#gotta drop at least a few bombs at the end of a chapter

[mercurydancer]

Burning Matches Pt. 7

Hey, Fellas

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This chapter starts off with a bit of a flashback into Miles' perspective of a bit of last chapter and in particular that conversation that Jefferson mentions having with his kid and then goes from there, just so you're not confused.

Ps. Nicolas Cage playing a Teenager will never not be funny.

_

            Miles listened to Peter’s voice as he explained who they were and what they needed with awe building up in his chest. He had already been vaguely impressed when Peter began speaking Spanish, but at every word that trickled from his lips, every carefully crafted lie that blended truth with the small barely-perfected idea that Miles had gone with, that bubble of vaguely impressed had turned into amazement. He hoped that it didn’t spread on his face, but one look at the bleeding mess of his friend helped secure the look to concern.

            Then Peter took off the mask. Peter took off the mask. Peter did the one thing that had terrified Miles, that had made him shake and shiver, and finally stare at Spider-Man in the same way he had before he died, with the same belief and trust that he could make it better.

            This time, Peter had managed to do so, in a way that made Miles’ breath catch in his throat. The mixed ball of guilt and horror in his chest was soothed slightly when his mother and father moved to help, but in the end, it was only tugged tighter, driven into his belly at the sight of every other face that was bared. Every other mask that was taken off.

            Miles felt like opening his mouth, like giving voice to the cry building inside of him, the “I am Spider-Man” that was on the tip of his tongue, the confession that Miles couldn’t speak.

            That Miles wouldn’t speak.

            Miles stayed in the background, watching his friends as they quietly watched his mom, as Peni moved to help, and felt that guilt pull tighter. When his mom finally pronounced that Pete was going to be okay, and the others began to relax, Miles had a terrified moment where he thought that his dad would kick them out. Instead he began offering for them to stay. They agreed, and after some discussion on where to put everyone and what to wear once their costumes were removed, they all began piling up in the living room. They helped Miles clean up the floor of his room, Peter revealing a home remedy that he said he used all the time, removing the blood that had pooled there as though it had never been there.

            But it had been, and the citrusy smell of Peter B’s concoction still hovered in his room.

            Miles wanted to join them in a way, he wanted to join his friends so badly, but when his father approached him, he knew that was unlikely to happen. His dad put his arm over his shoulder, twinging sore muscles as he did so (but Miles wouldn’t flinch), while his other took hold of his mom, leading them back into the hallway and away from the cuddle-pile that was forming in the living room, surrounding Pete’s makeshift-bed on the coach. A part of him knew that he didn’t belong there.

            He was a coward.

            His dad sighed, steering him into the room and closing the door behind them gently. His mom had gone to get showered and changed, having refused to take one until the others were taken care of first. The look that his dad was giving him was gentle, a kind of soft concern mixed with caring in a way that Miles didn’t deserve… He was such a bad son. Lying through his teeth, and he knew as his dad sat down on the bed and stared at Miles, that he would have to lie some more.

            “What happened?” his dad asked, voice gentle, seeming to recognize the way that Miles wanted to hide, wanted to run away and never be found. “Miles, it’s a school-night, why…why were you out of school, where were you where they found you? What…just what happened?” There was a line of frustration there underneath the concern, but his dad’s face was so open, and he had been trying so hard, and Miles…

            “Because I couldn’t stop thinking about Uncle Aaron,” Miles croaked out, “I left and I…I went where we used to go. Where we…he helped me throw up a tag, and I just…I just wanted to see it again.” He gave a shuddering gasp, and it was real, because the burning in his throat just wouldn’t stop. “There was this thing, this awful…it was huge. It came out of nowhere and it… Dad…” Miles sniffed. “It almost killed me, but…but that man, the one that got so hurt…he, he dove in front of me. He took the hit, and it…” Miles shook his head, remembering that awful crack, that terrible sound of tearing flesh, and suddenly there were arms wrapped around him. His dad, holding him close and holding him tight. “He flew, and he hit the wall, and they were suddenly all there, and they took it out before it could hurt me, but…I’m so sorry,” Miles gasped out against his dad’s chest, his own arms wrapping around him in turn. “I didn’t know where else to take them, and I…I couldn’t just leave them there, they…they saved me.”

            “No, no,” his dad whispered, hushing him, his lips pressed against the top of his head in a way that Miles hadn’t felt since he was small. It made him feel equal parts better and worse. “No, Miles, I’m just glad…I’m so glad that you’re safe. I’m so glad that they were there. I could have…I could have lost you and I wouldn’t have known… Oh, Miles, don’t apologize for having a good heart.” His dad brushed his thumb under Miles’ eye, catching a tear and meeting Miles’ eyes with a pride that made Miles want to gag. “I’m proud of you for bringing them here. I’m proud of you for helping. It’s that spark of yours.” His face curled into a slight smile before he looked in the general direction of the living room. That smile faded slightly the longer he looked that way, his eyebrows pinching together, and Miles felt a sudden spur of dread.

            “You’re not going to turn them in dad, are you?” Miles asked, and that spur of dread turned into a spike. His dad turned to him with wide eyes, before he immediately shook his head.

            “Hey, hey, no. You don’t have to worry about that. None of them are from…from here, anyway, so there’s no one that I could turn them in to if I wanted to.” His dad dropped to his knees before him when Miles’ expression shifted, alarm creeping into it. “And I don’t want to”, he emphasized, his hands solid weights on Miles’ shoulders. “They saved my boy, Miles. How could I betray that in good conscience? How could I take their lives when they gave me back one of the lives that matters the most to me? No. We’ll keep their secrets. They’ll be safe in this house, I promise. I just…I want to be sure that we’re safe, too, so I…I don’t want you around them yet without me being there. I trust them, I do, I just…” His dad sighed, struggling to express himself, but meeting his eyes anyway, hoping for understanding

            Miles nodded slowly, giving it to him.

            “Okay, thank you, Miles, that…that makes me feel better.” His dad sighed, and hugged him once again, crushing him to his chest in a way that robbed his lungs of air and made his heart warm all at once. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” he whispered once again into his hair, and Miles hugged him back. Finally, his dad pushed him away, and nodded his head towards the bed. “You get some sleep, okay, kiddo?” Miles nodded and moved to grab some pajamas. As he did so his dad gave one last, “I’m proud of you,” before shutting the door behind him.

            Miles didn’t move for a moment, holding himself still, a too-large t-shirt in one hand, and a pair of shorts in the other. For a moment he thought he was going to drown in guilt, when a sudden rapping against his window startled him. Miles looked up and over to the fire-escape, spotting a hand by his window.

            “Miles,” a quiet voice called, far below a regular human’s hearing, but definitely not his. “Miles, are you decent? Can I come in?”

            Peter B… Miles immediately moved to the fire-escape, throwing the window open and allowing the older Spider to crawl through.

            “Hey, thanks, I just…”

            “You took off the mask,” Miles whispered, his voice pinched and his eyes wide. “You…but I…” he couldn’t catch his breath, a mixture of horror and amazement, and guilt, guilt, guilt all clamoring inside of him.

            “Hey, hey, breathe, kiddo,” Peter B said softly, crouching down before him. He took his shoulders in his hands in a way that his father had before him, brown eyes of a distinctly lighter shade staring into his own. “I did. I thought that if we showed them some trust they might repay the favor. I know how hard it is to tell your own family the truth, kid, it’s okay. Really, it’s okay.”

            Miles choked on tears and found himself clinging to the other Spider. Peter B wrapped his arms around him easily, and Miles sniffed into the strange cartoon-covered pajamas that the other was wearing. 

            “Shh,” Peter B hushed gently, rubbing a single hand on his back as the other held him steady. “It’s okay, you’re okay. It’s normal to be scared of this. It’s okay.” The other continued, his voice a quiet litany of words, gentle and even, and slowly Miles calmed.

            Finally, Miles pulled back, rubbing at his face, whispering out a quiet, “Thanks.”

            “It’s no problem, kiddo, really,” Peter B responded, smiling at him gently. “I wanted to make sure you didn’t have any serious injuries before I hunkered down to wait with the others.”

            Miles shook his head almost immediately but paused when he recognized Peter B’s look of skepticism. “Just bruising,” Miles answered, “I don’t think it cracked a bone or anything.”  

            “Miles, are you sure?” Peter B asked, and his voice was so soft Miles smiled at him.

            “You bet,” he responded, wiping his eyes. “I’m alright, thank you for checking on me…but how did you get past my dad?”

            “I wasn’t in the pile when he originally started looking. I’m gonna talk to him a bit, I think. Get some stuff cleared up.” Peter B smiled at him then. “I heard your cover-story, by the way, solid stuff.”

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about, man, you were…well, you were fantastic.” Miles managed, and Peter B grinned.

            “You learn a few things kid, one of them is how to lie. So, trust me when I say that I know exactly how scary it is to tell your family, and any of that guilt you feel? Choke it and kill it, because you don’t have to feel guilty, definitely not for any of our decisions, right?” Peter B’s expression was as serious as it ever got, those eyes staring into his so intently, and finally Miles managed to give a nod. “Okay, good. Now get some sleep, I’ll keep watch, it’ll be okay.”

            Miles swallowed, but felt himself nodding anyway, a gentle sort of calm washing over him. Peter B crawled out the same way he came, going back to the others, and Miles felt that he could relax.

            In hindsight, Miles should have known it wouldn’t last.

            The pounding of his heart was almost louder in his ears than the scuffle that was happening before him, the calls of “Pete!” and the ringing of guilt and shock and…

            “Peter Benjamin Parker!” was suddenly belted out by his mom and Miles froze, eyes wide and body tense for all of two seconds before he realized whose name got called out. The sight of both Peter Benjamin Parkers staring at his mom with horror on their faces – and for Pete, Miles could feel the horror even through the mask - was almost enough to make up for the near heart-attack he had suffered, and Miles almost wanted to laugh. Pete was finally talked off of Peter B, pressing himself against the couch and trying so desperately to get his bearings. It made his heart hurt.

            When his mom asked him to take off his mask and Pete refused, Miles felt his heart lurch. Pete looked so small. When dressed in his trench coat and the vest underneath, it had bulked him up, and made him bigger, but now, pressed up against his couch with his body curled in a defensive position, head down and surprisingly thin shoulders hunched up around his ears… He looked fragile, he looked… Nothing like Pete. Nothing like the man that Miles had come to sort of know.

            Though really, what did he know about him? What did he actually know?

            Pete using a tommy-gun had been a shock. Hell, Pete shooting whatever that thing was had been a shock, but… It was still a Peter Parker under that mask. It was still someone that Miles knew, and someone that he trusted.

            “Hey,” his dad said, his voice that gentle cop-voice that Miles had only heard a couple of times, usually reserved for either the very hurt or the very scared. Miles supposed that Pete counted as both right now, and that kind of hurt. “Look around, you see all of these people? All of these people want you to get better, we all want to make sure you’re okay, and none of us, you hear me? None of us are going to use your identity against you. It’s okay. You can take off that mask. You can trust us.” His dad took a breath, those goggles turning to fix him in their thousand-yard stare, but his dad simply gave him a slight grin, encouragement and gentleness there within the gaze.

            “You’re Peter Parker, right? Well, my name is Jefferson Davis, but any of you can call me Jeff, okay?” He prompted, those goggles still glued to him, attention fixed, even as his dad turned his attention to all of them, an open expression on his face that made Miles feel warm. “This is my wife Rio Morales, she’s the one that’s taking care of you. She’s a nurse, and a damn good one.” His dad indicated his mom as he spoke, and his mom smiled gently and gave a small wave when Pete’s attention turned to her.

            “Call me Rio,” she said, and her voice was just as soft as his dad’s, her attention on everyone as well. Then his dad indicated him.

            “That kid over there, the one you protected? His name’s Miles, I don’t know if you got to meet him formally before…what happened to you, and I know your friend mentioned his name, but…” His dad took a breath, his eyes closing as he fought for composure. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there to protect him. But I want you to know that you don’t have anything to fear from me or my family. None of us are going to use your identity or your face against you. Not after what you all did for us.”

            For a moment Miles thought that Pete would voice his confusion, would try and correct the statement, try and deny it, but he didn’t. Pete just swallowed thickly, starting to uncurl from his protective ball. Encouragingly, his dad spoke one more time,

            “No Peter Parkers, or Porker, or Gwen or Peni have anything to fear from us, alright? You’re safe. All of you are safe with us.”  

            Pete stared at him, taking in his posture, the way he was crouched in front of him, and then that mask turned to Miles. Miles watched as he finally made what he thought was eye-contact and Miles made sure to straighten up, squaring his shoulders. There was a promise in his eyes, and in his heart, beating against his rib-cage. Miles knew his family, and he trusted his dad, and he trusted his mom, and he trusted his friends. He tried to impart all of those feelings towards the man in the mask, whose chest was still bleeding so sluggishly, and finally, finally…

            Ghost-white hands went up to that black mask, starting with the goggles, which were lifted up slowly, and Miles found himself holding his breath along with the rest of the room. The eyes that were revealed to them were strange, the iris a clear gray that was piercing, the pupil constricted to a small black dot, either at the light or…maybe just at the color. His sclera was as white as the rest of him, but the dark veins that were just barely visible and the small gray line of his waterline ending in his tear-duct was strange, even as it made his eyes stand-out. There was dark bruising around them, whether from tiredness or multiple hits, coupled by the start of many tiny little scars dusting his skin. His pupils didn’t seem to focus on any of them, flitting too fast from one face to the other, reminding Miles a bit of shimmering fish in an aquarium. Slowly, those hands that removed the goggles began pulling at the leather and mesh of the mask, peeling it back gingerly from his throat.

            That very familiar chin was revealed to them, but it wasn’t covered in the stubble that Miles had expected. It was marked with a scar, however, a scar that ran up from his chin to just above his lips. Miles stared, watching as slowly but surely a face that he had never quite expected was revealed. In a way, he supposed he had been expecting some of it. Miles had been assuming that it would be scarred, and it was, that scar on Pete’s chin joined by one that went across the bridge of his nose, and a few dusted around his eyes that made Miles nervous seeing them clearly without the shadow of the mask itself, and one long one ran just under his hair-line, but…

            Miles had assumed that Pete would be older, or about the same age as Peter B. The face that was revealed to him looked more like his Peter. In fact, it…it might even look younger, and Miles knew that the shock that he felt was mirrored by the rest of them, particularly in the way that Peter B’s mouth fell open. The mask was finally completely pulled off, revealing a shock of black hair that was alarming mainly in the contrast it presented to that white face, but also in the cut of it.

            Miles had thought that Gwen had looked bad when she had first shaved off part of her hair after Miles’ wound up stuck to her, but… Pete’s hair looked hacked at, choppy in a way that suggested he was doing it himself and possibly blindfolded, but it also appeared like it wasn’t going to be seen. Like it was cut for the simple purpose of staying under his mask and that was it. Like Peter Parker didn’t exist anymore in his world, completely lost to Spider-Man. A gray tongue licked at slightly lighter gray lips nervously, those gray eyes still darting between them all.

            For a moment there was silence. Shocked and mildly horrified silence.

            “How old are you?” Peter B suddenly managed to ask, brown eyes still wide.

            Pete finally locked eyes on him, a black eyebrow crawling its way up his face. “Eighteen,” he said, and Miles felt his own mouth drop, a reaction that was mirrored by everyone around him. As the silence continued, that eyebrow lowered slowly, and his mouth scrunched up slightly, and he dropped his eyes when no one moved, and everyone continued to stare. “Alright, seventeen, you don’t have to act like I’m a grifter,” he grumbled after the silence grew too long, and Miles sat down.

            “I thought you were thirty? Or at least…at least in your later twenties?” Peter B managed, his voice slightly higher in pitch, slightly squeaky, and Miles found himself nodding along with Peni, Ham, and Gwen, his parents looking mildly surprised themselves. “The way you act…the…the way you talk I just?” Peter B threw his hands out towards him. “What?”

            “Thanks,” Pete managed, leaning back with a slight smirk, scarred lips shifting almost grotesquely, “it’s the trauma.”

            Miles choked on his own spit. Between Miles’ own sudden loud coughs as he tried to get his breath back, and the other Spiders’ yells of shock and confusion, it took a moment to realize that Pete was beginning to press back against the couch. Those eyes went back to darting and his legs curled up to his chest tighter, and even as Miles managed to catch his breath the thought that Pete might not be joking echoed in his head.  

            Miles was about to say something, when he almost saw the moment Pete began locking the emotion away.

            Miles didn’t think back to the Spiders’ standing around him, knocking him to the ground, and yelling at him with much fondness. While he knew in his heart, then and now, that it hadn’t been done out of any malice, but rather a deep-seeded worry, it had still been a moment of trauma. Trauma that he had needed in a way, and something that helped prepare him for the onslaught of Kingpin and the rest of them, but still trauma. He still remembered Pete’s voice though,

            “Can you close off your feelings, so you don’t get crippled by the moral ambiguity of your violent actions?”

            That statement pounded through his head, and he had no doubt that that was exactly what the other was doing, though instead of fighting moral ambiguity, he was fighting trauma.

            “Thank you!” Miles’ voice finally called out, his voice loud, cutting through the other Spiders’ and his own parent’s voices sharply, anxiety leaping into his throat when everyone turned to face him. But Miles pushed through, taking a deep breath, “Thank you,” he repeated. “For…for saving me. I…” Pete was staring at him, those gray eyes fixed in his direction, black brows pinched slightly together. “I would have been dead, and…just thank you. I’m sorry you got hurt…”

            Pete continued the quiet staring for a moment longer, before that kind of twisted smile pulled at his lips again. “You go up against a lot of hard boys in this line of work, kid, and that comes with a lot of injuries. This ain’t anythin’ new. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

            “Right, well, in order to make sure you can do it again, do you mind letting me look at your stitches?” His mom asked, moving forward. “I want to redo them and check your head. You seem to be pretty aware, but I want to make sure.”

            Pete turned his attention back to her and after a moment gave a slight shrug. “Alright.”

            “Okay, thank you. I’m going to work on your stitches first, do you mind lying back for me?” His mom asked. Pete hesitated for a moment, before finally began moving into a lying down position. His mom peeled back the bandages and made a few unhappy hisses at the sight before her but seemed pleased there wasn’t as much damage as she had feared. His skin was already starting to heal around the stitches, which was strange to see, but she had a feeling that if they had waited any longer that healing wouldn’t have been able to stick.  

            His dad worked again as an unofficial nurse, handing her things and sanitizing the needle for her, as well as handing her the alcohol needed to clean the wound.

            His mom began pouring alcohol on a few cotton pads to use for sanitizing around the wound, “I wish I could sanitize everything better, and had better equipment…”

            “Better than doin’ it over a sink with whiskey,” Pete replied easily with a slight shrug.

            “Man, I feel that one,” Peter B agreed, scratching at his chest. “Only…with rubbing alcohol. I didn’t realize whiskey was actually that sanitary?"

            “Been usin’ it for years where I’m from,” Pete answered. “Haven’t gotten an infection yet, so I figure it’s worth it.”

            “I wish I’d known about that sooner,” Gwen grumbled. “I couldn’t buy a lot of rubbing alcohol when my dad didn’t know without it looking suspicious, but he had a lot of whiskey. Now I’m able to stock up on everything, but that would have been helpful. I kept seeing it in movies, but I thought it was just a Dollywood thing, you know? I should have looked it up.”

            His mom stopped and stared at Pete, before staring at Peter B, and then finally at Gwen, her eyes wide and almost horrified. “If any of you ever have something like this happen again, you come right to me, okay? If you can hop dimensions to help the new Spider-Man then you absolutely must hop dimensions to deal with your injuries, that is absolutely unacceptable. No puedo creerlo…!”

            “I don’t want to impose…” Pete started, just as Peter B began shaking his head, and Gwen also opened her mouth to reply.

            “No! Absolutamente inaceptable, I will not hear any talk of imposing or otherwise bothering me. You come to me.” She pressed the wet gauze to Pete’s chest as a gesture of both finality as well as insistence. The other Spiders shut up, and fell silent, his eyes closing slightly at the sudden coolness. She began mumbling quietly, wiping away the black blood once again before fixing the stitches.

            Pete didn’t comment or move through the process, even though Miles knew the stitching had to be odd. When she was finally done, she had him put his back to the couch and she sat on it behind him, reaching out and running her hands across his head, frowning down at his hair as she did so. She pulled her hand back suddenly, slight surprise on her face, and Miles blinked at the sight of more blood on her gloved-hand. It blended in with his hair so well he hadn’t even seen it. After careful evaluation from his mom she gave a grateful sigh.

            “It feels like it was just a cut, I can’t find any sign of a crack or movement, and it has clotted well. I think your mask helped prevent it from getting any worse.” She frowned at his hair for a moment before shaking it off, though Miles was still getting over that chop job someone had made of his hair. It looked bad. His mom didn’t press though and moved away from him. Pete relaxed when she wasn’t as close to him, his shoulders rolling slightly. “Alright. I’m going to bring you something to drink, and I want you to drink all of it.” She frowned at him, before leaving for a moment. Miles grinned and sat down, watching Pete stare after her with wide eyes, a tinge of satisfaction in his chest.

            Watching his mother mom someone else was quite entertaining, but also something Miles felt oddly proud of. Pete…didn’t act like he had had much mothering in his life. Miles wondered if Pete had an Aunt May in his world…he wondered if Pete was alone. The thought of that, of being alone in that world with the black and white gloom and fog and those monsters…with no one to help him… To be seventeen in that world and completely on his own. That was just four years older than him. Four years and… Miles snapped out of it at a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and saw Gwen in front of him, her blue eyes worried.

            Miles blinked, before forcing a slight smile on his mouth. Gwen smiled back, her eyes still worried, before butting her head in Pete’s direction, the man still staring up at his mom as though he hadn’t seen anything like her before in his life. Miles inclined his head slightly and she gave a slight nod before her smile turned much brighter.

            “He’s got us,” she mouthed to him, her eyes bright and happy, and Miles found himself grinning back. Pete did have them. He’d be okay. He managed to make eye contact with the other man. Gray eyes blinked at him, slightly overwhelmed, and slightly amused. The expressions were familiar but…muted. Before he had more time to process his mom was finally back.

             “Drink all of this,” his mom pressed, finally pushing a carton of juice and the tablets into his hands. “It helps your body metabolize iron and the tablets are iron supplements, they’ll help with your blood-loss. Judging from the chart you don’t have that much of a difference in terms of biological chemistry, so you still need both vitamin-c and iron.” His mother watched as Pete blinked wide eyes at first the carton and then to the tablets, and then back to her. “Anda, bébelo, Parker!”

             Pete flinched before opening the carton and blinked at the smell. Pete frowned, looking at the carton with narrowed eyes.

            “That’s called orange juice, bud!” Ham called out. “You recognize it?”

             “I don’t know…” he frowned, looking at the carton and then back to his mom. “The whole…?”

             “The whole thing,” his mom confirmed. “Don’t worry about sanitation, and don’t worry about us, I need to go shopping later anyway,” his mom waved off his worry and he finally took a drink. They watched as grey narrowed eyes suddenly opened wider and he looked at the carton again in amazement.

            “Why’s it called orange juice?” he asked.

            “Because the fruit that it’s made of is called an orange,” Peter B responded immediately.

             “Is…is the fruit called an orange because of its color?” Pete pointed at the fruit on the box, holding it up so they could see. “This is an orange…and that’s because it’s orange?”

             “You got it,” Ham gave him a thumbs-up, and then blinked. “I think?”

             “Why is it called an orange?” Peni asked, frowning.

             “I always thought it was called that because of the fruit?” Peter B frowned.

             “Is it because of the color?” Miles asked. “I know that in Spanish it’s naranja…but…that means orange, too?” Miles pulled out his phone and began looking it up as a debate started warring. “Noogle has failed me!” he finally called out.

             “Well what the heck. I don’t know what came first, but for whatever reason, that color and the fruit is known as orange here.”

             “What’s it called where you’re from?” Miles asked, looking to Pete finally, everyone else following his gaze as well.

             “We just call them citrus fruits. They don’t have any particular name…” Pete stared at the carton a little longer. “Oranges.”

             “You don’t know what color…” His dad paused, staring at the black and white man before him, taking in the slow and steady crawl of that black eyebrow over a chalk-white face, before crossing his arms and frowning. “Alright, you know what? That was admittedly a stupid question.”

             Pete’s mouth pulled into that stilted and slightly twisted smile, and Miles had a sudden lurch when he thought that maybe that was his smile. He wasn’t being funny, or teasing, or even taunting, he just…that twisted, and almost ugly thing was his smile. Miles wondered how little opportunity he had to smile and made a vow that he’d do something to change that. He glanced at the others, finding several pairs of eyes meeting his own, a certainty in them, and found himself realizing that he wasn’t the only one who seemed to have made that connection and he likely wasn’t the only one who had made that decision.

             They started chatting amongst themselves as Pete began sipping at the orange juice with a little more fervor. He seemed the most relaxed when their attention wasn’t on him, and Miles was happy to comply with that wish.

             “Did he change back?” Pete asked suddenly, and they blinked.

             “Did who change back?” his dad asked.

             “The Lizard. Did he change back into a human after I shot him?”  

[coquitokisses]

Trusting Again | chapter 002: the bombing

Word count: 1557

a/n: im gonna try to not put too much dialogues from the movies, yes, there will be some, but I'll try to not put too much.. it's tiring lol

series masterlist • previous chapter • next chapter

📍London

After we went to Peggy's funeral, Steve wanted to walk Sharon back to the hotel so Sam and I are currently in the lobby waiting for him.

"What do we think about Sharon?" Sam asked "And Steve."

"She's okay." I shrugged "If he likes her, then good for him."

"Thought you two were friends."

I let out a breathy chuckle. "I'm not friends with everyone who worked at SHIELD, Sam." I rolled my eyes

"You talked about her like you guys were friends."

"I mean, we've talked and we've obviously worked together, kinda, but I don't think friends describe our relationship."

"You hate her?"

"No, I just.. I haven't spent that much time with her to say if I like her or not."

"You're a rare breed, Cat," he rolled his eyes "you don't got any friends."

"That's not true." I looked at him "I got you."

"We're friends?" he raised an eyebrow

"Oh go to hell" I rolled my eyes and he started laughing

Yes, we are friends. We've been friends since we met, literally. But he's a pain in the ass sometimes. And I'm sure he says the same thing about me.

I looked up at the tv that was in the lobby and saw that they were talking about a bombing that happened in Vienna at the UN. And they had a video of the suspect and when I saw who it was, my jaw literally dropped on the floor.

"Look." I nudged Sam and pointed at the tv

"Holy shit." He muttered "Come on."

We got up from our seats and walked over to Steve who was talking with Sharon at the elevators.

"Steve." I called him and they both turned around

"There's something you gotta see." Sam said

In that moment Sharon received a call and after she answered it, she told us to go up to her room. Once we were there, Steve immediately turned on the tv so we could see the news.

"More than 70 people have been injured, at least 12 are dead including Wakanda's King T'Chaka. Officials have released a video of a suspect who they have identified as James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier, the infamous HYDRA agent..."

As they put on the video which clearly showed Bucky's face, I saw over at Steve and saw how he took a deep breath and how his body tensed.

"How the fuck..?" Sam said in a low voice since Sharon was on the phone

"That's impossible." I whispered

"What do you mean? They have a photo of him as evidence, Cat."

"Who cares about the photo, this doesn't make any sense." I sighed as I kept watching the news "There's just.. there's no way."

I really couldn't believe what I was seeing.

"I have to go to work." Sharon said

(...)

📍Vienna

So we flew to Vienna and we're currently in a little coffee shop. Steve is kinda freaking out with this whole Bucky thing, I don't blame him, I would be too if I didn't know where he has been all this time.

But I do know.

So I know he didn't do it. He wasn't even in Vienna.

"Try this." Sam gave me a piece of his dessert

"No, thanks." I shook my head

"Just try it."

"Oh my god." I rolled my eyes grabbing the fork and I ate what was on it

"Is good, right?" He looked at me waiting for my response

"It is." I replied with my mouth full and I gave him back the fork

I'm still kinda processing this whole thing. It just doesn't make sense that Bucky did it, last time I checked he wasn't even in Vienna. I gotta admit, it has been kinda hard to keep track of him, but thank god for my trainers.

A few minutes later, Steve came into the shop and sat with us after talking with Natasha.

"She tell you to stay out of it?" I asked him, he only sighed

"She might have a point, you know?" Sam said

"He'd do it for me." Steve replied

"1945 maybe." Sam responded "I'm just tryna make sure we consider all our options, the people who shoot at you usually end up shooting at us too."

"He's not lying tho." I shrugged and Steve looked at us before we saw Sharon coming in

"Tips have been pouring in since the footage went public." she said in a low voice as she stood besides Steve "Everybody thinks the Winter Soldier goes to their gym, most of it's noise, except for this." she discreetly handed a folder to Steve "My boss expects a briefing pretty much now so that's all the head start you're gonna get."

"Thank you." Steve said

"You're gonna have to hurry, we have orders to shoot on sight." she said before walking away again

"Still thinking she's just okay?" Sam looked at me

"Yes." I nodded

"She literally just handed Steve information on Bucky."

"She likes him." I rolled my eyes

"How do you know? Thought y'all weren't friends."

"I don't need to be her friend to notice that, you idiot, it's clear you're a guy."

"Someone clearly doesn't like Sharon." He rolled his eyes

"I never said that!" I said "You sound like such a kiss ass!"

"I am not!" He defended himself "I'm literally on Steve's side! As long as she gives us information, we're good." he shrugged

"You're an ass." I shook my head chuckling

"Both of you better keep it down or shut up, we're in public." Steve told us "We have to go."

"Go? Again?" I looked at him “Go where?”

"Romania." He replied grabbing the folder

“Oh my god, we keep getting further and further away.” I ran my hands over my face “I miss New York.”

"Come on, we have to go." He told us

"But I haven't finished my little dessert." Sam looked at him

"Ask for a to-go plate, dude." I stood up from my chair

"Damn it, man." he clicked his tongue

(...)

📍Bucharest

While Steve and Sam went to the location that Sharon gave us, I stayed in the car, I'm not tryna get killed, again. Besides, this one's on Cap, I'm only here for moral support (hopefully). And I'm listening to the radio in case they say any news. While also reading a magazine.

And in case they're about to die.

"Can you hear me?" Sam asked through the earpiece

"Yes, this is the third time you ask." I told him

"Don't move." Steve said "We might need you."

"I know" I rolled my eyes as I passed the page on my magazine "Please be careful, both of you."

"Always." Steve replied

And I just sat there, listening to the radio, reading the freaking magazine and waiting for the guys to tell me if I needed to speed down the fucking road.

Minutes passed. And I haven't heard them say anything in a while which made me worry a little but I decided to just stay chill and don't freak out. They will call if they need help.

And speaking of the devil..

"You need to come now!" Sam yelled making me jump a little

"Where are you?" I asked him throwing the magazine on the back seat

"We're on the same tunnel we took to come here!" he said "Ah, shit!" he groaned "Hurry up, dude!"

"I'm on my way."

I put the car on drive and pressed on that pedal very hard. I was at the tunnel in no time, but it wasn't that far away either.

"Holy. Shit." my mouth dropped when I saw the amount of police cars that were there

And I'm assuming they're following the guys, of course.

"Are you here?" Sam asked

"Yes, but there are too many cops, I can't see you guys." I told him as I sped up trying to pass the cops

This is fucking insane, we're getting arrested for sure.

"There are too many cops! It's literally impossible to go through!" I told him

"I have this guy onto me, dude, hurry up!" Sam said

"I literally can't!"

"Hit them or shoot them, I don't know! Fucking do something!" He yelled

"Fuck!" I hit the wheel and I took my gun out of my holster

I held the wheel with one hand and with the other one I snuck my hand out and shoot the cops tires so that I could finally pass through.

"I see you." I said to Sam when I saw him and he indeed had a guy onto him

I heard an explosion and I saw how the top of the tunnel started falling so I immediately hit the breaks, Sam stopped and moved his legs upwards making the dude go into the falling concrete. Sam stood back on the ground and I got out of the car to run up to him.

"Are you okay?" I asked him

"Yeah, I'm fine." He nodded "Ah shit."

A bunch of cops came around us pointing guns at us and yelling to put our hands up.

"Well, we're fucked." I sighed lifting my hands

They made us walk up to where Steve was and once we were there, I saw how they were arresting Bucky on the floor.

It's safe to say that they arrested us all.

Likes and reblogs will be appreciated!

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[rubylarkspur22]

So... I'm thinking of releasing some bits and pieces of my original stories. And this post is basically doing an interest check for 100% original content from me. Below the cut will be a snippet from one story(which is still very much a work in progress, so don't expect regular or chronological updates), and I'm curious what you all think.

If there's enough interest, I will likely be putting any new parts up on my Patreon, and art will be both there and here. Where it ends up will be dependent on the content(i.e. If I ever dive into NSFW, it will be on Patreon behind the paywall).

For context: this would be very early in the story. Like, first or second chapter, if I were to go through with it. Thaleia and Leilani, the main characters, had met when they were ten, and had a scarce few meetings in a cove since then. They're either sixteen or eighteen here. Hope you enjoy!

“I didn’t know merpeople could turn their tails into legs.” Leilani jumped at the voice, falling off her rocky seat with a shriek and landing back into the water.

“Jerk.” Leilani muttered with a smirk once she resurfaced, spitting out some of the water that had gotten into her mouth. Thaleia at least had the grace to look sheepish and apologetic, her ears drooping slightly.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” she replied, reaching down for Leilani. She considered pulling the dracotaur into the water, but decided against it. She told herself it was because it wouldn’t be princess-like to be so petty. It definitely wasn’t because she would have felt bad for soaking Thaleia. So she let the blonde pull her back onto the rocks, sitting down. “You okay? Want me to warm you up?” Thaleia asked once neither of them were likely to fall into the water again.

“I’m fine.” Leilani told her, flicking the water off her skin and covering her lower half once she was dry.

“That’s good.” Thaleia sighed with that warm smile that made Leilani’s heart flutter. “So… the legs are new.” Leilani looked down at the appendages in question.

“Not really. I’ve always been able to do this.” she admitted with a shrug. She turned to Thaleia, doing a double take at the blonde’s slit pupils and perked ears. “What? Is something wrong?” Leilani asked. Thaleia’s right ear dropped and her pupils dilated. That’s a new one. Leilani thought.

“You’re half-human?” Thaleia asked. “Because full merpeople can’t do that. Not without a lot of magic, I heard.” she added. Now it was Leilani’s turn to gape.

“I… didn’t know.” Leilani muttered. “All my dad ever told me about my mom was that she named me.”

“Oh.” Thaleia replied, both her ears drooping. “Now I feel kind of bad. Must be a big bomb to have dropped on you.”

“A little.” Leilani chuckled. “I’ll talk to him about it later. Somehow.” she sighed. For now, however, she wanted to catch up. “How’ve you been?”

“Good.” Thaleia giggled as her ears perked up. “My wings finally grew in, and mom’s been teaching me how to fly. It’s a lot of fun!” she added, her wings stretching as if sensing her speaking about them. They were definitely larger than Leilani recalled them being. Even accounting for the years it had been, they looked significantly more proportional to Thaleia’s body.

They’re so beautiful. Leilani thought. She pulled her eyes away from the magnificent wings, focusing again on Thaleia. To her surprise, the blonde was blushing and seemed unable to make eye contact. “Is something wrong?” Leilani asked. Am I not supposed to look at your wings for too long?

“No, nothing’s wrong.” Thaleia replied. “I’m just flattered that you think my wings look nice.”

“Oh.” Leilani nodded. “I said that out loud?” she guessed, getting a nod in return from the blushing Thaleia. “Well, it’s true.” she added, feeling heat crawl up her own face.

“Thanks.” Thaleia whispered with a smile. Leilani opened her mouth to reply.

“Princess!” Leilani whipped around, spotting a speck she knew was a pair of guards. She turned to Thaleia with an apologetic smile.

“I gotta go.” she sighed. “Talk later?”

“I’ll be waiting.” Thaleia replied. Leilani nodded.

“Princess, is that you?!” the guard called out again while Leilani slipped into the water.

“I’m right here! I’m on my way!” Leilani replied, diving and making her way to the guards. As she swam her mind drifted to Thaleia. Why was she so flustered about her? Why did the thought of being closer to her make her heart pound and her face heat up so much? Maybe it would pass? Leilani shook her head, pushing those thoughts aside for now. She would handle it later.

[weregreatatcrime]

I'm sick and rereading Two Halves and I know I leave a lot (A LOT) of stuff in the end notes but there's actually lots of stuff I still never mention or talk about so here's a long sick (midday) ramble about things I didn't get the chance to talk about but wanted to (in somewhat of an order reminded by rereading) or at least just some lines I particularly enjoyed

It's time for chapter 7 while I fight off the sick urge to Nap. Warning for VERY dark content including suicidal ideation and Murder

I really enjoyed this chapter because I got to fully embrace and showcase some of Karai’s sadistic, bloodthirsty nature that I just hadn't been able to show yet. She's a changeling and a raised and trained assassin who hates humans. She can get NASTY when she's given the opportunity to, and the fic hadn't allowed that before this chapter. Finally I got to write my true murder girl 🧡

The very secret game between Shredder and Karai over what Foot ninja are loyal to whom. Some genuinely would rather follow Karai than him, while others just see her as a lesser of two evils. Of course this isn't all very up front- Shredder is in charge first and foremost, so of course, they all obey him. Some just... prefer to listen to the heir, when given the chance...

Shredder allows the heresy only because it's something of a game between father and daughter :) Plus she'll inherit the clan anyways, it's good to have men who will be immediately loyal to her when she does. The majority are still loyal to Him.

Even ninjas forget to look Up sometimes. Especially in their super secure throne room that shouldn't be Capable of having spies around

"Prime indicator that [Shredder] was smug about something that probably violated the Geneva Convention."

Xever was my FAVORITE villain in 2k12 as a kid. Nowadays it's Stockman, but I still have a lot of fondness for the evil murder fish

Changeling Karai makes a game of tormenting her father's Lieutenants, and Xever is her favorite toy. He's thoroughly petrified of her. He's one of the few who knows even a bit of just how far her sadistic nature goes

Karai’s first reaction to hearing she'd been *seen* while doing a secret mission was to launch herself headfirst off the roof and I wish I could say that's hyperbole, but uh, nope, that's quite literally her greatest fear and can result in her death so suicide can potentially be a better way to go than risking being hunted down by the Order

Xever thoroughly believes Karai is just manipulating the turtles so she can get in close and stab em where it hurts. From his experience, this is absolutely what she would do, and Karai has never proved him wrong about her malicious streak before

Xever equally as terrified of the Shredder because of the fact that she CLEARLY got it from him

Karai WISHES she could blow everything up on the way out like Stockman, but she can't risk the Order sticking their noses in before she's done. So she's gotta settle with dropping a metaphorical bomb instead

Karai, maybe leaving Shinigami on read is actually the WORSE option than not leaving her any sign at all

While thinking of what Karai would make into her changeling key, it didn't take me very long to think of something she would frequently have on her that would be inconspicuous. Eyeliner. That red is fire

Changelings have a LOT of backups and backups for backups

"Xever was fond of severing fingers, and she didn’t want to have to cauterize anything mid rescue."

The entire rescue scene just makes me happy. This is Karai in her element. Killing people right in plain sight without being caught, disappearing with their corpses before they're seen. This is changeling Karai doing what she was trained her whole life to do and she is GOOD at it.

Donnie was in fact drugged a second time to keep him down for a bit

Karai personally when picking a hostage turtle would've picked either Mikey or Leo, but she doesn't know about Shredder’s own plan for Donnie, so she's a bit puzzled

Personally, if Karai had designed it, rather than a bomb she would've used a biochemical agent that could've been pumped right into his bloodstream on either a programmed signal or upon someone attempting to remove it. What that agent would be would entirely depend on how much she hated the person in question

Karai has a real love for poisons that doesn't get a lot of time to shine, but it DOES pop in here and there

Despite her fucking with him, Karai did always respect Xever more than a lot of other Lieutenants. He's a lot more cunning and willing to use underhanded tactics which of course appeals to her

Ngl tempted to write a whump one-shot of what would've happened if Karai HAD shown up a bit later for the rescue

I ranted enough about fish biology in the end notes, I don't need to go on about it again here

Karai paralyzed Xever with he sword through the neck, but he WAS still alive. Just completely unable to do anything about it. Hence why she initially assumed he was dead. Sword through the skull was enough to end it though

Actually sending a sword through his thick skull required a lot of muscle, hence why she needed to put some oomph into it. Her changeling form would've managed fine but human form is a lot weaker

Imagine the scene they walked into later. Two dead foot ninja, Xever dead with Karai’s sword placed dramatically through the top of his head, the turtle missing, NONE of the cameras working, and the ONLY thing they have is a few clips of Karai sneaking in and one single shot of her dragging Donatello out of the lab while flipping off the camera. Fucking amazing

Yes, I play dnd. Sometimes when writing I use a d20 to make decisions when I can't decide because all my options are tempting. It's a great writing hack- especially because if you REALLY hate your roll, you discover that you actually did have a preferred option

[thewisemankey]

Let's Talk about Netflix's One Piece.

So I, as a One Piece fanatic, wanted to take the time to put out all my thoughts onto Netflix and their live adaptation of One Piece. There's OBVIOUSLY spoilers for the show as well as the original manga/anime so it's all going under a cut. So spoilers for those who haven't watched this first season at LEAST. Now that formalities are out of the way...

I'll admit, I had my share of doubts and fears about there being a live-action adaptation of a series that I've followed for nearly 20 years and are so passionate about because of how it's helped me grow as a person. Especially when Netflix failed SO VERY HARD on other attempts with Cowboy Bebop and Death Note.

Over time though, with all the announcements, reveals, trailers as they came...I actually became optimistic and hopeful. Not JUST because of how involved Oda was, but I can tell this wasn't just another live-action adaptation for the flippin' SAKE of doing it. The more I heard from the cast and crew, the more I could tell this was a real passion project. So buying into the hype, I had to put past grievances behind and give this a chance to support it in hopes that it would be worth the time.

And by golly, even with high expectations, they managed to succeed in ways I didn't even imagine.

Going into it, I knew this wouldn't be a completely 100% accurate telling of the East Blue saga. Fitting 100 Chapters worth of story into 8 episodes would be difficult for ANYONE. But they managed to pull it off in their own unique way that would satisfy OP vets like me and newcomers alike.

There definitely were some surprises, of course. Like the fact some characters who someone like me KNOWS are still alive ended up dead. Nobody who's especially IMPORTANT but still an odd call here and there. Then there was the fact Usopp and Kaya actually KISS here! Like WHOA, that's not happened in the manga/anime! (Maybe not yet, but it could! At the end of the series...? Perhaps it was a confirmation that it would once we get to that point. Who knows.)

Casting was definitely on point. For pretty much everyone, really. Even with guys like Lucky Roux and Patty having a different skin color for this, they played the parts well enough for little changes like that to not matter.

If there's one thing that I would call into question however is letting loose the bomb about Garp being Luffy's grandfather so soon. Something that doesn't get revealed until nearly halfway into the series. That was pretty much a damn big deal when that secret blew the roof off of several houses. We sure people new to all things One Piece who may potentially start digging into the original manga/anime wanna know this so soon? Then again, that wasn't THE bomb that dropped when Garp's identity was revealed at the time. Hopefully we don't go TOO fast with secrets in future seasons.

Maybe there were a few lines spoken here or there that were cringe, but not like I was watching the god damn 4Kids dub all over again. Just had to remember that if there was anything odd or different about anything at all, Oda himself oversaw this and if he approved it, we all gotta approve it, too. And I can live with that.

All in all really, it warms me up knowing this adaptation has been so successful the world over and could potentially what leads to more people giving the manga/anime a chance when they're intimidated by the 1000 chapter/episode length. They can see what they've been missing, if they can't wait for Season 2.

And hopefully there WILL be a Season 2. Gonna need the most important character in my life to show herself. If you know me, you know who it is, especially if it ends up going into Baroque Works territory.

That said, let's set sail and get ready for the next adventure, for ALL things One Piece.

[birgittesilverbae]

some notes on TFOH Chapter 15, which is a chapter I go back to time and again, because TFOH is just gut punch after gut punch and this scene is no different

Moiraine's been, like, dropping hints she's about to die (Moiraine: I'm about to die) since she returned from Rhuidean, but few hurt more than the talk she has with Egwene after Egwene learns of the schism

when Egwene shows up, Moiraine's fire has gone out; ignoring the temperature is learned once newly raised, but what's also stressed in those lessons is the necessity of maintaining awareness of the temperature of your surroundings (the mind can endure temperatures that will harm the body). that Moiraine has lapsed here would be shocking on it's own, but especially so in combination with her being so deeply engrossed in her eavesdropping that she doesn't realise Egwene's there right away

but Egwene doesn't even notice, because she's wrapped up in her own stuff and has a bomb cradled in her hands that she just tosses down immediately

and Moiraine's not surprised by it. she and Siuan were both well aware they were playing with fire, and were clinging to the faint hope they could get Rand to Tarmon Gai'don before they got burned. Moiraine thinks she won't see him that far, though, and she's probably done all her own grieving by now in those handful of days directly following Rhuidean. so she's not surprised. just quiet. turning this over like a blacksmith's puzzle, trying to work out how Elaida will fit in. (Siuan was always better with puzzles)

Egwene's so laser-focused on not implicating herself in any off-the-books TAR shenanigans that she's not putting any thought into Moiraine as a human person with human emotions. there's no mention of Moiraine's reactions between [“How do you know?” Moiraine said quietly] and Egwene having the audacity to drop [“Is that all you can say? I think Siuan was your friend once, Moiraine. Can’t you shed a tear for her?”] as though she has any grasp at all on the situation. just Egwene projecting her own insecurities.

it's gotta be physically painful to Moiraine to have to look at Egwene and try not to see Siuan at that age, headstrong and driven but not reined in. "I have no time for tears, Egwene. The Dragonwall is not many days distant now, and the Alguenya..." and not only is she looking at this mirror of Siuan and preparing her to shoulder a burden that Moiraine and Siuan can't carry any longer, but she's staring more of her past in the face as well. she's returning to her homeland for the first time in light only knows how long, and she's returning to die. she fled the tower to avoid a coronation and a rule that she thought would end in streets overrun by mobs and Cairhien once again in ruins, but her return now can only end in much the same way, and she knows it

"There is a saying in Cairhien, though I have heard it as far away as Tarabon and Saldaea. ‘Take what you want, and pay for it.’ Siuan and I took the path we wanted, and we knew we would have to pay for it eventually.” This is the most open Moiraine has ever been with Egwene and Egwene's not even really paying attention. instead she's listing off all the awful stuff that Siuan's potentially gone through and wondering why Moiraine's reactions differ from hers, and Moiraine just sits there schooling herself to calm but it's gotta hurt so much, and Egwene keeps digging the knife in deeper.

Moiraine sighed, a soft sound. “Do you expect me to be happy that the White Tower has split apart? I am Aes Sedai, Egwene. I gave my life to the Tower long before I ever suspected the Dragon would be Reborn in my lifetime." Moiraine spent her childhood wanting to flee the Royal Palace, set Tar Valon up as this ideal, and though she fears she won't be there to see Tarmon Gai'don through she has expected that the Tower, at least, might remain whole her in wake. That Siuan would give Rand support and protection when she no longer could. but that hope is gone, along with Siuan, and she's long since made arrangements so that Lan can't follow her into an early grave, and Egwene is just. devoid of sympathy.

Moiraine leaned over to put a hand on her arm, a look of affection on her face. “We cannot hold his hand forever, Egwene." and yet Moiraine still feels that little stir of pride when Egwene works something out. she's guided her and readied her for this (ironic that Siuan's reeling her in expecting a grunter, and Moiraine's helped shape Egwene into another Siuan, a silverpike on the line).

"I know you are not giving up, Moiraine. What do you mean to do?” “I mean to deal with the world as I find the world, for as long as I can." The amount of times she's on the edge of just coming right out with "I'm about to die bud come on get with the program"

Egwene leaves the conversation thinking Moiraine's been speaking to her as an equal, while Moiraine's just... exhausted. She doesn't have to try and steer Rand anymore, doesn't have to protect Siuan, because Siuan's likely dead, and Moiraine's about to orchestrate her own death for the sake of duty. all that's left for her to do is try to impart forty-odd years of life experience in a scant few weeks. easy peasy.

(Egwene leaves the tent shivering. Moiraine's long since let the frost seep into her bones.)

[tevanavernus]

Saudade - Chapter 1.

||Prologue||

Summary: "Saudade" - A nostalgic longing for a person or thing that was loved once, but is now lost.

Helmut Zemo's life was forever changed when the Avengers picked his country as a personal playground to fight their own creations. He would never regain the pieces of his life where he was a husband and a father of two. But the existence of new Super Soldiers might just bring him closer to that life he once had than he ever thought was possible. Madripoor holds secrets that even Baron Zemo does not know about.

Word Count: 6.2k

Helmut led them deeper into the garage where his personal collection was stored. Flicking the lights on, he was met with a couple of rows of his favourite antique cars. Just like he left them years ago. It wasn't all of his collection, the remaining couple of dozen were hidden away in other parts of the world. He made a mental note to thank to whoever kept the place cleaned and the cars taken care of. From an initial glance, all of them were spotless, just how he liked them.

"So our first move is grand theft auto?" Sam asked, crossing his arms the moment the light came on.

"These are mine. Collected by the family over the generations." Helmut explained as he pulled open the lid of the trunk. Some of the cars dated back all the way to pre-WW2. He could still remember his father showing him the collection when he was a young man himself. It was a tradition of a sort, in their family. A tradition that he carried on with Nic and was planning to do with Carl once he was older. Years down the line, the same cars, amongst others, were going to be split and passed down equally between them. Now, they would forever be in his collection. He supposed the traditions along with the family name would end with him.

Helmut glanced down at the trunk of the 1946 Packard Clipper that was filled with weapons, knives, and ammunition. He scanned through them all, considering what to take. Some of it will be useful, especially the ones that he could conceal easily. Hearing the doors of other cars being opened, he tilted his head towards Sam and James but refrained from making a comment. Sam chuckled from somewhere behind Helmut, making him turn to him. Sam pulled back from the 1934 Packard Twelve Series 1106 that he was checking out.

"Hey Zemo," He called out, grinning at whatever he was holding in his hand. "Have been secretly a fan-boy all along and were pissed we didn't invite you to hang out?"

"May I?" Helmut asked as he extended his hand. He had a suspicion of what it was already but wanted to see it himself.

"You should keep it. Really brings out your good side." Sam bit out sarcastically and lightly threw it across the couple of feet that were between them.

Helmut caught it easily and opened his palm to see a scratched-up keychain of Iron-Man's helmet. It was light, made of cheap metal, with nearly reflective orange and red paint.

"Huh," he muttered lowly, turning it around a couple of times. The key chain was an old, cheap trinket. He couldn't even remember where Carl picked it up. Their city wasn't exactly in support of Iron man even before the Ultron mess so he doubted it was in Novi Grad. "It belonged to my son. My eldest stole it from him, she liked to do that when they were fighting. I imagine there was another fight over the fact that she lost it."

"Put it away before you lose it," Helmut told her the moment he noticed it dangling from her pocket. "What is it with you and stealing Carl's things?"

"I'm not going to lose it." Nic rolled her eyes and grabbed it. Throwing it to the holder inside the car door she turned to him. "See?"

"Hold up," Sam cut in, pulling Helmut's attention back to him. "You have kids?"

"Had, until your friends showed up. Why does this surprise you? I had a life outside of work." Helmut asked as he ran his thumb across the keychain before putting it into his pocket. It held no value or use, just a small sentimental trinket, he should throw it out.

"Don't get sassy with me, man. If you drop a bomb on us like this, I'm gonna have questions." Sam rolled his eyes, shutting the door harder than it was necessary. Rude.

"As we all do I imagine. Curiosity is wired into our genes after all-"

"Not the time." James interrupted their conversation.

"Right, as I was saying," Helmut cleared his throat and went over to the yellow 1934 SS1 Jaguar where he knew he stored his coat. It was a nice coat. Warm, great quality leather with soft fur around the neck. Ivana loved to steal it and drop it over her shoulders the moment he looked away even for a second. No matter how many times he offered to get her one as well, she would just roll her eyes at him and stick her arms inside it as if to prove the point that it was already hers. It was funny how much it would engulf her, he wouldn't be able to protest for too long even if it ended up in him freezing his ass off at times. He blinked. "I spent years hunting people HYDRA recruited to recreate the serum. Because once it's out there, someone can create an army of people… like the Avengers."

Helmut placed the coat on top of the car, making sure it wouldn't fall to the dirty ground. Trying to keep his expression neutral as a wave of bitterness washed over him, he bent down to retrieve a bag from the inside. Once the coat was removed, on the green leather of the car seat, his old, purple mask stared back at him. He paused, having forgotten that he threw it here the last time he drove the car.

Nic made a face as she lifted the mask up and took a look at it. He had stored it away in the compartment box but Nic made her way inside it to snoop around.

"You don't like it?" He raised his eyebrow, pulling out of the garage and into the traffic. He promised to bring her to the Zoo couple of days prior and they were meant to return back home the next day. So begrudgingly, he found a couple of hours in the day when he could bring her, even though they went there not even half a year ago for her thirteenth birthday.

"It's…um…very purple."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Why is it so purple?"

"I think you just don't appreciate fashion." He accused her teasingly.

"You call this fashion?" She shot back.

" I let you sit in the front of the car with me and this is what I get in return?" Helmut feigned the hurt in his voice. "Being bullied by my own daughter."

Nic snorted and pulled it over her head. She pulled down the sun visor to see how she looked before turning to him. He wasn't surprised in the least to see that it was way too big for her. The holes for the eyes and mouth were too low and covered her vision instead.

"You're going to be grounded if I find any makeup stains inside it." He threatened and moved his hand from the gearbox to pull the mask off her head. For the life of him, he couldn't understand why she was already putting it on her face. Throwing it behind him to the back, he ruffled her hair even more, causing her to cry out and swat his hand away.

Swallowing, Helmut reached for the mask. His hand lingered on the soft material for a moment. Clicking his tongue, he grasped it tighter and pushed it inside the bag. It will be useful if they ran into trouble and he needed to stay out of the public eye. Nothing else. They really needed to get a move on. The familiarity of the place was making all the memories that he had no time or energy for to come back.

"I ended the Winter Soldier program once before. I have no intention to leave my work unfinished." Helmut asserted, taking the coat and dropping it over his forearm. With the bag in hand, he walked back to the 1946 Packard Clipper.

"To do this, we'll have to scale a ladder of lowlifes." He explained as he filled up the bag with a couple of knives, handguns, and few boxes of rounds.

"Well, join the party. We've already started." Sam remarked from behind him. He was the jokester amongst them, Helmut thought but ignored his comment.

"First stop is a woman named Selby. Mid-level fence I still have a line on. From there, we climb." He added.

Once he was by the door, Helmut placed the bag on the floor and turned back to his 'team-mates'.

"Stay here." He ordered them, not particularly wanting them to go around and explore the rest of the building.

"Where are you going?" Sam demanded to know, ready to leap into a fight.

"To change, Sam," Helmut smirked and made a point to look down at his police uniform. "I would offer you to join, but I must say I was a married man and I don't break my vows."

"Just hurry up," Sam grunted disgusted at the image Helmut must have created in his brain.

Helmut did not hurry up. In fact, he took his sweet time in choosing his outfit. The upper level of the garage was converted into a somewhat livable space if it ever came to that. Ignoring the spare bedroom, he went straight to the room that acted as a walk-in wardrobe. After going through the options, he ended up settling on a pair of black slacks and a dark purple turtle neck that was loose enough to conceal the Kevlar bulletproof vest underneath.

"My, my." Ivana grinned, coming into their bathroom and leaning against the door frame while he was buttoning up his shirt. "Don't you look charming tonight?"

"Are you sure your opinion is not swayed by the fact that you got me the shirt?" Helmut raised his eyebrow as he watched her through the mirror.

"Of course not, Helmut," She rolled her eyes playfully, coming in further and wrapping her arms around his neck from behind. "But I gotta say, purple is your colour."

He hummed and tilted his head against her cheek as he finished the buttons, leaving the top two unbuttoned. She leaned in and placed her lips on his earlobe, nibbling it lightly.

"Brings out your eyes," She breathed into his ear, making him shiver.

"Honey," He grinned and turned around to wrap his arms around her and pull her closer until she was pressed firmly against his chest. He leaned in, pressing their lips together for the briefest moment. "If you keep this up, we won't leave this bathroom."

"Doesn't sound half bad to me," She quipped and grabbed his shirt to tug him back, deepening the kiss.

"Daddy!" Carl called out all the way from the bottom of the stairs, interrupting them. At the age of five, he possessed the power to scream down the house when he wanted something. "The TV stopped!"

"Duty calls," he half groaned out and stole another quick kiss, not wanting to leave just yet. "You nearly ready?"

"More ready than you."

Helmut blinked the memory away as he put the razor back in its place and looked at himself in the mirror. With a clean shaved face and back in his regular clothes, he looked half decent. Almost like he didn't spend years rotting away in a cell with nothing but books. Almost like he was presentable enough to go home. Except there was no one to greet him there now. Sighing, he grabbed his gloves from the sink counter and shut the light off on his way.

"Really? You couldn't have taken any longer?" James asked exasperated the moment he reappeared. To his surprise, they seemed to have listened and stayed where he ordered them to.

"I certainly could have, but unfortunately we have a plane to catch." Grabbing his bag and coat, he opened the door and threw them into the back.

"How you plan to get all this through the security? Not to mention that you're a runaway criminal?" Sam quizzed as he side-stepped quicker than usual to get to the front seat.

"I have my ways, you'll see," Helmut responded and pressed the button to open the garage door. Sitting down behind the wheel felt nice. He had to admit, he missed driving.

Once on the road, the car fell into silence for a few moments with the radio playing quietly, before Sam ruined it by opening his mouth.

"So what? You took your kids on your little killing sprees?"

"Killing sprees, as you call it, involve a great amount of waiting around. We went sightseeing, mostly. Sometimes shopping." Helmut entertained his idiotic question as he sped up, darting in between the traffic. He smiled smugly catching James' eye-roll in the back mirror.

From their expressions, Helmut gathered that both Sam and James did not expect him to bring them into a small airport forty minutes outside the city and waltz through it like he owned it. The workers that noticed them simply nodded their heads in greeting and minded their business.

"So all this time you've been rich?" Sam asked, surprise evident in his voice as the three of them made their way towards a private jet that was parked on the runway.

"I'm a Baron, Sam. My family was royalty until your friends destroyed my country." Helmut explained as they walked past the plane's wing.

Oeznik was waiting for them by the stairs. Helmut smiled, genuinely happy to see his most loyal friend. The man was in his life as long as he could remember and he was there by his side when Nic and Carl were born, watching them over while he was away. Helmut owed him a debt that he could never repay.

"Hello, Oeznik." Helmut greeted him in Russian the moment he was close enough to be heard over the engine. Oeznik was the one who sat him through hours of Russian lessons many years ago. It was only fair that he would greet him in it.

"Welcome, gentlemen." Oeznik greeted them back in Russian, causing Helmut to grin wider. While James knew Russian better than anyone, Helmut wasn't sure if Sam did.

"Old friend." Helmut embraced him and kissed both of his cheeks. It had been too long. Nodding to him, Helmut turned to James and Sam. Partly to get them on the plane, and partially because he couldn't look at the man for too long, not when he was looking at him with such adoration. Like he was truly happy to see him. It felt wrong. Undeserving. It made his skin crawl.

"Please." Helmut invited them in and boarded the plane. It was one of the smaller jet's that belonged to him; a six-seater with a small gallery. Perfect for quick travel.

While Sam and Bucky got comfortable in their seats, Helmut took a moment to go through the gallery in hopes of finding something that would pass the time between taking off and reaching the optimal altitude. He wasn't a fan of how rocky the first part of the journey tended to be. Helmut could already hear them going back and forth between each other. Finding a book, he pulled out a small red notebook from his coat's pocket. He nicked it, mostly out of curiosity, from James when he wasn't paying attention. He was sure it would also help to understand where the soldier's mind was at currently. After having his memory scrambled for decades, he was bound to be desperate to write down anything important, in fears of forgetting it. It was only logical.

Putting it in the middle of the book, he returned to the cabin and picked a seat near Sam, so that he could have a viewpoint advantage to watch James. He took a look at him for a moment before opening the book and feigning his interest in it. The former Winter soldier had no idea that he lost something. Perhaps James was trying to suppress anything that had to do with the Winter Soldier, including his heightened senses.

Once they were airborne, Oeznik returned with a glass of champagne for him. Helmut chuckled softly and reached out for it, crossing his legs as he leaned back into his chair.

"Apologies if that's a little warm, the fridge is out. But I will see if there is some good food in the galley."

"If it doesn't pass the smell test… give it to them," Helmut suggested in Sokovian, tilting his head towards them, to give just enough suspicion that he was saying something about them. It was fun, getting under their skin. Besides, it wasn't likely that they would tell a difference even if they took the offer of food which he doubted they would. Probably would believe that he was trying to poison them.

"It's good to have you back, sir." Oeznik chuckled with affection in his voice and returned back to the gallery. Helmut tilted his glass before taking a sip, hoping to wash away the heaviness in his stomach that formed. He could think of a couple of things that would be better than him to have back.

"You don't know what it's like to be locked in a cell. Oh. That's right. You do." He couldn't help but deliver the dig, even at the expense of setting their 'friendship' a step backward. He wanted to acknowledge Sam's time in the RAFT, of the time that he was a prisoner just like himself. That they had something in common, not just an enemy. Also to hint that he kept up with the news, that he knew of their actions and steps, even all the way from a prison cell.

"Why don't you tell us about where we're going?" For what it's worth, Helmut had to give a point to Sam for not falling for the most basic bait.

Helmut instead of answering picked up his book and flicked through the notebook, settling on a list. He paused for a second. He was familiar with the names on it. After spending over a year learning everything there was about James' time as the Winter Soldier, he had Black widow to thank for making his job easier, he understood the meaning behind them. What took him by surprise was to see his own name amongst them.

"I'm sorry. I was just fascinated by this." Helmut changed the subject, concentrating on one name that he didn't recognize. Nakajima was circled a couple of times, most likely the most important name on the list. However, he never came across of a Nakajima in James' files. "I don't know what to call it, but this part seems to be important. Who is Nakajima?"

James jumped from his seat and within a second, had the vibranium arm around his throat. The suddenness did catch him off guard, causing him to exhale sharply but he wasn't scared. The grip was tight, in a way that was meant to send a message, not to actually cause harm. Besides, why would you be scared of a thing you craved in the dead of night? Death wasn't something that could be used against him, not when he welcomed it years ago.

Helmut maintained eye contact, almost daring him to go further. To prove his point. That was what the serum did to people. Edged them towards extremes, and James Barnes was as extreme as one could get. A man-made killing machine.

"If you touch that again, I'll kill you." James declared, with a calmness in his voice that only people who had their hands dirty could muster. Touchy subject then. He yanked the notebook out of his hands and only then released his grip.

"I'm sorry," Helmut apologized, his voice sounding hoarser from the strain it just experienced. "I understand that list of names. People you've wronged as the Winter Soldier."'But why is my name important enough to you for you to write it down in your amends?' was left unasked.

"Don't push it." James bit out, becoming guarded once again, just like when he came to his cell. He reminded Helmut of a dog he used to see back home. Desperate for help, but too long on the streets to trust anyone.

"I've seen that book. It was Steve's when he came out of the ice." Sam noted with fondness in his voice. "I told him about Trouble Man. He wrote it in that book. Did you hear it? What'd you think?"

"I like '40s music, so…" James replied, clenching his jaw.

"You didn't like it?"

"I liked it."

"It is a masterpiece, James. Complete. Comprehensive. It captures the African-American experience." Helmut joined in the conversation.

"He's out of line, but he's right. It's great. Everybody loves Marvin Gaye."

"I like Marvin Gaye."

"Steve adored Marvin Gaye."

"You must have really looked up to Steve. But I realized something when I met him. The danger with people like him, America's Super Soldiers, is that we put them on pedestals."

"Watch your step, Zemo." Sam warned him but he ignored it.

"They become symbols. Icons. And then we start to forget about their flaws. From there, cities fly, innocent people die. Movements are formed, wars are fought. You remember that, right? As a young soldier sent to Germany to stop a mad icon. Do we want to live in a world full of people like the Red Skull? No. That is why we're going to Madripoor."

"What's up with Madripoor? You talk about it like it's Skull Island." Sam asked, glancing between him and James.

"It's an island nation in the Indonesian archipelago. It was a pirate sanctuary back in the 1800s." James was the one to answer him. That was a light way of putting it.

"It's kept its lawless ways. But we cannot exactly walk in as ourselves. James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone."'But we both know that's not quite true don't we?' Helmut left unsaid.

The flight from Germany to Madripoor took roughly fourteen hours. For the first couple of hours, they sat in relative silence. Helmut drowned himself into the book while James looked out the window and Sam had his AirPods in, drumming his fingers against the armrest to the beat of a song.

Helmut shifted in his seat, closing the book. Sighing, he placed it on the chair opposite of him and stood up needing to stretch his legs. The jet didn't have that much space to walk so he chose to cross the gallery to refill his glass. With the drink in hand, he wandered down into the cockpit where Oeznik and another pilot were sitting.

"Sir." The pilot greeted him in Russian the moment he noticed him leaning against the door frame.

"Excellent flying, Dabrowski." Helmut smiled, crossing his arms. "haven't felt any turbulence."

"Thank you sir."

The cockpit fell into silence, not that Helmut minded. He was too used to it to find it uncomfortable. He watched the clouds pass them by, sipping the champagne. Feeling eyes on him, he turned to Oeznik.

"Did they treat you alright, Helmut? Truly?" Oeznik asked, switching to Sokovian while looking at him with such adoration and worry that Helmut had to look away yet again. He cleared his throat and plastered a smile on his face. Even to himself it felt forced.

"Of course Oeznik, you worry too much." He chided him gently. The man always fussed about him. He always fretted over Ivana as well, concerned if she ate enough throughout the day. Never went a day without secretly giving Nic and Carl a piece of candy even if Carl never was able to keep it a secret.

"Well it has been my job for over forty years and you tend to find trouble around every corner." The older man chuckled fondly.

"Nonsense, I'm always on my best behavior. How have you been? I imagine you enjoyed the much-needed vacation days." Helmut changed the subject easily. He didn't want to linger on what once was.

"If I knew your drastic ways of making me take the vacation days off, I would have taken them sooner," Oeznik joked before his smile fell away. "Things have been quiet. It a strange thing to get used to. Even after all these years, I expect to hear Nic and Car, to just pop out around any corner that I turn. I make sure they always have fresh flowers, especially Ivana. She was hellbent on having fresh flowers around the house."

His voice broke, thick with emotion. Helmut had to bite down the inside of his cheek to keep himself composed. The metallic taste filled his mouth and as he ran his tongue over the spot, it sent a small jolt of pain.

It had been so long since he saw their graves. He only went there once, to watch their caskets be lowered into a deep hole. As if that somehow could have brought him some sort of closure, as if it would have granted him the ability to say goodbye. The thought of returning, of stepping a foot in that damned graveyard, of looking at three tombstones, side by side, washed him over with such coldness that even if he jumped into antarctic water he would have been warmer. Shame flooded him. What kind of a man did not visit his own family? What kind of a husband, a father, would let them rot alone.

"Thank you, Oeznik. I'll…" Helmut swallowed, trying to find the words that seemed determined to be stuck in his throat and left unsaid. "I'll make sure to pay them a visit. Later."

Helmut did what he did best; he lied. You told her they would be safe. Look how that turned out.

Made another useless promise, knowing full well he couldn't walk down that path, not without putting a bullet in himself and joining them.

Madripoor was just as vivid and bright as he remembered. The lights of the High Town shone from miles away. They stopped by Helmut's safe house, where James and Sam reluctantly changed into a set of clothes that wouldn't instantly attract attention to them. Especially for the roles that they would have to play if they wanted to get information. Unsurprisingly, it took longer to convince Sam to dress up than it did James.

"We have to fix this. I'm the only one who looks like a pimp." Sam groaned out, looking at his apparel for the tenth time in disgust.

"Only an American would assume a fashion-forward Black man looks like a pimp." Helmut sighed as he dug out his phone and split his attention between looking at the road in front of them and through the gallery to find a picture of Conrad Mack. "You look exactly like the man you're supposed to be playing. The sophisticated, charming African rake named Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger."

"He even has a bad nickname." Sam took a glance at the picture. "he does look like me, though."

Sam passed the phone back to him. The closer they walked to the city, the sharper the distinct stench became.

"You smell this?" Helmut asked keeping his attention upfront. A car was arranged to collect them at any moment now, but anything could happen between now and then. He rather not have surprises popping up at them in a place like this. Even he didn't know the city that well and he doubted many people would be willing to help out.

"Yeah, what is that? Acid?"

More like a combined mixture of the fumes from the buildings, production of drugs, all the imported animals and God knows what else. Helmut had no doubt that the water surrounding the city was toxic and could kill someone if they fell into it.

"Madripoor."

A bright beam of headlights flashed them as a car came to a stop a short distance away from them.

"No matter what happens, we have to stay in character. Our lives depend on it. There's no margin for error." Helmut explained calmly, barely moving his lips just in case the driver felt particularly nosy. They could trust no one.

"High Town's that way. Not a bad place if you wanna visit, but Low Town's the other way." He added, opening the passenger door.

"Let me guess. We don't have any friends in High Town." Sam said as he walked around the car.

Helmut gave him a smile and sat down in the front. The destination, Brass Monkey, was already agreed during the call so Helmut only needed to forward the payment before the car moved in the direction of Low Town.

It did not take long until several motorcycles surrounded their car. Someone already knew of their arrival before they even took a step inside Low Town. Helmut's money was on the Power Broker, which was not the best news for them. He watched Sam turn around and look behind him through the rear-view mirror.

Once the car stopped, Helmut nodded to the driver and exited the car. Wordlessly, he led James and Sam through the streets, passing armed guards, dealers, and hookers until they arrived at Brass Monkey.

"Here we are. Remember your roles no matter what happens." He reminded them again, giving a hard look to Sam. He knew once James got into the role of the Winter Soldier again, there would be very little that could affect him enough to give up their act. It was Sam who made him nervous. His seemingly constant need to check up and staring at James might be the thing that gets them caught. The last thing they needed was for the whole city-state to put a bounty on their head.

The inside was packed with all sorts of lowlifes.

"Ready to comply… Winter Soldier?" Helmut asked James in Russian, loud enough for people to hear and for whispering to begin. He needed the whispers to travel to the right people. Not only would it get them to Selby faster, but it would also buy him security. Winter Soldier's reputation around these parts was well known, not many would want to dive headfirst at them.

Helmut lead them to the bar and took a quick glance around. For the most part, there was no one that stood out or seemed out of place. He noticed that to their right a couple of feet away, two women stood together, but only one of them kept her eyes trained on them. It was the insistent staring that caught his attention. Unfortunately, he couldn't tell much about them, the taller one wore a hood and the one that was watching them had a mask that covered half of her face. The mask reminded him of what the Winter Soldier used to wear. The Bar's security perhaps. Or maybe an interested party.

"Hello, gentlemen. Wasn't expecting you, Smiling Tiger." The barman approached them, distracting him from the two women. He took a look at Sam but didn't appear to be suspicious over his appearance.

"His plans changed. We have business to do with Selby." Helmut answered instead. They had agreed that he would do all the talking and they would simply need to nod along and look pretty.

"The usual?"

There came their test. Seeing the barman take a cobra out of a glass container and drag a knife across it, Helmut sighed dramatically, expressing his feigned happiness at receiving Sam's 'favourite' drink. It was made out Gin, Triple Sec, Cobra heart, and finger lim.

"Smiling Tiger, your favorite." He emphasized with a smile on his face. Helmut had to admit, it was going to be fun.

The barman placed their drinks on the table.

"I love these," Sam spoke up and looked at him, holding the shot as far away as he could from himself.

"Cheers, Conrad." Helmut clinked their glasses and knocked back the shot. It burned his throat as it went down, the heart adding that extra kick of spice to the mix. It wouldn't be his first choice of drink, but it wasn't the worst that he tasted.

"Mmm. Mmm."

While Sam tried to force himself to drink the shot before it became too obvious, Helmut glanced to the corner of the table again. The woman with the hood was gone but the second one was interested in watching Sam with the drink. They definitely had an audience. Not so good.

Hearing someone approach from behind, Helmut turned in time to see the Power Broker's henchman coming up.

"I got word from on high. You ain't welcome here."

Helmut considered his words carefully. They needed to prove that James was under his control. These types of talks often needed a bargaining chip and what was better than a Winter Soldier?

"I have no business with the Power Broker, but if he insists, he can either come and talk to me…" he responded and gestured to James who was stiffly standing beside him.

"New haircut?"

"Or bring Selby for a chat."

After a glance at James, the henchman left them alone. Hopefully to get Selby. Licking his lips, Helmut turned back to the bar.

"A Power Broker? Really?" James muttered out lowly, unimpressed with the name. Not that Helmut could blame him, the name was a little bit cliché.

"Every kingdom needs its king. Let's just pray we stay under his radar." Helmut shrugged. The one time that he indirectly dealt with the Power Broker was back in '08, when the EKO Scorpion needed to obtain a particular nerve agent for one of their missions. Even back then, you did not want to get on the wrong side of the Power Broker. He didn't even want to imagine how big his empire was now.

"Do you know him?" Sam whispered, glancing around the bar.

"Only by reputation. In Madripoor he is the judge, jury, and executioner." Helmut elaborated and tilted his head to their watcher. "And has eyes and ears everywhere. She hasn't stopped watching us ever since we stepped a foot near the bar."

Sam's eyes widened ever so slightly in surprise and he glanced in her direction. Helmut didn't have much time to say anything else. More of the Power Broker's men were making their way towards them.

"Winter Soldier." Helmut looked at James dead in the eye. "Attack."

He ordered in Russian just as a hand gripped his shoulder. James did not hesitate, ripping the man's arm off him and bending it backward. Dragging him towards the centre of the room, he broke the man's arm in half and threw a punch in his face using the prosthetic arm, rendering the man useless on the floor.

Helmut smiled. He was right after all. No matter how much James denied, the Winter Soldier was right there, still inside him. The bystanders took out their phones, filming as the Winter Soldier single-handedly took out anyone that came at him.

Helmut stood back and apart from pushing a couple of them into Winter Soldier's path, he watched the scene unfold. James was lethal, just like he was all the way back when they first met and Helmut uttered the words of his programming. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the woman leaning her body over the counter as she said something to the barman who promptly left with a phone pressed to his ear.

"Didn't take much for him to fall back into form." Helmut chuckled, shrugging his shoulders at Sam who seemed a little bit pale. He barely paid any attention to Helmut, his eyes only watching James.

The Winter Soldier grabbed someone by the throat and lifted him in the air before throwing him over the counter. The sound of multiple guns cocking behind them made Helmut's heart skip a single beat. Glancing around, it seemed like every single person was arming themselves. Sam gripped James' forearm causing Helmut to hiss out:

"Stay in character or the whole bar turns on us."

The Flying Tiger certainly would not be touching James' without wishing a swift death sentence. James' not reacting to a threat, allowing a touch on himself would blow their cover to pieces. Sam let go.

"Well done, soldier." Helmut praised James, replacing Sam's hand on him with his own. He needed to take control of the situation and fast.

The barman returned and nodded to the woman.

"Selby will see you now. Follow me, gentlemen." She spoke out for the first time, rising from her seat. The honeyed voice twinged with a familiar accent ripped the breath right out of Helmut's lungs. Even muffled by the mask, it was distinguishable in all the ways that it couldn't have been possible. It halted him to the spot, unable so much as to inhale the air that his lungs started to scream for. He did not see James let go of the man or Sam cast him a confused look when he made no move to follow.

This was not possible.

I 'll try to update the fic once a week to keep somewhat consistent schedule :)

Please let me know what you think and I can't wait to bring you more content soon x

[bitchassbucky]

Ｔｗｉｎｅｄ: Ａ Ｓｏｕｌｍａｔｅ ＡＵ

📎Word count: 1.5k

📎Warning/s: Mentions of death, f-bombs galore. MINORS DNI.

📎A/N: Hey lovelies <3 @honeyvbarnes​ and I worked on this Soulmate AU and we hope that y’all like it! I loved working with my bff and we’ll do it again hopefully <3 enjoy!

📎Honeyvbarnes’s Masterlist

📎Masterlist || Ask || AFTERDARK

When Bucky Barnes died back in 1943, he died knowing that he lived his life without a soulmate. 

When he turned eighteen, he waited for a flash of annoyance, stress, or anything emotionally malicious that came from his soulmate since emotional pain is supposedly said to connect two wandering souls no matter how far they are from each other.  

A bit sadistic, Steve Rogers would say. But Bucky would always counter his friend’s point with, “you see, Stevie when your soulmate gets hurt, you’re the only one who can hear them-- at least in your head-- and you can help them, you can help them find you,” 

“Still, I don’t want someone to suffer just to make a connection with me,” Steve said, ever a gentle-hearted (but strong-headed) person.

“They’re not gon’a. Annoyance is enough for them to create a short connection,”

“What I’m hearing is that I get a pass for annoying you more,”

It’s hot. Searing. Humid. The air is so thick, you can almost choke on it.

The beach is filled with people-- couples and families mostly and your mind wanders to soulmates.

You never had one and as far as you’re concerned, you’re better off without one.

Since your eighteenth birthday, you felt a great deal of stress coming off from your soulmate. You had to go through various therapy sessions, evaluations, and couple’s counseling since the supposed love of your life won’t answer to your pleas and calls as to what the fuck is going on inside their head.

They never let you in and it seems like they will never let you in.

Not now and not ever especially since the torment of nightmarish inner turmoil had subsided; granted, there are still some night terrors but it doesn’t compare to the pain you felt back then.

You started thinking maybe they were in the army or something of that sort. 

Maybe, maybe. What if, what if

That’s your inner turmoil; the boiling water inside the pot. 

You weren’t sure where to start looking for them-- you spent years trying to get through but you never get as much as a word.

So you gave up.

And not a lot of people give up on their soulmates, at least not the ones who never had to spend literal years of their lives trying to coax out a word out of their loved one.

You still get worried and anxious about them. You still try to comfort them after a particularly bad nightmare even though you know they won’t answer back to you. You still tell them that you’re always there, ready to give the comfort only a true soulmate can give.

You wanted to give them warmth not knowing that they dislike the heat.

Bucky had always hated the summer. He hated how everything is so warm and dry and humid. He hated how he can’t stay bundled up in dark sweaters and jackets, he hated the way that the glow of the scorching sun brings out the best in people. 

He prefers the cold. The harsh winters remind him of his past, and he likes to suffer, he allows the despair and loneliness to settle deep in his bones. The heat of the summer makes it more difficult for him to keep his mind separated from yours. 

Bucky Barnes died back in 1943 without a soulmate, but after his resurrection in Wakanda, he knew you were there. The dull feeling of annoyance would come in waves and he knew you hadn’t felt him yet. 

Oh, but you did, he came to realize. Over the years, Hydra had control over him, his mind, and his soul. The constant wipe of his memories not even sparing a chance for him to feel emotion, to feel you. The harsh realization that you had to feel the same pain he had, makes him sick. 

Thinking of the years of abuse and torture makes him want to apologize profusely, but would you even understand? Would you ever love the person that’s caused you so much pain? He doesn’t know who you are or your age, and the fact that his soulmate lives in an era where he was never meant to live in, still confuses him to this day. 

So he’s built up walls, a mind blockade in hopes that you’d move on without him. He doesn’t deserve love after all that he’s done. Mostly, you don’t deserve him as a soulmate. You deserve better, he thinks. 

He feels guilty shutting you out, but he forces the guilt away because he knows you can feel that too. On his bad days, you still assure him that he’s not alone in this world. You give him warmth to soothe his ice-cold heart, but he rejects it, doesn’t want it, doesn’t deserve it, he’ll tell himself. 

One fateful summer day changed that though. 

As Sam Wilson finished packing the car with what he calls ‘beach essentials’, Bucky Barnes had his mind a thousand miles away. 

“You okay, tin man? Got your sunscreen?” His dark-haired friend chides soothingly. Sam was wearing a red Hawaiian shirt, his Raybans clipped onto his lapel, and his skin smelled of berries and shea butter; he smelled and looked like the personification of summer himself.

“Let’s go, Wilson; I don’t have the patience of getting stuck in traffic with the both of ya,” Bucky rolled his eyes behind his dark sunglasses, his hair tied in a low bun, he was wearing a baseball shirt and a summer-themed beach short with seagulls on it, as per Sam’s request. His skin glistened with the newly applied sunscreen he snatched from his go-bag. 

“And what’s so bad about it?” Steve wore a flannel and dark jeans combo, his baseball cap was on backwards, because ‘I wanted to try something new,’ he said, and he opted for a pine-scented suntan lotion instead, deciding to get a slight tan.

Bucky decided not to answer the question.

The ocean mist filled your senses as your book chapter hits its end. Putting down the easy-reading material, you stretched out and propped up yourself, thinking if you should join the other beachgoers in the water.

Giving it a quick thought and then glancing at the beach’s showering station, you decided against splashing around. This is more of a reading day for you.

You picked up your dog-eared book again and started to read when a good gust of wind kicked up the sand, sending a few grains your way, you quickly closed your eyes and yet, just as fate intended, you ended up with sand particles in your left eye.

“Ow, what the--” Bucky instinctively put up his arm to protect his eyes when a breeze flew past them, “something’s in my eye.”

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuckity-fuck.

Your eye has been invaded by sand and it feels like it’s scratching your cornea raw. You can think straight, you’re in pain albeit minimal, it’s still pain.

You try to scramble for the bottle of water you kept close for hydration, hoping it will be enough to put you out of your misery, washing out the sand.

“Something’s definitely in my eye, Sam, I feel it,” Bucky tries not to squirm so much under Sam’s touch, but the pain feels almost invisible, like it’s not his.

“Stop moving so much, I can’t see anything,” Sam said, reaching into his bag to get his eye drop he was saving especially for this occasion, “I got your back. Don’t tell me that I overpack ever again,”

Drenching yourself in water was better than the agonizing pain you felt not five minutes ago. Your left eye was red, pulsating, and tearing up like a mad dog in a shed; perhaps this was your cue to pack up and go home.

Then you feel that magnetic pull again. Stronger this time.

You suddenly remembered the lore and the tall tales of the universe pulling soulmates together, literally, if they were close enough to each other. You try your best not to walk to your left side as the pull dictates.

“Where are you going, Buck? Our spot’s right here.” Steve said, unpacking the food he prepared for their beach day. Sandwiches, chips, fresh fruits, and beer are already in place when Bucky felt a strong pull to his left side.

“I just- I gotta check something out,” He said, not knowing where his feet are taking him.

The lore said when you meet your soulmate, the gravity will shift around you. The magnets of your souls will push you towards each other even if you try to pry yourself away. Your bodies were from the same asteroid before and now the universe wants you together again.

You feel your skin prickle as you try not to look behind you. You’re familiar with the tales, the personal anecdotes, how it feels to be pulled towards your literal soulmate.

Bucky just stands in the sand, his eyes not wandering too far from where you’re standing, your back behind him.

Is this it? Is this his soulmate?

What if you hate him? What if you don’t want to be with him?

Bucky’s heart quickens with the thoughts, his anxiety riddles his brain as he tries to come up with something to call you.

When the pull is strong and the bond is unbreakable, rare cases of soulmates knowing each other’s names before they met is attainable. 

A single name popped up into Bucky’s head, “Y/N.”

[somethinginthewayiam]

What happens in New York... Part 2 - Rainy City

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Anna (OFC)

Warnings: language, (smut in future chapters)

Words: 2577

Summary: Anna’s event planning is getting out of hand, heading from one crisis to the next. First, the rain surprises her then her phone break and then she runs into Sebastian out of all people...

a/n: For everybody who read The universe can be a bitch, in this chapter we have a little flashback to see what happened after Anna woke up in Sebastian’s bed the next morning

Previous chapters: Part 1

“Thank you for nothing, asshole”, Anna mumbled to herself as she walked down the stairs of the office building where she just had the 8th business meeting of today. Her event was just a little under a week away and that infamous napkin problem did not seem to go away. That’s why she had just met with the vendor who had gotten the order wrong in the first place but did not seem to be able to fix his own mistake.

Anna took out her phone and scrolled through her contacts. It rung a few times before someone picked up. “Mr. Baxter? Hello, this is Anna from Perrisher-Event-Planning. I’m afraid I have to ask for a big, big favor”, she said as she walked down the last steps and through a door into the lobby.

“Can you provide me with white and black linen napkins, 300 each until the 13th?”, Anna asked and internally prayed that her back-up vendor would not let her down like the original one. “I know what I’m asking of you but you would save my ass, if I’m allowed to say so”, Anna toned down her voice for the last part of the sentence.

She walked up to the glass doors, but before she could walk out, got stopped by the sight of heavy raining outside. Of course she didn’t have an umbrella with her, let alone a jacket. It had been hot and sunny the whole day, no sign of an upcoming weather storm.

With a silent sigh, she walked back into the lobby while she listened to Mr. Baxter ranting on about how difficult her order would be on such short notice, but he would try what he could, but, but, but…

Anna figured she could wait in the lobby for the storm to pass and use the time to seduce Mr. Baxter to literally save her ass. “I know, it’s short notice, but if this works out, I owe you. How about I talk to my boss about making you our main supplier for future events?”, she suggested and hoped Mr. Baxter will fall for her words. Clarice would probably never say yes to this, but Anna could at least tell him that she had tried.

“Yes! Thank you so much, Mr. Baxter. I can’t wait to hear from you, thank you so, so much”, Anna said and had to control her voice since the doorman kept shooting her some weird looks. She couldn’t control the big smile that spread across her face. Maybe her career wasn’t about to end because of some stupid red napkins.

Her phone rang again and it was Sandra from the office. “Hey, Sandra. What’s up?”, Anna asked with a cheerful voice. “Wow, you sound happy”, Sandra noticed. “It’s because I am. I think I just solved the napkin crisis”, she explained. “Hey, that’s great. Let’s hope you’re on a roll”, Sandra said and Anna’s smile disappeared immediately. “What happened now?”, Anna asked with an annoyed sigh and shifted her weight from one leg to the other. “It’s the caterer. She said that she has problems with her shrimp supplier and they can’t withhold the delivery window, so there will probably be no shrimps at all”, Sandra explained. “Come on”, Anna whined and covered her eyes with her free hand.

“I’ll call her”, Anna said and took a deep breath. “She’s not in today, it was her assistant that had called me before”, Sandra warned her. “You gotta be kidding me? Who drops a bomb like this and then just stays home like a little bitch?”, Anna almost yelled and the doorman gave her a strange look again, combined with an alert cough. “Sorry”, she mouthed towards him and held her hand up in an apologetic gesture. “Wait a minute, the doorman is about to throw me out”, Anna said and walked towards the glass doors. It was still heavily pouring outside but she had no choice but to leave the building.

She pulled out an old newspaper she still had in her purse and held it upon her head as stepped out on the sidewalk. It has gotten colder too and she immediately looked around for a free cab. “I’m on my way to the office, try to find out the caterers private number or somewhere else I can reach her. Try her assistant first. I try to be there as fast as I…”, Anna rose her voice to drown the sound of traffic and the rain.

Anna walked with head ducked, her eyes on the pavement before her. Someone ran into her and bumped her shoulder hard enough just so her phone fell out of her slippery hands and on the ground. She just so managed not to step on it. “JERK!”, she yelled at the person who didn’t even care to say sorry or even turn around.

The call was disrupted and her screen had a pretty nasty crack. The water coming from above pattered on it and got into every little crack, soaking the phone through and through. Anna picked it up, the screen dark, not able to start it again. “Shit!”, she grunted and threw it in her purse.

She threw the newspaper in the nearest trash can since it was soaked as well and started to come apart. Anna held her hand up to stop a cab, her eyes squinted together because of the heavy rain. Her hair was almost completely drenched, strands sticking to her face. She didn’t even want to know what her make-up looked like right now. Cab after cab drove by, all lights off, no free one in sight. Anna wasn’t the only one waiting desperately to get one. She started to shake in her wet clothes as the wind started to blow stronger, her teeth chattering.

A cab finally signaled to stop at her position. Anna felt like she was about to cry, she felt so relieved. “Anna?”, she heard behind her and turned around just to see a man with a baseball cap pulled deep into his face and his shoulders scrunched up to shield himself from the rain. He was just a few feet away waving at her. Anna squinted her eyes to see if she knew that guy but couldn’t tell because she barely saw his face. She heard a car door slamming shut and as she turned around, noticed the backlights of her cab light up as it drove away. Someone had just stolen her cab! “Asshole!”, she yelled at the red lights getting smaller and smaller.

With clenching teeth she turned around to walk up the sidewalk to maybe be luckier at the next corner. The next thing she felt were the masses of water that were spilled all over her by the car that was going past her way too fast and driving right through a big puddle that had build up over the last 30 minutes of raining.

“Oh…my…god”, she breathed out, feeling the water run down her back, soaking through her already wet clothes. “Oh god, Anna, are you okay?”, the man asked, now standing next to her, his hand on her shoulder. As she looked up, she could finally see his face and instantly recognized him.

“Sebastian?”, she asked surprised at first, but then projected all the anger and frustration this day had brought her on him. “Thanks to you my cab got stolen”, she yelled at him and yanked her shoulder out of his grip. “And how is that?”, he asked surprised by her anger. “You distracted me!”, she kept yelling. People started looking at her but she didn’t care. “Now I have to find another one”, she said, turned around and started walking. She fished for her phone in her bag but remembered that is was broken and threw it back in.

“Anna, wait!”, Sebastian followed her and got hold of her wrist. Anna spun around and pulled it from his grip. “Leave me alone, Sebastian”, she said with an angry, shaky voice. She was still cold and the puddle shower from before was not helping. “Let me help you out. I’ll live right around the corner. I can dry your clothes and you can take a hot shower, wait out the weather storm. You must be freezing”, Sebastian offered and put his hands up to show he won’t touch her again without her permission. Anna just shot him a doubtful look. “No cab driver will take you like this”, he said and Anna knew he was right. That made her even madder.

“Come on now”, he said and nodded towards the next street corner. Anna rolled her eyes and let her shoulders hang in a defeated way as she started walking next to him. Sebastian took off his jacket and put it around her shoulders. Anna wanted to protest but she was really freezing and it was a really nice gesture.

“Thank you”, she said rueful and he probably didn’t hear it over the noise of traffic. She caught herself sniffing on the collar of the jacket for just a second and the familiar smell took her right back to hotel room in Philadelphia. This day was about to get even worse than it already was!

2 months ago...

Anna felt the warm body around her even before she was really awake. His arm was still wrapped around her waist, her head rested on his chest. Her eyes fluttered open. The room was filled with the light of dawn, just a hint of light.

Anna cautiously looked upwards to meet his face, his eyes still shut. Sebastian looked so peaceful when he was sleeping. She wanted this moment to never end but unfortunately this was not possible. Anna took in one last, deep breath of Sebastians wonderful scent and then carefully slipped out of his hug.

As silently as possible, she got dressed, took her shoes in her hands, careful not to make any noises. A few times she froze in her movements because Sebastian was shifting in bed but didn’t wake up. Anna grabbed her keycard off the floor and walked towards the hotel room door to leave but she felt the urgent need to turn around and take one last look at Sebastian.

He looked so good, even asleep. She couldn’t help herself and tiptoed over to his side of the bed. Anna allowed herself a few seconds of second thoughts but then yanked her mind back to reality. She needed to leave this room for good and especially not get caught on her way back to hers.

Anna bent down to kiss him goodbye on his forehead and then tiptoed out of this fateful hotel room and back into the real world. With a heavy heart, she closed his door behind her and walked to the elevator. It seemed like ages until the doors slid open. She got in and pushed the button for her floor. Anna bit down on her lip to hold back the tears but as soon as she was able to close her own hotel room door behind her, she burst into tears.

It took her a few minutes to collect herself, just enough so she could take a shower and gladly wash away all the memories and remains of the last night. When she got out of the shower, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her eyes were red and swollen and she looked absolutely miserable. Her view fell down to her shoulder where she still had the bite mark from the day before and it immediately took her back to Susans office. She felt Sebastians presence, the warmth of his body and for a second she believed that she could smell him again.

Anna had to cover the mark with her hand to be able to look away and get on with dressing herself for the day. It was still early and she didn’t have to be at the convention center for another two hours, but she had to leave the hotel before she would run into him. This clean cut was the best possible version of all the scenarios she had thought of in her mind.

She packed her suitcase and had an early check-out at the hotel before she took a cab to the convention center and stored her luggage in Susans office again. Her flight back to New York would be right after the event. Just when she was about to leave and get on with her work, Susan came in.

“Hey, Anna. Hope you had a good night sleep. We had a fun night out, you should have come with us”, Susan said and actually looked a bit hung over. “Susan, I have to ask you for a HUGE favor and before you say anything, I need to tell you that I wouldn’t ask this if I didn’t really need your help, so please say yes”, Anna said and clung on to Susans arm which made her look at Anna with huge, scared eyes. “Anna, my god, what is going on?”, Susan asked her colleague and friend and put a hand on her shoulder in a helpless attempt to calm her down.

“You need to switch your clients with me. I’m begging you”, Anna said and she felt tears rushing to her eyes. “Anna, sweetie”, Susan said and looked slightly overwhelmed. “Please”, Anna whispered with a lump in her throat. “Of course, I’ll trade with you”, she said. “Thank you”, Anna breathed out and pulled her into a hug.

Just the next second, Anna took a step back, grabbed Susans schedule off her desk and rushed out of the office, leaving behind a totally confused woman. Anna went to the bathroom to dry her eyes and rescue what was possible of her make-up.

According to the schedule, she just had to survive 5 hours before she could finally leave for good and was able to fly back to her apartment in New York. In the last 24 hours she had felt things she had never felt with someone before and it was about to turn fatal for her and, most of all, her career. If someone ever found out that she had slept with a guest of an event she was working at, she was screwed, and not the good way like last night or the night before. Her contract actually forbid her to have any personal relations with a client or a guest at an event.

Anna took a deep breath, put her hair up in a tight bun and left the ladies room. She walked out of the staff area and across the venue to pick up the other Marvel gang like Hayley Atwell and Dominic Cooper. “Hello, I’m Anna. There’s been some changes with the assignment of the hostesses but don’t worry, I’m familiar with your schedule and everything will go smoothly”, Anna introduced herself to her new protégées who looked at her a bit confused, but put it aside with a shrug. “Please follow me to your dressing room. You have your first photo ops in just 15 minutes”, she said and led the way. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw how Sebastian and Anthony arrived through the VIP entrance and sped up. She could and would not deal with him. This chapter was over and it could never happen again. She just couldn’t trust herself around him.

[jo-the-schmo]

Red, Dead, Reflections Ch. 1

A/N: Alright so... I started writing this fic over a year ago, and was posting it as I wrote it. I fell out of it for a few reasons but I’ve missed it. So I decided to start writing it again. The original versions of the first 5 chapters already exist on my blog but I want to repost them and do some editing. This way I can make the series more polished. I also want to try and do a once a week maybe schedule to give me some time in between writing chapters and so I can take some feedback into consideration.I hope some of the people who originally wanted to keep up with my series see this and I want to apologize for falling back on this. I feel really bad about it. I’ll try harder to commit to this. Thank you so much for being interested in my work. If anyone would like to be tagged just let me know, I don’t wanna assume the people who did before want to now. 

Summary: At the age of 23, you and your pseudo-family perform a heist gone wrong, leading you into a dangerous and seemingly impossible position. Discover your own history, the story of those around you, and gain new relationships along the way in this (sorta) choose your own adventure.

Warnings: Explicit language, blood, death, violence

Word count: 5,988

From Out West

“This is a little too ballsy for my liking, Austin.” You warned as you carefully adjusted the colored contact lenses in your eyes.

“Since when did you turn into a little pussy-willow?” He smirked at you while he turned a corner. 

“This is a bank, not a home robbery, so forgive me if I’m a tad nervous about this! We’re robbing a god damn bank in the 21st century, in a busy city that we aren’t necessarily familiar with!”

“Maybe you aren’t familiar, you know I’m a regular ol’LA boy.” You turned your head to look at the two in the backseat.

“Miguel, you can’t seriously be okay with this.” You questioned but were confident in it enough to make it a statement. He shrugged his shoulders, making that confidence literally evaporate. 

“We gotta trust Austin, as crazy as this plan is. We haven’t gotten caught yet.” You crossed you arms and made sure your wig was pinned right.

“Doesn’t mean we won’t be startin’ now.” You grumbled. 

“Come on, sissy! This plan is fool-proof! They’ll never even know it was us!” Eli chirped. 

“Oh yeah, except for the fact that this is a fucking bank and the FBI CAN get on our asses for this!” You swore it was exhausting being the only realistic one sometimes. “On top of that, there’s only 5 of us! We’re insane!” 

“6.” Austin corrected. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Your girlfriend won’t be in the damn room with us.” 

“She’s the ace up our sleeves, it would be silly for her to be in there with us.” The car smelled like old cigarettes, it made you sick. The band around your chest dug into your ribs. You opted to stay silent and relent for the time being, instead focusing on your disguise. The wig was carefully pinned to your real hair, it was short enough to be confused for a men’s haircut but had enough length to not require any glue. Dark brown hair, abnormally vibrant green eyes. And with the mask covering your face, that would be their only descriptions they could give to the police. Flat chest, boyish haircut, baggy black hoodie, just your average deviant. The destination was in view. 

“Alright,” Austin started. “everyone knows the plan, yeah? Gina is inside, she’ll send us the signal. We go in quick and make our presence known. I go behind the counter to make sure the tellers ain’t up to no funny shit. Miguel, you round up the lovely citizens into a corner, hit Gina a little to make it convincing. Eli, you take care of the money. And Y/N, I need you to stay in character, be loud and intimidating, keep the tellers in check when I’m helpin’ Eli, and the civils with Miguel, got it?” You all nodded. He looked back at Miguel. “You got the fake bomb ready?”

“Yes’ir.” 

“I’ll pass the big boss to you once I pick him out. Zoe is waiting for us in the alleyway between the bank and the office building. We get in, make some noise, scare them shitless, get the money, and go.” He parked up front of the white walls, you saw a mother walk through the glass doors with her toddler in a stroller. You immediately felt bad. 

“You promise this is the last job, right?” You looked at him seriously. “At least the last of something this big, I don’t think I could handle with again.”

“Of course! This is just to get us enough money to get us all out. The economy is garbage, think of it as taking what should already be ours.” You heard the crackle of the walkie on Austin’s lap. He threw it into his bag. “That’s the signal, masks on everyone.” Austin’s was a fox, long, fake salt and pepper hair rolled form under his hood. Eli’s was a raccoon, convincing copper bangs swooped between the ears. Miguel had an owl; disturbing blue eyes pierced your being. You strapped on your black dove and joined with group as they exited the stolen vehicle. You kept both your hands in the front pocket of your hoodie, trying to be discrete about the two handguns inside. Only one was loaded with real bullets, that was the backup, You preferred to use the blanks. Unable to trace, and when used properly, won’t hurt anyone. Austin and Eli took the leads. 

The doors were kicked in. 

“EVERYONE GET ON THE FUCKING GROUND RIGHT NOW! HANDS UP, ALL YOU! THIS IS A ROBBERY!” He screamed, pointing his gun at a man behind the counter about 3 yards away. Miguel was quick to shout at the people in line to get into the corner of the room. Gina pretended to try and defy, he slaps her, needless to say it’s convincing. 

“Dove, handle the worms.” You traded spots as Austin grabbed one of the men behind the counter. Your eyes locked with the poor woman, she was covering the stroller with her torso. You pointed your blank gun at some random person. 

“Stay on the ground or I’ll fucking shoot, ya hear me?” You lowered your voice, made it coarser, time to be a ‘man’. They nodded hysterically. The woman was crying. You could hear Eli screaming his demands in a fake accent. “Everyone hand over your phones. If any of you give me a reason to even SUSPECT you’re up to anything, I will shoot.” Everyone put their phones on the ground and slid them over toward you. You turned your attention to the back. “What’s the hold up, owl?” 

“I’m handling it.” He strapped the fake bomb to the teller’s chest, making him kneel down in the middle of the bank. “Listen up, everyone! This man has a bomb attached to his body. We have someone hacked into the security cameras. If you don’t follow our instructions to the T, they will blow a hole in this lot.” He paused to let the cries and gasps die out. “Now, for those said instructions, listen close. We will exit the building soon, you will stay down for 5 minutes.” He pointed at a clock on the wall. “Do not touch anything or move a muscle. When 5 minutes have passed, the big guy here-“ He patted the man’s shoulders and dropped a key wrapped in tissue in his lap. “will take a little drive off the premises. He will keep going until he reaches the designated location written on that tissue. If any of you contact the police before the end of the day, he will die, along with any other drivers in his vicinity. So, unless you want a substantial amount of blood on your hands, I’d suggest you keep quiet until midnight. As for the rest of you, you have permission to leave the building once that 5 minutes are up. But I would suggest keeping a low profile, for your safety and others’.” There was a loud crack. 

“I got it!” The phony Australian accent rang. Austin led the rest of the bank tellers to you, making them sit in the flood of civils. 

“Staying alert, Dove?”

“Don’t patronize me, stupid Fox.” This whole situation pissed you off. The baby was crying, mom was too, trying to hush the whines. 

“Fire a shot, Dove!” What? “Don’t let their insubordination stand.” He demanded. This was a fear tactic. He was trying to teach a lesson to the others. 

“I’m not firing a warning shot over a fucking baby, you psycho!” Your blood was boiling, this was overkill, he was way out of line with this. Of course, he wasn’t telling you to shoot the baby or the mother, but you weren’t going to cause more grief where it didn’t need to be. 

“Take the shot!”

“Fuck you!” 

“Why are you going against me?” Was he seriously doing this now? You felt like your head was going to explode. She was the only person with a child present. You put both of your pieces back in your hoodie and knelt next to her. She flinched as you approached, but that was to be expected. 

“Ma’am, I’m making an exception for you because you have a child with you, and that prick is really getting on my last nerve. You’re allowed to exit the building now, but the other rules still apply. People will die if you talk, maybe not you, but other people who have children like you do, most certainly. Take your kid and get out, don’t do anything out of the ordinary, and get out.” Her red eyes shook you to your core, familiarity. She nodded in both fear and appreciation. 

“Than-than-thank y-“ She was choking on her own misfortune, you decided to spare her. 

“Yeah, yeah, just get out.” She got up and collected herself, checking around the room as she walked out of the building. You could only see his eyes, but you could tell Austin was reaching his limit fast. An older gentleman stared at you. 

“At least one of you has a heart.” You were glad Austin was too focused on being pissed to hear that. You got up, kicking the phones toward the door as you walked. Austin grabbed you arm. 

“You’re lucky I didn’t kill her for that.” By letting that woman go, you showed weakness. It was a hint at your identities, but you didn’t care. 

“And you’re lucky I’m not shooting you for saying that. I’m not a killer like you, Fox.” Your voice was laced with venom. Eli had interrupted your dispute. 

“Alright lovebirds, time to play nice, we’ve got precious cargo.” He gave both of you a duffle bag, they were pretty hefty. Austin took a deep breath, putting on his best showman voice. 

“Alright folks! That right there is our cue to hit the road. Remember, 5 minutes on the clock. No one likes a-“ The doors were filled with red and blue, sirens. The police were here. “Shit!” Shit was right. “How the hell are they here?” Austin screamed. He gave you a shove. “It’s probably because of that god damn woman!” 

“There’s no way she would’ve had enough time for that.”

“And no one had a phone out, I was watching the whole time.” Miguel chimed. 

“We have bigger fish to fry right now! We gotta go.” You all dashed over to the back door, all you had to do was move towards the alley, if you could just get to the dump van, everything would be fine. Drive up to get the real car, leave that one with no prints or hair, and you’d be home free. The 4 of you booked it out the door. But the van was no where to be seen, instead, there were about 3 cops on either side which was 6 in total, trapping you in. 

“They must’ve got Zoe!” Yeah, no shit. 

“Put your hands up!” You all raised your arms, except of course for Austin. You kicked his calf. He didn’t budge. “I said put your god damn hands up!”

“In case you didn’t notice, pal, there’s a bomb in that building. If you don’t let us pass, I’ll blow that building out of existence, along with the man attached to it.” He pointed his gun to one of the cops to your left. “So, I suggest you let us through, or else you’re gonna piss me off more than I already am.” 

“We know the bomb is fake, drop to your knees or we will shoot!” Another one barked. Someone had ratted you out. You looked at Miguel and Eli, you weren’t letting this go down, not by a long shot. You tuned out Austin’s ramblings and whispered to the other two. 

“Be ready to run. I’m gonna buy you guys some time. Don’t kill any of them, disarm them.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Y/N?” Miguel questioned with panic. You took a deep breath. 

“Thank you for being my family.” You swept your leg behind Austin’s knees, and he collapsed to the ground as you stood. 

The world slowed to a crawl, pulling a gun out of your pocket, these were real bullets. You’ve never missed a target. You drew the attention of all 6 police officers, but no amount of training could prepare them. You fired 3 shots, each one hitting the hands of the officers Austin had been talking to. Their weapons fell from their hands. You felt bodies push past your legs, down the alley way away from the bank. You were glad the streets of LA were confusing. Now was the time. You whipped your body around to face the rest of the officers, firing rapidly at their shins. You weren’t gonna put blood on your hands. 

But deep down you knew, there was no making out of this one. You would buy them a few minutes while trying to subdue you. Just as your haphazard shots began, they fired precise ones of their own. Two passed through your skull, three in your chest, and one got a through almost half of your jugular. Both pieces fell away from you as gravity swaddled you. Bits of your wooden mask, blood, head pushing back unnaturally, seeing the backs of your made family run, they were almost home free. There was no pain after that point, you waited patiently for your back to hit the ground beneath you, but it never did. You kept falling. 

And falling. 

The midday light felt like it was slipping away, there were leather walls encompassing your lifeless form. No sound, no sense of texture, just the smell of dirt and decay. Then there was nothing but darkness, but that void that beckoned you, that pulled at your very being, was gone just as quick as it appeared. 

Your body shot forward with a violent intake for air. The gasps filled your lungs to the brim, your chest and head ached, throat tight. The coughing erupted from deep in your chest, which also held a different pain from the ever-tightening band around it. You threw you hoodie away and made quick work of loosening it just a bit, and in doing so noticed that your body was free of any physical wounds. There was still a soreness, and blood wiped off your skin, but there were no open wounds. You were incredibly cold, and at first you assumed that to be attributed to your near-death experience, until you looked up high to see to see an open window with snow falling outside. 

“I don’t think we’re in California anymore.” You muttered to yourself. You shivered, the place was covered in hay and in low light, that’s when the smell hit you. It reeked of animals, that would probably have something to do with the fact that you’re in a barn. Shakily, you got to your feet. Knees wobbling, your eyes adjusted, there were horses. That certainly explained the stench. A chill ran up your spine, the cold tickling at your vertebrae. You scanned the room for where you had tossed your hoodie, only to find it in a horse’s mouth. Your eyes widened in fear. “No, no, no, no, no, no!” You exclaimed. You rushed forward and grasped at the hanging sleeve, tugging on it with all your strength. “Drop it! Drop it right now!” 

The horse did not listen, in fact, now it seemed more hellbent on consuming the thick material. After hurtling a few curses at the horse, you heard a distinct rip. You fell back, the remnants of black cloth now in tatters. You let out a muffled scream of frustration. Even with the long sleeves of your cotton shirt, you were still freezing. It suddenly struck you how odd it is for it to be snowing at all. You figured you weren’t in California anymore, but you were somewhere that snows in the middle of May? How far were you? You couldn’t think of any states that snowed this late in the year. Were you in Maine? Up north, Canada? How did you even get here? 

“Did those idiots come back to get me? I could’ve sworn…” You could’ve sworn they ran like you told them to, and that you had experienced several fatal injuries. Is this hell? Purgatory? The other side? It was cold enough to be Hell that’s for sure. Nothing made sense. You found your mask on the ground, chunks of the painted wood were replaced with vacant space, splintered bullet holes. You fastened it to the first belt loop, it rested against your left pant leg. Pins dug into your scalp, wigs still surprisingly attached to your head. Your eyes watered, your contacts were drying out. You opted take them out now rather than waste your time trying to find drops in a barn. You flicked them away once they were out. “Now, if there’s a barn with animals, there’s gotta be a house with people.” You walked over to the large wooden doors as your talked to yourself, but today just had to be the worst day of your life. Something landed on top of you, or more accurately someone. 

You were surprised you didn’t feel any cracks as the weight crashed on you. Shifting your weight over, you elbowed the man in the jaw. He rolled off of you with a grunt of pain. You were quick to jab him in the stomach with the toe of your boot. Sputtering a cough with saliva dripping out the mouth, the man rushed to stand. He was trying to fight. 

“You’re on the wrong side of the mountains, partn’r.” He slurred. “This here is O’Driscoll territory, Which you don’t got no business bein’ in.” I’m in the mountains? Where the hell- He didn’t give you enough time to finish that thought before he was throwing a punch at you. If this basic boy thinks he can step in my personal space, he’s got another thing coming. You blocked the fist with your forearm and redirected the force toward the ground. With the base of your wrist, you hit his throat. The force of your own strength and the ever so impeccable sense of gravity caused him to wheeze, choke, and writhe on the ground. 

“Listen here, buddy,” you pressed your boot down on his chest “I have no idea where the hell I am right now. I don’t give a single shit about territory or whatever the fuck you’re going on about, but if you put your hands on me again, I’m gonna mangle your entire lower half with a rake.” You applied more weight. “I didn’t come here of my own volition, someone put me here. Which means, you’re little punk ass better tell me what’s going on or get out of my way so I can-“ Gunshots. Mystery man took your distraction as an opportunity to wriggle out form under you. They were ceaseless, did someone drop you off in the middle of a gang war, what the hell is going on? You were about to duck behind whatever cover was around you if the idiot of the room had decided he didn’t learn his lesson. 

“Are you with those crazies?” He yelled, peeking out the barn doors for only a second. “I should’ve known.” His voice was cold and malicious. “You’re with that son of a bitch, Dutch!”

“Who?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, pretty boy, they must’ve sent you up to spy on us! I’m gonna kill you for-“

“I literally have no idea what’s going on!” But he wasn’t listening to reason, clocked you in the ribs before you got the chance to block, then using your surprise to his advantage, hit you on the nose. There was a familiar crack and blood rush. “Did you just fucking break my nose, you ass?” You screeched toward the ground, wiping away the blood. 

You took him off guard by doing that, so you were quick to knock him in the jaw. The shooting stopped but you were a little preoccupied and decided not to waste anymore time. His arm bent to caress the side of his face. You rushed forward, lacing your arm between the gap his made. Using all your weight, you swung your legs out and forced him to drop to the ground. His back slammed forcefully and with a swift adjustment, your shins trapped his neck, locking him in place. You squeezed his neck enough to make him gasp. He tried to push away from you, but with the position you left him in, there’s no way he’d be able to without some sort of outside assistance. 

“Who are you calling pretty boy now? Huh? Who, bitch boy?” You heard the door start to open, you let lose and pulled the man up to shield you, locking his head so that you peek between a gap in your arm and his head. A man wearing a blue coat and hat walked in, his hands resting on his belt. 

“Well, well, what have we got ourselves here?” You couldn’t quite place his accent. You noticed he had a holster. 

“Don’t fuck with me, dude. I’ve got your friend trapped between me and you. No need to make this get crazy.” You warned, tightening your grip to enunciate your point. What sounded almost like a chuckle escaped his throat. 

“You must not be an O’Driscoll if you think he’s my friend.” You panicked, you tried to think of your next move, but he had plans of his own. “What’s your name, son?” Your suspicions were correct, it seems. This isn’t the first time someone’s confused you for a man, especially when you were trying so hard to not look like yourself. But maybe, you could use this to your advantage. 

“James West.” That was Austin’s code name for danger. If someone introduced you or called any of you James, it meant they weren’t trust worthy. You and Gina would usually use Jamie, but now James felt like the safer option. 

“Now how in the hell did you get involved in this, West?” He rested his hip against one of the stable posts.  

“I have no idea.” You threw the man away from you, there was no point holding him anymore. “I woke up here, and this guy just started attacking me.” You thought for a moment. “Are you Dutch?” You asked. This time, it was a single, hearty-

“HA!” He had a spark in his eye. “Me? Dutch? I ain’t that old yet, kid.” You rolled your eyes and pulled yourself up. 

“Well, my nose is broken because this little shit thought I was with you, so I have some choice words for this ‘Dutch’.” You huffed. “And don’t call me ‘kid’.” You brushed your fingers across the bridge of your nose, preparing yourself for what you were about to do. One deep breath in, out, pop. You pushed your nose back into place and winced. A wad of blood shot out. “Jesus shit!” You coughed, you never get used to having to do that. The blue coat cowboy looking mother-fucker looked semi-impressed. 

“Well, I’m not Dutch, but you could sure meet him if it pleases.” Something caught his attention. “Speak of the devil…” The door opened again. A man walked in with very distinct black hair. He was also a cowboy looking mother-fucker. Oh god, am I in yeeyee country? His eyes immediately locked on you. 

“Did you cause this mess, Arthur? Or have we just met a new friend?” The man who you presumed to be Dutch, had a deeper voice than the man apparently called Arthur, but their accents were similar. That was not promising for you. 

“That depends, his name is West, James West. I walked in a right fine mess between him and that there O’Driscoll.” Arthur pointed to the man still struggling to steady himself. Dutch choked a deep laugh, he seemed more amused than Arthur was. 

“Right fine is right, Arthur. You did this?” He asked. You nodded reluctantly. “You’re a good fighter, boy. Real good, it seems.” He strode over to the guy on the floor and picked him up by the collar, tossing him over to Arthur. “Morgan, you deal with this trash while I talk to our new pal.” Dutch walked over to you, confidence in his step, while Arthur threw the man back on the ground. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and shook you around a bit. “James West, huh?”

“Yeah, what’s it to ya?” 

“Oh, this boy’s got spunk, Morgan!” You looked over and saw Arthur yanking the man around by the shirt. Dutch forced your attention back to him. “Now West, you’ve gotta understand our position here. We can tell clear as day you ain’t involved in a lick of this mess. But we don’t have a single clue as to what your business is up here. Now, you seem like a considerate young man, but I got worried folks on this mountain, and I can’t have no scamps running around and hellraising” He squeezed your shoulder. “So, don’t take any offense to what I’m about to ask, but what are you doing up here?” He looked you dead in the eyes. In your opinion, the question was fair. You couldn’t fully let your guard down, but they appeared to not be whoever put you here. Then again, these O’Driscoll’s didn’t seem to be either. 

“I can’t give you an answer to that one, Mr. …?” 

“Van Der Linde.” That’s one hell of a name. 

“Mr. Van Der Linde. Frankly, I have no damn clue why I’m here. One minute, I’m getting shot down in the middle of the day, and then I wake up trapped in some barn in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, in what looks like the ass end of winter. So, I’m a little confused right now to say the least.” You were clearly frustrated with your situation, he wasn’t oblivious to it. 

“Where are you from, son?”

“California.” That was a safe enough answer. 

“James West from out West. That’s certainly an opener.” He scratched his chin. “I’m gonna put you to a test young man.” He turned you around and lead you over to where Arthur had just gotten off the now bloody man. He was whimpering, begging under his breath for mercy. 

“I don’t think he’s got much to say, Dutch. They apparently happened upon this place and took it over. That’s all I’m getting’” 

“I’m going to give our new young friend a choice.” He pulled a revolver out of his holster and held the handle out to you. “In normal circumstances, I’d let Arthur handle this situation himself. But I’ve got an itching curiosity with you, kid.” You felt obligated to hold it in your hand. Looking down at the man, pity flared in your chest. “Should we kill him, or let him go? I’m letting you make the call.” What kind of question was this? Who were these guys? The choice wasn’t very difficult, you’d be a hypocrite if you did otherwise, and you weren’t compromising your promise on the off chance these guys might not like your opinion. 

You handed the gun back to Dutch. 

“Just because he’s an asshole, doesn’t mean he deserves to die. Let him go.” Dutch was intrigued by your answer. He looked over to Arthur with a smirk.

“I think I like kid!” 

“Please don’t call me ‘kid.” You requested. Arthur pulled the man to his feet and threw him outside.

“Get outta here before he regrets it.” The man darted into the snow, leaving a trail behind him. 

“Grab the horse, Arthur. We gotta get something out of this.”  You were lead outside to find a horrific scene, bodies were strewn about the snowy landscape. Whoever these guys were, they were not to be trifled with. You should play this safe. 

There was a house not too far away, the snow was dense. It was more than freezing. You sent a glare to the horse Arthur led past you. You’ll pay for this, you dumb fucking horse. With your adrenaline dying down, your whole being felt frozen. 

“Normally, I wouldn’t be one for disrupting dead for anything other than money, but you’ll die out here without something warm, Mr. West.” Dutch gestured to one of the several bodies riddled through the snow. You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying your best not to think about how you were robbing from dead people. It wouldn’t be the first time, but you still didn’t feel good about it. You separated from him and carefully stepped around the bodies littered in the snow. You found a man with his face in the snow, you pretty much picked him so you wouldn’t have to see his face as you stripped him of his coat. It didn’t look particularly warm initially, but anything would be better than this. The arms bent limply back as you peeled the sleeves away. Luckily upon further inspection, you were happy to learn there was a sort of wool lining inside, that would at least help insulate your own body heat. A sudden commotion broke out from inside the rustic home. A man yelling for Dutch and a woman screaming. Your instincts made you spring into action, you lept through large portions of the snow to make it to the steps faster and before you knew it you were bursting through the door. A blonde man wearing another cowboy-looking hat was chasing a woman around a table. 

“What the hell are you doing, Micah?” Arthur questioned as him and Dutch followed you in. 

“We got a feisty one over here, boys!” He hollered. Oh, you were not comfortable with this type of language.

“Stop chasing the poor woman, ya moron!” He warned with more intensity. You weren’t gonna see this go down, that’s for sure. You ran up behind the man called Micah, grabbed his collar, and used his weight to pull his back towards you, and then to the ground. His body slammed, he let out a surprised yelp, followed by a pained groan.

“Fucking sicko! Stop chasing her around, she’s scared!” 

“Get out of my house!” The woman bellowed. Admittedly, you had no idea what was going on, but you knew you could at least try and defuse the situation. You put your hands up to appear less threatening. 

“Miss, I don’t know who you are or what in God’s name is going on, but I promise I am not here to hurt you.” You spoke to her in a calm voice. Whatever was going on, it clearly had her frazzled. “I don’t have any weapons, and I don’t make it habit of hurting people who don’t need hurting. You clearly have been hurting for no reason. Can you explain to me what’s happened so that I can help you with this situation?” You took a cautious step around the table to make sure she wouldn’t dart away from you, you kept steady eye contact. 

“They…they killed my husband a few days ago! They took over my home and locked me in the basement!” She wept. Maybe these O’Driscolls were the ones to stow you in the barn, they sure seemed like the type with this new information. 

“I’m so sorry for your loss, ma’am. I can assure you that those men won’t be bothering you anytime soon. Can you-“ You heard glass shatter, looking over, you found Micah scattering to his feet, fire was spreading from the floor to the wall at an incredible rate. It was already crawling up the right-side wall before you had a chance to react. There was no way you could put that out by yourself, and the others weren’t exactly jumping at the chance to help you. You settled on running to grab some blankets from the bed across the room. The boys were leading the woman out of the house and she reluctantly followed. Micah sent you a glare as you passed him out of the house. “Oh, don’t you look at me like that, you weren’t any help!” You knew you should keep your mouth shut, but you knew you were right on this one. The group was walking toward some horses, you followed behind. 

“Micah, lead the horse back to camp.” You handed the blankets to the woman. 

“Thank you.” She seemed genuine but was also hurt by your sentiments.

“It’s no problem, ma’am.”

“Adler, Sadie Adler is my name.” She wrapped herself in the blankets.

“Well, it’s no problem, Mrs. Adler. It’s the bare minimum to what I could’ve done.” You hoped whatever camp Dutch mentioned was close by. This cold was blistering. 

“Mrs. Adler, you may ride with me, we’ll get you back to people who can help.” Dutch hopped up onto a white horse, lending a hand for Sadie to pull herself up. “Arthur, please take our new friend with you. I don’t think he’s in any shape to be riding.” Arthur nodded, heaving himself with ease onto a spotted mare? You couldn’t tell if it was a girl, but you just got that vibe. He did not give you a hand. Oh yeah, I’m a dude. A manly man. You gripped the back of the saddle and used all the arm strength you had to get onto the bare back on the horse. You hoped this ride wasn’t going to be too bumpy because you were not about to get punched because you had to grab onto this man and couldn’t tell if someone was a homophobe or not. You sure hoped these people weren’t, but you weren’t exactly in the position to be picky. 

“Pearson’s not gonna happy about this.” Arthur mentioned as the horses pushed forward.

“Mr. Pearson isn’t happy about anything except his drink. He’ll be alright.” Now seemed like a good a time as any to start asking questions. They couldn’t go anywhere away from you at the moment. 

“Not to interrupt or anything, but could someone tell me where I am, or what day it is. Could someone please tell me what the deal is?”

“We’re north of New Hanover if the maps are correct. We’re planning to head down there as soon as this winter passes. God knows how long that’s gonna take.” Dutch complained. You had never heard of New Hanover, but apparently it was winter. Maybe you really did get shot, put into a hospital maybe? Then these guys… You panicked for a second. O’Driscoll wasn’t another name for them was it? It didn’t make much sense but no one else would put this much effort into stealing you away. “As for the day, I couldn’t tell ya exactly. It’s winter in the year of our Lord 1899.” He laughed. What?

“What?”

“Ah, just bit of a joke, son. We live in dark times. We’re hurtling straight into a new century.” Wait was he joking or not joking?

“It’s 1899?” You tried to keep your voice neutral, but he seemed to pick up on your worry.

“Yes, it is, son.” He paused. “Are you alright?” You were anything but alright. These people are crazy, I’m trapped on a mountain with some insane cultists who think they’re in the 19th century, I’m fucked. “Arthur, we need to hurry, the boy’s looking pale.” 

Your head felt fuzzy, colors were blurring together. I am not stuck on a god damn mountain in 1899, I’m not, that’s physically impossible. This is all a dream, or some weird set up. You felt like you were 19 again, disconnected, afraid, losing it. You weren’t gonna go back there again, you wouldn’t! You didn’t know you had stopped breathing. You didn’t feel Arthur’s arm catching you so you wouldn’t get trampled. Everything was black. 

[duhragonball]

Hellsing Liveblog Ch. 77-81

This is the Seras vs. Captain fight, which is for some reason broken up over a one-shot “Operation Wolf”, and two 2-part arcs “Warcraft” and “Wolffang”.  

Seriously, why not just call it “Wolf Stuff” parts 1 through 5 and be done with it?

Okay, so The Captain has been hanging around Millennium since they debuted in Brazil, but he hasn’t done jack shit so far.   He intercepted Walter and Integra when they were trying to drive home to Hellsing HQ, and Walter sent Integra away, claiming that he doubted that he could defeat the Captain at his advanced age. After Integra left, he remarked that the Captain was just as strong as he had been when Walter last met him, presumably in 1944.

Then it turned out that Walter was secretly in league with Millennium, and as the invasion of London started to turn against the Nazis, you had the Captain and Vampire Walter both sort of hanging back and protecting the Major.  Then Alucard showed up and the Captain got right in his face, along with Alexander Anderson, as if to suggest that the three of them were the “big guns” of their respective camps.   But he still didn’t do a whole lot.   I mean, he attacked Alucard while he unlocked Level 0, but so did everyone else and it didn’t do any good.   When Anderson tried to fight Alucard one-on-one, the Captain and Walter held back and watched.

Finally, when Walter made his big play against Alucard, the Captain only stepped into keep anyone else from stepping in.   He shot Heinkel in the face, but not fatally, and even gave her a medical kit before he headed back to the Major’s blimp.

So this part where he confronts Integra and Seras as they fight their way to the Major is supposed to be a big deal, like when Darth Maul appears on Naboo and the Jedi have to fight him while Queen Amidala takes her soldiers on a detour.   Except it works in Star Wars because we had seen Darth Maul fight earlier in the movie, and we knew what he was capable of.  With the Captain, I guess the main appeal is that the story treats him like a big deal, as if hyping up the eventual moment when he finally shows us what he can do.    Well this is it. 

Leading into this fight, the Major was explaining to Hellsing that he and his Last Battalion crave death, but not just any old death.   They want to go out in a glorious struggle, which is why they spent 55 years preparing to pick a fight with the Hellsing Organization.   At this point, just about everyone in Millennium is dead, so now it comes down to the last few guys to choose their partners for their own final dance.   The Major wants a showdown with Integra, so the Captain points out the way for her so she can leave Seras and the Captain to have their showdown.

At this point, it’s really just process of elimination.  I think by now, Millennium’s down to just five guys: The Major, the Captain, the Doctor, Walter, and Warrant Officer Schrodinger.   Dok and Schrodinger don’t seem like fighters, and apparently Walter vs. Alucard suits the Major’s plans, so either the Captain can fight Seras or he can stand around and watch everyone else fight.  That seemed obvious to me when I watched the OVA in 2016, but now I’m thinking about it a little more.

I mean, for me, this is great, because Seras is my favorite character, and this means we get another Seras fight out of this story before it wraps up.   And the general idea here is that this is Seras’ first real battle after she leveled-up and turned the tables on Zorin Blitz.   This is a chance for her to face a much stronger enemy and show off what she can really do as a “true” vampire.  One advantage of late-game Seras is that Kouta Hirano draws her a lot more seriously.   Her stockings aren’t as baggy and her boobs aren’t flopping around like two walnuts in a condom.   I’ve always felt like a lot of early Seras art was intentionally silly just to emphasize her as a rookie-sidekick-comic relief.   That never completely goes away with Seras, but in the later volumes she gets to at least approach the dignity of her masters.

So for my money, this whole fight justifies the Captain’s existence in the story.   He was waiting in the wings to fight Seras once she had grown powerful enough to rise to the challenge.   And they did a good job building the guy up for this.  He never fought anyone up to now, but Walter acted like he was a big deal, and we’ve seen Walter wipe out a lot of bad guys over this story.  And his three-way showdown with Anderson and Alucard suggests that he could fight Alucard and not look too stupid.  

Also, I finally found a scanlation of Hellsing: The Dawn, and confirmed that yes, Kid Walter and Girlycard faced the Captain in 1944, and Girlycard cut and run.   The Dawn ended right after that moment, so we still don’t know exactly why Alucard abandoned that fight.   Was he actually afraid he might lose?  I suspect there was more to it than that.   The point is that if you know about that moment, you realize that Seras is in deep water here.   She’s throwing down with a guy who stood up to Walter and Alucard and survived.  

So this fight is a big deal for Seras’ character arc, but I sort of wonder if this was what the Captain wanted.  Everyone else in Millennium was looking forward to this big epic battle in London, just killing and eating civilians left and right, and then dying in some climactic battle with Hellsing and/or the 9th Crusade and/or a nuclear bomb dropped by the Queen.    I can imagine Zorin Blitz anxiously awaiting any of those outcomes.  

But the Captain’s almost too powerful for his own good, and I suspect he’s the one guy who understood what the Major had in mind for Alucard.   So he knew he wouldn’t get to fight Alucard or Walter or Anderson, because they’d be too busy fighting each other.   Anyone else is a mismatch for him.   He beat Heinkel Wolfe like she was nothing.   None of the 9th Crusaders would have stood a chance against him.   Seras is giving him a decent workout, but Seras wasn’t even on the board until a few months ago, and she didn’t start drinking blood until last night.

So was the Captain just sort of going along with the Major’s plan, hoping against hope that there’d be sport for him in London?  Maybe he was the backup plan in case something fell through with Walter or Anderson.  Maybe he was thrilled when they learned that Alucard had turned Seras.  “Maybe she can give me the fight I want,” he might have thought to himself. 

You know, I’m just thinking out loud here, but I think I’m starting to get into this guy.  I never cared much for The Captain’s strong silent act before, but he makes a nice blank slate that you can project things onto.   Maybe he’s been observing Seras this whole time, trying not to get his hopes up, but also knowing that she was his only chance to get anything out of this battle.   He’d watch the Dandyman fight and hope that Dandyman didn’t kill her.   He’d watch the crisis with the H.M.S. Eagle and be relieved that Alucard was sent to stop Rip van Winkle and not Seras, who might not have survived the attempt.   He’d watch Zorin Blitz’s unauthorized assault on the Hellsing Mansion and wonder if Zorin blew his chance or saved it.   There’s a fanfic in this.   I gotta write this down.  Wait, I am writing it down.   Sorry.

Let me get back to the fight itself.   After we get past the “shooting big guns at each other” stage, the fundamental problem becomes apparent.    The Captain can become intangible, allowing him to hit Seras without getting hit back.  This is something I had trouble following the first time I watched this fight, because early on, the Captain seemed to fake out Seras by slipping out of his coat and using it as a decoy.   Like, that’s a trick a mortal fighter could pull, but the point is that The Captain keeps doing that same gag without the coat.  But I didn’t pick up on it because he transforms into a wolf-like creature, so it didn’t register that he’s a giant werewolf and he can turn intangible.  But yeah, he can do both, and that’s why he gave Walter and Al such a hard time before.   You can’t hit the guy, and even if you could, he’s not a vampire, so the usual anti-vampire tactics we’ve seen so far aren’t going to be enough.

Meanwhile, Alucard is fed up with this fight against Walter.   Walter’s body is powerful but unstable, so it’s really just a matter of time before Alucard wins by default.    But he’s not willing to wait that long, because Walter’s a shithead turncoat who doesn’t deserve the honor of a glorious last stand.   Anderson got that honor, but Walter?   Get outta town.  So instead, Alucard decides to drink a bunch of blood to power up and crush Walter in one fell swoop.  

“But where’s he gonna get blood at this hour?” you might ask.   “The Blood Store” doesn’t open until 9:30am!”

Oh, that’s no trouble at all.   After all, there was an enormous battle in London last night, so Alucard can just summon all of the blood from everyone who was killed.  London civilians, Ninth Crusaders, Millennium troops, all of them.   I don’t know what the range is on this ability, but if you’re dead and you have blood, he’s taking it.  

This development pleases the Major, who reflects on the nature of vampires, and why he would never want to be one.    He flashes back to what I assume was the Battle of Berlin?  There were Russian soldiers beating the shit out of him and then they shot him and left him for dead.   I guess that could be any German town invaded by Soviet troops in the final months of the war.   Anyway, that moment bears a striking resemblence to Vlad Tepes’ final human moments in Chapter 68.   The blood even seems to seep towards the Major, as though inviting him to drink before he dies, so that he can become a vampire himself.  But the Major refuses.

Then the Doctor and the Captain happened along and saved him, I guess.  This marks the first confirmation that the Major is not a vampire like his Last Battallion troops.   Somehow he looks exactly the same in 1999 as he did in 1944, but it’s not because of vampire powers.    Well, the Doctor might have turned him into a vampire after 1944, right?   Wrong, the Major despises the very concept of becoming a vampire, because he understands the whole deal with absorbing the souls of others when you drink their blood.    As he sees it, doing this represents a dilution of the self.    Alucard has been drinking the blood of thousands of people over the centuries, which has made him powerful and nigh immortal, but you can make the argument that he’s lost his own identity in the process.    The Major respects his power but he considers the price too high.   “I am me,” he declares, in defiance of all the glorious, beautiful power that Alucard has.    That’s what makes them enemies, in his mind.  

So the Major resolved to defeat Alucard without becoming a vampire himself.   For him, this “war” he keeps talking about has been like a mountain climber looking for the ultimate mountain to climb.    How could he achieve this lofty goal?   Everything he’s done has been to set up this singular moment.    That’s why he treated his own goons as expendable, and why he never cared much when one of them failed a mission or defied him.   The Doctor thought Dandyman might beat Alucard, but the Major knew it would never be that easy.   It was just a test run to guage Alucard’s abilities.  Rip van Winkle and Zorin Blitz were never supposed to succeed in their missions, they were just pawns sacrificed to get the opposing pieces into position.   The Catholic forces were there to force Alucard to unleash Level 0 and then lose all of his stored-up souls.   And then Walter would attack Alucard, goading him into drinking all this new blood to finish the battle. 

But what good would that do the Major?  Well, he seems to think he can “poison” this “wine”.   But we’ll get into that later.   For now, the point is that the Major has good reason to be smiling, even though he seems to be on the verge of defeat.

But let’s get back to this shindig.   You know, the Captain looks kind of cute this way, like he’s just sniffing Seras to get to know her.  

Just as Seras begins to despair, she suddenly hears a guy with a French accent speaking in her mind.    It’s Pip!  He’s alive!  Bullllllshit he is, he took a scythe in the back and Seras drank all his blood.  He’s as dead as it gets, but she can hear him anyway.  

The OVA explained this better.   There, when Zorin tried to read Seras’ mind that last time, she saw Pip’s memories intermingled with hers, and when Shrodinger appeared to relay the Major’s message, he also mentioned that when a human gives up his blood to a vampire willingly, it has a more profound effect on the vampire who consumes it.   And this always struck me as a good explanation for why Seras overwhelmed Zorin so completely, and why Pip could still retain his consciousness inside Seras.    We already saw Alucard’s host of absorbed souls, but they were little more than mindless drones.    I always found Dandyman and Rip to be especially frigthening, because we know they were bitter enemies of Alucard, but they seem completely oblivious to this as they fight in his service as familiars.    But Pip is his own man.   Maybe it helps that he’s the only one in Seras’ “castle”, but it’s probably got more to do with the fact that they were friends before and he wanted it to be this way.

Anyway, Pip starts giving Seras advice during the fight.  He convinces her not to give up, and then he gives pointers on how to use her powers in more tactical ways.   For example, instead of using her left arm to throw her shadow tendril at the Captain like a spear, he tells her to cast it along the ground.    This way, she can attack him along a plane, instead of a single point, making it harder for him to avoid it.  

But it still doesn’t solve the problem of the Captain’s intangibility.   I guess he can turn into something like mist?  I’m not sure what it is exactly, except that he can’t be touched unless he wants to be.

The Captain knocks Seras down into the cargo hold of the airship, where Seras discovers a gold tooth, and Pip observes that this must be a horde of treasure that the Nazis stole from all of their victims in World War II.   It’s easy to lose sight of the Nazi angle with this story, because it’s introduced like this shocking development, and then it becomes to commonplace in the story that it’s almost like background noise.   But this moment offers a helpful way to bring that back into focus.   There was never any cause behind Nazi Germany.   It was always about killing and brutalizing other people and taking all their stuff.   Likewise, Millennium’s been doing all this horrible shit for no other reason than the sick fun of it.  I think Kouta Hirano chose the Nazi imagery because he’s a World War II buff, but I’m glad he threw in scenes like these to remind everyone that this isn’t just some aesthetic choice.   He’s using the Nazis’ real world atrocities to bolster this dark narrative where the good guy is fucking Dracula of all people.

On another note, why did Millennium bring all this shit with them?   I guess they knew they wouldn’t be coming back to Brazil, but the Major seems pretty sure they won’t be leaving England alive either.   Then again, it seems like a lot of his men didn’t understand this, so maybe he only allowed them to bring their treasure to humor them.  

But it works out for the Captain because he brought Seras down here so he could kick a silver tooth at her.   Pip realizes that it’s a hint.   I don’t know if the Captain is trying to lose this fight, but he at least wants Seras to know how to beat him.   Maybe he’s just bored dodging her attacks, and he thinks he needs to give her a handicap to make this more interesting.    Or maybe he honestly doesn’t care about this fight, and he’s just trying to find someone to put him out of his misery because he can’t do it himself.

Something I noticed in the manga is that Seras is only briefly surprised to hear Pip speaking from within her.   Like, she wasn’t expecting this to happen, but it doesn’t take her very long to get used to it.   Maybe this is part of her development.    Stuff like this no longer throws her anymore.    She just instinctively understands how her vampire body works now.  How is Pip smoking right now?  How is she aware of him smoking?  Why does she care if he does it or not?  I dig this sort of thing because we never find out, but even if we had the answers we could never understand what this is like.  

My only complaint about the whole “Pip’s inside me” development is that it threatens to undermine Seras’ rise as a hero in her own right.    She became what she is now when she made the decision to drink blood and embrace her true nature.    But now that she’s here, she’s taking orders from Pip and calling him “Sir”, which sort of implies that she’s only doing this well because she’s merged with Pip and he’s giving her directions.  

Like, I know that’s not the real message her.    This is just Seras getting deeper into her own powers, one of which is the ability to use familiars like her Master did earlier.   It just plays out differently because she only has one and it’s a more personal connection.   She’s probably only calling him “sir” because Seras is just respectful of her elders and that’s in-character for her.   But I’m still not crazy about some of this.   

Anyway, they figure out that the Captain has to turn solid when he attacks, so the key here is to eat a hit from the Captain and then hit him back before he can go intangible again.

So Seras puts it all togehter for one final attack.    He picks up a huge bomb and throws it at the Captain...

...then she tries to divekick him through the smoke of the explosion.    He spots her anyway, but it doesn’t matter because...

... she needs to hit him while he’s trying to hit her.   I think the smoke was just to make him think she was making a mistake when she was actually trying to get him to stand his ground.   Note that Seras is punching with her left arm.   Usually it’s just a trail of shadowy tendrils, but she’s been coalescing it into a more typical arm shape during this fight, mostly to hold guns and such.  

So they punch each other’s hands so hard that their arms explode, but Seras recovers faster, because she’s used to that left arm being all disintegrated, I guess.  Then she says “Oo-wa-a-a!” like she’s either singing “Down With The Sickness” or doing the Count von Count laugh.   Take your pick, I got no idea what these word balloons are about.

The Captain throws a knee, but this time Seras catches his leg in her teeth, so I guess he can’t just go intangible like he normally does.  This sets him up nicely for...

... Pip emerging from her left shoulder with the silver tooth.    It’s a cool moment because it confirms that Pip isn’t just a voice in her head speaking from beyond the grave or whatever.    He’s in there, inside of her, just like with Alucard and all of his familiars.    This is Seras Victoria’s version of “Level 0″, which makes you wonder if she has the same Control Art Restriction thingies that Alucard had.   She just seems to have inherited these abilities from Alucard, powers which I’m pretty sure the Hellsing Organization gave Alucard when they enhanced him over the past 100 years.    Seras is doing all this naturally, if you can apply a word like “naturally” to alchemically enhanced vampires.  

Anyway, Pip coming out to say hello means that Seras has a  longer reach on her left side, so he drives the tooth into the Captain’s heart before he can do anything.   Then Pip flips him off for good measure.

And that does the trick.  The Captain seems surprised to be beaten this way, and then he laughs silently as he bursts into flame.   I almost wonder if he was relieved to meet his end.   The other Millennium soldiers died smiling, but he seemed more haunted by his time as an immortal monster.   Anyway, Seras is fucking sick of these Nazi Vampires and their nihilist bullshit.

So has Sir Integra, who has finally found the Major, only to discoer he’s behind some reinforced glass dome or something.   She uses up her ammo trying to shoot it, and then she breaks her sword on it.   

And this is standard for the Major, as he seems to relish the chance to explain everything.   Now that there’s no one left on his own team to listen, he seems to really want to go over it all with Integra, since he needs her to understand that this was all part of his plan.   Alucard’s about to disappear, and I guess he couldn’t stand the thought of Integra thinking it was a coincidence.

So yeah, Alucard is busy gathering up all the blood of all the dead people in London, something like three million people.   There’s rivers of blood flowing through town, converging on his location, and Warrant Officer Schrodinger is watching all of this when he suddenly whips out a knife and decapitates himself.

Then his head and body plunge into the river of blood.   I guess it was impossible to kill this little turd, so maybe it figures that he had to kill himself.

And Alucard, completely unaware of this, sucks up all the blood without a care in the world.   He’s finally ready to end Walter once and for all, but the Major thinks this is the end of Alucard instead.   But why?   Well...

[coldkryptonitecupcake]

“Abomination”, Ch. 17

  Narvuk ran his hand over the crystalline monolith, watching as soulfire danced under its surface. "Zivath, can you scan these? Perhaps there's something about them that makes them... special." She nodded her shell and a blue cone of light shone out, encompassing the statues one after the other.

  "Looks like standard molecular structure, only real difference is a small amount of... wait, that can't be right." Zivath shook her shell and re-scanned one of the statues as Narvuk cocked his head at her. "I'm getting trace amounts of sterile neutrinos in these!" She flitted over to her Guardian, who looked puzzled. "Right, sorry. Sterile neutrinos are normally found near sites of Taken activity."

  The implications dawned on Narvuk, and he stepped closer to the statue, laying his hand against the cold idol. "I feel nnothing. But these" - he gestured to the faces carved into the top of each statue - "look familiar. There mmust be something that gives names to themm."

  "The soulfire inside, it sounds like words. Eir, Ur--"

  "-- Xol, Yul." Zivath looked over inquisitively as Narvuk finished with her. "How do you know those?"

  "Thosse are the names of the four Worms. They gave our king the Logic, and it is the pact with them that compels us to fight and kill. If our own worms are not fed, they consume us from inside. We kill to survive, not simply to kill," Narvuk explained without looking away from the statue. "None of us asked to be thrust into a life of wwar, as no Guardian asked for a second life. But my people have chosen their path. Now, can we return to the task at hhand?"

  Zivath's shell drooped for a few moments as she turned away to a different statue. "Um, well, there's runes carved in the base of this one. They read 'Visage... of the... Disliked'? No, hold on... Unfavored! 'Visage of the Unfavored'. Aaaaaand this one" - she flew to the third statue - "has runes as well! It says 'Visage of the Scheme-Mother'. Those titles aren't in the database, which is odd. We accessed the World's Grave years ago, so we shouldn't be missing anything."

  She glided back to Narvuk, maneuvering under his arm to get a closer look. "The titles are not familiar to mme. Little Light, I amm sorry for being... terse. My people... they are lost, and none can see it." Zivath half-turned to him, then returned her gaze to the stone. "Zivath, please. I did not mean to dismiss you. I--"

  "Look, I'm trying to translate what may very well be a viral language here, so maybe hold on a minute," she snapped. After a moment of tense silence, the Ghost spoke up. "Final runes translated. 'Visage of the Warpriest', it says."

  "That one, I know. The Warpriest was one of Oryx's champions, and fed the king's worm through conquest and slaughter. He conquered five hundred and eighty-five worlds, salting them with ash and painting the void with fire. According to the Vanguard's own rrecords, he died shortly before the king."

  "If you don't wanna join them, bug, I'd recommend you drop the sword," a familiar voice called form behind the two. They turned as one, and before stood DeMarcus. On either side of him were the six Guardians Narvuk had seen in the hangar. The Knight noted the Warlock on the left as the same one who had questioned DeMarcus' plan. "I gotta thank you, bug. An accident in the patrol zones, that's one thing. But here on the Shore, ain't no rules but Spider's. And he doesn't much care for meddling in Lightbearer business, unless it messes with his," DeMarcus mocked, drawing a hand cannon from the back of his waist and aiming not at Narvuk, but at Zivath. His companions unholstered their weapons as well, though they pointed at Narvuk.

  "Let's be honest, bug. You were never gonna be one of us. Just 'cause you got a Ghost, doesn't make you a Guardian, just makes you lucky. Deep down, you're just another Knight in the wrong place at the wrong time. Now, drop. The sword," he finished. Narvuk extended his arm to the side and let go, the Cleaver thudding to the ground.

  "DeMarcus, just get it over with already. We're not here for you to monologue," the Warlock scolded, glaring at his friend from the corner of his eye. "We've been here too long already."

  "I'll do it when I'm ready, Edal, got it? Just keep your gun on him," DeMarcus barked, turning his attention back to Narvuk. "Now, bug. Sienna and Poppy" - he spit at the ground, and Narvuk clenched his jaw - "may think you're alright, but me and the boys here? Well, general opinion is you're a walking time bomb. Probably a trap from your great-aunt, in fact." DeMarcus' face lifted in a smug grin. "Bet you thought no one would find out, huh?"

  Narvuk was puzzled for a moment, then the meaning became clear. "Hhow did you... Sienna." The Titan nodded. "Hrnn... well, you sseem to be holding all the... corpses?"

  "I think you mean cards. 'Hold all the cards'," Edal interjected. DeMarcus shot a glare at him as Narvuk nodded thanks.

  "Cards, then. Hhow are you going to pplay them, is the question," Narvuk half-mocked, gesturing invitingly to the group. "Yyou clearly aren't scared to face me wwith allies, but can you stand on your own?"

  DeMarcus stormed forward, stowing his cannon. "Titan's need only the strength of the Light! You're nothing without the girls behind you!" He balled his fists and shifted into a fighting stance. "Bet they didn't teach you how to fight without your fancy magic sword in those tunnels you bugs love so much, huh? C'mon, you ugly son of a--"

  DeMarcus' inevitable stream of insults was over before it began as Narvuk's rock-hard fist crashed into his chest, caving it in instantly and sending the Titan flying back. One of the Hunters ran to where he landed and crouched. After a moment or two, he looked back to Edal and shook his head. A Ghost materialized above the body and pulsed with Light, and DeMarcus shot up with a gasp. The Hunter offered him a helping hand, but he batted it away and stood shakily. "Cheap shot, bug," he spat, advancing once more. "This time, I'll--"

  "Do nothing, Lightmonger," a raspy voice finished form above the Guardians. Their gazes snapped to the cliffs in unison and were met by at least four bright eyes for every Guardian. Narvuk hid a small grin as he recognized the speaker: the Vandal that had spoken to him earlier. As he looked around, he noticed that the rest of the Fallen from before had returned as well, all armed with shock pistols or wire rifles. "Drop weapons, or we shoot-fire." The demand was followed by the sound of charging wire rifles.

  Edal and the others hesitated for a moment, glancing at DeMarcus before slowly placing their guns on the rocks. DeMarcus stood, fuming with clenched fists, in front of Narvuk. The Knight simply stared down at him, neither willing to back down. Edal came up behind his friend and laid a hand on his shoulder. "DeMarcus, let's go. We can't start a fight with the House of Spider, and you're not in a good state of mind right now anyway. Let's go home." The Titan glowered at Narvuk for a moment before turning, marching past his companions, and transmatting away.

  The rest followed one by one until only Edal was left. "Narvuk? I- look, DeMarcus doesn't speak for anything close to a majority of Guardians. If he tries something else, shoot me a feed, alright? I've got practice reining him in," the Awoken said, more than a hint of apology in his melodic voice. Narvuk merely nodded, and Edal vanished.

  A Vandal wearing the red and gold of the House of Light dropped down next to Narvuk and said something in Eliksni. It stared at Narvuk for a few seconds, awaiting a response, then realized its mistake. "You save-rescue us. Much thanks-gratitude, Hive," it rasped in broken English. "Mithrax Light-Kell will hear-learn of this, that we may help-aid you."

"Think nothing of it, ffriend. I did what hhad to be done."

  "I am called Vytkos. I am in your life-debt. You will always-breathe have an ally in House Light. For now, we must return-go to our Kell." With that, Vytkos and her fellow Fallen disappeared, along with those from the House of Dusk. Spider's Vandals simply began walking away, leaving Narvuk and Zivath alone once more.

A/N: Hey, guys! Sorry this chapter took so dang long! School has been a bit hectic, and I've been slacking! But here we are, at the end of chapter 17! Only a few (relatively) more to go, and then it's on to the sequel (yes, there's gonna be a sequel)!

[peppersonironi]

Siblings: The Truth of the Matter

For @duketectivecomics‘s Duke Week Day Six: All in Batfamily

Summary: Duke had a strange family. Two of his siblings had been raised from birth to be assassins. One was born in a circus. One had been a crime lord for a time. Yet another was the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company by the age of seventeen. All of them dressed up in spandex every night to punch bad guys.So when he was woken up by icy water being splashed in his face, tied to a chair in nothing but his boxers, he wasn't surprised. Now, that's not to say he wasn't worried. Duke was definitely worried. Especially since it was these two. AKA Duke gets tied up and questioned by his siblings, all while drugged with Truth Serum!

Notes: I’ve had this for a while (it was going to be a chapter of my Batfam/Avengers Crossover), and figured I might as well submit it! What’s family without pranks, right? I might do a new one later on, but we’ll see!

Duke had a strange family. Two of his siblings had been raised from birth to be assassins. One was born in a circus. One had been a crime lord for a time. Yet another was the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company by the age of seventeen. All of them dressed up in spandex every night to punch bad guys.

So when he was woken up by icy water being splashed in his face, tied to a chair in nothing but his boxers, he wasn't surprised. Now, that's not to say he wasn't worried. Duke was definitely worried. Especially since it was these two.

“Now, Thomas,” Damian said, setting a now empty water bucket to the side, “we have a few questions for you-”

“And since we loaded you up with truth serum, there's no way you're getting out of it!” Jason finished. He had an evil grin on his face as he fiddled with a hanging lightbulb that provided light to the otherwise pitch-dark room.

“Of course, the results of this session will go straight to Father. I'm sure he will take them into account with your training.” Damian had produced a clipboard from somewhere, and began to write on it with a… was that a feather quill? Gosh, Duke's brothers were so extra. “Todd, you may now commence.”

Duke could have sworn he heard water drip slowly into a pool as Jason bent over into Duke's face.

“Okay Duchess, what did you do with my power puff girls guillotine? I know you were next to it last week.”

“Umm …” Duke didn't quite know what to say. This was not what he was expecting from The Red Hood. How could he even keep a straight face?! “Jay, do you know how weird that sounded?”

Jason did not find that funny. He stood up straight. “I guess we're doing this the hard way.”

“Wait, what?” Duke started to panic. Knowing Jason, 'the hard way' would probably involve lots of guns. “I don't know what you're talking about! I didn't know you even had a guillotine, let alone a power puff girls one!” Duke couldn't hide the upturn of his lip at the end of his speech. That was one sentence he never thought he would say.

“You saw it when you were in my room last Thursday!” Jason paused, and Duke once again heard the ominous drip. Drip. Drip. Of the water. “Say, Duchess, why were you in my room last Thursday?”

Duke thought back. “I think I was looking for you,” he began, “Dick wanted everyone together for a movie night.”

Jason shook his head. “That may add up, but you've still been around my stuff an awful lot, lately.” 

“Like what?” Duke asked, honestly confused.

“MY CANDY STASH!” Jason blew up. He waved his hands around, almost hitting the hanging lightbulb. “In the kitchen! You got into it, I know you did!”

“Do you mean the single Snicker's in the bottom cabinet?” Duke had found it just yesterday, but didn't touch it for fear of a glitter bomb booby trap. “I'm sorry, if there were more, I didn't touch them. I'm not your perp!”

“That Snicker's is my stash, duchess! And you looked at it funny! I know you were thinking about taking it!”

“Do you know what happens to people in this house when they eat the last of something?” Duke was filled with horrible memories of things he wished he could unsee. “There was all out war when Steph finished Dick's Captain Crunch cereal!”

Damian nodded his head as he kept writing. “Avoiding the questions and denying blame. Good, Thomas. I didn't think you had it in you.”

Jason glared at his partner in crime while Duke denied the … compliment?

“No I'm not! I'm answering the questions honestly!”

Damian gave Duke a look that was eerily similar to Dick's 'oh, honey' face. 

“What about my rubber bullets, kid?” Jason once again leaned down over Duke, and rested his hand on the back of the chair. “You took them. Thought using a vacuum would be sneaky, did'ja?”

Ah, now Duke was in trouble. He and Stephanie had been teamed up for a prank war, part of which involved stealing Jason's ammo. “That's what was all over the floor in the living room?” Thank goodness Bruce had taught him how to evade truth serum.

“What the f*** did you think they were?!” Jason was leaning in close now, his glare boring into Duke's soul. Drip. Drip. Drip. Went the water, its pace ever steady. Damian stood to the side, a small smirk on his face as he wrote down every twitch in Duke's face, every breath. Duke began to sweat from the pressure.

“What's going on?”

All three of the rooms occupants looked over to the sudden intruder. Stephanie stood in the now open doorway, flooding the room with light. She looked very confused.

Duke pulled his eyes away from his savior long enough to take in his now revealed surroundings, and was quite surprised.

Instead of some dark, dank corner of the Batcave, or some KGB torture cell, Damian and Jason had set up shop in one of Alfred's drawing rooms. The windows had been blocked off to limit to the light, and the furniture had been pulled to the sides of the room the only other thing on the floor was a large bowl of water. The lone lightbulb swung precariously from a wire pulled from the chandelier. The Chandelier itself seemed normal, except for -

“Dick?” Duke was open-mouthed at the 20-something year old man wrapped around the gold and crystal, an eyedropper in hand, which he seemed to be using to produce those ominous dripping noises. 

“Uh,” Dick laughed nervously, “hi?”

Stephanie laughed, grabbing the doorframe to steady herself. “Oh, this is gold! What are you even doing?”

Jason grinned, standing straight. He hit his head on the light bulb, but didn't seem that bothered. “We're interrogating Duke. Wanna join in?”

“Truth serum?”

“You know it.”

Stephanie beamed as she skipped over to the others. Before she could join in on the Duke-torture, however, Dick dropped down from his perch and put a hand out to stop the purple-clothed terror.

“Wait, you gotta be in character.”

Crap, Duke thought, as Stephanie nodded solemnly before shutting the door. Once the room was back to darkness, Dick retreated into the shadows, and the dripping continued.

Stephanie walked up toward Duke, pausing to take a deep breath. She put her hands in front of her face, drawing them down as she let out the air. Within moments, Stephanie Brown became a whole other person. A much, much scarier person.

Jason cursed as Steph stalked forward, giving Duke small satisfaction that he wasn't the only one scared. “Duke,” Stephanie drawled as she bent down, “Pancakes or Waffles?”

“I …” Duke looked around, searching for help. Some kind of help. Anything that could get him out of this mess. H***, he'd even take Bruce at this point.

“Duuuuuuke?” Jason asked. “Why don't you answer the lady? Surely old Alfred has taught you some manners while living here?”

“I …” Duke closed his eyes. “My answer is … yes.”

A small snicker floated from the darkness. Great, at least Dick found this amusing.

Stephanie, however, did not. She unleashed upon her prisoner the full brunt of her own batglare(TM). It was different than Bruce's. More Vicious. She accessorized it with a tight smile.

“Which you prefer, Duke?”

“I … I couldn't tell you.” Not if he wanted to live. “I … haven't had them in a while …” Ah, there you go Duke, he thought, beating the system.

Stephanie looked to Jason, and they both grinned. “Oh, I think we can help with that.” From somewhere behind her, Steph pulled two plates, one with a stack of pancakes, the other with waffles. Somehow, they were both warm. “Which do you like better Duke? Pancakes, with their light, fluffiness?” Stephanie waved the plate of pancakes under Duke's nose, and he had to admit they smelled divine. “Waffles, with their crisp exteriors, eggy interiors?” She switched the plates, and her smirk grew as Duke began to tremble. “One is clearly superior.”

“Stay strong, Thomas.” Damian said. The little gremlin had a small grimace on his face. Ah, so he was perfectly fine with stabbing his siblings, but Stephanie's emotional torture was now inhumane?

Yeah, it really was.

Duke smashed his lips together, the only part of his body that wasn't trembling. He wasn't going to tell Steph he preferred pancakes. He'd rather die.

“He's close.” Steph said, deadpan. “He just needs a bit of a push.”

“I got it!” Jason pulled out a syringe from his cargo pants. “One more dose of truth serum. This'll get him singin' like a bird!”

“But I was never Robin!” Duke blurted out before he could stop himself. Jason, Damian, and Stephanie looked unimpressed. “it's true ….” Duke muttered. 

“Poor banter,” Damian said as he took another note on his clipboard. “And to think you were doing rather well. Unlike Todd.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Jason said as he tried to inject the dosage into Duke's neck.

“Jason, please!” Duke begged. “Don't! This is too much, even for you!”

“Duchess,” Jason said, shaking his head, “I've killed, maimed, and tortured people. Do you really think this is too much for me?”

“Damian?” Duke turned as much as he could in his restraints to look at his little brother. “Please, have pity! I thought we were good? We play video games together! You've told me I'm acceptable!”

The former assassin turned his head aside . “I apologize Thomas. This must be done.”

“Dick!” Duke was almost to tears at this point. “You're supposed to be the nice one! You're supposed protect your brothers! Protect me!”

Dick's voice trailed from the shadows, full of regret. But also … excitement? “Sorry, Duke, but I also have some questions for you.”

Duke wailed in horror as Jason launched himself forward, jabbing the needle into Duke. “Three minutes should do it.”

“BETRAYAL!” Duke called. Hopefully Alfred would hear. But Alfred knew everything that occurred in his house, so the chances that he wasn't already aware, were slim. Heck, the butler probably approved!

“Once again, Duke.” Stephanie announced, once the allotted time for the serum to start working had passed. She tented her fingers. “Do you prefer Waffles or Pancakes?”

Duke tried to stay quiet, he really did. But none of Bruce's training had prepared him for the horrendous, unstoppable force that was Batman's children.

Just then, Tim Drake opened the door to see a strange scene before him. Duke, tied to a chair wearing nothing but boxers. Jason, standing to the side with an empty syringe, a maniacal gleam in his eye. Stephanie, looking much like the super villains that they fought, her fingers tented, her face dark. Dick, once again wrapped in between the coils of the chandelier, eyedropper in hand.

His eyes were wide and unblinking as his mouth opened and closed, trying to form words.

Unfortunately, fate was not with the captive that day. Duke Thomas couldn't help but blurt out the words that sealed his fate: “I like pancakes better! The texture of waffles is just weird!”

“Uh …” Tim began before cringing as he heard Duke's words, then saw Stephanie's face. He looked to the heavens, as if begging for strength. “You guys look like you need some privacy. I didn't see anything.”

“No!” Duke called. “Tim, don't leave me!”

Tim shut the door behind him, but not before calling out: “Sorry dude, but I value my life.”

Stephanie tutted, shaking her head. “I'm sorry Duke,” she did not look sorry, “But no one's coming to save you.”

Jason whistled. “Wouldn't want to be you right now, Duchess.”

Duke slunk down in his chair. “Me neither.”

Stephanie opened her mouth, about to start a rant on the glories of waffles, when Dick leapt down from the chandelier and handed Steph his eyedropper. “Nuh-uh, it's my turn!”

The purple patron saint of waffles harrumphed, but retreated into the shadows. “I'm not doing that freaky contortion stuff on the chandelier though!”

Dick grinned as he sat down in front of Duke. From a pocket of his jeans, he pulled out an envelope. Out of which he plucked a piece of paper.

“Now, Duke, I have collected some fan-questions for you. All are completely harmless. Do us all a favor and answer … truthfully, eh?”

Duke groaned. “That was just bad, Dick.”

The acrobat didn't seem discouraged. He then unleashed a barrage of questions, completely unrelenting. Luckily, Duke was prepared.

“Best prank you ever pulled?”

“Was prepared.”

“Worst punishment you ever received?”

“Dolled out by Alfred.”

“Most embarrassing memory?”

“Not worth me telling you.”

Jason laughed appreciatively. “He's good.”

Dick narrowed his eyes slightly. “Your funniest pun was …?”

“Better than yours.” 

Stephanie, Jason, and even Damian let out a laugh at that.

“Kid, you are now my favorite brother.”

“Hey!” Damian and Dick said, simultaneously.

“Thanks Jay,” Duke said, “If only you felt this way before you drugged me!”

Jason laughed. “You're funny, Duchess.”

Once again, the door opened. This time, Harper Row stood in the doorway, and she did not look happy.

“What's this that Tim told me about you tying up Duke?”

“It's not what you think!” Dick began.

“Yes it is!” Duke cut in. “They gave me truth serum and are interrogating me!”

There was a war going on in Harper's eyes. On one hand, she seemed to be trying to be the responsible sister. On the other, Harper loved chaos. 

In the end, she sighed. “You guys really shouldn't be doing this. And you, Dick! You're supposed to stop these kinds of shenanigans!”

“That's what I said,” Duke muttered.

Once everyone looked properly remorseful – or at least pretending to be – Harper nodded. “I'm going to go now. This is your only chance.”

As soon as the door closed behind her, and Duke's last hope left, Jason let out a sigh. “That was close. Let's continue, shall we?”

Duke let out a moan, “I thought you were going to stop!”

Stephanie's voice was gleeful as it came from above: “Aw heck no, Duke! This is the most fun I've had in ages!”

“Better hurry up,” Jason said, “B will be home soon.”

Dick nodded sagely. “Of course.” He turned to Duke. “Okay, middle D, one last question for you.” Duke cringed. “It involves ducks.”

Duke’s eyes widened. “NO!” He yelled, knowing exactly what Dick was going to ask. “NO! You can’t make me!

Dick shook his head. “Aw, come on!” Duke continued to shake. “Duke Thomas, how many times have you-”

“What on earth is going on here?” Duke let out a relieved sigh as Bruce opened the door and strowed in. He glared at everyone, and even though every single member of the batfam was immune to Batman’s glare, it still gave Duke’s attackers  siblings pause.

“Just some brotherly bonding, B.” Dick said tentatively. “You know, what you’re always trying to get us to do?”

Jason snorted. “Nothing harmful going on here,” he said, “and that’s the truth.”

Dick chuckled. “Ah, that pun was good, little wing.”

Bruce was not impressed. “Stephanie?”

“We’re having fun!” She said, dropping from the chandelier. “And we’ll clean it up.”

Bruce let out a long, suffering sigh. “Damian, will you tell me what all this yelling is about?”

Damian frowned at his father, before glancing around at his accomplices. “Todd and Grayson insisted on drugging Thomas with Truth serum. I was roped into assisting. I believed that I could keep them from going too far.”

Bruce rubbed his temples and sighed once more.

“If I may, father, Thomas performed admirably under the pressure. You may refer to my notes.”

“Little brat,” Jason muttered, and Stephanie and Dick nodded along.

Bruce shook his head. “I don’t need to see that Damian. Right now I want all of you to go to your rooms. As soon as Alfred is back from the grocery store, He and I will be having a discussion about your cookie privileges.”

Dick, Stephanie, and Jason deflated all at once and filed out of the room. Damian nodded to Duke, then stalked out. Huh, maybe the kid did feel bad.

Once the room was clear, Bruce untied Duke. "I'm sorry about them. If it happens again, come tell me or Alfred."

Duke nodded, "Thanks, B."

Bruce paused at the door on his way out. “The cure is in the cave. Or you can just wait it out.” He frowned, then sighed. “Also, I hope you don’t need me to say this, but please don’t attempt vengeance.”

Duke nodded solemnly as Bruce walked out. Then he smirked. He may be comparatively saner than his family, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t up for a bit of payback.

“Maybe Cass will help me,” Duke muttered to himself. “That’ll be fun.”

[gravelgirty]

Hi could you talk more about caves what you said on that post is really interesting

Sure thing!

First of all, it was an amazing cave I worked in. You never forget that. I'll pick one of my favorite topics,

the FALLOUT SHELTER AGGRAVATION TAX.

Clears throat.

Limestone caves are literally stone libraries in the geologic record of the world. Twice a year the airflow would change and then you'd smell smoke from decrepit old torches dating as far back as 1812. People made saltpeter in these caves, they were natural mines for things that went boom, and one of those 'requirements' meant airflow so you wouldn't suddenly and embarrassingly, drop dead of too much Underground. This is why the coal miners were eternally bemused and asking us questions like airflow. Sometimes you gotta canary. Sometimes you are the canary. This often led to predictable questions that was these old gents trying to be polite, but what they really wanted to know was,

'why the hell are you being paid $10 a trip plus tips to walk us 1.1 miles underground up to 3 times a day and no one has a mortgage gun aimed at your head?'

To which I would say, 'it wasn't quite that bad. If no one shows up at all we get paid $10.' ...Dear Saint Barbara, Chango, and the Gods of Deep Mystery, the things we tell ourselves. $10 a day. Crap. Thank goodness I had Granny's House, dad was paying the property tax, the water was on a well, and garbage was less that $20 a month. A shame we can't afford a TV, but hey, we can stay busy digging up that quarter-acre garden that will keep us fed plus the road kill Deer in the fall.

But the conditions that created saltpeter (I'll go into depth on that later if people are interested) also convinced some weird-ass people in Washington DC that caves were the perfect place to do a DR STRANGELOVE and people could go hide out in the caves, free of...well, nothing, really, because radiation = straight lines +caves, air, irradiated air and water, and everything goes down into the caves...

Look. It made people feel safe, ok? And it wasn't the worst decision the Pentagon ever made, considering they were telling the scientists working with HOT RADIOACTIVE MATTER to stay safe by sticking the stuff on a long pole so they wouldn't have to touch it.

Everybody knows about the bomb shelter President Kennedy was prepared to run to with his family in case of Cold War. It was in the Greenbrier Resort in White Sulphur Springs (I prefer to think of it as the HIDDEN FIGURES birthplace). FYI everybody who lived here knew where it was. There are only so many power stations one measly little resort that cries that it can't afford to pay for its own water bill can keep.

[insert sniffle boohoo sobbing of the pro-confederates who run that place and while I can't be there for you, try to imagine the joy I am stockpiling for the day when we have another traitorous uprising and this time, the resort doesn't get a GO PASS GO by dangerous romantics and is finally burned to the ground.]

Anyway, the important people like the President, his family, his Secret Service, his staff, cook, maid-in-waiting, bootblack and et al got to go bunker down in the luxurious bomb shelter at the resort, which probably wouldn't be very resort-y after a certain point of Castro going, 'fuck you, you whippersnapper Irish Dog' or Khrushchev throwing a little more than his shoe around. I'm not convinced it was that great of a place to hide, really. I mean...they have lightning rods on the trees over there, and believe it or not, cavers in that country have been hit by lightning while underground. Because. Lightning. If it can bake entire acres of potatoes in the field, two subterranean surveyors with metal measuring tape haven't got a prayer.

I want you to know that I can't at this point go into detail (space restrictions) on the importance of all these caves to Union Sympathizers, slaves on the Underground Railroad, and the Far-Righter MAGAS called Confederates. Trust me when I say, if you didn't know where these caves were, you had absolutely no right to know.

In Appalachia, limestone caves were listed on properties and handed down because of their value. Thomas Jefferson made a point of making sure there were lots of caves to provide nitre for the Gunpowder Committee. I don't know if landowners had to pay taxes for having saltpeter caves (probably), but when the Cold War came around, they definitely and cheerfully sold the access rights to the government because...it was the government. I am not in the least bit joking when I tell you there are people over there who are still pissed off over George Washington's Whiskey Rebellion.

If you really want to get into the psyche of Appalachians, go read up every scene Terry Pratchett ever wrote about Lancre in his Discworld books. Just give them more libraries and a LOT of coffee stations.

Oh, dear. I forgot all about the owling and the Prohibition.

Owling = the practice of moving your herds of cattle from one ridge to the next to avoid a higher payment when the taxman came a-calling.

Prohibition = The Second Oldest Profession.

These days, many of the Fallout Shelter caves are being used for...modern needs. Meth labs, if you're a sensationalist, but if you aren't, bear in mind that hiding out stolen cattle and horses still requires big places out in the middle of nowhere. But when Mr. Gov't Man came around and offered cash for the access rights to grand-daddy's old saltpetre cave? Goodness gracious, we know we aren't supposed to take people's money from them because that's a sin, but...taxes...you know how it is... (most of the mountain folk had no real quarrel with Kennedy despite his heathen dog Catholicism because it wasn't his fault he was brought up Catholic, but when it came to the government...well, it was the principle of the thing).

In short order papers were drawn, and shelters were built and good god, they were ugly. Clapboard shantytowns, I swear. They were stockpiles whacked together with off-brand plank and tenpenny nails for where the selected few could bunker up in the cozy, damp, dripping, chilly, dusty, sneezy, probably-warm-from-stray-radiation environs. I have no idea who the Pentagon hated enough that they would send them to these caves. They had a bottleneck opening for easy defense, yes, but there was no defense against puking yourself to death or accidentally taking off your own skin with your uniform at the end of your shift.

YOU THINK I"M KIDDING?? YOU THINK IT IS A COINCIDENCE THAT CLASSIC DR WHO SHOWS DALEK HISTORY IN AN OLD STONE QUARRY? WELCOME ABOARD!

A fallout shelter's stockpile generally consisted of

*High-quality medical equipment, even though some of that stuff had a shelf life of three minutes.

*Radio Equipment. Which was probably a real belly laugh to the folks running the NARO satellite dishes up in Green Bank, because families in the most rural portion of WV (Pocahontas County) spent their evenings parsing Latin and teaching the young lads and lasses the wonders of shortwave and how to rig up your own crystals in case you needed to jackleg your own.

*Food. God. Awful. Food. It was designed to keep you alive, but you can't say anything more charitable about it. Honestly, I'm surprised nobody tried to corner a government contract on dehydrated water.

*Water. Potable water for drinking, but, I should say, I couldn't find any means with which you could make a potable distillery. Or, how much of this potable water was going to be used to rehydrate the ghastly awfulness of the dehydrated food, or the canned goods that included stuff the military couldn't wait to forget. Go ask your grandparents how much canned horse Circa WWII they ate while they served, m'kay?

*Candy. High energy, easily digestible candy. Flavor optional, at the discretion of the same government that made the WWII Chocolate Bar.

*The containers themselves. Yep, they counted. They were heavy metal barrels and tough buckets or small drums, plus the amazingly dense metal and plastic containers for medical kits, candy, and misc. I'm not sure if they had a requirement other than impervious, waterproof, and on sale. In fact, the smaller drums/buckets were supposed to be lined with the plastic used to wrap the other goods, and convert into a toilet.

Cold War comes and goes. I'm sure what happened next is shocking:

1) medical supplies goes missing in the dead of night.

2) Electronics follows. That probably makes the electricians feel good, because...what good would they have done in the wet, dust-filled atmosphere of the caves?

3) Candy. Candy, did you say? I don't remember seeing any candy..?

4) The gradual disappearance of the food rations is mysteriously in proportion to camping trips multitasking with double-dog-dares. Who needs a frat pledge if Freckles here has never been introduced to the joys of Dehydrated Ketchup?

5) If you think the backyard blacksmiths are making forges with tire rims, do you think metal containers stand a chance?

This leaves the barrels of water, but who would want to drink that stuff? It's been sitting around for how long? Ew. And the boards for those shelters...cripes.

This inadvertently makes up a tiny little side bonus for the hard-working tour guide. Because these shelters are usually ridiculously close to the entrance of the tour caves. You have to take your tour group in stages, see, and once they finish gasping and wheezing their way through the first 300 steps, you have to take their minds off how miserable they are and pause at the shelter with your flashlight, and describe this little chapter of history. By this time the bats are hanging off the boards (your chance to remind them of the exorbitant federal fines for hurting these little mosquito-hunters), the occasional lost salamander, and the beginnings of the Dreaded Cave Cricket (ten minutes with these little monsters and you'll never think pink is an effete color ever again).

And the mold. There are patches of mold the guides have been watching for YEARS. Some of them have even bothered to look them up, because...tourists. They love to stump the guides and use it as an excuse for not tipping you because you haven't taken a Master's in The Encompassing Topic of Karst Everything and are clearly a dumbass, hah-hah I'll spend my money in the overpriced gift shop, peasant.

But no, folks. If you ask them one more damn time if they're sure all the candy and drugs are gone...we're too tired to take your bleeping bleep bleep tip anyway.

[alexandenigtscreations]

Chapters: 1/3 Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast Warnings: Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel

summary: 

Juno Steel and Peter Nureyev make a good team. But when a bank job goes horribly wrong, the injured pair are forced to lay low and hope the Carte Blanche can make it back to them in time.

Part 1

It wasn’t cheap, executing the heist of the century that is.  It wasn’t cheap to maintain their transportation or stock up on supplies, it wasn’t cheap to acquire insider information and it wasn't cheap to run a series of operations set as mere preamble for the Cure Mother Prime heist.  If the rumors were true, it would be well worth the trouble.  

It wasn’t cheap, so that’s how they found themselves in the heart of Galactic Stars First Bank, hacking into the on sight servers to relieve the institution of surplus creds.  

The whole affair had gone smoothly, down to Rita’s ‘Juno proof black box’.  The instrument allowed them to disarm the electronic security system with ease and extract the necessary information from the database.  It also sported Rita’s flare for the dramatic by making absurdly cheerful chirping sounds when connecting and completing commands.  

Juno was pacing behind him, restless as ever.  Keeping an eye out for the security.  

“Isn’t that damned thing done yet?  We’ve been here too long.” and he continued his anxious treed across the floor.  Back and forth, back and forth.  

Nureyev gave a non-committal hum.  “Careful not trip dear.  This space is cramped enough as it is.”  A long finger probed the screen of the black box, he wished Rita had thought to install some sort of progress bar-  

Juno had been particularly…. vocal… . about the myriad of concerns that drew his keen eye.  What Vespa might affectionately refer to as his whining .  He gets like this on big jobs.  Nureyev had become skilled at half listening to Juno when he got like this.  Flagging important information and letting the vague grumbling slip into obscurity.  They all have their different coping styles, who is he to deprive the one he loves of theirs?

“And what’s that supposed too- Ahhh!” there was a loud clatter and some cursing.

Nureyev didn’t even turn “I did try to warn you.”

“Ransom-” his voice took on a cautionary note.

“Another minute Detective,” the box had given a warning chirp signifying it was nearing the end of records.  He did not want to withdraw prematurely “the download hasn’t been completed yet.”

“Did Buddy say anything about booby traps?”

The lights danced across the black box, “What?  Oh, no.  There was nothing on the schematics to suggest their presence.”  he went back to monitoring the download, just as his mind sorted this question into the important category.  “Why do you ask?”

“I think I found a floor switch-”

“A floor-” he turned looking down and saw a tile recessed into the otherwise flush floor.  The chamber filled with a hissing sound.  Could it be gas? It was clear, they had to leave.  Now.

They were too far away from the door, some hundred meters away, which meant the vents-  A good thief always had multiple escape routes after all, even in a building like this-  He could see all the possible roots, outlined in red in his mind’s map.  The stares were no longer an option and the elevator shaft would be to risky which left-

“Juno, head for the center vent on your right!” he instructed, hurriedly disconnecting the black box from the server.  He hoped it had enough time to store the data- it had to be enough.

“On it!” Juno sprinted ahead, sliding on his knees to the vent pulling out his plasma cutter and making a few rushed incisions.  Not a moment too soon.  Panels were sliding open on the walls, small tubes slid out of the orifices.  A great ticking sound filled the corridor, getting faster and faster.  Juno glanced side to side then back at Nureyev “Ransom?” he voiced as the ticking reached a fever pitch.  The first flash of color slid across his vision, pining off the tile opposite.  “Ransom, Get down!”

But there was no time!

Juno rushed, flattening him to the floor as the air was infused with cyan blue feathers, strong arms wrapped around his shoulders, protecting his face.

“Juno! I-” he panted, having the wind knocked out of him. His detective wasn’t paying attention though.  

“How the Hell, did we not know about this!”  he was shouting over the sound of ricocheting metal.

“Love-” Nureyev said as soon as he could breathe again, “The vent-”

“Yeah.” He rolled off, keeping low and belly crawling through the opening, Nureyev on his heels.  He took a moment to snag a few of the projectiles before receding into the security of the air ducts.  

“Are you alright?” Juno asked over his shoulder.  

Nureyev took quick stock, everything seemed to be intact and there weren’t any unwanted punctures-  That was a stroke of luck.

“Quite, thanks to you.”  He gave an affectionate squeeze to an ankle “and you?”

“Gonna need more than a few technicolored darts to take me down.” he said cheekily “Like a master thief who memorized the map to this god damned maze.  Mind sliping ahead?”

“Well, it’s going to be a tight squeeze, but, I know you don’t mind Detective.”

“Save it, Ransom.  We gotta keep moving.” Juno was right of course.  

“All work and no play is dreadfully dull love.” Nureyev pouted, but couldn’t resist a nip at Juno’s colar as he shimmied past.  Sharp teeth grazing warm skin- he was rewarded with a delightfully flustered expression.  Some of the tension easing from Juno’s shoulders.  Which was good, because he wasn’t going to like the next part at all.  Sure enough, he screamed all the down the shoot.  So much for stealth-

With Nureyev up front, they moved swiftly.  Even with Juno grumbling about giving a lady a little warning.  The vents were mercifully free of traps, but that didn’t mean that the floors they darted across were safe.  Juno took out guards and drones with a few well aimed stuned shots.  

“My Detective, you’re getting quite good at that.” he grinded, with a sly glance through his lashes before disappearing.  

His voice crackled with warmth “Less talk, more cut- Hey, wait for me!”  

Nureyev loved this.  Loved this test of strength, endurance and whits.  The thrill of the escape was intoxicating.  Above all, he loved the company.  He was acutely aware of Juno’s presence at his side, the sound of his breath, the shifting of his limbs, the glances of him between floors, coat tails twirling as he set up for the next shot and the brief moments their eyes met.  He loved what a team they were.  

By the time they got to the ground floor, Juno was breathing hard, his hands slipping on the slick metallic surface.  His grumbling had gotten more intense with every floor dropped, his aim more... unsure.  Fatigue, no doubt.  He wasn’t as accustomed to navigating crawl spaces as Nureyev.  The vents seemed to have treated him rougher than anticipated, poor dear.

Unfortunately, Nureyev couldn’t focus on that now.  No doubt the security would know how they were moving from floor to floor by now.  The building was in full lock down mode, if the red pulsating light was anything to go by.  Sure enough, as soon as they punched through their last grate, a guard shouted into their coms, their blaster trembling in novice hands.  

It was another stroke of luck.

Nureyev dove forwards, latching on to their wrist while they were locked in indecision and twisted the arm up behind their back in a flourish.  “Juno!”

A shot was fired, the guard slumped bonelessly to the ground.  Nureyev relieved their blaster of the laser cartridge and the corridor filled with the reverberations of many, many footsteps.  

“Aw Hell!  How many of them are there?!” Juno griped.  “This wasn’t what we were told to prepare for!”  he shouted to no one in particular.  That was true.  If all had gone according to plan then, there shouldn’t  have been more than two guards per floor-  Even with tripping the alarms, there shouldn't be this many people in the building at this hour!  The bank seemed to be overcompensating for- for something .

“Cover me.” Nureyev said, darting towards the door.  Using his own blaster to incapacitate one unlucky employee of the Galactic Stars First Bank.  The weapon set to stun, to satisfy his lady’s- sensibilities.  

Juno swore loudly behind him, making his insides flip in excitement? Nerves? he couldn’t say- then all he could hear was the air sizzle with blaster fire.  In one smooth motion he extracted the black box from a pocket and connected it to the doors panel.  There was nothing to do but wait for it to do it’s work, to set them free.  Moments like these were his least favorite parts of a mission.  

The seconds ticked by and Nureyev’s excitement gave way to a writhing bubbling mass of anxiety.  He couldn’t shake the idea of being cornered, pinned down like a butterfly in a glass case.  Waiting for a little black box to decide whether or not they were getting out of the building.  

He glanced back at Juno, his back to him, framed in the brilliant flash of blaster fire, like the goddess he was.  A reminder that he had someone to rely on.  They were a team.

The next thing he knew the black box was chirping cheerfully and the door slid open.  

“Juno!” he called, unclipping a few pepper smoke bombs from his chest.  

“R-Right!” he called, hot on his heels.  

They took the steps two at a time, bursting into the open night air, twin moons flooding the city with light.  Harder to hide but but there were plenty of shadows to slip into and the security would also have to deal with night blindness.  It may be enough for them to get away.  

Nureyev tossed the peper smoke bombs into the bank as they fled.  There were shouts and a string of desperate coughs.  The red light illuminating the miasma pouring from the open door turning it into a hellish portal.  

They ran towards the city streets, trying to put as much distance between them and their pursuers as possible.  Juno’s stride, normally a steady pound, was growing fainter.  For the second time that day he heard a cry from behind and a skidding thud.  

Nureyev’s insides twisted.  Turning to see Juno sprawled out on the cobblestones and a red thread of light trained on his back.  A few security guards had made it out, the farthest from the door had their pistol drawn, at the ready.  

Changing direction seemingly mid air, Nureyev sprang back, unceremoniously yanking Juno to his feet by his collar as the first shots were fired.  

He couldn’t help the cry that tore out of his throat, as the seering white pain slid it’s way across his leg, knocking him into Juno.  The man stiffened, bracing him as best he could, concern on his lips-  Now wasn’t the time, the ground sparked with blaster fire.  

“This way-” Nureyev rasped, pulling the detective to the nearest ally way out of the line of fire.  A timer set in his mind, counting down the minutes and seconds before he would really start feeling the wound.  It felt-bad-  Not even a minute fresh and he was already forced to favor that leg.  But he knew he had time before the pain truly kicked in.

Till then- well- they needed to put as much distance between themselves and their pursuers as possible.

“You’re hurt!” Juno gasped, barely keeping pace to Nureyev’s long legged strides as they transitioned from a full sprint to slipping from shadow to shadow.  

“Not- ideal-” Nureyev affirmed through gritted teeth; regretting that his studies hadn’t been as deliberate with the city plans as the building.  They were already off his planned routes.  What's more, the pain was starting to scramble his internal navigation system.  He could just detect the signs of the chase.  

One thought came back over and over again, ‘too slow, too slow, too slow too-’

Whether it was luck or the pepper smoke bombs or the pair’s stealth; they managed to put some distance between themselves and the bank.  Juno was lagging worse than ever, calling out Ransom with a growing sense of urgency.  It was too hard to focus on that though, between the pain in his leg and that dogged need to push onwards, to escape- to-

“Ransom!  Goddamnit- I need a break!” there was something in the way his voice tore that stopped Nureyev in his tracks.  He turned to find Juno sagging against shipping crates, wrapping an arm around his middle and sucking down great gulps of air.

“We need to- to keep moving.” Nureyev said, unable to keep the strain from his voice.  “We can rest later- Detective.”

“Jus- just a minute-” Juno puffed, closing his eye and leaning over.  Nureyev hobbled closer, noting the exhausted lines on his beautiful face and the sheen of sweat.  Apparently, he needed this- Juno wouldn’t ask otherwise- and the fact he did ask was- significant.

“Fine- but only a minute love-” he reached up to cup his cheek, feeling the heat roll off his flushed skin.  That was new.  He moved in closer feeling his concern deepen before he knocked his leg into a crate.  Nureyev hissed in pain.  The pulse of the burn cutting through him with every breath, every step, every-

“Christ Ransom- your leg-” Juno drew nearer, drawing the hem of Nureyev’s coat back to get a better look, but there wasn’t time for that.

“Nothing a good skin graft and laser treatment wont mend-” he gave a tight lip smile.  Juno looked like he was going to say something more, but was mercifully cut off by a call from their coms.

“Pete, Juno, this is Buddy, report.”

“Captain-” Nureyev greated “We’ve downloaded most of the financial files and managed to escape the facility but-” he took a steadying breath, trying to maintain his composure.  “We’re having some trouble dodging the security.”

“Ransoms hurt.” Juno added.

“A scratch.” Nureyev dismissed.  There wasn’t anything to be done at the moment.  

“You were hit by a goddamned blaster sh- ahh-!” his knees seemed to cave and Juno caught himself on the crates.  His eye closed tightly once more as he focused on breathing.  His expression twisting into something sharper- heavier.  

Something was very, very wrong-  

“Juno-” The anxiety was back, constricting his chest, threatening to overtake him as he floundered- then Buddy’s voice cut through.

“Pete’s hurt?”

Fold it away.  Nureyev told himself.  You won't be any use to him if you lose your head!

“It will have to wait till we get to the ship, Captain.” he said truthfully.  

There was a long pause before “Think you can make it to the rendezvous point?” her voice was clipped, almost- distracted.  Like something wasn’t going according to plan.  

“Yes- we should be able to Captain.” he said, breathing deep against the building throbs of pain in his thigh, threatening to paralyze his hip.  He wasn’t about to let Buddy Auranko down because of a scratch.  “Is there something we need to know?  Captain?”

“Hold up your end of the bargain and we’ll do the same Pete.”

Nureyev closed his eyes and nodded “A fair arrangement Captain.”

“Excellent, keep us apprised of your situation dears.  Buddy out.”

Nureyev exchanged a look with Juno.  “Well that was-”

“Odd.” Juno cut in, brows crinkling with puzzlement in that way Nureyev loved.  

“I was going to say interesting but the point still stands.”

Juno opened his mouth, clearly wanting to discuss the exchange more when snatches of conversation drifted their way.  Nureyev hushed him with a hand finger to lips, Juno picked up right away.  He couldn’t hear much but they were throwing around words like capture and shoot, it was clear who they were.  Nureyev hummed disdainfully and Juno’s hand found his own and squeezed.  It wasn’t wise to stay in one spot too long, they had to keep moving.  

“Time to go-” he grasped the Detective's hand, they had to run, they had to get out of- he moved and agony forced his leg to buckle.

[ravenbrenna09]

Jij Verliest - Chapter Eight: Clips 3&4

master list

...

note: decided to drop two clips today because one was just texts; also as much as I want to italicize the texts, I’m not going to because Tumblr never gets all of them :/

also, mild spoilers for the the first part of Pokémon Sword and Shield

...

Maandag 14:11

Broerrrs + Luc

20 July, 14:11

Robbe: What are you guys doing on Wednesday?

Jens: Uh, I’m working that night. But not until like 19:00.

Lucas: I’m working that morning.

Jens: Really?

Lucas: Yeah.

Aaron: I don’t have to work.

Moyo: Me either.

Jens: Lucky you.

Lucas: Why?

Robbe: Because Sander wants to meet you guys. And he gets off at 16:00 on Wednesday.

Jens: Wait really?

Robbe: Yeah. Do you have a problem with it?

Jens: What? No, of course not. I guess I just didn’t expect it to be so soon. Especially after everything that happened.

Robbe: I know, but I want him to meet you guys. Officially. As my boyfriend.

Aaron: Awww, Robbe has a boyfriend.

Robbe: I’ve said he’s my boyfriend multiple times.

Lucas: Yeah, he literally won’t shut up about it.

Robbe: I’m sorry. How many times do you talk about Jens?

Lucas: :)

Aaron: I know, but it’s still new and I’m allowed to be excited.

Moyo: That’s true. We’re excited. And Wednesday sounds good to me. Noor and I are going out tonight.

Jens: Have fun! Wednesday sounds good to me too. Am I going to like him still after everything?

Lucas: Yes.

Jens: Oh really?

Lucas: One look at how he makes Robbe happy and you’ll like him again.

Robbe: I didn’t realize you stopped.

Lucas: He didn’t. He just says that he does. He’s gotta be all macho and protective.

Jens: You like me when I’m macho and protective.

Aaron: VDS at it again.

Moyo: You’re still in the group chat?

Jens: And? I can flirt with my boyfriend when I want to. Even in the group chat.

Robbe: I’m screenshotting that.

Aaron: What for?

Robbe: For when we eventually add Sander to this chat. And Jens tells me not to flirt with my boyfriend. I have proof that I can flirt in the group chat.

Jens: Are we adding Sander to the group chat? We haven’t even met him officially yet. And we never added Thomas to it. 

Robbe: I know, but I have a feeling about this one. Plus, I know you guys already like him anyways. Especially Aaron.

Aaron: That’s true.

Jens: In love Robbe is my favorite Robbe.

Moyo: Yeah.

Lucas: Agreed.

Robbe: Thanks guys.

…

Dinsdag 19:25

It had been on Robbe’s mind for awhile—days, weeks even. It was time for something different.

At least for Tuesday. 

Tonight, Sander was going over to Britt’s parents’ house. It had been an unexpected and last-minute invite from her parents and Sander was asked to come. Britt had messaged Robbe about it, asking if it was okay, and Robbe had said that it was. It still felt a little weird—as weird as his boyfriend pretending to be dating his ex-girlfriend could be—but that wasn’t why Robbe was upset. But, Robbe didn’t even know if ‘upset’ was the word he should be using… Disappointed? Maybe.

It wasn't about Sander going over to Britt’s. It was Sander going over to Britt’s tonight. 

Changing up his streams had been on Robbe’s mind for a few weeks and yesterday afternoon, after playing numerous matches that were just like all the others, he finally decided that he wanted to do it. At least for one day. When Britt had asked—followed shortly by Sander’s call—he thought of pushing the change off until later but, at the same time, Robbe didn’t want to. 

Since that Friday night, Robbe had been itching to play Pokémon Sword and Shield, the newest generation in the franchise. With their buzzed and love-drunk minds, they hadn’t really gotten very far into the game. Every once in a while, they would pause to kiss and it would end up a little more handsy than originally planned. Once they managed to pull themselves away, they would barely make any progress before they would tumble back against the bed, kissing each other. 

So Robbe went out and bought a Nintendo Switch after his Monday night stream. Because Sander had a copy of Pokémon Shield—he remembered the opening title scene quite vividly—Robbe chose the opposite version before looking through to see what other games were compatible with the console. Once he got his new purchase home, he spent the majority of the evening setting it up with the help of YouTube videos. Zoë had brought him a plateful of spaghetti as he was knee-deep in cords. 

Once he woke up on Tuesday morning, Robbe put the finishing touches to make sure that everything would run smoothly—or as smoothly as it could without going live. Even though Robbe had informed them that he was going to do something different, his nerves were still running high, bouncing in his chest. For years, Fortnite had been the only thing that Robbe streamed. So the bulk of his audience would expect Fortnite from him.

Before he started the stream, his phone vibrated loudly against the desk, pulling his gaze from the computer in front of him.

Sander: Have a good stream, baby. I’m hoping to catch the end. If not, I’ll watch it before bed.

A flood of warmth shot through Robbe and soothed all of the erratic nerves in his chest. Unconsciously adjusting his headphones, Robbe typed out a quick message.

Robbe: Have a good dinner. Text me when you get home.

Sander: I will <3

Once Robbe placed his phone to the side, glancing at Sander’s framed sketch, he started the stream. Even though he was still nervous, it was all for nothing. To his surprise, a majority of his regular audience were excited to see him play through Sword for the first time. On the other hand, there were still a handful of people who weren’t excited. Before they left the chat, they made passive aggressive comments about going to watch a Fortnite streamer, and the comments stung a little. Thankfully, the majority of his audience encouraged him and he started the game with little fuss. 

On that Friday evening with Sander, they had chosen the water-type starter, Sobble. While Robbe thought that the anxious salamander (or chameleon?) was adorable, he ended up choosing the Scorbunny this time around, which he named Flint. The white bunny with a bandage on his nose had interested him. Plus, if he and Sander were going to continue with Sobble, he wanted to do something different with this one. Once he hit the first route of the game, Robbe caught a Rookidee, which he named Alloy. It was a small bird that looked angry but would eventually evolve into a Corviknight. 

When Robbe finally reached the Wild Area, the vast area between cities—and, he learned, Pokémon’s first step into an open world—Robbe paused to consider getting the online services to connect with his viewers who had Pokémon. After a few minutes, he decided to wait until later in the game before he got the online services. Plus, he wanted to look into the other games on the Switch so he could do what they were temporarily dubbing “Nintendo Tuesday.”

As Robbe prepared to enter the Opening Ceremonies for the first time, his phone vibrated against the desk, drawing his attention. Rebel, Rebel played again as Sander’s text message popped up on the screen. 

Sander: Baby, buzz me in. 

Pulling down his headphones, he barely could make out the buzzer in the hallway. It was still going—which meant that no one else was home. “Umm,” Robbe said, placing his controller on the desk. His character was mid-conversation with a stadium worker and his chat was moving very quickly. “Sorry, I’m going to take my five-minute break now.” 

Muting his microphone and placing his headphones on the desk, Robbe shot out of his bedroom door and hit the buzzer on the front door. It only took nearly a full minute for Sander to arrive at the front door, knocking lightly, and Robbe opened it impatiently to find him there on his doormat. Sander was dressed in a long-sleeve black button-up with a pair of skinny jeans. His cheeks were flushed, likely from the heat. 

As soon as the door opened, Sander stepped into the apartment and kissed him hurriedly. His skin was hot to the touch—and a little sweaty–but Robbe didn’t mind, bringing him closer against him. Sander wrapped his arms around Robbe’s waist before pulling back. “Hi, baby.”

“Hey,” Robbe said, beaming. 

“I’m sorry for interrupting your stream,” he said. “I just really wanted to see you.” 

“Is everything okay?” Robbe asked. 

“Yeah,” Sander said, squeezing his waist. “Everything is fine. While we were at dinner, her parents asked us if we were really dating because we never kissed in front of them. When her father tried to force us to kiss to prove that we weren’t faking it, Britt exploded. She got into a fight with her dad and I could only watch with her mom as they fought. In the end, she came out to her parents.”

Robbe felt his eyes grow wide, pulling back. “What?”

Sander nodded. “Yeah, I didn’t tell you before because she wasn’t ready yet. But when I took her to my apartment and was going to come over here, she let me know that I could tell you. She’s been in a relationship with her girlfriend for six months. Her parents were always a little overbearing and controlling in her life and tonight was the last straw. She packed a bag and she’s staying in Noor’s bedroom until she figures out what to do.”

“Wow,” Robbe said. “I’m so sorry.”

Sander shrugged with a sad look on his face. “It’s been a long time coming. Since she’s found out, she’s been a ticking time bomb with her parents. They always talked about her being with a good guy—even when she was with me, both real and fake—and she internalized all of it. Every time, she got a little closer until it was too much.”

Robbe nodded. He understood that feeling. In high school, he exploded at the Broerrrs. He had been going through so much—his mother in the hospital and his repressed feelings that he refused to acknowledge to even himself—until one day it was too much. Thankfully, he had Milan and Zoë to help him. The Broerrrs forgave his explosion and changed when they realized how much Robbe was hurt by their words. Avoiding Sander’s gaze, he mumbled, “I know what it’s like… to explode.” 

Sander nodded, pressing a kiss to Robbe’s forehead. For a second, they simply rocked in the silence of the foyer. Soon, Sander ducked his head down to press a kiss against Robbe’s lips and he arched against Sander’s chest. Robbe stood on his toes, wrapping his arms around Sander’s neck, and kissed him back. Sander wrapped his arms tighter around Robbe, bringing him flush against his chest, as he dug his fingers into his hair. 

Pulling back, Sander kissed his nose. “You better get back to your stream. I just really wanted to see you.”

“They can wait a little more,” Robbe said.  

“Yeah, but you don’t want to keep them waiting forever,” Sander said grinning. Placing one more kiss on his lips, he moved back to the front door. As Sander reached to open the door and step outside, Robbe tugged him back against him and Sander looked at him confused. “What is it?” 

“You don’t have to leave,” Robbe said. Sander stared down at him with half-lidded eyes and Robbe swallowed his nerves. “You can stay here and come on the stream with me—or hang out in my room if you feel more comfortable with that.” A small smile grew on Sander’s face. “Besides, I need your expertise about my stream and I’d love to have you with me.”

“Didn’t you say last week that I would be distracting?”

“Maybe,” Robbe said, tilting his head back. Sander stared at him with a sly smile on his face. “Maybe I also changed my mind about you being distracting. But you have to promise to be on your best behavior.” 

“Okay,” Sander said, gripping his hips tightly. “I’d love to join. But I don’t know how much help I’m going to be with Fortnite and online matches. All I know is what you’ve told me or I’ve heard on your streams.” 

Robbe smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips before moving to the kitchen. “I’ll be back soon. I still need to grab a glass of water or I’m not going to be able to make it the rest of the stream without another break.” 

When Robbe returned to his bedroom, Sander had kicked off his shoes and unbuttoned his shirt, exposing the black shirt he had beneath it. His bag had been discarded at the foot of the bed. There was an emotional look on his face as he turned to Robbe who stepped into the doorway. 

“You’re playing Pokémon?” Robbe nodded, relishing when Sander closed the distance and pressed another kiss to his lips. Even with a full glass of water in his hands, Robbe wasted no time in wrapping his free arm around his shoulders and kissing him back. When they separated, Sander grinned. “Lucky for you, Mr. IJzermans, I’m quite the Pokémon expert.”

Robbe smiled, stealing another fleeting kiss. “Lucky me.”