their immune system is boosted, it prevents aging and provides fast healing. along with this they're chemically subjugated with a pheromone based serum ( to keep them loyal ) and an anti pregnancy type of serum that immediately kills cells - the doctor who designed this explains that the program wanted killers not mothers, hence something so aggressive. all these effects can be reduced by taking specific med suppressants as showed by natasha during her investigation on stefanya's case

natalia was brainwashed into believing to be a ballerina from the bolshoi as part of her kgb sleeper agent training. there's no indication the red room would brainwash other trainees into having these memories though they were given a training regime similar to those of ballerinas

there isn't a specific age to enter the bw program. natasha was 10 during her first cycle, enrolled by her legal guardian. another instance is yelena enrolling voluntarily at 15, with her parents fully knowing about it

the red room had a parallel organisation called department X. that's where the winter soldier program started ( for those who don't want to go with mcu's lore that it was hydra ) though called project zephyr. there were at least three more winter soldiers other than bucky, though as far as we know he was the only one eventually sent to the red room as a teacher

whoever switched to department X / sleeper agent program, was also given another serum. effects of that would be super strength, even faster healing etc

natalia escaped the red room several times and for long periods of time, every punishment done on her was eventually blueprint for how the next batch of widows would be treated in the program - some of the trainees who know natalia have some grudge against her because of this

the graduation ceremony is essentially a proof of loyalty. natalia's was the hysterectomy and the forced marriage to alexei. yelena's was investigating on a crime apparently committed by her mentor and the circumstances of his death - bottom line is that generally trainees are put through a traumatic event where someone they should not care about is involved, and to pass the loyalty test they basically have to do whatever it's asked of them. whoever fails to follow orders dies, obviously

natalia has had the highest score for decades. it took years for yelena to finally surpass her, but the point is that after her defection the red room was actively looking for someone skilled enough to replace nat as THE black widow. they never had much luck about that

as of today, unless a writer shows up and changes the lore, all red room have been destroyed by nat and bucky along with some secret hydra bases.

everything about zephyr project was destroyed in 2012, the three winter soldiers are not operational anymore

in 2016 anya / brown recluse along with her mother ( the original headmistress ) started a new version of red room called dark room - still based in the ruins of the original red room. natasha destroyed it

in 2017 after waking up post death, natasha finds out that there's a secret red room cell in the usa where almost every widow has clones of them made in series, ready to replace them whenever the previous body dies. in order to destroy the cell from the inside, natasha becomes headmistress of the red room for three months, actively training new recruits although by the end of it the girls are returned to their families with the help of SHIELD

yelena never outright says it but did mention a certain interest about wanting to train lucy ( and other girls ) red room style. she mentions a different, less competitive approach but natasha is categorically against the idea and won't let it happen in their san francisco operational base

[brucewaynehater101]

DC in a Witcher AU: Gotham Kingdom

[I tried with the position names, y'all. Hopefully they fit]

Alfred Pennyworth [??] - Steward

A Steward who, much to the nobles' chargrin, became the guardian of a young Bruce Wayne and the regent. He is the King's most trusted ally and is in charge of ensuring the castle, its staff, and the royal family are in working order.

He was the previous spymaster until Barbara assumed the role. He is also rumored to not being human, but he has neither confirmed nor denied this.

Jim Gordon [Human] - Knight Commander

By the time Bruce becomes king, Jim is the Knight Commander

Barbara Gordon [Human] - Spymaster

Due to her father's position, Barbara is able to hide the fact that she is the current spymaster. She has agents all over the continent, but her most direct and trusted agents are part of the Birds of Prey.

She became paralyzed after an assassination attack targeting her father but, with the help of magic, has a wheelchair able to traverse most surfaces (and even go up stairs).

Lucius Fox [Human] - Chancellor

As Chancellor, his duties primarily concern foreign affairs, internal affairs, and finacial/economic issues. He has several individuals assisting him and advisors that he relies on. Bruce trusts him to oversee these matters and handle/notify accordingly.

Lucius's family members (Tam and Luke) also assist the man in various matters.

J'onn J'onzz [Doppler] - Court Druid

Bruce relies on him for magic/chaos related matters. J'onn isn't human, but he pretends to be in public company. He specializes in mind magic but refrains from it without permission or dire need.

Due to being a druid (and thus never officially trained by a school), Bruce will occasionally contact John Constantine (who refused an official position) for certain magic-related issues.

Duke Thomas [Human] - Apprentice Court Mage

Duke Thomas, unbeknownst to him, possesses elder blood from his father. The side effect is extremely powerful chaos to the point that he was sought out by Ban Ard Academy. The Thomases refused to enroll Duke, much to the Academy's anger.

To try to force Duke's hand, the academy sent some mages to curse Duke's parents to become the equivalent of brain dead.

Duke, who suspected the academy of foul play, dropped his parents at the church of Melitete and joined a group of peers fighting against authority figures trying to control them and harm others. They end up traveling Gotham Kingdom earning coin and saving people.

Once Duke finally has enough coin saved up to higher a Witcher, he puts a job posting up for anyone capable and willing to go after the mages that hurt Duke's parents. Hopefully, one of them is left alive to reverse what they did.

What Duke wasn't expecting was fully human Tim Drake to answer the posting.

After much debate, Jason gets thrown into this fuckery as well. The three of them face down the mages until one remains. The answer is extremely disappointing: The curse can only be broken by Duke when he reaches that level of proficeny with his chaos.

With Duke's distrust of the academy, Tim introduces Duke to J'onn. Duke's official position in court allows Duke to provide for himself and his parents while he trains.

Tamara Fox [Human] - Ambassador of Foreign Affairs

Her unofficial main role is to track down Tim and drag him back to Gotham whenever he is needed at court. Due to her frequent traveling (and Tim's eerie ability to befriend people), she tends to handle a lot of communication/correspondence with folks from all kinds of backgrounds. The Tim and Tam team have managed to secure a ton of alliances, prevent wars, and increase trade.

She also is aware of what's going on in Tim's lands and lends assistance when she can/wants to.

When she's not with Tim or hunting him down, she manages foreign affairs or assists her father.

Harvey Dent [Human] - Justiciar

Harvey Dent oversees a majority of the justice system within Gotham. He advises judges from all over the kingdom, hears difficult pleas, travels to ensure courts are upholding justice throughout, and consults Bruce on how various laws may impact the justice system and/or people.

During an incident a few years after he became Justiciar, Harvey was cursed. He slips into a mindset he refers to as "Two Face" that causes extreme harm and damage to others. It took time to adjust and find a solution, but Harvey is able to manage this curse with consistent dosages of his medicinal potions. Bruce and others in Harvey's support group are aware of signs of flare-ups and can adequately provide support. Harvey, with this, is happily able to continue his works as Justiciar.

Steph Brown [Human] - Herald

Steph was raised in the capitol city. When he father started committing crimes against the crown, Steph decided to thwart his plans. She doesn't love nobles, but King Bruce has been implementing/enforcing a ton of laws that help people.

Tim, who was investigating Steph's dad, stumbles upon Steph. He thus invites her to help him with capitol related intelligence-gathering and crime fighting. As time goes on, Steph gains an official court position and works closely with Barbara

Jarro [Sentient Starfish] - Court Jester

King Bruce sincerely wishes to officially adopt Jarro as his son. Unfortunately, a good chunk of the nobles would not allow him to do so.

Therefore, Bruce asked Jarro if he would like a position as the Court Jester. Jarro accepted.

Bruce quickly built everything necessary for Jarro to be comfortable in the castle

Harleen Quinzel [Human] - Court Healer

Harley specializes in both mind and healing magic. She grew up with both Harvey and Bruce.

Unlike other court healers, Harley insists on prevention. It is considered an odd quirk of hers that she proclaims stress to cause pain. She also correlates trauma as a reason for some physical ailments. While many do not believe her claims, they are unwilling to receive her ire (she carries a massive mallet with her). If Gotham's Court Healer prescribes one stretching and taking a break, one does not argue.

Pamela Isley [Artifical Dryad] - Environment Advisor

During an accident with chaos, Pamela is the only adult human woman to ever become a dryad. This increased her environmental protection tendencies.

King Bruce confers with her on the best approaches for agriculture and overall biome health of the various sections of the kingdom. Her knowledge on plants, weather, and even animals has saved numerous lives.

[logos---pngs]

–PUBLIC OUTREACH–

AGENT 315 WOULD LIKE TO APOLOGIZE FOR THE LACK OF POSTS IN RECENT DAYS. HE HAS BEEN ENROLLED IN A NEW TRAINING PROGRAM THAT HAS CAUSED THE PNG INITIATIVE TO BE PLACED ON THE [BACK BURNER] AS OF LATE.

TO THOSE WHO HAVE SUBMITTED REQUESTS: AGENT 315 WILL BE DOING HIS BEST TO FULFILL THEM WHEN HE CAN AND THANKS YOU IN ADVANCE FOR YOUR UNDERSTANDING AND PATIENCE.

--315

[yoshirage]

Body swap diaries: PETER’s CYOC

After months of training and studying, I stood there proudly with fellow agents and superiors in the lower levels of Area 51 awaiting for my first mission as a full fledge secret service agent. It was a grueling time to the point that out of 50 candidates, only 3 of us actually made it.

We hear a gruff raspy voice from the intercom. “Welcome new agents and congratulations. You all are now officially part of the secret service which; as you all know, deals with more covert missions regarding this country. So please meet up with your superiors to discuss your first mission.”

All of the agents dispersed and so did I, and made it to Mr. Carlson’s office. I open the door and see a half naked man with curly hair frantically trying to put his clothes on.

“Ahh dammit looks like i forgot to close that damn door again. Lock it for me will you Peter.” I locked the door behind and sat at one of the office chairs trying not to look and stare at my supervisor’s body. “Hahaha come on now Peter, don’t be so shy. This isn’t the first you’ve seen me in another body.” He was right, but the usual bodies he’s in are the bigger hairy daddy types.

“So i guess you took my advice huh”

“ yeah. Went with someone younger and chose this guy named Jon to take for my time off. Gotta say its a different feeling.” He flexes his arms.

“You look great sir”

“Hahaha thanks Peter. Now since you were the highest achieving agent we have, i decided to assign you as a personal guard for a past president. As may know, any two term US president that finishes their service gets assigned a lifetime agent to help with safety and security, and they are also enrolled with the ‘reincarnation program’ which…

“Gives the ex president and their partner, a choice to have their consciousness transferred to another person’s body.”

“Very good Peter!” He claps his hands “now of course they can opt out of it if they choose to, but we at least wanna give them a taste of it and see if its for them.”

“Isnt it too early for Mr Obama to be in this program?”

“Yes you’re right which is why I’m assigning you to George W bush.”

“Wait isnt there someone already assigned to Mr. Bush?”

“There was, but we are reassigning Gary to a much more… lets just covert mission.” I just nod my head knowing exactly what he means.

“Now Mr Bush has been living in his current body Bruno for almost a year in Brazil.”

“How about the real Bruno.”

“He’s living life as Mr. Bush. We programmed him to practically BE George Bush… memories and all” i nod my head. “ now Mr Bush has been alerted of the change in staff but I would like you to travel to Brazil and introduce yourself”

“No problem sir. Will do”

“I also gave the guys at the lab the Ok to swap you with someone else for this mission, of course you don’t have to.”

I thought about it for a short while and decided to swap. “ Thank you sir. I will go right now.”

“Sounds good. Here is a catalog of the guys that are available.”

I look over it and saw Jon’s body with the amount of $10,000 right by his name. “Damn! I cant believe this kid is getting paid $10,000 to swap bodies with an agent” i thought to myself.

“now if you’ll excuse me. I think its officially time for me to start my Time off.”

“Have fun sir and Ill see you when you get back.”

I leave his office and made my way towards the all the while looking at the catalog.

“Hey Peter!” I waved at Vinh “ Mr Carlson told me all about your mission. So have you thought about which body you want.”

I looked over the catalog one last time…. “This one” I said

(Which of these guys should Peter switch with. From top to bottom: Joey, Christian, Larry, Leon).

[remidyal]

Au where the Abernants are all a different class besides wizards?

Oooh, okay! I've had a few thoughts along these lines, but let's go for something a little bit weirder:

The Abernant adults are, to all outside appearances, a boring diplomatic family of non-adventuring civilians from Fallinel who have enrolled their elder daughter at Mumple. However, their younger daughter, while attending the middle school near their house, breaks a bully's nose with one punch to the face.

This is because, of course, all of the Abernants are actually Monks, and Adaine and Aelwyn have been raised with strict and most importantly secret martial training. Specifically, Angwyn, Arianwen, and Aelwyn are all Shadow monks, and the parents have been carrying out assassination plots on behalf of some faction within the Fallinel government for the entire time they've been in Solace. They're getting Aelwyn into the family business, too, but Adaine's been slow in her training and they don't trust her to know anything important beyond her own training yet.

They are EXTREMELY displeased by Adaine blowing her cover because she couldn't keep her temper and be a good and meek girl in public the way Aelwyn has, but with that cover blown they're forced to allow her to attend Aguefort - after all, she showed such potential, and completely untrained! She would be wasted on a civilian path at Mumple!

The elder Abernants refuse to share their deeper secrets with Adaine until she can prove her trustworthiness, and she starts to pick up another subclass from Aguefort - the Way of Mercy. This makes them distrust her MORE because the philosophy is anathema to their own beliefs, and Adaine finds herself more and more frozen out by her family; meanwhile, more pressure gets put on Aelwyn to make up for her disappointing sister.

Adaine and Aelwyn have a dramatic fistfight eventually when Adaine interrupts her first solo assassination mission; the target (an agent of the council of chosen who was on to the older Abernants) ends up arresting both of them after the fight, not realizing that Adaine actually saved her life. Aelwyn gets broken out by their parents but disavowed by Fallinel's government; Adaine gets eventually released under a severe set of unfair parole conditions.

[madamlaydebug]

John Amos in his 1958 East Orange High School yearbook photo.

John Allen Amos Jr. (born December 27, 1939) is an American actor known for his role as James Evans, Sr., on the CBS television series Good Times. Amos's other television work includes The Mary Tyler Moore Show, a recurring role as Admiral Percy Fitzwallace on The West Wing, and the role of Washington, D.C., Mayor Ethan Baker in the series The District. Amos has appeared on Broadway and in numerous films in his five-decade career. He has been nominated for a Primetime Emmy Award and an NAACP Image Award. On film, he has played numerous supporting roles in movies such as The Beastmaster (1982), Coming to America (1988), Die Hard 2 (1990) and Coming 2 America (2021).

John A. Amos, Jr. Was born in Newark, New Jersey. He grew up in East Orange, New Jersey, and graduated from East Orange High School in 1958. He enrolled at Long Beach City College and graduated from Colorado State University, qualifying as a social worker with a degree in sociology. Amos also played on the Colorado State Rams football team. After college, he was a Golden Gloves boxing champion.

In 1964, Amos signed a free agent contract with the American Football League's Denver Broncos. Unable to run the 40-yard dash because of a pulled hamstring, he was released on the second day of training camp. He then played with the Canton Bulldogs and Joliet Explorers of the United Football League. In 1965, he played with the Norfolk Neptunes and Wheeling Ironmen of the Continental Football League. In 1966, he played with the Jersey City Jets and Waterbury Orbits of the Atlantic Coast Football League.

In 1967, Amos signed a free agent contract with the American Football League's Kansas City Chiefs. Coach Hank Stram told him, "You're not a football player, you're a man who is trying to play football." He returned to the Continental League, where he played that year with the Victoria Steelers

[number9robotic]

Random personal character/worldbuilding

I wanted to design at some point an original roster of fighting game characters and my life spiralled out of control thinking of new ideas so I gotta share what I got:

Pitch: It's about a group of superpowered teens who get sent to a school training them how to be good superVILLAINS.

Slightly more specifics: The world is like ours but there are supers around. There exists a school for "superpowered opportunists" that is ostensibly to raise up-and-coming supers but is very transparently corrupt and just a legally-permissible way to raise future allies to whatever mustache-twirling nonsense they have cooking up. The students are sourced from all over the world and are mostly good kids, but they have wild powers to deal with that are very easy to look at and go "yep, they're born to join the dark side."

Character list at the moment:

"Anti" (Canadian), timid but ambitious, well-behaved, reasonably "normal" kid from the suburbs who discovered that their shadow is alive, and can rise up and kill people. Was involuntarily sent to the school by their parents who believed it would be a good fit, for better and for worse. Now basically trying to survive. Fights with a quarterstaff, shadow deals its own attacks, turns staff into a scythe and other scary sharp things, wants its host to join in the fun.

"Hellgirl" ("Eastern European"), a princess to an impoverished noble family who -- in a desperate bid for power -- sacrificed her as part of a draconic ritual, with her coming back as this cursed half-dragon that has to be bound in magic tampering chains to stop her from ripping peoples' heads off. Genuinely a proper lady and actually kind of a sweetheart when lucid. Requires a buncha physical accomodations but can still fight even when in chains. Also, breathes hellfire. Cool beans.

"Smoggy/The Vigilante Smog Monster" (Australian), a living swamp monster summoned by an Aboriginal tribe who believed him to be a guardian spirit, and though he had no idea what they were talking about, he remained their guardian until he was separated and stumbled into scouting agents for the school. Shifts between a gross, sludgy humanoid form and horror smoke with the power of ancient wooden masks he keeps around him. Huge and imposing, but surprisingly a pretty swell dude.

"IDKYS/I Don't Know You, Sorry" (Filipino), aspiring would-be idol whose voice has overpowering hypnotic properties -- got enrolled in the school in order for her to develop her skillset without it. Ostensibly like a "cute mute" sorta scholarly student, actually very, very salty. Wears a cool mask that converts her voice to text and then back to into monotone text-to-speech (for safety reasons), is also rigged to an amplifier mic on a stand that she wields like a mace, has the power to blast people apart with SFX.

"Twintails" (Japanese), a transforming kitsune wizard/ninja who is two separate people from different secretive clans in one: a male wizard and a female ninja, who got "fused" together by a trickster yokai that caused them to share the same body, swapping between identities whenever they sneeze. They're both aware of each other and hate each other, habitually accusing the other for being the imposter yokai cohabiting their body, but are forced to work together to make it work.

"Metal Alice" (French), what was once the innocent young daughter to a supervillain, who perished following his last evil plan gone wrong. After attempting to resurrect her, Little Alice's spirit was "restored" into an old doll-like animatronic, which is itself now a walking portal to the ghost dimension. Is able to draw various weapons of phantasmic metals out of her body, from speared parasols to chainsaws. The "cute" kind of scary!

"Magnum" (American), the newest cyborg prototype from a company for mad scientist tech, designed of indestructible metals. Has the power to explode virtually any joint in his body like a bomb before automatically reassembling. Does it to fire his fingers/arms like projectiles, and is also a grappler. Was sent to the school to fix his raging ego problem. Speaks and dresses like a cowboy and has a nice hat. Deal with it.

"Hotshot" (Chinese), a guy who thinks and acts like he's the "shotoclone" protagonist of a normal fighting game (arrogant young martial artist with fire powers and always rearing for a fight), but is too arrogant to realize that this isn't the kind of story he's in (and also that he's a jackass). Despite this, he's very popular by way of the popular jock/bully who's a total dickhead but also so cooooool, and definitely the best student at a straight-on fight.

"Vioelectrolysis" (Motswana), a mad scientist in training who just LOVES making her crazy super-chemicals technicolor and do weird and unexpected things. Carries a bunch of it around in this modified fire extinguisher/gas tank that she can use to spray various super-fluids or swing around like a flail. Has a gas mask for her own protection; may or may not have mutated herself with something cool at some point.

"Marmaron" (Greek), an incomplete statue of a marble-like material that accidentally came to life while being made by a mysterious artist that Marmaron proceeded to kill, supposedly in self-defense. Doesn't have a face or a finished hand, splashed paint where his face should be to look even scarier presentable. Has the power to turn people into stone, but only temporarily. Spends his time minding his own business with painting and poetry, doesn't mind that everyone thinks he's creepy as hell.

[megamindsupremacy]

Reverse Robins AU: 39

Superboy Prime bullshit happens which breaks the universe, and Steph (17) comes back to life. She wanders the streets of Gotham, operating on VERY little brain activity for a few months before Cluemaster finds her and secretly holds her for a month or so while he tries to figure out what the hell he’s supposed to do with his resurrected completely-out-of-it daughter. Eventually, one of the LOA agents in Gotham discovers Steph’s existence and alerts Talia to her presence. Talia kills Cluemaster and takes Steph for herself with the intention of training her to take down Batman for refusing to return her son. Steph gets Lazarus Pitted after ~five months of being with the League, as Talia was trying other methods to break her out of the comatose state first. Steph, unfortunately, has a far worse reaction to the Lazarus Pit than Jason and is pretty much Completely Insane, far more so than Jason in the canon timeline. 

In the meantime, in Gotham, Duke (21) has tried to reach out to Bruce a few times, only to be met with a wall of repressed emotions and anger. He and Damian (22) respond to that by retreating even further from Batman into Blüdhaven and more or less cut contact completely. Damian stops responding to Justice League calls, and Duke only goes on JL missions that are guaranteed to not involve Batman. Tim (16) spends almost all of his time doing Oracle work, dropping out of Gotham Academy and enrolling in online high school (and college) courses. He and Cass (15) communicate frequently, but he only speaks with Batman when it’s absolutely necessary to the mission. Cass is doing her best to hold on to Bruce, but he is, in turn, doing his best to push her away. Mia (22) is minding her own business completely unaffiliated with the Bats and working as a magical consultant to the Justice League and Young Justice whenever the other magic users are being too annoying/temporarily dead for contact. Congrats to her for distancing herself from the Bats before they could irreparably fuck her up psychologically, she's doing great for herself!

[livin-the-good-life-w-ella]

Legacies

Gabrielle Gomez….first person

AUGUST 30, 2019 DOCTOR DONNA LOGANS OFFICE, SHIELD COMPOUND. HARLEM, NEW YORK. 8:21 AM

MY FOOT HITS THE GROUND impatiently. It’s a thing I do when I’m nervous or bored, I’ve been doing it on and off since I was six. My mother used to say she was going to beat the habit out of me. She tried and I’d stop for a while, a couple months (once even a year, it was impressive), but it’d always come back. She was never fully successful.

Nowadays, I don’t have a mother to beat my nervous ticks out of me. Instead, I have a therapist telling me my feelings are valid and that everyone has nervous ticks. I’m not exactly grateful for that fact. Sometimes I wish she’d just take the pen she was using to jot down every time I do something ‘concerning’ and stab me with it. That’s part of the reason why I’m in therapy.

It was times like these, when I was sitting in a therapists office in a specific part of the Shield Compound I resided in, that I missed my mother.

Even if people told me she was a psychotic bitch.

“Can I go back to missions?” I ask, my voice loud. I’ve always made sure to not have a low voice when asking a question. It was trained into me from a young age. One of the best things my mother taught me, actually (besides how to shoot a gun). ‘You will always be looked down upon, treated as if your opinion and questions are stupid. You are a child’ She’d said ‘But, you are my child. So it is important that your voice commands respect, not questions it.’

Doctor Donna Logan has been my therapist since I first showed up at Shield a couple years ago. I go to her whenever Nick Fury (the director of Shield) and Agent O’Ryan (my ‘handler’ of sorts) decide I’m too fucked up to go on missions. Mainly, Fury is the one enrolling me in therapy. I had been doing good the last year or so, not a single failed mission and I had done nothing to induce a therapy session. That was until the mission in Dominican Republic. Now, I’m stuck seeing Donna two times a week.

“I’m not seeing any improvement, Gabrielle.” Doctor Logan tells me.

“I told you I don’t have nightmares anymore. I’d consider that improvement.”

“Really? Cause I’d consider that lying.” Doctor Logan sighs, putting her notepad down to look me in the eyes. “I can’t help you if you don’t let me.”

“The only ‘help’ I need is for you to clear me for missions.” I tell her. “It’s been two months. I want back in. Fury won’t even let me look at a damn file.”

“You can’t get ‘back in’ until I know you’re mentally prepared for what’s going to happen, Gabrielle.” Doctor Logan’s voice is full of pity. Pity. One things I hate. Also, one of the only emotions she’s never been able to withhold. Doctor Logan talks a lot about how it’s okay to express emotions but, personally, I’d consider her the biggest hypocrite on Earth. She’s trained in psychology and emotions, the mind and the body. But she wasn’t trained like I was, she wasn’t trained to note every emotion on someones face, the slightest change in someones body language.

Sure, she could notice that I had issues. I’m glad she’s putting her degree to use. But I don’t have a degree and I know her whole life’s story, I could trick her into confessing issues she has with her dead mom if I really wanted to, but I don’t because Agent O’Ryan informed me that that’s considered an invasion of privacy and that it will make her want to not clear me for missions even more.

“I went on a mission. I underestimated the psychological impact my mom had on me.” In other words, I freaked out. “Just let me go on the easy missions. Like the ones inside the country.”

Doctor Logan is silent for a minute. She flips back through her pages of notes she’s taken on me. “I need this.” I tell her. It’s true. I’ve felt useless doing nothing. Sitting around at the compound in unenjoyable, training is unenjoyable when I know I won’t be able to put any of the skills I learned to use, my entire life in unenjoyable without a mission. Because without a mission, what purpose do I have existing?

Okay, maybe I shouldn’t tell her that last bit…

“That’s the issue.” Doctor Logan informs me. “Why do you think you need a mission?”

“Because I do. Why do you have to look into every word I say? You know, Doctor Logan, this is why I don’t talk.” I put my lips together and shrug. She doesn’t find me amusing.

“My job is to look into every word you say.” You’re pretty shit at your job anyway, I think to myself. She looks at her notes once again, adds something probably along the lines of ‘thinks she needs mission to live’ followed by an underline ‘stems from mommy issues???’.

“Logan,” I use her last name because I’m no longer going to call her ‘Doctor Logan’ out loud until she does good ‘Doctor’ shit, like clear me for a mission. “I have issues, everyone does. I’ll keep going to these stupid sessions, just clear me for a mission.”

I’m aware I sound like an addict but I can’t help it. I blame my abusive mom. Or my absent father. Whatever answer makes me look better. Doctor Logan lets out a loud sigh. She gets up and grabs her keys then walks over to her drawer. It’s where she keeps her patient files. Once, when I was thirteen, I broke in to see what exactly she had on me. All it said was ‘Nice try.’

I’m pretty sure that was the day I decided I hated her.

I watch her pull out a file, she sits down in her chair and places the file on the desk, sliding it towards me. I give her a confused look but she only shrugs. “You want a mission, that’s your mission.” Okay. Maybe Doctor Logan is a good doctor.

I try to hide my eagerness as I pick up the file—the last thing I need is for her to try to psychoanalyze that (‘Now, why do you think you were so happy to get a mission? Does it take you back to when your mother used to give you missions?’).On the first page of the file theres a school. East Lake Academy. Under it, a bunch of stuff is written. I skim it, trying to get the gist of it.

East Lake Academy is a boarding school in Fares, New Jersey. It’s known for producing lots of lawyers and doctors. There used to be an art division but it shut down recently. Theres no mission objective or mission goals section in the whole file. I look up to Doctor Logan with a raised brow. It’s a good thing she’s not an agent. She’d be terrible at that job. “Whats the objective here, Doctor Logan?”

“The objective is to attend East Lake Academy,” An infiltration mission then. Not my favorite but I’ll make do. “And figure out how to be a normal student.”

My emotions shift immediately. I toss the file back on the desk and watch as papers fall out of it. “What the fuck.” I say. “Why would you do that? I thought it was a real mission.” You got my hopes up dies on my tongue as I send a glare her way. I feel like she heard it anyway.

“You’ve had a difficult childhood.” She collects all the papers that fell out. “You don’t have a father, your mother was abusive. She trained you to become her assassin from a young age.”

“Are you going to tell me my whole life story or is there a point?”

“Then you came here, where you were told everything you had learned was wrong. That your mother was a terrible person because of the things she did, for forcing you to go on missions and kill innocent people.” I roll my eyes. It wasn’t as if I didn’t enjoy what she was making me do. “Then Shield hired you to do the exact same thing. I understand how hard and confusing that can be.”

There was nothing confusing about it. Shield tried to let me be normal, I went to a couple foster homes for a bit. After a year they realized it wasn’t working out and used their brains to put a logical plan together. Why let skills like mine rot and run dry in foster homes when they could be put to use to do good?

“You never had a chance to be normal.” Doctor Logan continues. “This is your chance.”

I don’t say anything. It’s far too late for me to be normal. I think I’m incapable of doing such a thing. I can’t have a normal life with no adventure, no dodging bullets and shooting people who deserve it. I don’t know how to live a life like that. “Fury and O’Ryan agreed to this?”

Doctor Logan nods. “Neil picked out the school.” I reach for the file again. If O’Ryan picked out the school it can’t be that bad. “I know you don’t like this idea but I think it’s crucial.”

Crucial for what? My treatment? To be a normal fifteen year old kid? “If I do this,” I say as if I have a choice. “I can be cleared for missions.”

“Eventually, yes.” Logan nods in agreement. “You’ll still have to attend these sessions. We’ll fit it into your schedule. If you participate in these sessions and go to school, I can have cleared for a mission as soon as November. So long as we make progress.”

November. That’s months away from now. “And if I don’t?”

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to clear you for a mission otherwise. But I am sure that I won’t have you cleared by New Years.” She answers honestly.

I swallow and nod. “Fine then. I’ll look over the file, tell O’Ryan he can enroll me.”

Doctor Logan smiles victoriously. “Good. I’ll see you off before you go.”

We sit until the hour ends. She tells me about East Lake Academy and I listen to everything she has to say. When the sessions over, I leave rather quickly. It’s no surprise I find Agent O’Ryan outside. He looks at the folder in my hand and smiles. “She clear you or is that what I think it is?”

Agent O’Ryan is in his thirties or forties, I’m not sure, but he looks relatively young. He has blonde hair and a charming personality. He’s considered my ‘handler’ because when I first left my assassin lifestyle, I ran into him. He turned me in, he placed me in every foster home, he suggested me to Shield, and—apparently—he claimed responsibility for any mistake I made while I was on probation. Not that I made many. Maybe one or two accidental kills in the beginning. They really should’ve specified that when I had a ‘target’ it didn’t necessarily mean to kill them.

I push the file into his chest and he looks through it. “In all fairness, I thought that she was bluffing when she said she’d put you in school.”

“Jersey. You picked a school in New Jersey.” I tell him. “I’ll have a dorm mate. I won’t be able to get any training done. I’ll fall behind.”

“You’ll go the gym and keep up.” O’Ryan corrects. “Don’t act like there aren’t loop holes, Gomez.”

“I’m going to school in Jersey. That’s literal hell. You’ve put me in my own hell, I will hold this against you for life.”

“Look, Fury was gonna pick a school for you here in New York. I put you somewhere else, gave you a little distance.” He explains. “Give me more credit before you start complaining.”

“Distance. About one hundred and fifty miles of distance.” I specify. “I’ll have to come back for sessions with Logan, do you know how annoying that ride is going to be?”

O’Ryan rolls his eyes and smirks. “Someone hasn’t looked into the school.”

“Oh, no. I don’t have to. Logan told me all about it. Did you know that East Lake Academy produces the highest numbers of lawyers, engineers, and doctors compared to any boarding school in all of America?” I say as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

“Yeah,” O’Ryan scans his Shield badge, a level eight—four above mine—and opens the door for us. “It’s a good cover, hides what I really sent you there for.”

I give him a look. He simply smirks and hands me the file. “Why don’t you do your own research, Agent Gomez? Have a little faith in me. You and I are very similar, we thrive on missions.” O’Ryan walks away and I continue on to the section where my room is.

I guess I have to figure out everything about East Lake Academy now.

Damian Wayne….first person

AUGUST 31, 2019 GOTHAM CITY, NEW JERSEY. 2:45 AM.

THE NOISE IN MY COMM IS loud. Spoiler and Red Hood talking over each other, arguing about something mundane. It is annoying to hear multiple people yelling. If you are going to yell, at least have the courtesy to switch channels. Like Batman and I. The moment my father opens his mouth, I switch channels. For a peaceful second there is only silence. Then there is yelling

“You lack discipline. You lack responsibility. It is like you have never been trained a day in your life!” My father yells, which is absurd. I have trained every day of my life. Even if I was ill. I have never missed a day of training, if I didn’t have training scheduled with a family member, I’d take it upon myself to train. That is just who I am.

Behind the man in the Batman suit is Nightwing, whos avoiding eye contact with me. Coward. He calls Batman to reprimand me but cannot even look me in the eye? I’m not surprised. For a while, around a year, Nightwing was my Batman. Then my father returned and Nightwing decided he couldn’t be a, as Timothy had dubbed it, ‘father figure’ to me anymore.

Or maybe he just didn’t want to be. Maybe he was relieved my father came back. I don’t know. And a part of me doesn’t want to know.

“Batman—”

“No, Robin. This is it. You’re benched.”

I suck my teeth in annoyance. Benched. I’ve been benched numerous times. Being benched I can deal with. It will probably only be for a week or so anyway. Batman leads the way to the Batmobile. “Nightwing, stick around. Make sure the police pick them up.” Nightwing nods and leaves without a second thought. I go into the passenger seat. The moment I do the car starts moving. We’re in silence for a total of one hundred and seventy-two seconds before Batman breaks it. “Do you remember the school we talked about?”

It takes me a moment to answer. Saying ‘we’ is very off-putting. I had only said one thing, he had talked a majority of the time. The school he was referring to was East Lake Academy. It was roughly three hours away from Gotham. Father had suggested it as a school, apparently it was extremely good. In response, I told him I much rather attend Gotham Prep. I assumed that had been the end of the conversation. It was stupid of me to be that naive. “Vaguely.”

“We should revisit the idea.”

“I disagree.” I tell him immediately, clicking my jaw together. I look over at the man avoiding eye contact. I see where Nightwing gets it from. I suppose it is true that mannerisms can be picked up from parents. It is a good thing Batman is rarely there for me as a father. “I do not want to attend East Lake Academy. It is all the way in Fares. I will not be able to operate as Robin during the school year.”

Batman says nothing to that. That makes me think that's the idea. “Father, for how long exactly am I benched from being Robin?”

“This will be good for you Damian.” Batman tells me.

“Evading is not like you, father.” It is actually. My father almost always evades giving me direct answers. It is my greatest issue with him. Or, one of the many, I suppose.

“Until further notice.” Father glances at me for a second, gauging my reaction. It is good I still have my mask on. I’m good at masking my expressions, I always have, but recently I’ve noticed my eyes can sometimes give me away. They display too much emotion, it is quite upsetting. My mother would be disappointed.

My grandfather would kill me.

“If I am already benched for who knows how long then why do I need to go to another city? Is benching me not enough?” I look at the man I call father with annoyance. That is the only emotion I will allow to show. Annoyance. And, perhaps, a bit of anger.

“This is a matter of discipline. You don’t listen to me, you don’t listen to your siblings—”

“What on Earth does this have to do with them?” I cut him off but he ignores me and continues on anyway.

“—You don’t listen to your teachers or peers. This will be good for you. I went to a private school.” Batman points out as he pulls into the Batcave and exits the car.

“A private school and a boarding school are two different things.” I exit the car as well. “You are being absurd.” Batman takes off the cowl and walks away but I follow after him, ripping off my own mask. “I can train more father, I can be more responsible. I will do whatever is necessary, just do not send me to this school.”

My father turns to me. He looks tired. He’s frowning like he feels bad, like it isn’t his decision when we both know it is. My schooling is one of the many things in my life that he is in control of. “It’s already been decided, Damian. You leave soon, you should pack your bags.”

Without another word he enters the locker room, presumably to shower and rid himself of his suit. I stay there staring for a moment, before turning quickly and punching the nearest wall. This is about Alfred. It had to be. He still blames Pennyworths death on me, I can’t say I fault him for that, but sending me away because I remind him of the failure he made me into?

I punch the wall twice more, leaving a fist sized dent.

“Jesus,” A voice interrupts me. “What’s got you like that?” Red Hood must have entered in on his motorcycle. His mechanical voice annoys me to no extent. I figure it annoys others too. Most of us change our voices slightly, since I’m good at mimicking it is easy for me but, for the most part, I just try to avoid talking in front of civilians.

“Nothing. It is none of your business.” At that, Red Hood nods taking off his helmet. He must’ve returned just after us.

“Ah, no worry. I speak pissed off Robin.” Jason smirks. “So, for how long is the little bird benched for this time. A week?” I give him no reaction and move to put my sword in it’s rightful place. “Two weeks? Wait, don’t tell me it’s for a month.”

I groan in annoyance. I know that’s his goal. To annoy me until I tell him. Normally I would play along until I got bored but tonight I do not have the patience. “I am benched until father sees it fit.”

Jason winces slightly at that, letting out a dramatic low whistle. “So that’s what your hissy fits about? Come on, I’m sure Bruce will give in after a week of seeing you sulk.”

I snort at that. ‘Seeing’. “Father won’t be seeing me at all, much less seeing me sulk.”

“I’m sorry, come again?” Jason gives me a confused expression. "Is this your weird way of saying you're running away? Cause I support, but you know Dick will have something to say about it."

“He plans to ship me off to boarding school. He told me to pack so I can only assume that it starts within the next few days.”

“You’re kidding.” Jason’s face goes blank. “He’s shipping you off?”

“Yes. To Fares. He is under the impression that it will show me discipline and responsibility more than he could.”

“Typical,” Jason scoffs. “So fucking typical. Things get hard and Bruce decides to not be a father anymore. What an asshole.”

I swallow a deep annoyed sigh. The last thing I want is to be at fault for a family argument or for Jason declaring himself an orphan again. “It is not a big deal.” I say. That is the only attempt I will make at calming him, there is nothing else to say and he’s not my responsibility to tame. “I am going to go shower.”

Without another word or glance to Jason I go upstairs. I will shower in my bathroom to avoid father. Though I won’t be able to avoid the man for long.

This was going to be a great year.

SEPTEMBER 4, 2019 GOTHAM CITY, NEW JERSEY. WAYNE MANOR. 8:55 AM

“DAMIAN, DO YOU NEED HELP PACKING?” I look over to see my eldest brother leaning against the doorframe of my room. My room is, for once, a mess. Though compared to my siblings’ rooms I’d say it’s a neat mess. There are three luggages in my room, all of them open. My clothes are all separated into groups.

“That is not necessary, Richard.” I say as I fold one of my dark gray turtlenecks and place it in one of my luggages. “I told you that yesterday.” Last night, Jason sent a message to me saying he’d try to convince Bruce about the boarding school but it wasn’t working out too well. Followed by a bunch of messages that were particularly vulgar. My phone was on the table and the message was visible to Richard, who was beside me at the time.

Since then, Richard hasn’t left the manor. Usually, he’s insistent that Bludhaven needs him. Now he seems to think that I need him. Which I don’t. I never have.

I don’t need anybody.

Richard doesn’t listen to me, instead entering my room, grabbing one of my pants, and folding it into a luggage. I pause my folding to sigh, gripping the luggage in front of me out of annoyance. “Richard.”

I hear him stop moving and turn to look at him. “I’m trying to help you, Damian. What Bruce did—”

“He did not do anything.” I go back to folding my shirts. “He sent me to boarding school. It is not a big deal. Drakes father sent him to a boarding school when he was younger, did he not?”

“He did, but Jack Drake and Bruce aren’t the same person. Neither are you and Tim. And Jack wasn’t using boarding school as a punishment.”

I wasn’t around during that time but I’m pretty sure Drakes father was using boarding school as punishment. Perhaps Drake and I are more similar than we first imagined.

“Why are you acting as though I can change his mind?. I cannot. Trust me, I have tried. Father stands firm in his decision to send me away. It is not my choice.”

I actually hadn’t spoken much to Bruce. I didn’t speak to him at all yesterday. I spent the first day arguing with Bruce over his idiotic decision but when I noticed Bruce wouldn’t budge, I focused on ignoring everything he did. Bruce would try to talk to me and I would walk away. Bruce would cook and I would order take out. Bruce would order take out for two, and I would cook for myself. It was a petty thing to do but I didn’t have any other option available.

Richard stays silent as I finish packing the luggage. He just sits on the floor of my room staring at a pair of pajama pants with a single Nightwing symbol in the corner. Typical. So full of himself. At least he isn't packing. Richard could not fold clothes if his life depended on it. “Will you be driving me there?”

“Oh,” Richard looks over at me. “I can if you want. I’m sure Bruce won’t mind.” Of course he wouldn’t. He’s sending me away.

“I do not care who takes me.” I go to another one of my luggage’s. The dark blue one. I start putting pajamas followed by some shoes in it.

I take the pajama pants out of Richard’s hand and place it in the luggage. “When do you return to Bludhaven?”

“Tomorrow.” Richard says. “Well, today technically. But if I drive you then I’ll get there tomorrow.

I shake my head and finish packing the dark blue luggage. “It is not necessary. Someone else will do it. Or perhaps father will allow me to drive myself.”

“Maybe.” Richard gives me a half smile and I acknowledge it as I shut my luggage and move onto the one he was ‘packing’.

“Is this really what you call packing?” Everything was thrown in messily and disorganized. Pennyworth is rolling in his grave. “It is a good thing you keep clothes here for whenever you visit. This,” I gesture to the luggage as I empty it out. “Is how you wrinkle clothing.”

Richard laughs as I restart the packing of the last luggage, a simple dark red one, from scratch. I don’t understand what he found funny, I was being completely serious. When I’m done packing I grab the backpack I intend to use for school and Richard assists me with bringing the luggage’s down.

Father is leaving the kitchen while I’m at the front door. He looks at me and says, “Are you done?”

I say nothing and take two of my bags outside. I don’t put them in the trunk, only near the car. A moment later Richard joins me. “Are you gonna keep ignoring him?”

“Yes.” I respond simply, earning a sigh from the older man. We stand there awkwardly for a moment then I grab my luggage from him and return to the remaining two. I take two of my luggages in one hand, leaving the third luggage in my other hand. “Goodbye, Richard.”

“Bye Dami. I’ll see you for Thanksgiving, yeah?”

“Perhaps.” I agree even though I know I will more than likely to return for Thanksgiving. I watch Richard return back into the manor, presumably to argue with Bruce, and move to put my luggage into the trunk of Bruce’s car.

When I’m done I stare at the manor. I can remember my first years at the manor, the absurdity of them. The confusion of American standards, attempting to kill Timothy, cooking with Pennyworth.

All good memories.

I’m pulled out of my thoughts by the honking of a horn. I turn my head to see Jason’s car, when my eyes look into the front seat I don’t see Jason Todd but instead, I see Duke Thomas. “Need any help?”

Duke moved out of the manor on a month or so before his eighteenth birthday. I haven’t really talked to him since. It is…odd. There was a time when I didn’t go a day without conversing with the daytime hero. Now, I have gone weeks. We haven’t spoken since his birthday, August thirteenth, when we had a small family lunch. Just father, Duke, and I. Then Duke went to visit his parents.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, ignoring his question and looking into the car.

“Jason told me Bruce was shipping you off. He also told me you were ignoring him. I figured you’d need a ride to this boarding school.”

“Richard is here.”

I watch Dukes nose scrunch up. Duke has always disliked Richard, for reasons I’m unsure of. It doesn’t go as deep as the rivalry Cassandra and Jason have and it’s not as loud as Timothy and I had been in the past years. It was more of a silent, one sided hatred.

“Well. Let’s be honest here, Damian. Would you rather take a what, two hour drive, listening to Dick,” Duke put an emphasis on his name. “Whine about how sorry he is for you and look at you all guilty while listening to annoying pop songs. Or would you rather come in the cool-kid car and listen to cool-kid music? Choice is yours.”

I don’t tell him that Richard isn’t the one taking me. That his competition is Richard, it’s father (and that he’s winning by a landslide).

“Can I pick the music?” I question, even though I already decided to join him. Music was something Duke held dear, like most people. I don’t have any particular hatred towards listening to music, nor do I require it to enjoy myself while driving.

Duke thinks it over. “You can pick one song and, I’m saying this now, I’m not listening to Beethoven.”

I roll my eyes but open the trunk I had just shut and place all my baggage into Duke’s (Jason’s) car. When I get in the front seat I put on my seatbelt. “Knew you’d pick right. Dicks a dick sometimes.”

I don’t confirm nor deny this. It’s best not to fuel Dukes hatred or to get him started on it. I made that mistake once. Never again. Duke hands me his unlocked phone. “One song.” Duke reminds me.

When we start to drive away I can see my father’s figuring watching us. He looks a little annoyed, a little bit guilty.

I pick The Architect by The Chamber Orchestra of London and Andrew Skeet. I had found out a while ago Duke didn’t mind classical music as much as the rest of my siblings did. In fact, sometimes it looked like he enjoyed it.

I glanced over at Duke who was tapping on the wheel to the beat, hyper focused on not hitting the curb.

Duke Thomas was probably one of my favorite siblings at the mo

[dzthenerd490]

File: Matilda

SCP#: AKT

Code Name: The Modern-Day Witch

Object Class: Thaumiel

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-AKT was given a home in Nx-AD: Archios, Isla Nublar with her new adoptive mother. The two were given a normal house with all the basic accommodations as well as a single AFA-1 unit as a servant. When going out for shopping or visiting the Dino Sanctuary, two Foundation agents are to keep an eye on them. They are to maintain a distance that prevents SCP-AKT from sensing them and if one of them is discovered they are to pull back and be replaced with another agent. The Foundation is to only deem SCP-AKT hostile if she engages hostility first. Anyone who engages hostility with SCP-AKT first is to be punished accordingly even if they are Foundation staff, there will be no exceptions.

Update 2006 - SCP-AKT has reached the age of employment at the Foundation and thus will be debriefed by the Anomalous Employment Division. 

Update 2008 - SCP-AKT has completed her training and is now a member of Mobile Task Force Alpha-9 - Division “Shield”. She will be living most of her time at Site-AM but will occasionally visit Nexus Point-AD to see her adoptive mother. Because she is a member of Division Shield she will only work on defense IF Site-AM is ever attacked. Until then she will work as a teacher for children of Foundation staff at Site-AM. SCP-AKT is fully within her rights to punish anyone who treats her badly as she was proven trustworthy to never bring harm to those who don’t deserve it. 

Description: SCP-AKT, at the time of writing is a six year old girl who possesses powerful telekinetic properties. She is able to perceive everything that happens around her in a 3 meter diameter. She can make objects levitate and power up machines with her mind alone. Despite this she doesn’t seem to have the ability to manifest or control any form of energy directly or if she can not to the same degree SCP-AAS can or any way the Foundation can see. 

Unlike other telekinetic anomalous humanoids, using her powers puts no strain on SCP-AKT whatsoever even if she uses it on hundreds of different tasks or does something extreme like lift an entire building. Even the all-powerful Agent Charlie McGee claims that it's impossible to use extreme amounts of her power for long periods of time without feeling at least a little bit of strain. 

To make things even more strange like Charlie and even SCP-AZJ who have clear anomalous origins, SCP-AKT has two completely normal biological parents. SCP-AKT had her origin among a normal, dysfunctional, and extremely neglectful family that had no anomalous properties or heritage. This unfortunately has proven that the evolution theory that has been spread around Foundation and administrative staff might be correct. Eventually meta humans will start becoming more and more dominant until there are no non-anomalous humans left. When this exactly will happen is unknown but the Foundation will have to work hard to ensure humanity will be ready by then. 

SCP-AKT was discovered in 1996 when she led a revolt against her horrifically vile and torturous principal and the abusive teaching staff. The school was infamous for mentally abusing children for the littlest of things but unfortunately being the only school in the area thus forcing parents to enroll their children there or move. Foundation staff approached her when she was disowned by her biological parents and adopted by her teacher, the only good teacher that didn't torture children. 

They confronted the two about SCP-AKT’s anomalous abilities and said she wasn’t a danger to people but instead the veil over the anomalous world. But rather than threatening containment she and her adoptive mother were offered housing at Nexus Point-AD. SCP-AKT was also told that there was an area filled with anomalous humanoids and Species of Interest members. She was immediately hooked and wanted to go so her adoptive mother didn’t protest, especially when they were told they would not have to pay anything and as a non-capitalist area all their food and other necessities were free of charge. 

Update 2006 - having been debriefed and processed by the Anomalous Employment Division SCP-AKT met with SCP-040, SCP-053, Iris Thompson, Stella Starchild, Meri Clef, Cidney Victoria, Thomas Shaw, Rainer Miller, Charlie McGee, David McGowan, and Sigurrós Stefánsdóttir. She expressed great delight meeting so many others that each had different anomalous abilities from her but were still anomalous like her. She expressed having no regrets joining the Foundation and wants to continue working within the AED in hopes of the Foundation finding and helping more anomalous humanoids. 

Update 2008 - SCP-AKT has completed her training and by law of the AED she is to now be known as Matilda Honey her civilian name. She has decided to join Mobile Task Force Alpha-9 Division "Shield" and specifically requested her off duty job be being a one of the teachers for children at Site-AM and any other Foundation owned location that might need it.

“I know we here at the Foundation aren’t really the good guys, since we can’t always afford to make the most ethical decisions. but damn does it feel good to bring a smile to an ankle bitter who’s known nothing but neglect and hate. Those faceless bastards at the top only care about containing and utilizing anomalies. But the few times we make sure an anomaly can have a nice home, a loving family, and is protected from the nasty bastards of the world, makes it all worth it.” - Dr. Zeek.

.

SCP: Horror Movie Files Hub

[xaltius]

10 Applications of Artificial Intelligence in Digital Marketing

Artificial intelligence (AI) is no longer a futuristic concept; it's a present-day reality reshaping industries, and digital marketing is no exception. AI is revolutionizing how marketers understand their audience, personalize campaigns, and optimize strategies for unprecedented results. This blog explores 10 powerful applications of AI in digital marketing that you need to know.

1. Personalized Experiences: AI empowers marketers to deliver hyper-personalized content, product recommendations, and offers to individual customers based on their behavior, preferences, and demographics. Think dynamic website content that changes based on who's browsing, or product suggestions that perfectly match past purchases.

2. Content Creation and Optimization: AI tools can assist in generating marketing copy, blog posts, social media updates, and even visual content. They can also analyze existing content to identify areas for improvement and optimize it for search engines and user engagement. Imagine AI suggesting headlines that are more likely to be clicked, or automatically generating different versions of ad copy for A/B testing.

3. Search Engine Optimization (SEO): AI can analyze massive datasets to identify relevant keywords, optimize website structure, and track search engine rankings, helping improve organic visibility. AI-powered SEO tools can automate tedious tasks like keyword research and competitor analysis, freeing up marketers for more strategic work.

4. Social Media Marketing: AI can automate social media posting, analyze audience sentiment, identify trending topics, and even create targeted ad campaigns for specific demographics. AI can also help identify influencers who are most relevant to a brand's target audience.

5. Paid Advertising: AI algorithms can optimize ad bidding, targeting, and creative elements in real-time, maximizing the return on ad spend (ROAS) and driving conversions. AI can dynamically adjust bids based on factors like time of day, user location, and past behavior, ensuring ads are shown to the most likely converters.

6. Customer Relationship Management (CRM): AI can analyze customer data to identify patterns, predict customer behavior, and personalize customer interactions, improving customer satisfaction and loyalty. AI-powered CRM systems can automate tasks like lead scoring and follow-up, ensuring no potential customer slips through the cracks.

7. Email Marketing: AI can personalize email content, optimize send times, and segment email lists based on user behavior, increasing open and click-through rates. AI can also help identify the best email subject lines and content to resonate with different segments of your audience.

8. Chatbots and Virtual Assistants: AI-powered chatbots can provide instant customer support, answer questions, and even qualify leads, freeing up human agents for more complex tasks. Chatbots can be available 24/7, providing instant assistance to customers regardless of their time zone.

9. Marketing Analytics and Reporting: AI can analyze marketing data from multiple channels to provide a holistic view of campaign performance, identify areas for improvement, and generate actionable insights. AI-powered analytics dashboards can provide real-time insights into campaign performance, allowing marketers to make data-driven decisions quickly.

10. Predictive Analytics: AI can predict future customer behavior, such as purchase intent, churn risk, and lifetime value. This allows marketers to proactively target customers with personalized messages and offers, maximizing customer lifetime value.

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Conclusion:

AI is transforming the landscape of digital marketing, offering unprecedented opportunities for personalization, automation, and optimization. By embracing AI and developing the necessary skills, marketers can gain a competitive edge and drive exceptional results. The future of digital marketing is intelligent, and it's powered by AI.