#gimme that bounty you fuckers

[threepandas]

Sun Burnt: Part 3

When a legendary hitman Eye Threatens to break both your fucking legs?

They Are Not Joking.

FUCKING OW.

Still! Jokes on HIM! I'm in to that sh-! Wait, no, not the time for memes! Or is it jokes? Irrelevant! I can still fuckin RUN, is the thing. Sucks to SUCK, Sun boy! Us Lightnings are BUILT DIFFERENT!

And I BETTER not hear any snide "yeah I BET they are" from the peanut gallery!

My Flame type ROCKS! I am a TAZER who can put my fist through WALLS. Stand dead center of a road and just? Fuckin TANK a speeding car! Can YOU? Didn't THINK so! Lightning supremacy! One of you fuckers gimme a highfive! HELL YEAH!

But also? Like... I take back EVERYTHING I ever said about the Carcassa.

ALL OF IT.

They are the GEMS of the Mafia. The SHINING HEARTS of raw compassion! Skull-sama's willingness to PERSONALLY piss off The "I AM The Dread God Lesser Deity's Fear" Reborn? An inspiration to us all. I... I would steal for this man. Like? For FREE. Not DIE for him or anything, God no, but? I would steal really REALLY expensive shit for him!

The man's an absolute mad lad. A LEGEND.

I will NEVER forget this... assuming I survive.

Because somehow HE already has my name, face, and multiple alias plastered OUT FOR THE WORLD TO SEE. Ha ha... oh god. Thaaaaat is a bounty. BIG bounty. Lots of zeros. G...gonna die.

My phone chimes.

"You know exactly who this is. Pick up." The screen reads, right before it rings.

HA HA, NOPE!

I stand, well more like shoot to my feet, from my seat on the ground. Quuuuick steps too the blimp windows. Wrench those open. Sim card out! Crush the phone. AND YEET!!! BeGONE DEMOOOON!

We shall NOT be engaging with The Devil today! No Sir!

.....Skull's phone starts ringing.

I whine like a cornered animal. So... this is what a real life horror movie feels like. NEAT. I hate it! I watch, probably shaking, as Skull-sama casually drags out his phone. Glances down at it. Then over his shoulder at me. He doesn't even fully turn his head. Just one Cloud flame purple eye that seems to light up from within.

He's a happy go lucky guy. Cool dude. But like all Clouds? Fucking HATES cages. Being or SEEING other imprisoned. Trapped. Cornered and forced to do something against their will. And as the planet's STRONGEST Cloud?

He's always had exactly zero problems telling Reborn to fuck off to his face. Even when it gets him shot at. Everyone knew that.

"Sempai! Calling the GREAT Skull De Mort just to CHAT~♡? I KNEW you loved me BESTEST!" He PROJECTS into the phone, his speaking cadence shifting.

He'd been gregarious, bombastic even, the whole time I'd been on board. The sort of guy you can't help but want to buy street food with and check out some weird local sight you heard about. The guy that turns an event into a PARTY. A get together into a memory you TREASURE. Larger then life and unashamedly so.

But this? THIS was the SHOWMAN.

And this was the Showman being Obnoxious and MEAN.

Loud, intentionally grating voice. No break in the endless flood of mind numbing chatter that went no where. Bellowing cackling that even the best of speakers would be hard pressed to handle. Standing near machines and windows so the background noise garbled EVERYTHING.

Let no one say Clouds are not PETTY.

"Hmmmmm~? Your WHAT? Sempai! Don't be SILLY! You can't OWN people! That's SLAVERY! It's against~...!" He turned, leaning like a rock star of old against some navigation compartment. Casually examining his nails with a MEAN and wolfish smile on his face. "Waaaaa! Don't be maaad~ Don't be MAAAAAD~!! You know I'd NEVER lie to YOU, Sempai! I'd never DARE! I promise I'll keep a look out, m'kay? What? Don't hang up? Sorry! Can-KRRRRSHK! n't quite KKKKKRRRRRSK! Heeeeear yoooouuuuu~☆!"

Click.

He casually tossed his phone to one of his men. Ignored it even as it rang and rang. With an excited clap of his hand, he hopped up, out of his loose legged splay to stride over. According to him? We should eat! Have I had Burmese food? It's delicious! One of his guys just got "into" the whole cooking thing! So everyone is being supportive!

I can't help but laugh. Everyone politely ignores how wet it is, as Skull-sama throws an arm over my shoulders and drags me from the cockpit.

I know I'm not safe. But for now? Fuck it. Good enough. Maybe Skull-sama knows someplace Reborn might not IMMEDIATELY find me. And who knows? When this all blows over? Maybe I should join up with his crew. Reborn can't be THAT obsessed. Right? It was just the initial harmony high. With no Sky to actually bind us, he'll lose interest.

Behind me... the phone rings.

And rings.

And RINGS.

[yowyowyaoi]

*Kakuzu and Hidan return to the hideout after a mission; Kakuzu goes straight to his room, and after a while, Hidan follows him*

Hidan: Oi, ‘Kuzu … is something wrong?

Kakuzu, sitting on his bed quietly counting out a stack of money: No. All is well. 

Hidan: *pauses, then moves to stand at the edge of the bed* You’re lying to me, fucker. When ya lie to me ya don’t let me see your eyes.

Kakuzu: In case you’re somehow not seeing what’s in front of your eyes, I’m engaged in something else at the moment, and it requires my full attention.

Hidan: Oh, gimme a fuckin’ break, man. You could count that shit blindfolded. Seriously, what’s up your ass today? You’ve been acting weird since this morning.

Kakuzu: I doubt that you’d understand, brat. 

Hidan: I wish you’d stop treating me like some dipshit kid, old bastard. Me and you … we’re not just fucking, right? We … we got something else goin’ on, right?

Kakuzu, quietly: Yes, we do. 

Hidan: Okay then, you need to start telling me when things are wrong instead of finger-fucking your money.

Kakuzu: *sighs, and scoops up the bills on the bed, putting them on the dresser before patting the spot where they had been* Shut that door, and then come and sit here, please.

*Hidan does as asked and sits by Kakuzu*

Hidan: Well?

Kakuzu: *reaches out with both strong arms and pulls Hidan against his chest, resting his chin in Hidan’s hair*

Hidan, blushing: O-oi! What the hell?!

Kakuzu: Hidan. I … I don’t think I can do this much longer …

Hidan: Well then let go of me, weirdo!

Kakuzu: Not that! I mean … this whole thing. Being in the Akatsuki. The missions, the fighting, the constant traveling and injuries and cheap food and sleeping outside in all kinds of weather … I just can’t anymore.

Hidan: … have you said any of this to Leader?

Kakuzu: Tsk; of course not! He’d kill me for sure!

Hidan: 

Hidan: If you left the Akatsuki, what would you do? Where would you go?

Kakuzu: With luck, drop off the face of the earth. Find a secluded woods somewhere, build a nice little cabin. Hunt, fish, trap furs. Grow things, maybe. But … I can’t. 

Hidan: Why?

Kakuzu: Hidan. As you said earlier, the situation between us involves more than our sexual relationship. In my planning I need to take you into consideration. As absurd as I think they are, you’ve made it clear that you need your Jashin rituals, and the killings, in order to survive. More than that, in order for you to be happy. I can’t uproot you away from something that provides you with a steady stream of —

Hidan: ‘Kuzu. You’ve got to be the biggest dumbest fucker of all time. You realize that I actually need YOU more than any of that shit?

Kakuzu: You do?

Hidan: Yeah, I do. What if we did this thing, and went and made a home for ourselves? Had some little fuckers and all that? It’s not like I still couldn’t find people to sacrifice or you couldn’t still be hunting bounties, right? We’d just have to be careful, and it’s not like we ain’t already used to being careful and shit, so we —

Kakuzu: *pulls Hidan into a deep kiss*

Kakuzu: Hearing you say “we” … makes me feel better than anything in this world. I love you, Hidan.

Hidan, face on fire: L-love you too, you old sap. Now what are we gonna do?

Kakuzu: We have plenty of time to think about it. And at any rate, I know how we can solve at least one of our problems…

*picks out a few large bills from the stack he’d been counting*

Kakuzu: Let’s go out to eat, get some real food for once, eh?

Hidan: … you mean meat?

Kakuzu: Yes, all the bloody meat you want. And bread that doesn’t taste like sawdust, and potatoes …

Hidan: Dessert too?!

Kakuzu: *smiles* Don’t push it, brat.

[divusborgia]

Caesar didn’t take part at the jubilate of the new Pontificate. He left Pisa, where he studied at the university, with the intention of going to Rome to celebrate the new pope, his father, Alessandro VI.  Unexpectedly he was forbidden by the latter, who probably did not yet intend to show off his offspring so blatantly. Perhaps he has done a private visit to his father, but many months will have to be spent before he settles in Rome. Though he was far from Rome and from the Pope’s court, he immediately took advantage of the new power derived from his father’s high office. Siena then had a singular predilection for horse racing. Not yet the races at the Palio. In those days only bull-hunting shows, boxing, other athletic exercises were given. Horse racing was an ancient institution whose origins were lost in time and were all over and alike similar to modern racing. Princes, cardinals, wealthy citizens held horsemen of great price ranging from one city to another at parties. At the time of the Borgias il Magnifico sent his horse to race but also the Lord of Camerino, the Marquis of Mantua, and many other private citizens of Florence, Lucca, Arezzo and of course Siena’s people. The prize consisted almost always of brocades, in gold fabrics, in velvet fabrics, in other fabrics of great value. The horses were mounted by men in the uniform of their signore. To be recognized they wore a sign where the nickname of the boy or a motto were written (e.g: Ho paura di essere l’ultimo, Fa conto senza l’oste). These names and motto at the end of the race were being chanted in the streets by the crowd. In 1492 the races took place on 16 August. Even Caesar, like cardinals and princes, enrolled one of his horses, and no doubt he would have approached that race as well, but on the morning of August 11 the new pope was proclaimed. At four o'clock that afternoon, having walked from Rome to Siena in ten hours, a Roman courier entered Siena from the Roman door and stood in Piazza del Campo, in front of the wonderful palace of the lordship: Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia was the new pope. Caesar was no longer able to attend his horse race and returned to Pisa in a hurry to make preparations for his departure to Rome. However his horse competed and won the race. It seems that, in order to get victorious from the race, the jockey of Cesare Borgia played smarter. At one point, in the act of the race, he deliberately threw himself to the ground; the horse, freed from the weight of the jockey, increased in speed and reached the goal. The jockey trick provoked controversy. Caesar Borgia had had a powerful rival in that race: none but the Gonzaga marquis of Mantua. The marquis of Gonzaga protested, the judges of the race welcomed the protests and contested the victory of the Borgia. Except he was now the Pope’s son. His power began, actually his arrogance began. When he arrived at Caprarola (Viterbo), he was informed of victory and controversy, immediately went to the table and wrote to the governors of Siena. The letter speaks of injustice and the preservation of honor but the final part is truly interesting: “We’ll do things that will be pleasurable and honorable for your magnificent people and the most noble community”. Thus writes the seventeen-year-old student of Pisa to the governors of Pisa and governors of the republic of Siena. In those words, one perceives the son of the new pope, already aware of his power. If his protests or promises have reached the intent, we don’t know. Caesar, meanwhile, obeying his father’s order, continued his journey to Spoleto, the valued and faithful papal city. Spoleto, however, was not only a strong bastion of the Pontifical State, but also a center of humanistic culture. Perhaps Alexander VI confined his son here to deepen that culture. Undoubtedly he might have been dedicated also to his favorite hunting and athletic pursuits.

Source: Cesare Borgia. La sua vita, la sua famiglia, i suoi tempi by Gustavo Sacerdote

[thefatedthoughtofyou]

Dirty Deeds (Done Dirt Cheap) - Part 16

Summary: Sam inherits Steve Roger's crime empire after a handful of his men betray and kill him. The rest of the crime world, sensing an opening, go after Sam and the territories he's inherited from Steve. Thankfully, Steve left him a number, someone to call if he ever needs help. Someone, Steve claimed, he can trust. But can Sam really trust a mercenary with that much blood on his name? And that many knives in his pockets.

WARNINGS: (there will eventually be all of these things) blood, violence, murder, shooting, stabbing, sex, blood play , food related things: malnutrition, feeding, blow jobs, bathing/washing, chronic pain. Limb loss and regrowth. Bullet wounds. Gore.

18+ Content: Make Good Choices Kids <3

Ao3

He wakes to the sun warming his face, and burning his eyes, as it shines through the heavy curtains over the window that isn't his. His sits up quickly, breathing heavy, before he remembers he's at Sam's. He rubs at his eyes as his heart calms, the pounding in his ears fading as he swings his feet out of bed. He rests his elbows on his knees and then rests his head in his hands. A knock at the door comes, he doesn't move.

"Mr. Barn- sorry, Bucky?" Comes Torres's voice through the door.

"Yeah?" Bucky asks, still not moving.

"Sam's in his office. Whenever you're ready." The kid says, Bucky nods and then realizes Torres can't see him.

"I'll be down presently." He says, as sarcastically as he can through his freshly awakened haze. He hears Torres snort on the other side of the door.

"I'll let him know." There's a pause, the sound of Torres taking a few steps and then turning around.

"There's some fresh cut fruit in the kitchen if you're hungry." His voice says, quietly, Bucky can practically see him blushing on the other side of the door.

"Thanks kid." He says, finally moving, lifting his head and watching as Torres' shadow disappears from the space beneath the door.

He sighs and looks at the ceiling, poping his neck before looking back down. There are blood stains on the carpet from the day before. He can see Helen's footprints in some of them. He'd have to thank her again. She was always saving him when he was being an idiot. He grabs at his boots near the foot of the bed. Pulling on the pair of socks that had been shoved into them. He tucks the baggy sweats he'd been given into his boots and laces them tightly, grimacing at the feel of left over blood around his foot.

He makes his way downstairs, passing the kitchen without a glance, stopping outside of Sam's office. He takes a deep breath and then knocks, three raps of his knuckles in rapid succession.

"Come in." Sam's voice says. He sounds tired. Bucky turns the knob and walks into the dark office, closing the door behind him. He turns to see Sam watching him.

"Feeling better?" He asks, and Bucky can't tell if he's genuinely asking or just being an ass. Bucky smiles at him and drops himself into one of the chairs in front of Sam's desk.

"All good. Shouldn't you be... not here?" Bucky asks, pointing around the room, glaring at Sam.

"I've been in here for ten mintues. And I wasn't having this conversation in that fucking panic room." Sam says, laying his hands flat on the desk and glaring back. Bucky looks at him, he still looks tired, and annoyed. Bucky fights a smirk, knowing he's annoyed because of him. He thinks back, remembers the one time he'd spent time in that room with Steve, and decides to let it go.

"Fair enough." He says, nodding. He watches Sam's eyes widen, clearly shocked, for just the fraction of a second before he schooled his features again.

"So. Who are these people?" Sam asks, leaning back, relaxing a bit in his chair. Bucky takes a deep breath.

"They are... assassins. Old friends of mine, actually. Well, friends is probably a strong word. Let's go with acquaintances. We've worked together a few times." Bucky explained, badly.

"Acquaintances." Sam says, his voice flat as he stares at Bucky. Bucky nods.

"You're acquaintances, are trying to kill me." Sam says, voice still emotionless.

"Past acquaintances." Bucky says with a tilt of his head. Sam closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, Bucky presses his lips together, trying not to smile.

"So someone hired them? To kill me?" Sam asks, his eyes opening slowly.

"I would assume so, yeah. That's usually how it works unless-" Bucky froze, his fingers curling around the arms of the chair so hard the wood creaked.

"Unless?" Sam asked, his eyebrows rising, impatience in his voice.

"Gimme your phone." He said, holding his hand out. Sam stared at him, not moving, Bucky shook his hand and Sam moved to dig it out of his pocket. He held it out, pulling it back a little as Bucky reached for it, his eyes widening again.

"I'm not gonna do anything bad." Bucky said, he was leaning foward now, his butt on the edge of his seat as his out stretched hand chased after Sam's. Sam moved forward again, dropping the phone in his hand.

Bucky tapped at the screen for a few moments, checking all the usual places, the number that popped onto the screen when he entered his passcode had his stomach turning. He grimaced at the phone and sighed, shaking his head.

"What? What is it?" Sam asked, his voice hard now, like he was reaching the end of his patience.

"They put a bounty on you." Bucky said, erasing the history in Sam's phone and tossing it back. He watched Sam check the screen and then put the phone away again. Watched him swallow roughly before looking back up at Bucky.

"How much?"

"A lot." Bucky said, licking his lips and shoving the baggy sleeves of Sam's shirt up his arms.

"How much Barnes?" Sam almost growled at him. Bucky took a deep breath and leaned forward.

"75 million."

Sam's eyes widened again, he stared at Bucky.

"Seventy five..." Sam trailed off, his eyes going a bit glassy.

"Million. Yeah." Bucky finished, furrowing his brow as he looked at Sam.

"They really want you dead man." Bucky said, grimacing slightly as soon as the words left his mouth.

"Yeah no shit." Sam said.

"Sorry." Bucky shrugged, leaned back in his chair again.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do now? I'm not fucking living in that goddamn panic room. I'll go insane." Sam said, pushing himself to his feet, his chair rolling backwards with the force of it.

"I don't know yet." Bucky said.

"You don't know? That's fuckin helpful!" Sam shouted, throwing his hands up at his sides.

"Hey, I'm working on it. These people? Everyone, that's gonna be coming after you? They're trained. Like me and Wade. They're not just a room full of mobsters trying to play highnoon at the O.K. Corral." Bucky tried to keep his voice level. Sam turned on him fast.

"Oh and that went so well didn't it? You got shot. Twice. And Wade lost a fucking arm. And a foot. Somehow!" Sam growled, stalking closer to Bucky. He stayed in his seat, not rising to the argument Sam was trying to start.

"What can I say? Shit happens. And the foot was... later." Bucky said, avoiding Sam's eyes at the memory of cutting off Wade's foot.

"Listen," he started, before Sam could shout at him again.

"I understand you're stressed. This shit, is stressful. But if you go into this half cocked, people are gonna die. Your people. And I know you don't want that. And I know that you're smart. You know it's not a good idea to rush this." Bucky stood finally, putting himself eye level with Sam.

"I know you're wound tight right now. But you gotta calm down. Just, take a breath. And we can brain storm. And then we can kill these fuckers, and get your shit back under control." Bucky reached out, aiming for Sam's shoulder and hitting nothing but air as Sam pulled away from him. He made a fist in the air and dropped his hand. Watching Sam stare at him, his chest rising and falling quickly. He took a deep breath, his hands moving toward himself, motioning for Sam to do the same. He held in the smile threatening at his lips as Sam did as he was directed. Bucky let the breath out, nodding as Sam did the same.

He watched Sam lean against the desk, his hand holding him up as he took another slow breath.

"Better?" Bucky asked, tilting his head to get into Sam's eyeline.

"Yes." Sam sounded annoyed. He moved his hand over his face and stood up straight again.

"We need a plan then." Sam said, his eyes going steely as he looked at Bucky. Bucky could see the gears turning, Sam's thoughts racing behind his eyes.

"That we do. A good one too. Like the ones Steve used to tell me stories about." Bucky said, smirking when Sam's eyes snapped to him, looking shocked again and forgetting to hide it.

"He was proud of you Sam." Bucky took a step forward.

"He wouldn't have left this to you, if he didn't think you could handle it." Bucky wanted to reach out again, give Sam's shoulder a squeeze, but he didn't, he bit his lip and nodded instead. His eyes locked on Sam's, waiting for him to respond. Sam nodded back, slowly, and opened his mouth to say something. The house shaking around them and the explosion that filled the air cut him off, making Bucky's ears ring as they both dropped to the floor, crouching next to Sam's desk, Bucky putting himself between Sam and the only entrance to his office.

Bucky looked to the door, Torres burst in, and he could see a cloud of dust in the hall behind him.

"What do we do?" Torres shouted, there was blood dripping out of his ears, he kept wiping at it. Bucky grabbed his wrists, stopping him.

"You all have to get out if here. Take Maria and Helen and go. I'll take Sam." He shouted, raising his brows at Torres until he nodded. Bucky looked at Sam, he was crouched next to him, his side pressed to Bucky's as he watched them, his eyes moving to the door over and over.

"Everyone else needs to scatter. I don't care where. There's safe houses all over the city. Get to one. And stay there." He looked at Torres again, waiting for him to process what he'd told him.

"Okay! Be careful!" He shouted back, each of his hands going to Bucky and Sam's shoulders, they nodded at him. Bucky watched him disappear again, coughing as he ran into the hall, shouting for Helen and Maria. Bucky turned back to Sam, the ringing in his ears quieting.

"I'm gonna get you outta here. Stay close to me." He grabbed Sam's hand, stood up, and placed Sam's hand on his shoulder.

"Do not let go until I say you can." He told Sam, staring at him.

"I won't." Sam said, shouting a little, his ears no doubt ringing as well. Bucky nodded, felt Sam's hand fist in his shirt, and ran out into the hall.

He stayed low, Sam right behind him, as he made his way through the dusty hall, he didn't see much damage. The explosion must have been at the other end of the house, or at least around the corner. Bucky couldn't tell, it had been loud, but that didn't mean it had been close. They ran into a few gaurds on their way, Sam echoing Bucky's orders to scatter at them and sending them on their way. Bucky pushed the kitchen door open slowly, looking into the empty room before dragging Sam through the door. He stood up then, moving to the pantry, he moved into it and shut the door behind him.

"You can let go." He told Sam, and felt his tight grip disappear.  He moved his hand over the shelf along the right wall, looking for what he knew was there.

"Why are we in the pantry?" Sam whispered, still staying close to Bucky's side.

"Because, somewhere around here, there's a..." Bucky trailed off, his hands moving under the shelf now, fingers searching.

"Aha! There's a switch." He told Sam, smiling at him as he pressed it, the wall sliding to the side, opening to show a small dark room.

"Come on." Bucky said, motioning for Sam to go before him. He stepped in after him and slid the wall back into place.

"What is this?" Sam asked, looking around in the extremely dimly lit room. Bucky looked at him for a moment, and then grabbed the rifle hanging on the wall. He swung the strap over his head, so the gun was resting agaisnt his back.

"It's a-" Bucky turned to Sam in the low light.

"It's a secret get away tunnel." He said, smiling an awkward smile. He bent down and grabbed the duffle bag that was waiting on the floor, hanging that around his neck as well.

"A secret..." Sam's voice trailed off.

"Get away tunnel, yeah. I know it sounds made up, but I promise it's not. Excuse me." Bucky gently nudged Sam out of the way, pressing him back agaisnt one wall before kneeling down. He pressed his hands to the ground, hard, and then lifted them, watching as the previously invisible square of concrete lifted from the floor. Bucky lifted the hatch to reveal a ladder and looked up Sam.

"After you." He said, smiling. Sam glared down at him before kneeling at his side.

"Where does this go? How long has this been here?" He asked, not moving. Bucky looked at him and sighed.

"It's been here forever. Since before the house was here. And it goes somewhere safe. Now can we please." He motioned to the dark hole in the floor. Sam looked at him skeptically for another short moment and then moved, setting one foot on the ladder and then climbing in.

"There we go. Okay." Bucky waited for Sam to disappear into the dark before lowering himself onto the ladder and following. Once he was far enough in, he reached up and pulled the hatch shut above him, sending them into complete darkness.

"Hey!" Sam's shakey voice called from below him.

"Sorry bout that. But we can't leave it open." Bucky heard Sam sigh in relief beneath him as his foot hit the floor. Bucky went down a few more steps before jumping down. He tensed when he felt Sam's hand on his shoulder.

"Hang on a sec i haaaave..." Bucky drug out the last word as he rummaged in the duffle bag. His hands found what they were looking for quickly and he brought it out, snapping the large glow stick and shaking it in front of him as light bloomed before them. He watched Sam's body droop as the orange light pushed the darkness back a bit.

"Afraid of the dark are we?" Bucky teased, handing Sam the glow stick and grabbing another for himself. He popped it and laughed at the look Sam was giving him.

"Not the dark. Dark, strange tunnels, underneath my house? Maybe." Sam said, rolling his eyes as he held the light up, looking at their surroundings.

Behind the ladder was a solid concrete wall, and opposite that, the tunnel stretched on in a pitch black square. Bucky took a deep breath, looking into the dark.

"We gotta go." He told Sam, taking a few steps, Sam didn't move.

"Where does this go?" He asked again, his eyes locked on the darkness ahead of them. Bucky rolled his eyes, moving back a step, he grabbed Sam's hand, snapping him out of the shock he was in.

"Come on. We have to go." Sam shook his head, as if to clear it, and Bucky tugged on his hand, pulling Sam into the dark without further explanation.

~

They walked for miles. Bucky never letting go of Sam's hand. He ignored the way Sam never once tried to pull out of his grasp. They passed one or two off shooting tunnles on the way, but nothing else. Not even rats. Which was Bucky was glad for, he fuckin hated seeing rats down here. Sam stayed quiet, keeping pace mostly, and staying close. Their dim lights eventually illuminated another ladder and Bucky finally released Sam's hand, ignoring the sweat on his palm, wiping it on his pants.

Bucky climbed up the ladder, pressed his thumb to the print reader there, and waited for the click. He shoved the hatch open with a grunt, squinting as light shown into his eyes, not bright light, but after being in the dark for so long, he may as well have been looking into the sun. He climbed a few more steps and noticed he didn't hear Sam climing after him. He sighed, and climbed out if the hole, turning and looking back down. He could see Sam, his hand on the ladder in the circle of light, looking up at him.

"What's up there Bucky?" He asked again, tucking his glowstick into the waist of his pants, resting both hands on the ladder now.

Bucky sighed, his neck feeling hot as he looked at Sam. He fell back onto his heels and rubbed at his neck, his fingers dragging through his hair as he rolled his eyes at himself, his stomach twisting. He cleared his throat and leaned back over the hole in the floor, looking down at Sam looking up at him. He took a deep breath.

"My place." He sighed.

"It's my place."

Sam stared at him for a moment, hands clenching and unclenching on the ladder. Bucky heard him take a deep breath before lifting his foot onto the ladder as well. Bucky's stomach swam nervously as he watched Sam climb toward the light, moving closer and closer to him. 

Closer to his, abandoned, dilapidated, mess of a building. Closer to his emtpy frigde. Closer to his sparce furniture and sheetless beds. Bucky watched Sam climb closer and closer, his heart beating faster and faster. His hands itching to slam the hatch shut with each rung Sam moved past. Why the fuck had he brought Sam here. Sam's hand hit the top rung and then reached out, startling Bucky out of his thoughts. Sam looked up at Bucky, his eyes squinting from the light.

Bucky grabbed his hand, a strained smile on his lips, his heart pounding in his ears, his stomach fluttering as his thoughts raced.

Bucky held onto his hand tightly, and pulled Sam out of the dark.

[victoria-daydreams]

Till Kingdom Come

Chapter Nine: Home on the Range

AN: I’m back! I had trouble writing certain parts of this chapter and at one point I gave up and started writing for the next two chapters. But finally this chapter is done. I also published a playlist for this story that had been sitting in my drafts. Listening to some of the songs I selected as you read through the chapters is just *chef’s kiss*. After this chapter I’m probably going to take break from the story since writing this particular chapter was so draining for some reason. But hopefully when I return I will be feeling rejuvenated and ready to write again.

Happy Holidays!!!

Word Count: 5.1k

Trigger Warnings: violence, racial slurs/dated language

Taglist: @nerds4life246​

Chapter Ten: The Black Belle of the West

Sabine was fond of saloons just as much as anyone else, but tonight she visiting the establishment strictly for business. The bounty of Percy "The Fiend" Doyle had been issued by Sheriff Horace Lane, a man who usually offered the bounties that Sabine and the rest of the immortals took up. Working with him was quite the eye opening experience for Sabine. The sheriff was in the minority of accepting women and colored folks as a bounty hunters in a usually white, male-dominated occupation. It gave Sabine some comfort to know that there were some men who didn't let ego, bigotry, or ideas of femininity completely cloud their judgement.

Sabine swirled her bourbon around in its short glass as her eyes scanned over the saloon. The billiard room was so thick with smoke from cigarettes and cigars that it nearly burned her lungs, and the strains of piano music could be heard far off amidst laughter and chatter in the saloon. Laughter that came from rowdy men and pleasurable squeals from the working women lounging in the arms of their potential clients. Throwing back her shot, Sabine placed her glass down and began her prowl for the wanted man.

It was easier said than done.

There were so many people in the saloon that Sabine was having a hard time finding the outlaw. She moved from person to person, to table to table, until she found a familiar looking face. The unshaven beard, the wild, black hair, and the liver-spotted face. She took out the poster that she had been given, and compared the face on it with the man that she was looking at. No doubt, it was a match.

She stuffed the handbill into her chest and pulled the sleeves on her dress down to her shoulders. And with a vivacious smile, she strutted over to the table where The Fiend was playing poker with several other men.

"Anyone one you fellas named Doyle?" Sabine asked, placing her hands on hips.

"Who wants to know?" The Fiend questioned defensively.

Sabine shrugged, "You see, I'm new here and Charlie told me that you're a regular," she explained, playing the stereotypical vapid floozy. "And you always likes to see the new ones," she said, twirling a strand of her hair.

The Fiend looked Sabine over and smirked, "Never laid with a negress before, but I guess you'll do," he remarked, eliciting a few chuckles from the men around him.

The Fiend picked up his glass and downed his whiskey in one swift motion and excused himself with a wolfish smile, showing off his disgusting teeth. Sticking her hand out, Sabine sent the man an alluring smile and the man readily took it and she began to guide him up the wide staircase, The Fiend swatting her behind as they went. She tried not to tense nor flinch when she felt his hand, his action briefly transporting her back to her time on the Martin Plantation, but keeping her cool Sabine maintained her composure. The two of them made their way down a dimly lit hallway, where prostitutes lingered in their doors, smiling flirtatiously at him.

"Gimme a holler if you want a second inning, mister," one girl called, and winked at him, while another blew him a kiss.

They reach the end of the hall to "Sabine's" room and she opened the door, ushering him into it and closed the door behind her. Sabine smiled coquettishly at him as he began to undress, unbuttoning his shirt.

"What's your name?" he asked, pulling the shirt from his body.

"Lisa,"

"Well Lisa, I hope that you don't mind licking," he commented, his tongue darting out from his lower lip.

Sabine felt bile rise in her throat at the gesture, the very thought of his tongue making contact with any part of her made her want to gag. It was repulsive.

Sabine began tugging at her own clothes, "I don't pay no mind to that," she lied smoothly, allowing her dress to fall to the floor.

"Good girl," he cooed, eyeing her from head to toe. "You know, you're a lot prettier than the last one. Hardly had any teeth, and no tits," he described, shaking his head in distaste. "She was a flat thing, and I never liked flat. I wouldn't have mind all that, if she hadn't been such a bad fucker," he remarked, before letting out a sigh and plopping down on the bed. "I enjoyed seeing that bullet go between those blue eyes," he mentioned casually, tugging his boots off.

Sabine feigned shock, "You mean you killed her?" she asked, her voice slightly high pitched, placing her hand on her chest.

"Sure did!" he boasted, a large grin on his face. "She won't the only one too. Five other whores have been met similar fates all across this state," he informed. "I don't like to kill women folk, but if they disappoint old Fiend here, well I don't have a choice then," he went on. "Men are a whole lot easier to kill, they don't usually scream. When I robbed a bank in the Dakotas, I shot this lady and she screamed like a harpy. A shame that I wasn't able to strangle her instead," he finished, shaking his head and laughing lightly.

"It sounds like you've done a lot of killing," Sabine commented, feeling her disgust rise higher and higher at the sorry excuse of man in front of her.

"Oh darlin', it's what I do. I know it's probably not smart to talk to you about this, but if the noose ain't around my neck by now, then I don't think it'll ever be," he gloated, shrugging his shoulders.

She turned to The Fiend and smiled, "You sound like a very smart man," she complimented, watching him unzip his pants.

"What I am is horny," he corrected, staring at her hungrily. "Now come over here and let me get a better look at you," he ordered, beckoning her over.

Sabine walked over to The Fiend and he laid back on the bed, tucking his arms underneath his head. She planted her foot on the bed and slowly began to draw her chemise up.

"I'm sure many people are wanting your head, mister," Sabine mused, biting her lip.

The Fiend shrugged again, "I've got a bounty. About 7,500 dollars. Bunch of bullshit if you ask me, I'm worth a lot more," he proclaimed, puffing his chest out a bit.

"You know, I'd have to disagree,"

Sabine pulled her skirt up to her thigh, revealing her revolver in its holster. Before The Fiend could even react, she whipped out her gun and shot him dead center in the forehead.

"7,500 is far too much for you, bastard,"

High pitched screams and confused shouts rung out from behind her door and below her as she heard of flurry of movement downstairs. Blowing the barrel of her gun off, she slid the revolver back into its holster. Sabine picked up her clothes and redressed herself, mentally reciting the words she was about to say to the more than likely frenzied crowd that was going to be at her door in any moment.

"Everybody calm down, I mean no one else any harm," she would begin. "I am Corinna Vance, a legal representative of the Criminal Justice System of the United States of America. And this man here was a wanted man," she would explain, unfolding the warrant that matched Percy 'The Fiend' Doyle's description.

~~~x~~~

The sound of cheers, clapping, and the thumping of feet against wood reverberated in the air alongside the instruments being played. Strumming and singing to the rhythm of the tune, Sabine felt herself smile at the small audience who were clearly enjoying her performance. She didn't plan on doing this, not in the slightest, Sabine thought maybe around this time of the day she would be having a cup of coffee after finally getting up from bed from the long night she had. She had been tracking down another bounty given to her, this time she didn't even go under a pretense, she just sniped him from afar.

A well deserved rest was in store for her, she could taste it on her tongue.

But then, as soon as she rode into Hickory, Sabine was surrounded by children begging her to play on the banjo. And as much as she wanted to say 'no', Sabine could see the way their eyes lit up at the mere prospect of her performing.

And so she played.

So now that I am old and gray Listen close to what I say The white folks, they will write the show If you can't read, you'll never know

Sabine watched as the children swung each other around to the sound of the fiddle player, his bow striking across the strings as he rolled out the notes. She stared off to her side as she plucked the strings of the banjo with her skilled fingers. Bastien was sitting on their porch drinking from his flask, a smile was stretched upon his face at the cheerful kids in front of him.

Weeks had passed since the incident in Bastien's bedroom, and like with the 'river incident' the two of them mutually agreed in silence that nothing happened. Because technically, it was true. Yes, she and Bastien had a...heated moment that came close to a kiss, but did they do it? No. But of course that didn't stop Josef and Nicky from teasing her, because they knew something had gone down behind the Frenchmen's door.

Better git yer learnin' Better git yer learnin' Better git yer learnin' Before it goes away

Sabine and the fiddler drew the song to a finish, playing the same notes with much enthusiasm and joy. The last note rang out in the air and everyone from the children to the adults lounging around to hear Sabine play erupted in applause.

She did a little bow, "Thank you, thank you," she said, smiling herself. "Like the song I was just singing," she began, gazing at the young children in front of her. "You all need to get your learnin', so back to the schoolhouse," she ordered gently, and all the children simultaneously groaned. Sabine shook her head and wagged her finger. "I will be hearing none of it. Go on, off with you. Playtime is over," she informed, shooing them away with her hand.

Sabine pushed herself up from her seat on the porch step and turned around to see Bastien looking at her already.

"Quite a dark song to sing to children," he stated, with a chuckle. "'Ol' Massah found out, sure enough. And poor old Nick, he got strung up,'" he recited, putting the cap of his flask back on and tightening it.

Sabine walked closer to him, "It is true though," she responded, holding her banjo by the neck. "The penalty was death if a slave was caught trying to educate themselves," she continued, look down the road where the small schoolhouse was. "I'm glad they don't have to suffer or be beaten for wanting to learn," she added.

"I am too,"

She her turned attention back to him, "Why are you drinking so early?" she asked curiously. "It's only eleven," she pointed out.

"Well, in France I believe it's five o'clock," he retorted, slightly grinning.

Sabine snatched the flask from his grip, "That's not an excuse," she said letting out a laugh and running away from him into the house.

As soon as she crossed the threshold of the front door, Sabine felt a hand wrap around her waist and spin her around. Giggles bubbled from her throat as her surroundings whirled around.

"You two having fun?"

Andy's voice shattered Sabine and Bastien from being in their own little world and he quickly placed her on feet, grabbing his flask back with little resistance.

"Morning Andy," Sabine greeted awkwardly, scratching the back of her neck and making her way to the den area.

"Your hunting go well?" she questioned, glancing back down at her newspaper.

"Plentiful," Sabine answered, laying the instrument against the wall. She shrugged her knapsack off her shoulder before reaching into the bag and pulled out a wad of cash. "It's all here. All $7,500 of it," she beamed, walking back over to Andy and handing her the cash.

Sabine remembered bringing the body of the outlaw to the sheriff and him giving her reward. He promised that all the money was there, but she counted the money nonetheless. It was better to be safe than sorry in her opinion.

Andy smiled and nodded, "Nice job," she complimented. "I'd figured you would want to wash up, so I heated some water up for you," Andy explained. "Booker, if you would be so kind to take that pitcher to the washroom," she requested.

"Sure boss," he answered, and walked over to the stove, wrapping the pitcher's handle with a towel.

Sabine watched as his figure disappear down the short hall where the washroom was located, but stopped when she felt like there were eyes on her.

She glanced over to the oldest immortal who had her brow arched, "What?" she asked, removing her hat from her head.

"I've been hearing...rumblings," Andy began, her voice low as she folded the newspaper up.

"Rumblings about what?"

"That something transpired between you and Book while I was away," Andy answered.

Sabine scoffed slightly, "Josef and Nicky said something didn't they?" she questioned, taking off jacket. "What did the two gossipers say?" she asked again, turning around to go hang her things up.

"Nothing compromising if that's what you're worried about," she reassured. "Matter of fact, I'm not completely sure what is going on," she admitted, the chair creaking underneath her as she stood up. "I have an inkling due to Joe's teasing mood as of late,"

Sabine shrugged casually, trying to brush off Andy's suspicions.

She turned around, "It's Josef, when isn't he teasing one of us," she said, with a chuckle.

Andy approached her, "Booker is fond of you," she said bluntly, just loud enough for only her to hear.

Sabine's mouth opened and closed like a fish, trying to form words, "W-Well, I hope he would be, we've only known each other for a decade-"

"That's not what I mean and you know it,"

"Is everything alright?"

Sabine stared past Andy's shoulder and saw Bastien looking at the two of them with a slight frown.

"Yes," Sabine answered, flashing him a smile. "Just us two gals talking," she explained, moving past Andy. "Thanks again for the bathwater," she added, looking over her shoulder at the oldest immortal.

Andy let out a chuckle in disbelief, "Sure, no problem Sabine," she replied, shaking her head.

Sabine went down the hall and pushed the door closed, seeing her clothes that she forgot she left in there folded neatly. Sighing gratefully, she stripped herself from the clothes she was wearing and put them aside before she rinsed her hair. Next, she soaped her face and hands, humming to herself as went. She carefully rinsed her face before taking a wash rag to the rest of her. Finally, Sabine bathed her body and shivers ran down her spine from the chill in the house. She quickly dried herself as best she could and dressed herself in her clothes from the day before.

Dirty clothes in hand, Sabine left the small washroom and out to the main area where Andy, Nicky, and Josef were all seated at the table while Bastien was

Josef's eyes lit up at the sight of her, "My good friends, I think we have a genteel lady in our presence again," he commented, staring at her outfit.

Sabine rolled her eyes and did a little twirl, her skirt dancing at her ankles, "Yes, it is I, Lady Sabine," she announced, straightening her posture and lifting her hand in the air.

Doing a quick bow Sabine left the den, walking towards her bedroom to place her things down and return back to the main area of the home.

"You know that Juneteenth is approaching soon?" Sabine asked, tucking the sides of her blouse into her skirt a little more. "Last year we missed out on the festivities, too busy chasing down outlaws," she remarked, going to pour herself a cup of coffee.

"Ah yes! I can hardly wait!" Josef cheered. "Good food, good drink, music, and dancing. Who could ask for more?" he added, leaning back in chair with his arms behind his head.

"We could all use a bit of fun," Nicky chimed in, as Sabine looked up from her cup.

"But not too much fun," Andy suggested cautiously. “I am not trying to play nanny to any of you,” she joked, a smile reaching her lips.

Sabine went to join the group, "Oh come on Andy," she complained, pulling her damp hair over her shoulder.  She walked past Bastien, lightly letting her finger trail across his shoulder, his body stiffening in response. "Bastien is our resident functioning alcoholic," she quipped, taking a seat next to him. "I think we'll be just fine," she added.

~~~x~~~

A light breeze swept through Hickory as Sabine did her afternoon chores outside.

She looked over the clothesline to see children sitting around Hans listening to him tell stories from his homeland. They were interesting tales that had the kids attention completely eaten up. Just the way he told them made them all the more captivating. His hand gestures, the voices he would give the characters, even the facial expressions he put into it. It made her wondered why he didn't teach at a fancy school somewhere instead of...being here.

Sabine pinned another shirt onto the line and lifted her eyes from her work again, just in time to meet Hans' gaze. He sent her a quick wink as he continued his storytelling, she chuckled to herself and shook her head as she bent down to pick up another article of clothing. The sound of a bell being vigorously rung echoed in the air followed by the loud chatter of children passing by her home.

Back to the schoolhouse they go.

Attaching her chemise to the line with clothespins, Sabine could see from the corner of her eye Hans' form strolling over to her.

"Afternoon Miss Vance," he greeted, from the other side of the clothesline.

"Afternoon," she echoed, wiping her hands dry on her dress.

"Hard at work I see," he joked, motioning to the drying laundry.

Sabine chuckled slightly, "Trust me, I've done harder," she replied, knowing the statement would go right over his head.

Hans didn't know that she was a slave, he didn't ask, so she didn't tell. Sabine always wondered if he didn't ask out of dignity or out of pity.

"Then let me grant you a reprieve," he said, sticking his arm out. Sabine glanced over to the clothesline and Hans chuckled. "I make better company than the laundry, I promise," he assured, a twinkle in his eye.

"I guess you have a point," Sabine agreed, her lips quirking up into a smile as she walked over to him.

"How about a ride to the nearby meadow?" Hans suggested, glancing over at her.

"That sounds lovely Hans," she agreed, before walking over to her horse.

Freedom was a beautiful horse, Sabine knew so. The animal was well built, a white stripe ran down nose, her coat a light brown that seemed to drop into a darker brown around her under belly and legs. Yes, Sabine adored the horse, it was her companion on her many bounty hunting trips. She stroked Freedom gently and in return the horse nuzzled her shoulder.

"Good girl," she cooed, giving the horse a pat and mounting it.

Sabine maneuvered her horse, guiding it to the front of her home where Hans waited on top of his own steed.

"Race you there," Sabine said, squeezing her legs on the horse's sides.

Freedom's light trot turned into a sprint as she took off, Sabine felt her plait bounce on her back as she sped off, looking back at the German with a wide unmistakable smile on her lips. Hans flashed his soft gray eyes at her, smiling back as he tugged on his reigns to catch up with her and ride at Sabine's side. Leaning her body back a little, let out a whoop as she felt the wind rush past her.

Soon, the two of them found themselves at a wide meadow full of flowers and tall, green grass.

Slowing her horse down, Sabine gazed at the scenery with a small grin and dismounted Freedom. Hans followed behind her, hopping off his saddle and dusted off a sprinkling of dirt on his horse's rear. Sabine lowered herself onto the ground and laid on her back, not caring if grass got in her hair. Without taking her eyes off the clouds in the sky, Sabine could hear Hans plop himself down next to her.

"Not that I'm not grateful," Sabine began, staring at a cloud that reminded her of a feather. "But why did you bring me out here?" she asked, lazily turning her head in his direction. "The porch is a very comfortable place to sit as you know," she joked.

"Too many prying eyes," Hans answered, staring down at her.

"What? My friends?" she questioned, with a chuckle. "They're harmless," she assured, giving a dismissive wave.

"You sure about that?" he asked back, letting out a laugh of his own. "What's his name, Samuel? I don't think he's that much fond of me," he commented, taking his hat off.

"Oh, Samuel is like that with everyone," Sabine replied, knowing that was lie.

"Miss Vance, I think you're lying to me," he stated, tearing some grass from the ground.

Sabine snickered, "Was it that obvious?" she wondered, resting her hands on her stomach.

"Just a little," he replied, pinching his fingers closely together.

"Samuel is...Samuel is something else," Sabine explained lamely. "He can be a bit cold towards people he doesn't know. I wouldn't take it personally," she instructed.

Hans hummed, "I'll take your word for it," he responded, stroking his beard, clearly not sold on the idea.

Sabine laughed lightly, "Anyways, did you have fun telling your stories today?" she asked, pushing herself up onto her elbows.

"It was wunderbar!" Hans answered, with a grin. "The children seemed to be hooked onto my every last word I said," he recalled proudly.

"I don't doubt it," Sabine agreed. "It makes me wonder why you're not a teacher in some big, fancy school in New York," she commented, looking at him in curiosity.

"I use to tutor children from the upper class for many years and life soon became monotonous for me," he explained, staring out into the meadow. "I kept hearing people say that 'The West' is full of opportunities and new experiences and I couldn't help myself," he went on, shrugging a little. "I know I'm a bit old, but I couldn't shake that sense of adventure off me," he finished, turning towards her with a grin.

"I think you're never too old to have a sense of adventure," Sabine disagreed. "You only get one life, why not live it?" she questioned, managing to keep a straight face as the hypocritical statement slipped past her lips.

"And what about you?" Hans inquired, lightly tapping her thigh. "The children have told me that you are quite the singer," he informed. "Your voice could take you places," he suggested.

Sabine scoffed, "Where would I sing?" she challenged. "In a fucking minstrelsy show to humiliate myself?" she asked, shaking her head.

"Goodness no," he disagreed vehemently. "And I wouldn't want you to subject yourself to that," he added. "I just thought with your singing-"

"There isn't a stage in America that would let my colored ass perform," she cut in. "Look Hans, you may not know this, but being a female bounty hunter sometimes isn't really the most grateful job. Whether it's because you don't have a cock or your skin is not the color of milk. But at the end of the day, I still enjoy what I do. It helps me provide for myself and my friends, takes me to new places, and meet new people along the way," Sabine continued, running her hand through the grass. "Plus, I get paid to kill white folks," she added, a smirk on her face.

"An added bonus I'm sure," Hans responded, with a chuckle. He began to play with his hands before looking at Sabine again. "May I hear you sing?" he requested, with a hopeful look on his face.

"What?" Sabine asked, raising her brow. "Come on," she complained, throwing her head back.

"I haven't had the pleasure of hearing you sing," Hans pointed out.

Sabine exhaled dramatically, "Okay, fine, fine," she conceded, pushing herself up completely.

One evening as I rambled among the springing thyme I overheard a young woman conversing with Reynardine.

Her hair was black, and her eyes were blue, her lips as red as wine. And he smiled as he gazed upon her, did that sly bold Reynardine.

"That's it, I'm not singing any further," Sabine stated, lifting her hands in the air. "If I sing anymore this week, I'm gonna have to start charging people," she quipped.

"But my appetite has not been sated yet," Hans pouted humorously.

Sabine grinned, "Too bad," she said simply, shrugging her shoulders.

"Where did you learn that song from?" he asked curiously.

"Some English fellow that I met this past winter," she replied, a faint smile on her face. "He was a...very pleasant man to be with," she commented, thinking of fond memories about Oliver.

"You meet the darnedest of people out here, don't you?"

"It's like I said, perks of the job," Sabine reminded.

A silence fell between them as another breeze swept through meadow, blowing strands of hair across Sabine's face. She turned her head and stared at Hans with intent. Something was off about him today, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

"Was there another reason you brought me out here?" Sabine asked, staring at him.

The smile on his face lessened at her question, "Actually yes," he replied, tossing some blades of grass back onto the ground. "I received a telegram from Texas. A friend of mine is having trouble. You've heard of Theo Beck, I take it?" he asked, returning her gaze.

Sabine shrugged again, "A little. Sheriff Lane told me that he killed his family and then robbed a bank?" she answered, wondering where this was going.

"That'd be him. He was suppose to hang last week, but he escaped from his cell the day before his execution. Now, my friend is a federal marshal and he's the one that set the bounty. Dead or alive. Everyone's been searching, and his last sighting was in Oklahoma..." he trailed off.

Sabine's mind quickly put two and two together about this conversation.

"You're leaving?" she remarked, both of her eyebrows raised.

"I'm afraid I am my dear," Hans confirmed, nodding his head.

"I feel like you just got here and now you have to leave," Sabine grumbled, crossing her arms.

"I have to Corinna, I might never see an opportunity with the size of this reward like this again," he explained, raking his hand through his hair. "You are the one who told me that we only get one life," he reminded, slightly grinning.

"Yes, but I didn't think your next adventure would be this soon," she retorted, throwing her hands slightly. "Who's going to teach me German now?" she questioned, shaking her head a bit.

"I'll think you'll do just fine without me schatzi," Hans assured.

~~~x~~~

Sabine and Hans walked alongside their horse as they approached Hickory, deciding to give their horses a rest.

"Before I leave here, I want to give you something," Hans stated, before digging inside his coat pocket. He pulled out the German language lesson book that he had been going over with her. "Something for you to remember me by," he added, extending the book towards her.

Slowly, she pulled the book from his grasp, "Hans, are you sure about this?" she questioned. "We may never see each other again, I'll have no way of returning this to you," she pointed out.

"It's a gift remember?" Hans replied, a small smile on his face. "And when we do meet again, I expect us to have full fledged conversation in German, recalling all our wonderful exploits," he corrected, with an affirmative nod.

Sabine laughed, "I look forward to it," she concurred, clutching the book against her chest.

Hans stepped forward, gently taking her by the arms, "Before I depart I would like to also give you a proper goodbye,"

She arched an eyebrow, "'A proper goodbye'?" she repeated, wondering what he meant as he pulled her into his embrace.

"Yes, something that I've been wanting to do for a while," he continued, as he slid his hands around her waist.

Lowering his head ever so slightly, Hans planted his lips on her mouth. Sabine gladly allowed herself to lean into him, exhaling gently as she reciprocated the kiss. For that instant, they were totally unaware of everything and everyone around them. Hans' grip on her waist tightened, deepening their embrace. From the corner of her eye, Sabine saw a figure emerge from the front door of her home. Abruptly, she pulled away from Hans when she recognized who it was. Bastien. Clumsily, the book slipped from her hands, dropping it onto ground with an echoing thud.

Embarrassment was written all over her face.

"Samuel! I-I-didn't you see there," Sabine said sheepishly, her hands folding into one and other in a nervous, awkward motion.

"I can see that," Bastien responded, with harsh plainness.

Sabine glanced over to Hans, expecting to see the same wide-eyed expression as her, but instead Hans looked smug. Completely unfazed that Bastien had caught them in such a position. Sabine started to believe that's what made Bastien angrier as his nostrils flared and a vein on his forehead protruded out in anger.

Hans faced Sabine again, "Auf wiedersehen," he said, before kissing the top of her head.

The German climbed onto his horse and spurred it forward with his heels, sauntering past the town's wooden placard. As he left, Sabine could hear him humming a little tune to himself and she instantly recognized it.

It was the song Reynardine.

Chapter Eleven: Green-eyed

[chasseurdeloup-retired]

Gimme Gimme Gimme || Otto, Nadia, Dot, Nic, Alain, and Kaden

TIMING: Current LOCATION: The docks SUMMARY: A deal gone wrong

Otto glanced at his unfamiliar reflection in a broken pane of glass double-checking the glamour runes carved into his collar bones were still functioning correctly. Sunken eyes, a thicker jaw and plain brown eyes looked back at him. Different enough from his day to day appearance that he could pass without someone recognising and the spell would hold for a few hours now that it was in place. Hand-offs were always tricky businesses even more so when you didn’t know the other parties you were involving yourself with so precautions had been taken. Namely in bringing Nadia along as back-up along with a trusty shot-gun. Spells were useful in a pinch but if things went sideways little beat the pure destruction the end of a shotgun could bring about. Unfortunately, tricky business was simply the life of a newfound criminal trying to find their footing in a small town full of strife.

He glanced over at Nadia who carried the delivery in a nondescript brown box padded and covered in protective runes as an extra layer of precaution as they made their way into the boating house on the docks where the arranged trade-off had been arranged. Boats bobbed silently, crusted sea-salt clung to several surfaces and the splosh of water was broken by the occasional bay of a seagull outside. They’d scouted the perimeter already, checking their entrances and exits before heading inside and even then Otto kept to the pillars as cover. He checked his watch and when he spoke his voice was an octave lower, “they should be here soon. Not met this person before…” in other words, he didn’t trust them at all. But then again, you didn’t live in this job if you truly trusted anyone

Adjusting the box to one hand and pulling her hood up a little more, Nadia grinned. This was what she really needed. A good job, the potential for a bit of action, a shotgun on her back, and a revolver at her side. And she was back to being more connected with her body again. She’d been hungry that morning. Hungry. It might’ve been because she’d forgotten that she even had to eat, but it had gnawed at her stomach in the most pleasantly painful way. Even better was that she’d been able to go somewhere and grab herself something without worrying about someone looking for her. Plus, Nadia wasn’t fighting, and she was back to being the one in charge. So she was ready for whatever Otto’s job managed to throw her way. Part of her wanted something easy, a quick drop off, nothing major, maybe a bit of smooth talking if need be. But another part of her wanted some action. She’d be thrilled either way.

As Otto caught her eyes, Nadia gave him a wink. He was a fun guy, from the jobs they’d run together before. Almost as good with his words as she was for a guy who didn’t have a built in lie detector and emotional radar. Plus, his magic was wicked cool. Following him in, she leaned against a pillar and waited. “Cool, cool. Well, don’t worry, as long as they’ve got a pulse, I think I can figure them out.” She could read his distrust like a magazine at the dentist’s office, so she wasn’t feeling quite as blase as she might have seemed. If Otto was worried, she should probably be a bit worried, too. But being a little worried was always healthy. She took out her revolver and opened the chamber, making sure it was loaded. The shotgun was double-barrel, two bullets in. Everything looked good to go.

Everyone had a secret talent. Some people could juggle or burp the alphabet backward. Dot’s secret talent was getting involved in the shadier shit a town had going on. Her other secret talent was being able to do a really fast crab walk. She didn’t like that one as much as she liked getting involved in crime though. She loved that. People would ask her to do jobs and most of the time she didn’t care if she was getting paid or not, though she didn’t tell people that part. She liked the thrill of it. Breaking rules was fun and she liked when she made things inconvenient for other people. She wasn’t a career criminal, not even close, but she never said no to a job. It hadn’t taken long after she moved to White Crest for someone to approach her doing something for them. After doing a couple of jobs, she proved that she wasn’t a complete imbecile and then this job was given to her. It was simple, a hand-off, nothing she hadn’t done before.

Walking to the meeting spot, she was glad that she actually took her gun and knife with her this time. She relied on being a siren far more than she really should. As she saw the two in front of her, she popped her lollipop out of her mouth. Grinning at them, she spoke in a cheerful voice,“Hello, lovelies. Are you here waiting for me?” She might not have been an idiot, but she was never professional. “It’s like we’re all having a little secret party,” She shook her shoulders at them. She considered asking them if they wanted a lollipop, but she only had green apple left and those were her favorite.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, Otto lifted his head to eye the newcomer. He didn’t recognise them, but then again he didn’t recognise most people in town on first meetings considering most of them weren’t really memorable enough to truly warrant him paying them all that much attention. But this sort of situation demanded a new sort of attentiveness for a lack of it could cost you so much more if you made the slightest misstep. Yet, that wasn’t the vibe he got from the woman he saw approaching; lollipop and all. It was… intriguing to say the least, her grin was infectious and brought one of Otto’s own about. Cocking his head his eyes sparkled with newfound mischief.

“Seems so darling,” he greeted pushing off the pillar “and it does, doesn’t it? Little rave is just what everyone needs… Let off some steam, have some fun. Shame we don’t have music to set the mood.” He knew Nadia had his back in this, it was one of the few constants he actually trusted in this situation which was saying something, “now as much of a sweet-tooth as I happen to be, I’m curious to see the sweetener to this little party hm?”

Looking at the girl walking towards them, Nadia grinned. Good, a pulse. The other woman’s emotions weren’t nearly as easy to read as Otto’s, but that wasn’t a problem. Nadia only needed a sense of what she was feeling to make sure nothing the wrong sort of shady happened here. Not that there really was a wrong sort of shady. Shady was always fun, even if it went to shit. But, taking in the girl’s appearance, her laid back nature as she had a lollipop of all things in her mouth, Nadia couldn’t help but feel that this was going to be nothing but the good kinds of fun.

“I’m all up for parties,” Nadia said. She jerked her head towards Otto. “This guy throws some of the best, I swear. He might not look like it now, but he’s a fun guy. Isn’t that right, Kelly?” She gave him a wink. She was glad that he trusted her still, even after all that she’d told him. Maybe not completely, maybe not the same way that he had before, but the trust was still there. She could feel it, after all. She hefted the box with their delivery into her arms. “Maybe when all this is said and done, we can actually have a party, to celebrate. Music and everything. And booze. So much booze.”

Maybe she would offer these two her lollipops… They seemed like fun and Dot loved some good fun. She had expected a bunch of people with sticks up their asses who would tell her that she’s too immature to be in this business. The type that took themselves way too seriously. Those people were exhausting at the best of times and she wasn’t doing this to be exhausted. Based on the grins these two had, she liked them so far, but she wasn’t naive enough to forget that this was still a job.

It took quite a bit of self-control to stop herself from beatboxing right there and tell them to dance to the music. Slipping the strap of her bag off her shoulder, she waved it slightly at them. “I think this is the sweetener you’re looking for and that’s what I’m looking for,” She nodded to the box. She liked this part a lot, the anticipation right before a handover. “I know a guy who can get us more than booze,” Dot told the woman, a sparkle in her eyes. Sighing, very dramatically, she continued, “But I guess the job comes first. What was agreed to is in the bag.”

Kaden didn’t know much about the situation at hand, but he knew Nic asked him to be here. That was enough. No matter how weird his relationship was with hunting right now, he wasn’t about to drop his loyalties. If a hunter was in need, one he trusted, he was there. The place by the docks looked sketchy enough, seemed appropriate. “You know what it is we’re looking for, Nic?” he asked, making sure for the fifth time tonight that his gun was loaded properly and ready to go. “Probably a little late to ask for details but if you need all of us here, I’m guessing it’s something big and bad.” He wondered if this was some big monster take down, something like the bounty Montgomery had made a call for a while back. Shit, hadn’t thought about that fucker in a while. The thought of the trophy room sent a shiver down his spine. But he trusted Nic and Alain, despite any differences of ideals they had, would never chop off someone's head and keep it. Which was good enough for him. His brow furrowed as he picked up a sound off in the distance, closer to the boathouses on the docks. Looking in that direction, he saw a small flash of movement and a figure headed into one of them. “Hey,” he whispered, nodding over towards the boathouse. A quick glance back and it was clear where the hunters were headed. Whatever shady shit they were looking for, pretty sure they found it.

While Nicodemus still couldn’t quite wrap his head around what a turn it had been with the Bossman, now known as Roy Chambers, he didn’t question Erin when she told him she might have found a way to figure out what the fuck he was. All he did was agree, make a few calls, then pack up what was necessary before making his way to the agreed upon meeting place. It was gonna be a long night. Shit, it had been awhile since he had worked with one hunter. Let alone a whole gaggle of them. That was just the bounty way. He worked his jaw as he double-checked the edges of the knife he carried. “Reckon it ain’t somethin’ that’s gonna be easy-breezy,” he muttered as he slid it back into its sheath. “But hell, it ain’t ever is.” His fingertips lightly tapped against each other as he cocked his head. Looked toward the same place Kaden had heard the noise. A short nod and a quiet grunt of agreement followed. The calm that settled over him before most hunts began to run its course. “Ain’t no time like the fuckin’ present,” he whispered as he started to move, boots quiet. “We goin’ in quiet or goin’ in loud?”

While Alain was still unsure of why it was that Nic had asked all of them to come here, he was relieved to see that he was not the only clueless one here. It was reassuring to be with familiar faces, and with people he knew he could trust, but some details would have been great. On the one hand, he doubted that she would put them all in mortal danger without warnings, but on the other hand, if the hunter needed back up, this could not be good. “Going in loudly when we have no idea what’s in there, that sounds like a really shitty idea, Nic,” walking beside him, the hunter repressed a yawn. He had managed to get a bit of sleep lately, but he was still having too many nightmares to get rather proper rest. Tired or not, he still would help, because while he never signed up for anything, he had always acted like it was the case. With no idea of what to expect, he had left his sword home and gone for shorter blades, and probably for the best, all things considered.

“Stop yawning, slayer,” Kaden said, giving Alain a small nudge. “Isn’t this your normal hours, anyway? When all the creatures of the night come out and shit?” He was giving the other hunter some grief, sure, but he did kind of hope he wasn’t too exhausted to be here. One mistake on a hunt, especially one like this where the details were sparse and the threat seemingly high, well, that could be deadly. Kaden nodded at the suggestion to keep it quiet as they headed in. There were a few entrances and it was best they split up if they were trying to go for a surprise attack. A few gestures and nods and it was figured out. Kaden creeped up to the side door, listened a moment, and heard voices inside. They seemed occupied. For now. Good enough for him. He did his best to slowly and silently open the door, sneaking through and hiding behind a crate near the entrance. With his pistol in hand, he leaned around the corner to get a better look at what was going on. Three people as far as he could tell. None of them werewolves as far as he knew, either. One guy, didn’t recognize him, two women. The one was also unfamiliar, but the other... Was that… “Nadia?” he found himself saying out loud. Or rather, whoever was in her body. Shit, he didn’t mean to do that. He also didn’t mean to keep walking forward. But he had and he fucking tripped and stumbled over a rope on the ground. Putain. So much for his stealth approach.

They were in the middle of the transaction, the briefcase being opened and the requested black-steel music box embossed with silver images of graeco-figures deifying some strange entity revealed, nestled within a bed of foam to protect it from any harm. “As discussed, acquired and undamaged.” Though not tested, Otto didn’t know what this thing was meant to do but the less he knew the more deniability he had regarding it. Closing the lid once more and clicking it shut the runes engraved across its surface glowed a bright purple before fading from sight once more to prevent anyone untoward tampering with it. “Wonderful, in that case let’s exchange and maybe after this we can all go cele-” but any further remark was cut off, by the sudden intrusion of another voice from a stack of crates nearby. Shit. His eyes cut to the man he didn’t recognise who tripped over the rope in judgemental frustration.

But this stranger’s focus seemed to be on Nadia, recognising her - or recognised the old her most likely. But there were perks to this being the Nadia he’d worked with for so long and on so many occasions. A silent language that a subtle look or expression could convey a thousand messages. So the curious look between Nadia and this stranger and the thin smile that followed spoke volumes. Play him, buy us some time. In the interim, Otto subtly scanned the nearby vicinity for options they could run, but who knew how many more people this dude might’ve brought along. The warehouse might be surrounded.... They had their guns but a firefight was never ideal if it could be avoided.

His eyes passed a few of the boats moored nearby. Maybe if they could rig one up it’d be a decent means of escape… Otto glanced at the other woman unsure if he could trust her or if she’d staged this whole thing. What he did know was he wasn’t going to die because of some fucked over job.

Things were going good. Easy, even. And then Kaden fucking Langley literally tripped his way into the meeting. Nadia pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to maintain her control. But, hey, things were still going well. Just not easy. Well, she didn’t care for easy, anyway. She made sure the box was with the others, and she gave Otto a wink. She knew what to do here. “Heya, Kadie!” she said with a sweet smile, letting it reach her eyes. Nadia Diaz had a great smile. Very charming. Easily disarming. Perfect for getting people to let their guard down, even if they knew they were locking eyes with a rattlesnake. The problem with Kaden was that he knew. He knew what she was, had looked at her and really seen her. He wouldn’t be fooled again. Not for long, at least. But she still had the advantage. He didn’t want to hurt her. Well, actually, he probably wanted to hurt her really, really badly. But he didn’t want to hurt Nadia Diaz. She gave him a wave. “Been a minute, yeah? How’s it going? What are you and your friends doing skulking around the docks at such late hours?” She walked a little closer to him, attempting to block Otto and the other woman to give her partner time to think. She knew the bastard would still be quick on his feet. She just had to play distraction. In a stage whisper, she said, “You know that dangerous people hang around the docks, right?”

For all the things Dot had done, she had never been caught before. Sure, she had gotten in trouble with the cops before, gotten a slap on the wrist for trespassing or some community service for fighting, but this was different. Had he been alone, she would have just gone for her gun, but as Nadia pointed out, he had friends. Her lips pressed as she looked over at Otto, trying to hide the rising panic she felt. She was no professional at this and she knew it. She began to inch towards the door she had come through, bag on her shoulder. The deal wasn’t happening with company. Kaden being here was no good sign. Blanche had liked him, but Dot had never really been around him enough to form an opinion other than ‘fun to make fun of on the internet’. “This is a closed, invite only party,” She chirped, popping her lollipop back in her mouth. “Very exclusive rave you just wandered into and partycrashers are no fun. Unless they’re me, but you’re not me, so no fun,” She rambled around the candy. “So. Shoo.”

Alain had a point and Nicodemus nodded in agreement. “Yup, you got a pretty good fuckin’ point there.” He muttered to Alain as he crouched himself and followed behind Kaden through the door, his own gun drawn and a hand over the knife on his belt. Better to survey the area, get the lay of the land, and--Goddamn it, Kaden. Nicodemus pursed his lips and breathed in sharply. That’s alright, he thought. The rest of them could go around, surprise. And then that was also shot to shit at the word friends. He nodded to himself, resigned. “That’s fine,” he grunted quietly. “Knees gettin’ tired anyway.” The hunter stood and worked his jaw as he walked beside Kaden, pistol resting against his shoulder. He glanced at the briefcase between the three of them. The way it looked, the three of them were all talkers. Time wasters. He sucked at his teeth. “Could save us all some time and fuck off,” he said with a tilt of his head as he took a small step forward. Mediation wasn’t a skill he spent time or money on. “Chattin’ ain’t what we’re here for.”

Alain’s eyebrows raised as he gave Kaden an Italian salute. Of course it was ideal to him for things to be happening at this time of the day, but lately he had had to skip a few cemetery trips in order to rest a little. It would be fine, it had to be fine. Besides, even if he was not at the top of his form, he had to be here for these two hunters. Although that did not mean he would agree with everything they did. Are you fucking kidding me? Breathing out loudly, his eyebrows furrowed as he recognized Nadia. What in the goddamn hell was she doing here? He did not suppose that now would be the time to question her life choices, but from the look on his face, you could get an idea of how disappointed he was. The other two, he did not know, but he was not impressed. “Cute,” he said with a sucking sound of disapproval. Now that their plans of being quiet had gone down the drain, he supposed that the least they could do was not to waste their time trying to have a conversation with these people. “Yeah, let’s get this over with,” he agreed.

Shit. There went the stealth approach once and for all. And it was painfully clear which Nadia he was dealing with. At least he didn’t have to worry about this being some weird hostage situation “Hello Janet,” Kaden replied, using Blanche’s nickname for the ghost with disdain as he stepped out from the shadows, properly this time. He kept his fingers ready on the trigger of his pistol just in case. Nadia was no danger to him, but the ghost, Janet or Cordelia or whoever she was, would kill him without a single remorse. He knew that much. “Funny I could say the same to you. Dangerous and all that. Good thing none of us are out here wandering all alone.” The other hunters had seemingly given up the pretense of stealth as well. He peered around Nadia’s body to get a better look at her cohorts here. “Hey. No one move,” he said, holding his gun up, aimed at the woman trying to make a break for the door in the back. “My invitation is right here so how about you show us what you’ve got there.” Kaden wasn’t sure if these were the calls to be making or what exactly they were here for but if it was to break up something or extract something, it was going to be a lot harder to do if anyone fled. “You wouldn’t want to ditch the party early. We’re just getting started.”

Otto had hoped he could slink away to at least get on board one of the boats, having made it several steps backwards though mindful not to blindly signal his intent or direction with his body language. But as another burlier man stood up behind Kaden holding a pistol he knew this evening was likely very soon going to go to hell in a handbasket. What was it with people and guns? They were so… primitive. But it didn’t change the danger they posed either way. His magic ebbed near to the surface, practically urging him to throw the first shot at these intruders and yet he bided his time. No need to give away his game just yet. He’d purposefully not tapped his reserve at all just in case, always just in case. His leather clad grip tightened on the briefcase handle, shifting it out of the line of sight of these assholes while running through the list of options that were fast running short. Think Nova. One thing they did have in their favour was positioning. These guys were too closely spaced and that tipped the balance in their favour. Maybe if they could carall them some density spells would be enough to immobilise them where they stood. Give them enough time to get the hell out of dodge. The guns were trained on the others for now, that counted for something at least. He took a few more steps, nearing some crates stacked up. Just in case things went sideways, cover never hurt. “Sorry, I was taught better than to hang around and talk to creepy men following me at night. Avidazen.”

“It’s cuter when the kid calls me that,” Nadia said conversationally, one hand on the strap of her shotgun, the other resting near her pistol holster. “Speaking of, let her know I said hey, and I want my gun back.” She pretended to think a bit before she perked back up. “Oh! And tell her next time I won’t fucking miss, ‘kay?” She checked on Otto and the chick that was with them, hoping that the two of them would get out before she had to do anything serious. She took a step towards Kaden as soon as he pulled a gun out. Like second nature, she smoothly pulled her own revolver out and leveled it at him. “Sorry, babe. Put the gun down. I think we both know which of the two of us is more likely to shoot someone, yeah?” Could they not just fucking leave? “Party’s over, folks!” she called out to the people with Kaden. “If you could let us be on our way, that’d be so fucking nice.” She tried to avoid the look of disappointment on… Alain’s (she thought that was Alain’s) face. She needed to stay calm. She needed to keep her cool. She… really fucking wanted to kill Kaden, still. She’d take the shot as soon as they all lowered their guards, and then she was making a break for it.

Bro, Dot was not fucking into this. She was so not into this. “Listen, Kandy, Blanche wouldn’t be happy if you went around shooting her ex girlfriend so like what if you put down the gun and I head out.” Dot loved fights, she really did, but she liked them when guns weren’t drawn. She was pretty out of her fucking depth here. “I don’t want to fight, ‘cause we all who’s gonna win and it ain’t these two,” She nodded toward Otto and Nadia with a shrug. “I mean unless you want me to fight with you guys, would that get me off the hook? I might not be too much help, I’m literally a TA, but I got a gun.That wasn’t a threat to clarify. What do you say Mr. Thickness? Kandy? Tall Napoleon?

Nicodemus wasn’t in the mood. These people talked too fucking much. He sure as shit wasn’t Kandy. Tall Napoleon? Nope. That only left one option. Jesus fucking Christ. He glowered but didn’t move his eyes from the one near the briefcase. He shook his head. “This ain’t a conversation.” His stance shifted and the dirt under his boot crunched. They weren’t going the easy route of just handing off the briefcase, were they? Fine enough. The three hunters had a job to do and they would sure as shit see it through. One way or the other. He spat to the side. His hand tightened around his gun, finger under the trigger guard. A second passed before he took off into a dead sprint. Straight toward the briefcase.

“Blanche? What the fuck does pipsqueak have to do with this? Leave her out of--” Before Kaden could finish, it looked like Nic had the briefcase covered, for now. And he was getting shit started. Great. Fighting was better than talking anyway. “No one leaves til we get what we came here for.” Kaden took a shot at the door, hoping to scare the obnoxious TA lady. Catching Alain’s glance, he gave him a quick nod to her. If he had the TA covered, then that left him free to deal with Janet. He knew Nadia had a gun trained on him and while he had a feeling Nadia would do what she could to save him, bullets fired real fast. He ducked behind a box briefly before taking off towards her. Maybe if he could get there fast enough, disarm her, he could help Nic. If he needed it.

Well shit. Those were the initial thoughts that went through Otto’s mind as Popeye McGee took off in a sprint straight at him. Shoving his hand into his pocket and drawing out a pile of iron filings these were dusted over the briefcase, there was a moment of concentration before an aura of purple seemed to circle the briefcase and seep into its essence with it suddenly becoming heavier in his grip. Backing up towards the dock he extended his arm back fighting against the significantly increased weight “hey now, back the fuck up or I drop it and then nobody gets their due!” With the weight of it now and the water finding it again would be a job for anyone. Not impossible, but more work than whatever this job was worth.

Well those were some crappy nicknames coming from Iago - yes, he had read Othello a while ago - Alain deadpanned as she approached them, probably hoping that she could switch sides like that with no consequences. Considering that she was a skinny woman, and that it didn't take too much to knock someone out (much to most people's surprise), it didn't take much for Alain to get rid of the betrayer and leave her down. Glancing over at the drama queen with the suitcase, the hunter tilted his head to the side and looked over at Kaden to communicate his fed-up-ness with someone, then back at the magician. "You do realize that even if you drop that suitcase, you still have to deal with us next? This doesn't change much for you. Or... Well, it does. It gets things a lot worse."

This was all going to shit. Nadia could see that clearly. Fuck the briefcase, fuck the payment, and fuck that bastard charging at her. It wasn’t particularly smart to run at the woman with a gun trained on you, but Nadia had to give Kaden credit. The guy had balls. Too bad that wasn’t going to save his life. Finger on the trigger, she smiled as he got close and, as she pressed down, gave up control for a brief moment.

Nadia always seemed to be around for the inevitable unhappy ending, and her eyes widened as she watch the bullet from her own gun connect with Kaden’s chest. It was like the cabin all over again. She tried to drop the gun, tried to step forward, but she couldn’t move. She wasn’t really in control at all.

Even though Nadia wanted to gloat, there wasn’t anytime. “Too fucking slow,” she told Kaden before she turned on her heels and started running. “It’s not worth it!” She yelled at Otto, hoping he’d take the hint. They needed to fucking leave.

Kaden was running full out, eyes on Nadia. The gun was drawn, she looked ready to shoot, and Nadia might, but Nadia would never let her. He had to count on that. He had to. He kept running at her. He was sprinting, he almost reached her. Until he didn’t. Something hit him. No. Worse. Something shot him. Putain. Kaden dropped down and screamed out in pain, hand clutching to his chest. Fuck, fuck. Where did it hit? Upper. Near the collarbone. Not heart. Fine. He’d be fine. He hoped. But fuck it hurt. “Fuck off, Janet! I’ll make sure your soul is banished to fucking hell!” He curled up by one of the boxes, hand pressed against the wound, blood spilling out. Aw shit, he saw black at the corners of his vision. He tried to fight it off but he was slipping. He looked around for something to press to the wound, hold it together, so he could hold himself together, too.

The tides were turning fast, one person choked out and a gunshot that echoed across the warehouse with two individuals advancing on his space. Apparently not deterred by the notion of losing the thing they came for. Otto’s eyes slid across to Nadia and then to the pile of cash in the backpack the woman had brought along, with her out cold it was there for the taking. So Otto abruptly dropped the case which hit the ground with a dull thud, shoved his hand out in the direction of the bag and curled his fingers muttering the simple summoning incantation. The bag jerked as if tethered by some unseen force before it arrived in his hand leaving him standing there with the two men making ground fast. His hand shoved once more into his pocket and a scattering of iron filings were tossed out in an arc through which Otto pushed an open palm. The magic radiated in a sudden conical shockwave, reverberating around normal air suddenly growing denser and slowing those that moved through it. Giving him enough time to turn and hightail it after Nadia towards one of the boats. “Unhook the rope! I’ll get the engine!”

Nicodemus breathed in sharply through his nose. If the case went into the water, then the fucker holding it wouldn’t be far behind. He moved with an intensity he hadn’t carried with him before. An intensity that if they didn’t get this fucking job over and done with, there was a lot more to lose. A hell of a lot more. Langley was shot, Alain had knocked someone out, and the two left behind were scrambling. Something slowed his progress and he strained against it, sweat gathering at his temples and the back of his neck. It didn’t matter, he thought, as he continued to brute force through it, muscles and tendons bunched as he worked to push through it. The case had been dropped and as far as he was concerned, he didn’t care if any justice or whatever other asinine bullshit happened. The case was what they came for and it’s what they would leave with. He pushed further, stepped closer. Fuck, he hated magic. Vurals withstanding. Blood gathered between his teeth but it didn’t taste like copper when he managed to get closer to the case. Just a few more steps and his hand would be able to wrap around its handle.

With quick fingers, Nadia untied the rope from the dock, more than anxious to get the hell out of Dodge. But the anxiety, the stress, it wasn’t really hers. She wished she could get rid of it, for good. But at least she had control for the time being. She gave a smirk and waved at the men still left on the docks. Win or lose, it didn’t fucking matter today. She turned around and sank down into one of the boat seats as they drove away, running a hand through her hair and laughing breathlessly. “What a fucking shitshow, huh?” She closed her eyes, not even paying attention to an answer. What a fucking shitshow. She never seemed to get paid enough for these things.

[arrebolar]

ok uhhh basically i miss writing some of my old characters !!!  so i made a lil list below of some of my faves and a few plot ideas they might suit ..... if any of them jump out @ u pls hmu. might repost this in the tags later but the rpc scares me so yall get first dibs if u want lol

if u wanna know more abt anyone in particular hmu !  im here for 1x1 stuff or multis or even if u have a group u think anyone might suit, some of these characters arent like Built For Romantic Plots so gimme all the connections--- but as far as romance goes i think theyre mostly bi so im real open to combos

anyways !  here we go

achilles ison, aka ace  /  former golden boy, music enthusiast, florist  /  willem de schryver fc  /  tag  /  pinterest.

is probs the most flexible !  he’d probably suit a little group or multi but would work with a 1x1 too

honestly you could throw him just about anywhere, he’s just a fatalistic little weirdo who likes flowers and dark clothes and loud music

i think it’d be fun to have like a road trip type group or multi and ace would work w that ..... idk

big friends to lovers energy

tomas abascal, aka baz  /  con artist, professional liar, card shark  / diego tinoco fc  /  tag  /  pinterest.

oh god i have Ideas for him

hes highkey a criminal so like ..... a plot against some detective / somebody w a grudge / bounty hunter idk who was hired 2 track him down..... thats spicy

i had a plot w him in an old group where like they kept ending up at the same places and were closer than he usually gets to people, but they didnt even know each others real names n shit so it was sneaky

writing him against someone hes conning out of their money would b . fun

he’d also work in more Classic heist type stuff so :)

carlisle jacobi harrison-shea, aka jace  /  getaway driver, adrenaline junkie, perpetual runaway  /  cyrus amini fc  /  tag  /  pinterest.

honestly just give me a lil heist group or multi i need it

idt he’d suit 1x1s on their own so like pls

river caro  /  son of venus, antihero, love cynic  /  unknown fc  ( maybe manu rios but idk )  /  tag  /  pinterest.

he’s from a pjo universe originally so like take that and run tbh

enemies to lovers??? yeah ??

hes very shitty and manipulative and will use charmspeak to get what he wants so like ... someone that kinda gets caught up in that and then realizes he sucks would b interesting

a rival camper perhaps ....

go all tf in honestly make some minor god bitch fall in love w him !!  he doesnt think love is anything more than transactional so honestly i just think it would be funny to throw a literal gods affection at him ....

tbh i just want 2 make him catch feelings cuz hed be annoyed abt it

ronan eastes  /  cursed, anger issues, monster hunted  /  froy gutierrez fc  /  tag  /  pinterest. 

honestly he’s very weird and angry so like most plots would probs start as enemies or at least reluctant allies

another poor cursed fucker !!

maybe someone he knew when he was younger n they were kinda friends but then he got even colder and more reclusive and wary abt ppl getting caught in his Literal monster stuff so they drifted ... n now reunited

someone 2 be the hero to his villain for that Contrast

dont overthink it tbh its that enemies to allies to friends to ??? we’ll see

salem lovell  /  unknown divine, diner waiter, small-town boy  / jason harderwijk fc  /  tag  /  pinterest.

hes like lowkey got some weird magic but doesnt know a lot abt it yet so someone to help him explore that ?

a regular at the diner he works at or someone who stays at the same hotel where he lives would b cute tbh

exes mayhaps ....

idk i haven’t had a chance to rly explore him as much as ive wanted to so he’s another one whos like pretty open to a lot of stuff

thats it for now thank u xoxo

[kenzieam]

Druid - Chapter Eleven

Rating: M (smut, language, violence, mature themes, potential major character death)

Genre: Drama/Angst

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Thank you, my lovelies, for your kind words and support XOXO

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

JAMES GOES DARK AF.

Trigger warnings: Extreme violence, language and torture.

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

“Where are you?” I hear tears in his deep voice, he’s crying with me.

“I don’t know.” I whimper.

JAMES

My heart is exploding out of my chest and I’m crying so hard I can hardly take a breath. Part of me is ashamed at how strongly I’m reacting, but there’s only Thor, Steve and Stitch in the van with me, and they all know how precious Levi is to me, they’ve all seen the way her abduction has affected me. I’m not ashamed to show how deeply I love her, I just wish I could get my shit together long enough to figure out where she’s at.

A hand claps my shoulder. “Give me the phone,” Stitch commands. “I need to assess her injuries.”

I don’t want to let go but I do, passing the cell over and gripping the dashboard in front of me, fighting to draw deep breaths. It occurs to me suddenly that the van has come to a stop and I glance over, see Thor bent over the steering wheel, forehead resting on his forearms. His shoulders shake, he’s crying too.  

I turn my head to look in the back. Stitch has moved to the furthest corner of the van, where it’s quieter and is the epitome of professional concentration; I’ve been around him long enough to know that only later will he allow the emotions in, only later will he break down, but he’s better at pushing it all away in the moment than the rest of us, he was a field medic, baptized by fire.  

My eyes track to Steve next and he’s no better off than either Thor or I; his face is red, cheeks wet and he looks like he’s praying, although I know for a fact he hasn’t set foot in church since middle school.  

Levi’s disappearance was crushing, her reappearance equally devastating, but for completely different reasons. I doubt I’m the only one who’ll only be able to breathe easier after they’ve crushed her in their arms, breathed in her scent and reassured their anxious heart that she truly is safe.  

Levi hasn’t been in the family for long, but she’s in deep.

Stitch finishes his questions and covers the mouthpiece. “She’s banged up some, dehydrated and the fucker shot her in the shoulder, but she’s coherent and alert.” He hands the phone back to me before I make ‘gimme’ fingers.

“Baby?” I gasp, desperate to hear her voice again.

“James,” she breathes, tears in her voice.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m sorry I wasn’t there-”

She interrupts. “This wasn’t your fault.”

She doesn’t need my wretched guilt, not right now. “Can you figure out where you are?”

She pauses and I visualize her glancing around frantically. “I don’t know.”

“Any landmarks? Something distinctive about the terrain?” I press.

“Any mail? Business cards, anything laying around?” Steve adds.

“Babe, you heard that?”

“Yeah,” I hear quiet shuffling. “Give me a second. There’s nothing outside, just scrub-brush; but I think I’m in some kind of valley or wash... there’s an old blue ford pick-up outside, rusted out, hood up-”

“Good, baby. Good, keep going.” I encourage.  

“Wait... there’s some old papers. It looks like this place has been empty for years, but there’s still old furniture and stuff laying around.” I hear more scuffling. “Wait, yeah... some old bills-”

She reads off the address, but as soon as I hear ‘Deke and Carol Henday’ I know exactly where’s she’s at.

“Shit, baby! We’re on our way. Sit tight, just a few hours. Hide somewhere, okay?” I pull the phone away from my ear to bark at Thor. “You were right, he took her home. Go!” The screech of tires temporarily drowns out any other noise and I hear Steve barking into his own phone to the other team travelling with us, but my focus is on Levi now.

“Levi? Baby, you still there?”  

“Yeah,” she whispers and my bones melt. “Don’t hang up on me, okay?” Her voice quavers slightly.

“No, never, baby. Never.” Her tremulous exhale slays me. “Can you hide somewhere?”  

“I think so... yeah.” I hear more scuffling and shuffling, then the click of a door.  

“Baby...” the words slash my tongue but I need to ask. “Did he hurt you...?”

“No.” She whispers and I sag in relief. “He knocked me around some though, Stitch thinks my eye socket is cracked again.”

Rage boils in my blood, but now isn’t the time. “I was so scared.” I confess.

“Me too.”  

“If something happened to you, I couldn’t-” I break off before I the darkness overwhelms me again; I cannot think that way, I’ll go fucking crazy.  

“I’m here, I’m safe.” Her voice is soothing, a gentle balm to my raw nerves. When I get her back, I’m not letting her go, I’m going to trap her in my arms for days, burrow as close as I can against her until the anguish fades.

Thor’s pushing the speed limit as much as he dares, and I want to scream at him to go faster, but the last thing we need is to be pulled over, have to explain to some too-big-for-his-britches rent-a-cop what the fuck we’re doing and so I don’t comment, focusing on Levi instead. We don’t talk for long stretches, we don’t need to; I can hear her breathing, and her me, and for now, it’s enough. For a while I think she dozes, but whimpers awake with a short cry of ‘No!’ that stops my heart.

“Are you close yet?” She whispers and I glance at Thor, brow raised.

“Forty minutes.” He answers, glancing at his GPS.

“Almost there, angel. Less than an hour.”

“Okay.” Her voice breaks.

LEVI

My body aches and I’m so goddamn tired, but hearing James on the other end of the phone is keeping me going.  

Soon, my mind chants, soon. They’ll be here soon.

I’ve hidden myself in a back-bedroom’s closet, pulled the folding door shut behind me and sit with my knees drawn to my chest; the phone clenched in one fist and the knife in the other. James’ earlier words drift back to me, ‘You were right, he took her home,’ and I can only summon relief that the bastard was predictable that way, that he ran to ground in familiar territory and my family thought to look there first. They were already racing here when I escaped and called, I couldn’t imagine having to wait hours upon hours for them to drive all the way across the state, my fucking nerves couldn’t take it.

This is even worse than waiting in the fading firelight last night, my ears strain to pick up any noise, any indication that my attacker, Henday, has followed me, tracked me here and is dragging his battered body towards me like some ghoulish Terminator.  

I want James here, I want to feel his arms around me, his lips on mine; I want to be able to fall asleep knowing I’m safe, surrounded by his scent, his warmth and security.  

Nothing can hurt me while James is with me.  

I don’t even notice my eyelids have gotten heavy, almost closing until a screech outside and slamming of vehicle doors startles me alert. I freeze, heart hammering. Has Henday found some way back to me?

I hear muffled pounding feet, the front door of the house smacks the wall as it’s violently thrown open, then people are shouting my name, but one voice rises above the others, arrowing directly to my heart.

James.

I reach up weakly, push the cheap folding door open and try to yell back, but my throat can only manage a croak. Then James is there, eyes wild, face flushed, a gun in his hand.

“Levi!” He cries out, dropping the gun, falling heavily on his knees in front of me, dragging me against his chest. I squeak as pain shoots through my body, but my relief at seeing James again, at finally being safe overrules any and all discomfort. I claw closer, climb into his lap, straddling him and burrow as close as I can, tears streaking down my cheeks, wetting James’ t-shirt and he’s just as frantic back, squeezing the life out of me and I don’t know who’s crying harder, who’s shaking more violently.  

We fall silent, muffling our tears against each other’s shoulders and just cling together. I can’t see, hear, smell or touch anything other than James and my heart gives a big sigh of relief. James is trembling against me, but he doesn’t let go, if anything, he’s trying to hold me closer, never wanting to let me go.

I know the feeling.  

Eventually, sounds pierce our bubble and a hand rests on James’ shoulder. I lift my head to look but James keeps his face buried in my hair, his tears wetting my skin. His breathing is hard and tremulous.

Steve and Thor are smiling down at me, and Stitch stands nearby holding a small duffel and looking impatient.  

Steve speaks first, swiping once at his cheek before reaching out and gently shaking James’ shoulder. Reluctantly, he lifts his head. “Brother.”

“She needs water.” James states, jerking his chin at the bottle in Steve’s hand.  

I realize then how fucking thirsty I am and scramble for the bottle, sucking down the precious liquid with a desperation I’ve never felt before. Suddenly, my stomach heaves and rejects the bounty and I barely manage to lean away from James before it all comes up again, splashing in the dark corner.  

James pries the bottle from my hands and holds it up to my lips. “Small sips, baby. Small sips.” He parcels the liquid out slowly and I swallow gratefully, eager for more. My stomach doesn’t rebel this time, and I feel an indescribable relief flood my limbs, chasing away the pain.  

I finish the bottle but James refuses to give me more, not wanting to overload me and Stitch agrees. The medic kneels in front of us and reaches up to gently touch my uninjured shoulder. I flinch before I can stop myself and shoot him an apologetic glance. James growls low in his throat, a warning.  

“Can you turn around?” Stitch asks and I hear the snap of rubber gloves. I squirm on James’ lap to comply and hear his small, muffled groan as I rub accidentally against him. He shoots me a sheepish look; James would no sooner take advantage of my body right now than he would sacrifice a puppy, but his body and cock have their own involuntary reactions to me and, when I’m feeling better, he plans to wreck me. The feeling is definitely mutual.

Stitch is all business, prodding gently at my cheekbone, wincing in commiseration and nodding in confirmation. “Yeah, cracked orbital socket. We need an X-ray this time. Too many traumas to the same area and we might need to consider titanium implants for stability-” he continues on, not noticing the way James’ tenses at his words. “Any tenderness in the ribs?” He glances up at me and I shake my head.  

“Just my wrists, leg and shoulder.” I reply, holding out my hands and pulling away the makeshift bandages I applied.

All four men audibly growl as my torn skin becomes visible and the tension in the room ratchets up to suffocating.  

“That fuck.” I hear Steve grit.

Stitch seems almost reluctant to prod the rent flesh, stunned by the exposed muscles, the dried blood staining my hands and halfway up my forearms. My wrists throb like I’ve dipped them in battery acid, but I’m become almost inured to the pain by now. Swallowing once, he reaches into his duffel and produces a few wrapped sterile moist bandages.  

“I’m not even going to try to treat these until we get home, I need more than what I brought.” He says, carefully wrapping my abused wrists. His hands pause as he finishes, and he takes a deep, audible breath. The army medic who’s seen it all is having a tough time holding himself together. Finally, he raises his head. “Your shoulder?”

At my small nod he reaches up and begins to examine my left shoulder. He’s supremely gentle, but I flinch and wince nonetheless, turning and burying my face in James’ throat. I can feel the angry pulse of his heart through his velvet skin.

“Clean in and out.” Stitch reports. “But again, I’m not comfortable treating this here.”  His inspection of the gash on my shin is quick but thorough, and it is quickly wrapped as well. My injuries are severe enough that he’s not willing to risk further complications by working on them without his entire inventory of supplies and clean surroundings. He looks up. “We need to go.”

Steve nods even as Thor’s cell begins to ring. He pulls it out and listens briefly, barking a command before hanging up. “Team’s here.” He levels pain-filled eyes at me. “Where is he, darlin’?”

The exhaustion I’ve been holding at bay for hours is threatening to take me, but I force myself to think, replay these last terrifying hours. “North, I think. There’s a trail. About a mile up is where the van broke down; keep going another couple miles to the campsite. I fought him, he was flat-out when I left.”

“You wound him? Did he have any weapons?”

I think back to the duffels full of guns. “Yeah, I hit him in the head with a propane tank and hamstrung him. I might have broken his nose and I slammed the van door on his head too. Oh, and I nailed him in the balls.” James chuckles darkly against my skin. “Weapons? Yes, but they’re all in the van. He had a handgun, though. I took his knife.”

“I hope you fucking ruptured his nuts.” Thor glances at Steve with a raised brow and he nods in return. Both men turn to leave but Steve glances back. “You coming, Cannon?” His tone indicates he doesn’t expect an affirmative answer.

James shakes his head, burrowing his face into my hair for a heartbeat before lifting it again and adding. “Do what you want with him, but I want him back at the compound alive and able to answer questions after.”

Head-on-a-stick floats ghoulishly through my brain and I can’t stop a shiver. James tightens his arms around me, surrounding me in his comforting scent. His lips linger at my throat and I can’t decide if the slight tremor I feel emanating from him is suppressed rage or sorrow.    

“C’mon, baby.” He murmurs and Stitch reaches out to steady me as we stand. Once he’s upright again James pulls me back to him and reaches down, lifting me bridal style. I close my eyes to block out the house as he carries me outside.

The team is assembling beside one of the vans, and I hear the click of many cocked handguns, the snick of many blades being replaced in sheathes. I almost feel sorry for what awaits Henday, almost.

Steve appears at James’ side as Stitch throws open the back doors of the second waiting van. I’m drifting, and don’t hear what he says, and then I’m being gently set down on a mattress laid out in the rear of the vehicle, James taking care to lay me on my right side, my damaged left shoulder free. Stitch kneels in front of me, rummaging in his duffel. He withdraws a small vial and syringe.

“Morphine.” He explains as he draws up some of the clear liquid. “Just enough to take the edge off for the drive.”

I nod tiredly; I just want to sleep.  

James settles behind me as Stitch gives me the injection and, as the medic pats my leg comfortingly and turns back to his duffel, he scoots closer carefully, his heavily muscled chest pressing against my back. His arm cautiously wraps around me, drawing me nearer, but he’s careful to avoid my wounds. To be honest, I’m so starved for him I’d put up with the pain either way.

Stitch drapes a blanket over us as James nuzzles his face into the nape of my neck and then the relief of the morphine pulls me under.

JAMES

Only my need to hold Levi close to me keeps me from riding with my brothers to find that worthless fuck and tearing him the fuck apart. Only my helpless desire to breathe her in, feel her soft curves against me and reassure myself that she’s here, whole and alive keeps my beast caged.  

Bane and Stitch sit in the front and Bane drives us home while Stitch approaches us periodically to check up on Levi, take her pulse and read her temperature with one of those quick-read ear thermometers. Levi barely shifts, never waking and I let her sleep, content to just hold her.  

The prospect and the medic talk quietly up front but I don’t listen, I only burrow closer to my woman and try to decompress. Try to wind down from the abject hell of the last few days.  

I never want to feel that again, that helpless fear, the horror of the unknown. Terror that the woman who completely owns me, body, mind and soul was somewhere out there, being hurt and tortured and I couldn’t do a fucking thing to stop it.  

Henday will beg me for death before I kill him. He’ll wish he’d never been born.  

My cell buzzes and I move as little as possible to glance at the screen. It’s Steve.

Leaving now.

He still talking? I reply.

Mostly, might need a boost.  

Pain is an effective stimulant.

Text me when you get back, I’ll be with Levi.

K. She did a number on him, fucking proud of her.

I set the phone back down and burrow closer to my girl. I’m fucking proud of her too. The way she described fighting back makes my chest puff with pride. She held her own against a real bastard and got away. I didn’t think it was possible, but my love for her has grown even more.  

I manage to drift off too before we get back, and wake to the prospect thumping the sole of my boot. Levi flinches and whimpers when I move her, making me wince; I hate, with a passion, causing my baby pain. Stitch hurries ahead of me and has his small but well-stocked infirmary in the back of the clubhouse lit up and humming when I carry Levi through the door. It’s past midnight and the clubhouse is asleep, except for the sentries we have posted during the lockdown. I expect Nat and Sable to appear at any moment, demanding to see their friend.  

I’m exhausted, but far too keyed up to sleep and I’m not leaving Levi’s side. After Stitch disappears for a minute in the back room and reappears freshly scrubbed and in clean clothes, he pushes me back there too to clean up, and when I come back in, he’s already working on Levi. He points to a chair at the head of the gurney and tells me to sit; talk to her and keep her occupied; she’s going to be in some pain unless he gives her enough morphine to knock her out.  

Levi’s eyes shoot open as he begins and her jaw tightens. I open my mouth to snap at Stitch to give her more but she shakes her head slightly, gritting out a ‘no’. I hear my teeth squeak as I clench them.  

“Just talk to me,” she murmurs hoarsely.  

I don’t know what to say, I only know I want to keep her distracted from the pain. I start murmuring, lowering my head to hers, telling her about the rides I plan to take her on, when all this shit is done with, where we’ll just fill the bike’s saddlebags with supplies and head out, going wherever we feel like, camping outside, making love under the stars.  

She listens entranced, eyes fluttering shut as I branch out, begin talking about us years down the line, the way she’ll grow round with my children, the way we’ll lounge in bed together, our little ones cozying close while she nurses the newest addition. Only in my quietest moments have I allowed myself to fantasize like this, envisioning my seed taking root in her belly, her bearing our children and filling the house I’m going to build for her.  

I’ve never wanted this with anyone but her. I’ve never wanted that type of happiness with any other.  

Before long, she’s quiet, the tension in her beautiful face melting under my fingers as I stroke her cheek. Stitch is totally absorbed in his work, but he glances my way and nods. He’s careful as he cleans the tears at her wrists, injecting lidocaine to suture the worst of them. I continue to tell Levi about our beautiful future, but not with words. I let my eyes tell her, the way I hold her hand. She understands, squeezing my hand back, her amethyst eyes hauntingly beautiful.

But it doesn’t last.

I carry Levi upstairs to our room after Stitch finishes. He’s given her another shot and she’s drowsy and exhausted and I want nothing more than to curl up beside her and hold her, but just as I lay her on the bed my cell buzzes.

We’re here. It’s Steve.

Put him in the cellar. I’ll be there soon.

I hate leaving Levi; but I have to, I want to, no, I need to punish that worthless fuck that hurt her. I need to see the light bleed from his eyes as his life leaves him. I need to hear his pathetic death rattle and know that I’m the one that took his miserable life, make him pay for hurting the most important thing in the world for me.  

I lean down and murmur in Levi’s ear before gently kissing her temple and turning to leave. “I love you, Levi. With all my heart, all that I am. You complete me, baby.”  

She hums, half conscious, face relaxing completely into unconsciousness as I move to the door.  

Across the compound, under one of the smaller garages, lies the ‘cellar’. It’s a sound-proof underground room that we utilize more frequently than I’d like to admit. There’s a chair bolted to the concrete floor and a drain nearby if things get messy.  

And they’re about to get fucking messy.  

There’s quiet satisfaction on my brother’s faces as I enter the cellar. Henday is restrained in the chair, bent over and wheezing. Although my knuckles itch to bury themselves in his face, I turn to my brothers first.

“He ready to talk?”

“Think so. Might need some encouragement.” Steve answers, glaring daggers at Henday’s form.

I nod and turn, advancing on my prey. He doesn’t seem to notice me, so I kick his shin, hard. This gets his attention and he yelps pathetically, throwing his head back. Eyes wide with pain and fear lock on me, the whites of his left one almost black with hemorrhaging blood.    

“You think you could hurt my woman and get away with it?” I snarl. “You planning on splitting her in half? Fucking her ‘till she’s cold? Sending me pieces of her?” My rage grows with each word, spittle flying from my mouth. It takes all my strength to hold myself back from tearing into him indiscriminately.  

I force a step back, then two and Henday’s eyes follow me. His wheezing breaths whistle past his lips and as they curl in fear, I see only bloody gums. All of his teeth have been knocked out, only jagged stumps remain. I glance over at Steve and Thor, both flex bruised and split knuckles in answer.

I turn my attention back to my prey, back to the piece of shit that almost took everything from me.

“Who told you about us?”

Henday doesn’t answer, setting his bruised jaw mulishly.  

I’m wearing steel-toed boots, so I draw back and kick his shin again. The sound of bone snapping is drowned out only by Henday’s garbled scream.                                                          

“Who told you?” I repeat, my voice deceptively calm. My brothers shift their weight behind me, ready to pull me away if my beast decides to kill him without getting my answers first.  

“Fuck you.” He’s brave, I’ll give him that. His words are mangled, almost incomprehensible, but the blazing in his remaining eye is enough to convey what his ruined mouth can’t. He spits contemptuously at me, and I hear the faint clink of a tooth root hit the concrete floor.  

Suddenly, I��m done. I want this fuck to hurry up and talk so I can get back to Levi. I glance at Steve and jerk my chin at the jerry can behind him. He passes it over without a word.

Henday‘s eyes follow my movements, bloody drool dripping from his chin. I don’t know if he’s shaking in fear or shock or some mix of both, but I don’t care.

I twist off the cap and splash his left leg. He squeals and tries to twist out of his restraints. I lean forwards, my voice deadly calm, so he can see I mean every fucking word.

“Tell me who told you.” I say, my voice mild, almost conversational. “Or I’m going to set you on fire and let you burn. Then I’m going to extinguish the flames and revive you. Then I’m going to do it again... And again.... And again.”

A tear of blood trails from his ravaged eye.

“But,” I continue, splashing a little more on his already soaked leg. “If you tell me, I promise to shoot you between the eyes before the flames get too high.”

He mumbles and my fraying temper snaps. I pull my pistol and fire, hitting him in the abdomen. He screams, bucking in the chair. The wound is fatal, but not immediately.

“I read that the two most painful ways to die are to be burned alive and gut-shot. You’re both now.” I pause and lean closer, reaching into my pocket and pulling out a matchbook. “I can keep this going for hours, days in necessary. I love a good barbeque, don’t you?“                

What’s left of his resistance, and maybe his sanity snaps and he howls like an animal. “Okay!” Blood froths at his lips. “Okay.” He sways, as if losing consciousness.

“Was it your mother?”

“No. NO! Leave her alone. It wasn’t her. She’s got the Alzheimer's, she don’t know shit no more.”

“Tracer said he called her.”

“He did! Said he was dead, but that don’t mean she understood him! The nurses thought it was a joke, told me when I went to see her. I thought it was just her messed up head, so I ignored it too, but-” He breaks off, coughing violently. “Just promise me,” he groans. “Leave my ma alone.”

I don’t get my jollies from hassling old demented women, no matter how evil their sons are. “So, who? Last fucking chance.”

“Next day, McCoy called me.”

“Who the fuck’s McCoy?”

“Buddy of mine, we go way back. Grew up in the Knights together. My brother and McCoy left years ago, joined with Trace. You probly know him as Preacher.”

“Preacher?!” I thunder. “Tracer’s fucking Enforcer?!!”

Henday nods tiredly. “McCoy Jackson. He told me everything. Said the bitch deserved the slap, got my brother killed-”

“YOUR BROTHER GOT HIMSELF KILLED!” I roar. “He laid hands on my woman and he deserved that fucking bullet!” Strong, implacable hands yank me backwards and I shrug Thor and Steve’s grip off me, step back in front of Henday.

“That all?”

He nods, exhausted.  

I flick the match head, lighting it and dropping it on his leg. Henday starts to scream as the flames flare, struggling against his bonds. I nod to Tucker, who throws a bucket of water over the flames, extinguishing them. Henday is crying hysterically, babbling.

“I said... is that all?”

“Yes. YES! Please! Kill me!” He screeches and I hear the defeat in his voice, the trapped animal resignation. Death is his only reprieve now, and he’s welcoming it with open fucking arms.  

I throw a second match and step back.

His garbled wails remind me of the villain in the second Terminator movie, the howls and shrieks of the liquid-metal monster as he roiled and thrashed in the molten pit.  

I stand there for a beat, until the screams lose their human edge and become mindless animal suffering; then I keep my promise and shoot him between the eyes.

[fromryloth-tocorellia]

Emperor: “I can feel your anger-“

Rena: “You’re about to feel a lot more than that, motherfucker.”

E: “Good! Strike me down and your transition to the dark side will be complete, and you will turn on your friends!”

R: “Dude. You- you think killing someone in anger is all it takes? I’m a part-time bounty hunter, you dipshit! Emotionless killing is my actual literal job!”

E: “Foolish child! Your Rebellion is failing.”

Ilar: “Mmmm not so much.”

E: “You underestimate-“

Haly: “The power of the dark side, blah blah blah. Are you done yet? Because you’re not the last old fucker I have to kill today.”

E: “INSOLENCE! You will pay for this!”

*a saber appears through the emperor’s head and drags down*

H: “Kriffing hells, took you long enough, he was about to zap me!”

Varynn: “You have any idea how hard it is to hide your Force presence from the godsdamned emperor? Gimme some credit here!”

Luke, off to one side with the now-redeemed Anakin: “well done, my love. Now let’s blow this place up and get out of here?”

V: “of course. How do we do that?”

L: “I mean... last time I just shot some proton torpedoes into the reactor core, but the shield’s gotta be down for that.”

Anakin: “It is down. Your friends on Endor have succeeded, and I can sense several small ships heading for the station’s core.”

I: “great! Let’s get to a ship and get the hells out of here before this place explodes! You’re flying, Skywalker.”

L and A: “which one?”

V: “Luke, I love you dearly, but now is not the time.“

R: “The young dude in the black suit, not the old dude in the black suit. Now move your shebs before we all get blown back to Tatooine!”

(Ft. @rogueclonesftw’s Rena and Haly in a rewritten version where Luke works to turn Vader back while his bf and friends deal with the emperor)

[arledrone]

Hunters just don't have any lane they know how to stay in like I want to physically see these bounties actually destroying property and damaging the habitat bc afaik if ur THAT insistent to make a bunch of poorly constructed buildings in the middle of a fucking forest or desert then you have nothing to blame but yourself for voretooths eating your arse or coeurls making you their bitch. Like what fucking damage is the Jabberwock doing. He's too goddamn big and clumsy to escape Costlemark. The Quezlquatl I can kinda understand bc. Well. It can fly and decently so but also it hasn't burst out the Grove yet and probably has a (rly nasty) diet consisting of reaper and skeletons and flan. Dumbass humans tryna explore a constantly dark, underground daemon-riddled maze-like fortress? A bonus. You have to literally go out of your way to have any sorta agenda against the lightning bird thing. The Catapgiienehjebbdje whatever the fuck. You get brisket from them you know the thing im talking about those slow ass longnecks in the water. They ain't doing shit. Straight up eat and sleep in the same goddamn place lazy fucker. Someone just couldn't stay in their lane and honestly get out of my face if you're that desperate for beast meat. Overpriced meat anyway I HUNTED that for you gimme a fucking discount. Jormugand? Okay I can kinda see why but also it's underfuckingground. Don't even get me started on Garulas. Menace hunts? Probably entirely understandable. Although miss me on reasoning behind Bifrost. The Chocobros and others killing these things for food? Yeah sure although you can't convince me those rhino-armadillo things taste like anything other than moist rock. Daemon hunts are completely understandable. Deadeye had a REASON behind what damage it was causing (stop scaring these massive chicken birbs). Pretty all Behemoths definitely aren't herbivores and could actually cause damage. Anaks and shit have this tendency to chill right next to roads and shit and that's. Hoo boy. Bad. Midgardsormr? Absolutely understandable. Please for the love of God just show me the destruction they are causing bc as far as I know humans just couldn't mind their own business and everyone failed in Location, Location, Location theory. Round em up and make some serious gil with zoos or some shit. Fuck. Like I get things outside Insomnia are way harder but also. Stay in your lanes folks. Like there's logic and reason depending on the beast itself, and I would kill anything if it was fucking with a chocobo, and population control is a thing, but #waste my time fucking with some Elder Coeurls probably mainly feasting on other nearby beasts or the giant turtle that scares everyone with mini earthquakes even though it can't. Fucking leave its mountain shell worth a shit and only good pissed bc Emo McGee and his harem decided they wanted To Fuck With That. That said I've spent this much time slowly but surely killing the Adamantoise and it's gonna fucking happen.

[omgnsfwisnsfw-blog]

Game #7: I’m Bad

The ring gave a noise somewhere between a clatter and a creak as Mike McGuire flopped to the canvas, panting. They had been doing solo workouts for the past hour and their black and green ringwear was quite damp- half from sweat and half from the bottle of water or two they’d drenched themselves with to cool down. Propping their chin in one hand, they looked across the yard toward the garden. A small plot of assorted flowers centralized around an orange Voodoo rosebush at the beginning of the summer, the garden had grown substantially since to include not only more flowers, but fruits and vegetables as well. A small patch of strawberries yielded a steady output of plump red berries, a few heads of leafy green cabbage were coming along nicely as were green beans, snap peas, and, Mike assumed, a row of carrots. Right now, the garden’s tender was seeing to several stakes of tomatoes, the bountiful crop a deep ruddy orange in the early summer sunlight. “Hey. Church. Gimme one of those, wouldya please?” He paused in his inspection of the leaves for any signs of beetles, turned to his partner slightly, and shook his head with a small smile. “They’re not ripe.” “C’mon, I don’t care, they look juicy as shit and I’m thirsty.” They pouted, but John was unmoved. “You’ll get sick. They’ll be ready in a few days.” He turned back to his work, putting a wordless finality on the subject. Mike groaned a bit and rolled to the side, snatching a half full bottle of Gatorade off the ring steps as well as their GoPro. There was a third object stowed to the side as well- a classic black and white mottled composition notebook neatly labeled ‘DAKOTA JENNINGS’. As with every other opponent they’ve ever had, John had used his keen observational skills and insight to keep a well documented record of the Firecracker, and had even made a few updates as pertaining to the match they’d had with her and her partner at Rite of Kings. Mike frowned sourly as they thought of it, rubbing the back of their head. They’d been lucky not to need stitches or come away with a concussion, but the spot where the chair had made contact was still sore even days after the fact. They’d had it. The Chimera Tag Team Championships were in their grasp, and ReKota had known it too. So out came the filthy tactics and steel chairs and at the end of it all, before Bishop Church could even see what was going on, Mike McGuire had hit the canvas and been rolled up for three. The ovation from the crowd, while appreciated, didn’t take away the sting as much as they would have liked. That had been that. And Mike was still angry at themself for it. Angry, and raw, and not just because of the screwy loss- because of what had played out on Twitter afterward. A typical snarky back and forth banter had ended ugly, and Mike wasn’t even sure that Cross or Dakota were aware of just how cruel what they’d said was. How could they? It’s not like Mike advertised the ugliest parts of their past. Huffing out a breath through their nose, Mike took a deep glug of the Gatorade- not, they sulkily thought, a juicy garden-fresh tomato- and wiped their mouth on the back of their hand, setting the GoPro across from them and clicking the record button on. You know, people say stupid stuff on Twitter all the time. The whole platform is made of people’s stupid comments, after all. I’m hardly immune either. Which is why 90 percent of what you jokers say on that thing doesn’t bother me. Hell, bantering back and forth with you and your… boyfriend? Fiance? Eh, it doesn’t matter. Anyway, it’s actually kinda fun. And then you went and ruined that. Let me let you in on something. You’re not the first people to tell me I have a hittable face. You’re not the first to tell me I’m about to get my face caved in. Let me tell you, Jennings, you and Reboca don’t want to be in the same league as that person. I doubt even you are that low. “Fuck.” Mike had clicked the GoPro off and was staring at it. That was stupid. The specter of Steve Archer hadn’t been exorcised half as much as Mike would have liked. A couple of sleepless nights prior had made that perfectly clear. Just thinking about it made Mike almost want to call out across the yard and have John join them for a little bit, hold onto him until they felt safe. But they were stronger than that, right? Besides, they had that… that one thing they couldn’t keep putting off. John was going to need them for support, not the other way around. Mike would be fine. They always were in the end. Reaching forward, they picked up the GoPro and erased what they just recorded, as if those words had never existed. Goodbye. They closed their eyes and took a few deep breaths. Felt their old reliable steel slide into place. No, there was no sense showing vulnerability where it wasn’t necessary. Dakota, whether on Cross’ direction or her own volition, would eat that shit alive. It’d be like a drop of blood in a tank full of starved great whites. They turned the camera back on and set it across from the ring, starting again in earnest with  that big sharkish smile. “So. How about Rite of Kings, Valor Pro faithful? Crazy as fuck, wasn’t it? I mean, Jesus Fuck, did Spiral vs. Aoki nearly make you hurl, too? Shit was fucking insane. Sure hope they catch that pale stickyfingered fucker- after all that, Aoki deserves that strap. I mean, I like the Zombies. They’re weird, but they’re my kind of weird. Cosmo Cooper… STILL has that Apex Championship, which I’m sure has Cross Reboca’s underwear in all kinds’a fuckin’ knots. Oh. And speaking of…” Mike’s face went utterly sour then, one hand combing sweat-damp hair out of their eyes. “Ya boys got beat. But it weren’t for lack of trying, Faithful, and it weren’t for lack of cheating on ReKota’s part. I mean, you all saw it, yeah? And if you didn’t, feel free to check out a summary on YouTube. I’ll wait.” The Bronx Brawler paused a moment, twisting their wrist as if looking at a watch. “Yeah, there, you see what I’m talkin’ about? This close. Just a fuckin’ hair, and all of the sudden Jennings and Reboca devolve into their cheap fuckin’ ways because at the end of the day? They know they can’t win fair against a team like me and Church. And it was a damn shame because we were actually having a good time. But, one thing led to another. Broken up pin, then a wallop to the back of my head, and good ol’ N-S-F-Dubs come out of our first Valor Pro Wrestling pay-per-view empty handed.” Tisking and shaking their head, Mike gave a sigh. “Which leads us to here. I’m going solo this week. Me vs. Dakota. And I got all this shit running through my head like a fuckin’ freight train about it. Lots to unpack, so let’s start with bitches talkin’ shit, shall we? Any idiot can talk shit these days. You just get yourself a Twitter account and start running your fool mouth, regardless of whether you got anything fucking relevant to say or even if you know what the blue hell you’re talking about. My opponent this week is no fucking exception. If she knew what the hell she was talking about, she’d know that the last thing my partner is is a ‘meathead’. But I digress.” They snorted, and in spite of themselves cast a look off camera that caused their expression to soften slightly. It’d be missed if you happened to blink, though, because a split second later had Mike facing forward once again, a cool smirk on their face. “Between calling herself our ‘daddy’ and calling me a fucking drunk, Dakota Jennings is proving herself to be just another internet tough guy who thinks they’re ten feet tall with their dick hanging in the dirt. Least, they were until Church said something in particular that seemed to sting a little. My partner, in his infinite wisdom, pointed out that your tendency to go all El Fucking Kabong on people when the chips are down was compensating for a lack of, y’know, any real fucking talent. And at that point, Jennings had a major case of e-cock shrinkage and started whining that such an accusation was ‘hurtful and untrue’.” That smirk began to grow into something distinctly more vicious. “Methinks the lady doth protest too fucking much. Now, I’ve done my homework. I know all about you. And I could sympathize. It fucking sucks to bust your ass and not have anybody take notice. There’s a few ways to tackle that problem constructively, none- I’ll repeat to get it through your skull, NONE- of them involve cracking skulls with wild abandon. But that’s what you did. That’s what you keep doing. And now? I think you’ve been relying so much on the chairs that you don’t know how to get by without them. Now, I challenged you to leave your folding steel special at home. And you said you would. But I don’t fucking believe you, Jennings. Why should I? Why would our little date in Peru be any different than the past few weeks?” Mike rolled their shoulders and tipped their head to the side twice, cracking their neck. “On the other hand, maybe this wouldn’t be the match you’d want to fucking ditch your only real advantage in. Do you know who I am? Have you done your homework like I have? In case you haven’t got yourself out from under Cross’ dick for the last few days, let me educate you. My name is Mike McGuire. I’ve trained at the feet of King Race himself. I’ve gone at people wrapped in barbed wire. I’ve dropped big hairy bitches fuckin’ thrice my size with a single punch. I am one half of the greatest pure tag team of this generation, and if I’m bragging about all this? I’m still being fucking sincere.” Suddenly, Mike’s expression darkened. They leaned forward, their tone gaining something borderline ominous. “I can play fucking dirty if I have to, Jennings. I relish that shit. You’ve been in that ring with me, you know what I can do with backup. You won’t be able to tag out this time, though. You won’t have anywhere to run. But I double dare you. Break your word and go for that fucking chair. Do that, Jennings, and you will be one fucking sorry bitch, because I ain’t gonna play that shit twice. You slither one more cheap victory against me out of your ass and your rich little boytoy is gonna be pushing you to the next show in a fucking wheelchair. See you in South America, Firecrotch.” Their harsh expression remained on their face, even as they reached forward to click off the camera. Mike leaned back against the ropes, letting out a long exhale. Perhaps, they thought, they shouldn’t show John that one. They were pretty sure he wouldn’t approve of the violent threats that they’d dropped. But the thing was? Mike meant every last word. They were as sick of Dakota’s shit as they imagined Ms. Byrne was, but Mike didn’t have the power to fire anyone. They did, however, have the power to do horrible things to people. Things they hoped it wouldn’t come to, but couldn’t make promises it wouldn’t. Sighing, they rolled over, laid on their stomach in the shade of the spreading maple, and watched John tend his garden with a tender affection they almost envied.

[moonshine2sunshine]

"Didn't You Used to Be Somebody?" A year or two before I finally hit what some would call my alcoholic bottom, sitting on a barstool all rummy-eyed, someone actually asked me "Didn't you used to be somebody?"I guess I had become the shell of the man I once had been, too oblivious to respond.It didn't seem to matter anymore."Didn't you used to be somebody?" More of a statement than a question, really.*****"I didn't know then that I was very near finding some bottom, one bottom, a bottom. But I know now that what I need to do is to move forward and to build on whatever little life I have left....*****"NEWSFLASH: Cocaine sped me to my bottom. The more cocaine I took, the more alcohol I could drink. The two substances fed off each other, a feeding frenzy, my brain being the main course. Already plummeting well enough on my own, cocaine and other dry goods sped the process....*****"For me, Alcohol, in combination with any and many other drugs, was the Quicker Fucker-Upper (Sorry, Bounty Paper Towels). Cocaine sped me to my bottom.... Today I am grateful for everything that sped me to hit bottom. Everything."*****With each passing sober year (now over a dozen years clean and sober), I look back on my memory of being asked that timeless "Didn't you used to be somebody" question and I am another memory of a memory separated from it. I felt nothing slouching on the barstool in that short encounter, but my memory of it has changed with time, too, an accumulation of sober days healing that insult which was also a fact.*****Why didn't I just answer, "Yes, I once was somebody"?Perhaps he'd have bought me another drink and like my cocaine and other substances, he'd have helped speed me to hit bottom before finally finding recovery.I often wonder if that same guy, years later, ever had another person ask him the very same question. Another anonymous encounter that might occur before his sobriety is found.Perhaps....But that's not the way the addiction ball bounced. And bounced. And bounced and bounced.*****Cheers, Gentle Reader, a Sparkling Cider sober toast to you! I've found sobriety at last. To keep. For keeps.Pass out? Come to?No! "Now I lay me down to sleep...." and awake, aware, fully alive. "Didn't you used to be somebody?" I've got no time for that old jive. Gimme a break. Take five. Sober and alive. *****#Alcoholism #Addiction #Recovery*****Passages in quotes excerpted from All Drinking Aside: http://amzn.to/1bX6JyODiscover Recovery Tweets here: http://twitter.com/JimAnders4 Uncover 170+ Recovery Posts here: https://goo.gl/fmzt9b