#he looks like he's taking down a mugger in a whole foods parking lot while his cringefail husband hides in the car with the kids

[bombusbombus]

not to post about The Croptop Outfit AGAIN, but I met one person who hadn't seen that last panel and it was excuse enough to bring the whole thing back.

[hey-a-wild-jojo-simp]

Okay, college professor headcanons for JoJo’s Bizarre Adventures

Included characters: Dio (Part three, not vampire, fairly out of character, so sorry about that), Jonathan, Avdol, Joseph, Caesar, Polnareff with a little bit of Iggy, Kakyoin, Jotaro, and a bonus of Okuyasu, Josuke, and Koichi teaching a self-defense class to their peers (Not college profs)

Dio

He is part three in this btw, and he isn’t a vampire, I was thinking about the whole night class thing and deadass forgot he was a vampire

He teaches a night class

He teaches a criminal forensics class

No matter how many students he has at any given time, he knows them all by first and last name

He absolutely allows cussing in his class and takes full advantage of this rule

He will without a doubt notice attitude shifts in his students and will be fairly straightforward about it in his office after asking them to stay for a while after class or after they’re done with classes for the day to talk to them about it

He’s the cool professor

He only refers to students by their last name if he’s mad at them

He has his students skip titles and just call him Dio

He has helped students remove smell from their cars after someone left food in it and they didn’t know and it ended up rotting, or if they had stoner friends they had to pick up

It doesn’t matter if they aren’t in his class he’ll help them

He takes time out of his night/morning to help his students

He shows up about 5 or so hours before school starts and allows students who live in noisy ares to come in to sleep, he sets up pillows and everything

It doesn’t matter if he isn’t their first class he still lets them come in

Basically as far from canon Dio as you can get, just with appearance and accent, along with a few tendencies to snap at his students

He brings in meals on exam days because he knows students skip meals

Jonathan

You’ll literally never get lighter homework in any other class (Besides maybe Joseph)

He doesn’t allow cussing, he won’t report you for it. but will scold you, which normally gets anyone to stop, because no one wants to upset this man, he’s too nice to his students

He will report his students for any form of slurs, and that is the only time he will get angry unless one student is actively attacking another verbally or physically

He has stepped in front of a student in the parking lot who was being mugged and just knocked the mugger on their ass

Constantly jokingly butting heads with the criminal forensics teacher, sometimes gets heated between the two

They’re step siblings

Very few students know this

He’s a ELA (English language arts) teacher

MASSIVE golden retriever vibes, super energetic, loves his students, is the kind of man who would take one of his student’s secrets to the grave (As long as it wasn’t something like self harm or being a victim of a crime)

An absolute lumbering machine of a man, he seems imposing at first, until he breaks out into a smile and laying down the few ground rules, telling his students to feel free to talk to him about anything bugging them

Much like his brother, he brings in meals on exam days

He will fall, no if about it, it’s an inevitable thing, all of his students will see it at some point

The room normally erupts into chaos of running around and picking up his papers and freaking out about whether or not he’s okay until he looks up and is just an absolute blushing mess and he’s laughing

After the first time people still help pick up papers but it isn’t as chaotic

This man is so understanding about late work

He encouraged an enby (Born female) to get their hair cut to a mullet and made a 360 video for them to show to their barber

Absolutely would understand anything his students were going through or would at least try his best

He will hug his students if they’re having a rough time  

Can be counted on to extend due dates unreasonable amounts for large projects

Avdol

Stickler about late work

He does love his students, but for every 3 school days something is late, a point gets marked off

Unless you have good reason

Is a recreational class on astrology and other forms of psychic readings (I have no doubt that’s a class, my sister almost took a class on the history of James Bond)

He also brings in tea for his students daily

Will talk to his students if he sees them in public

Widely loved by students

Amazingly attuned with his students

Not many other details that stand out about him

Joseph

He’s that one guy that no one is really sure what he teaches

The presentations from student projects end up being the kinds that end up being iconic(?) images like the “How I lost my virginity to a mint cookie” thing, because no one knows what the presentations are supposed to be on

It’s harder to fail than it is to pass, seeing as if you forget to turn something in you have to remind him to mark it as missing, otherwise it just sits as not turned in, not as late, so it won’t affect your grade

He shows a lot of movies in class

Brought in a gaming system once and held a tourney amongst the students in all of his classes

There isn’t a single student who doesn’t like him

Caesar 

Cooking class

Lets his students eat what they cook after the taste test for grading

Is often brought flowers by his students after they inevitably find out his love for the colorful displays

Let’s be quite honest, we know Joseph is the one that exposes this

The two of them have a running joke of bringing each other jokingly “romantic” gifts as a show of their friendship

He was at first quite uncomfortable with the students bringing him flowers as it is generally quite a, romantic I could say, gesture (Funny lil’ side note, I was a weird child, apparently I thought as like, a 4 yr old I would have multiple husbands, and this guy that’s like, 7 or so years older than me was one of them, apparently planned to be the last???? I dunno lmao, but he brought me flowers because it’s now a running joke and we’re now sorta friends, anyways, he brought me flowers when I was 9, at least I think I was 9, but his girlfriend got mad???? Like hun, I'm not going to steal your man) until he started getting notes in them (Will post those in a later post)

He blushes very heavily upon receiving the flowers, any blush at all is extremely prevalent and he gets flustered and very happy upon receiving the flowers, his students have likened him to a blushing schoolboy

Has a fondness for paintings of nature, which have also been brought in as gifts by students, and they all get hung on his wall, which is always a great surprise to the students that paint them.

Polnareff

He teaches French

He brings in pastries

Very comedic

I don’t really know what else besides he's just a friend more so than a teacher to all of his students

He definitely brings in Iggy frequently, though he makes sure to keep the coffee gum accessible to himself, but not where Iggy could easily get to it

All of his students love Iggy

Iggy will curl up in students’ laps if he likes them enough

Kakyoin

He teaches a history of gaming

Tournies in his class

He’s a bruh dud, just a friend more so than he is a teacher

Doesn’t give two fucks about late work policy cause there is rarely ever any late work from his students

I dunno, his students bring him a bunch of cherry stuff lol, a mini bean bag that looks like a cherry, cherry pastries, cherries grown by the students, maraschino cherries, even a hat that looked like a cherry

Jotaro (Part 4 Jotaro)

Marine biology, duh

An absolute hardass

Half points for late work unless you have a damn good excuse

A student brought him a dolphin stuffed animal once, and Star Platinum broke out in happy tears (No stand using students) while Jotaro kept his composure, although he did crack a smile

Deadass takes students on aquarium trips I shit you not

Secretly loves all of his students

Most of his students love him

Bonus

Okuyasu, Josuke, Koichi, all canon age of part 4, not college profs

Self-defense classes

Open to any gender

Very kind but firm

Okuyasu either makes people laugh or cry or confused

Koichi normally comforts the people who end up crying

Josuke heals everyone up after sparring matches and is also a sparring partner to many

Tomoko may pop in every so often for some harassment tips to the participants  

[imaginetonyandbucky]

The Buy In

Chapter 5: Keeping Up Appearances

by @dracusfyre

Bucky stared sightlessly at New York traffic as he quietly panicked. He tried and failed to think of any way to get out of this, now that he was already in the car; if he could have, he would have given himself nausea and diarrhea immediately and suffered the indignity instead of escorting Tony Stark, the Mechanic, the single most powerful crime boss in Manhattan, to the Policeman’s Ball. What in the hell was he going to say to his handler? For three blocks he debated whether to give them any advance warning at all; it would be so much easier to deal with the fallout later by claiming that Stark had taken his phone before telling him where he was going. For three more blocks, he tried and failed to type something, each sentence he came up with sounding dumber than the last, so with only the barest bit of guilt he stashed his phone in the car’s glove compartment as Happy pulled into the drop off line for the ball.

Cameras started flashing almost as soon as he got out of the car to open Stark’s door, and while Stark climbed out, smiling and waving, he tried to look as boring as possible, mouth a flat line as he ignored the press and kept an eye out for anyone looking suspicious. Just what exactly was he supposed to be guarding Stark from, anyway? Other mob bosses in attendance? A mugger? The police?

“Want a drink?” Stark said once they got inside, and Bucky forced himself to shake his head even though he desperately wanted to say yes. He trailed behind Stark as he glad-handed the crowd, making jokes and asking after people’s kids, and miserably tallied the various important people in the room: the mayor, who gave Stark a handshake and a clap on the back for his donation to the Food Bank For NYC; a representative to the state house, who managed to solicit campaign donations in the guise of complimenting him on his philanthropic efforts; a US Senator that thanked him for his investment advice. And those were just the people that Bucky recognized; there was no telling how many government officials and CEOs that numbered among the people that subtly held court around Stark. He wondered how many knew about Stark’s criminal ties, and how many would care if they did know.

Finally, for Bucky’s sanity, they made the announcement for dinner and everyone filed dutifully into the main hall where they set up tables for the event.

“I was wondering if you were coming, Tony,” an amused voice said from behind them. Stark turned, and the smile he had been wearing all night widened and finally reached his eyes as a tall, slim redhead let him pull her down to kiss her on the cheek.

“Pepper, so glad to see you,” he said, taking one of her hands and putting it in his elbow. “Are you sitting next to me?”

“Of course.” Bucky recognized the woman from Stark’s case file; she was Virginia Potts, his personal lawyer. Though ‘lawyer’ didn’t really capture her, really; from a police perspective, she was Cerberus, the dragon guarding the tower, Gandalf on the bridge: in short, “You Shall Not Pass” in human form. She was largely the reason why Bucky was on this undercover assignment; faced with the potential of meeting her in court, no judge in the city would grant them a warrant without a literal smoking gun of Stark’s guilt. She was just as well connected as Stark was, to boot; one of the other senior partners at her firm was on the short list of the Democrats’ Supreme Court Justice picks and the other worked for the state as the deputy Attorney General. “How are you? Who’s this?” she asked, finally noticing Bucky following them to the dinner table.

“I’m fine, and this is a new guy,” Stark said as he pulled the seat out for Potts to sit. “I call him Blue Eyes.”

Potts rolled her eyes and offered Bucky a surprisingly kind smile. “Don’t worry, he can’t remember my real name either,” she said. “Don’t take it personally.”

“I don’t, ma’am,” Bucky said, returning her smile despite himself.

“Oh, Bill, it’s good to see you,” Stark said, and Bucky glanced away from Potts to see that sitting right across from Stark was the NY police commissioner.

 Tony hid a smile as he heard the strangled noise Blue Eyes made when he recognized the police commissioner. But after an evening of watching the man sweat as Tony rubbed elbows with the most powerful men in the state, he took pity on him. “I’ll be good for a while, if you need to take a break,” he said, and watched with amusement as the man all but fled from the table.

“What was that about?” Pepper asked with a small frown, thanking the wait staff as they filled up her glass with water and set a glass of white wine in front of her.

“I think his eyes aren’t the only thing about that guy that’s blue,” Tony said, looking significantly towards the police commissioner. Pepper’s eyebrows shot up and she took a drink of wine as she realized what he was saying, then she barely swallowed it in time before she laughed.

“And you brought him here? You are a terrible person,” she scolded him, clearly trying to suppress a smile.

“Yeah. It’s been fun watching him trying to avoid the cameramen all night. Especially because he’s been so worried about being photographed that he probably didn’t notice the fact that half of the conversations I’ve had tonight involved breaking the law in some way or another.” For example, what had probably sounded like a request for a campaign contribution was actually a solicitation for a bribe, which Tony was going to pay because politicians were just good investments, really, and honestly the Senator Walker should really talk less about how much money he made off of insider trading, particularly when he is using his committee positions to do it.

This time, Pepper’s eyes held a flash of warning instead of amusement, and Tony held up his hands in surrender, turning the conversation to safer waters as they ate.

                                                               ***

To Bucky’s surprise, Stark was ready to go not long after dinner; for some reason Bucky had the idea that he would want to stay all night, shaking hands and taking turns around the dance floor. He was all smiles as he left, but as soon as the car door closed behind him, he collapsed against the car seat with a sigh.

“You know,” Stark said, eyes closed as he rested his head on the back of the seat, “the funny thing about going to these events, is that I probably shook hands with more criminals tonight than I have in the past six months put together. But no one cares about that because the people who are supposed to care are criminals too.”

“That sucks, Boss,” Happy said, clearly having heard this complaint before. Now that they were far from the crowds and bright lights, Stark’s good mood seemed to be curdling; he sounded almost depressed. 

“It’s exhausting, is what it is. Blue Eyes, have you ever had to shake hands with and smile at someone that you hated all the way down to your bones?” Stark’s voice was muffled and Bucky looked back to see that his hands were over his face as he rubbed his eyes.

“Yeah, of course. There’s always that one guy at every job, right? The asshole that no one likes?”

Stark barked out a laugh. “Having only one would be nice, actually.” He sat up suddenly and scooted forward until he was all but in the front seat. “Let’s get dessert. Is there a late night ice cream place? Or pie? Or donuts? Back there they only had some sort of fancy baklava on the menu and I don't like honey.”

Happy and Bucky shared a look and Bucky patted his pockets for his phone before remembering that he’d put it in the glove compartment. Then he remembered why he’d left it in the car, and winced as he saw the notifications on his phone. But it was after midnight so that was going to be a Future Bucky problem. He pulled up the search bar and found a late night cookie company that was on their way home.

When they got there, there was no place to park, so Bucky got out with Stark to go inside while Happy stayed with the car. Unsurprisingly, they were the oldest people inside; the cashier and the two other customers looked like they were still in high school or college, because realistically who would be looking for a sugar fix this late at night except students. And one mob boss with a sweet tooth, apparently. Stark made a beeline for the display case and all but pressed his nose to the glass.

“What’s your favorite kind of cookie?”

“Something with fruit and nuts in it,” Bucky said. “You?” Bucky came up next to him to read all the labels. “Mexican chili cookie? Who wants a spicy cookie?”

“Can’t do better than chocolate chip,” Stark said.  “But that salted caramel is speaking to me.” He glanced up at the menu and said, “Ooh, ice cream sandwiches,” sounding so excited that Bucky had to smother a smile. It was hard to keep a straight face as Stark deliberated; the man was being so stupidly cute as he debated the merits of the different options that Bucky had the dumbest fucking desire to kiss him. Stark ended up buying a whole box of cookies and an ice cream sandwich because he couldn’t decide on which cookies he wanted, and because he kept thinking of people to give them to: “Happy will say he’s on a diet but I think he’ll want one of these M&M cookies. I don’t think I’ve ever seen mint in a cookie, I’ll get that one for Rhodey, but also this sprinkle one because it will be funny.”

Maybe it was the sugar or the impulsive shopping trip, but Stark seemed in lighter spirits as they drove the rest of the way back to his garage, telling funny stories about the people that had been at the event. It even made Happy unbend a little, as much as he ever did when he was working, and at one point Bucky was laughing so hard he was in tears.

“Here’s good, Happy,” Stark said before they could pull into the secured parking lot behind the garage.

“Are you sure, Boss?” Happy said dubiously. “It’s not safe-”

“I got Blue Eyes to protect my virtue, right Blue Eyes?” Stark said. Bucky almost bobbled the box of cookies as climbed out of the car at the mention of Stark’s virtue, and when Stark met his eyes Bucky knew he’d done it on purpose. “Come on inside with me,” Stark continued. “We need to talk about the event tonight.” He leaned over to look at Happy through the window. “You go on home, I’ll make sure he gets home ok.”  When Happy nodded, Stark tapped on the top of the car and stepped back from the curb as the car pulled away

Bucky’s hands tightened on the box of cookies as his heart gave a heavy thump and his mouth went dry. He swallowed against a spike of nerves. We need to talk was never a good sign, but also, he was about to be alone with Stark. Trying not to think about what had happened earlier, he trailed awkwardly behind Stark as he put in the security code for the door and stepped inside, turning on a few of the big banks of fluorescent lights as he went.

“You can change, if you want,” Stark said, gesturing towards the bathroom where Bucky’s clothes were still folded neatly on the sink. He shrugged out of his suit coat and unbuttoned the sleeves, rolling them up so the cuffs didn’t dangle. Bucky’s eyes lingered for a moment on the lean muscles of his forearm, the strong, slender wrist bracketed by the narrow-banded watch, and decided that a moment alone in the bathroom was a good idea.

He changed quickly and splashed cold water on his face, giving himself a stern lecture about professionalism in the mirror, reminding himself why he was really here. His boss would be telling him that this was a great opportunity, that he seemed to have Stark’s trust. That now would be the perfect time to dig a little deeper. Bucky told himself that even though Stark was handsome and funny and apparently the kind of guy that would stuff a hundred dollar bill in a tip jar didn’t mean that…

“Wait, start over,” he muttered, shaking his head. Even though Stark seemed like a good person he was, at the very least, the target of a massive criminal investigation, even if it did seem like maybe there were worse criminals out there they could be investigating. They weren’t friends, he reminded himself. Stark didn’t know anything about him, and would probably drop him into the Hudson if he did. With that sobering thought, Bucky sighed, gathered up the fancy suit and shoes Stark had lent him, and went back out to the main room.

Then that whole pep talk promptly went out the window as he came out to see Stark sitting on a metal table, swinging his legs like a kid as he ate a cookie. As Bucky came closer, he saw that Stark had kicked off his shoes and had also taken a signle bite out of half the cookies in the box. When he looked up at Bucky with a smile of welcome, Bucky knew that he was in trouble.

“So what did we need to talk about?” he asked, taking a seat on the table next to Sta- Tony. He might as well stop calling him Stark; it’s not as if thinking of him by his last name was helping him maintain any sort of objectivity.

“Just getting your impression about tonight. Did you notice anything I should know about?” Tony held out the cookie box and Bucky took one of the oatmeal craisin ones, one of the few that Tony hadn't taste tested.

He took a bite to buy himself some time to think; Bucky had a lot of observations from tonight, ranging from the completely inappropriate (the curve of Tony's ass when Ms. Potts dropped something and Tony bent over to pick it up) to the irrelevant (not impressed with the music selection) to the potentially explosive (the Commandant had a drinking problem and was probably cheating on his wife). Assessing which were relevant to Tony took a moment. “There were a couple of people that were giving you the evil eye all night,” he said finally. “Right after you shook hands with them they looked like they wanted to shank you.”

Tony threw his head back and laughed at that. “I’m sure. Was one of them a skinny tool with glasses? Justin Hammer?”

“Yeah, that was one. Another one was the Special Agent in Charge of an FBI satellite office-”

“Not surprising,” Tony commented. “She’s new. The new ones are always hungry, she’ll come around.”

“-And the other was a big guy, bald but had a beard. I didn’t catch his name, sounded like you called him Toby.”

“You mean Obie? Obediah Stane?” Tony said with surprise. He dug out his phone and pulled up a picture. “This guy?”

Bucky leaned over to look at the phone. “Yeah. I always saw him watching you when you were talking to other people. Guy had eyes like a shark. People like him can kill someone and pass a lie detector test while his hands were still bloody. Who is he?”

“A family friend.” Tony frowned down at his phone and tapped it against his palm thoughtfully. “At least, I thought he was.”

“Oh shit. I’m sorry,” Bucky said. “Maybe I’m wrong, you know, I’m not-” an expert, is what he was going to say, but he stopped because no matter how you sliced it, cop or criminal, he was. He was an expert in assessing threats, and that guy was definitely bad news.

Tony waved his words away and tossed his phone on the table with a clatter. “It’s fine. Better to know. I’ll look into it. Anything else?”

Bucky shook his head and took another bite of cookie. “Why do you go to these things if they are full of people you don’t like and apparently people who don’t like you?”

“Networking, mostly. Obligation. Gotta show my face every now and then. Spite,” he added with a smirk. “But it’s also a good reminder.” When Bucky made a questioning sound, he took another cookie from the box and nibbled the edge.  “Look, I was a rich asshole for a long time,” Tony said after a moment. “Too long. Then one day, I met a guy at a party. Don’t even know how he got invited because he wasn’t rich, wasn’t famous, he was just some doctor. And I don’t remember what I was saying, but at one point he looked at me with such pity,” Tony said, eyebrows drawing together. He studied his cookie like it was helping him remember. “I still remember his face. No one had looked at me with pity before, and he said, ‘Look at you. All this money and still you have nothing.’ And I was like, ‘excuse me? Do you know who I am?’ As you do, right, because I could have anything I wanted, I’m fucking Tony Stark. And he said, ‘Yeah, I know who you are. I’ve seen dozens of men like you. And despite all their money, all their fame, death came for all of them in the end, and they had nothing to show for it but a tacky tombstone.’” Tony bit his lip, frowning a little. “I’m sure I said something, but he just finished his drink and walked away, like I wasn’t worth his time. I wish I could say that I had this like, huge change of heart and changed my ways after that night, but it ended up being this gradual thing.”

Bucky realized he was staring. “What do you mean?” he asked, taking a bite out of the cookie he just remembered he was holding.

“Well, I looked him up later and found out he ran a free clinic downtown and on a whim I donated some money. Like, 'see what a good person I am, have some money.' Like I was proving him wrong somehow by doing that." Tony snorted and shook his head at the memory. "Anyway, doing that puts you on some kind of list somewhere, apparently, and one day I got an email about a runaway shelter. Then a food bank, then a refugee thing, and it kind of snowballed from there.”

“Wait, wait.” Bucky shook his head. “How did you go from ‘donating to a clinic’ to ‘mob boss over half of Manhattan’? That’s one hell of a snowball.”

“Well, after donating to a bunch of causes, I saw that a housing complex near all these nonprofits went up for sale, so I bought it,” he said with a shrug, fiddling with a napkin as he talked. He was already done with his cookie somehow, despite having done most of the talking.  He reached for another from the box and took a tiny bite. “I was kinda feeling like, I don’t know, tied to this area as I kept an eye on my pet projects. Then I started getting a bunch of complaints about the conditions and I was pretty fucking appalled at what I was seeing. Like, no one should live like that. It was a shame for rats to even be living there. So I fixed it up, and then I set up a trust for the building and gave it back to the tenants. All their rent goes in a fund, and they spend money on that fund to pay for what the complex needed.”

“Like a condo association?”

“More like a cooperative. They decide how much to charge everyone for rent, they decide if they want to spend money on painting the place or upgrading the light fixtures, you know, whatever. I think last time I checked they had put in a community garden. So when another came up for sale, I bought it, and then another, then I realized I might as well invest in some of the businesses here. After the fiasco of that first apartment building, I started looking at what I was spending my money on so I would know what to expect. Then when I was looking at a commercial building, people came in to shake down the owner of one of the businesses while I was there. Like, I was standing right there and those people didn’t give a shit who saw them. I was so surprised that I didn’t say anything until it was over, and then I asked the guy if that happened a lot. Can’t let that go on, you know, because...well, I mean, the owner looked so scared, and that made me mad because he's just trying to make a living, you know? Also, it cuts into the bottom line, so.” Tony shrugged again. “I put a stop to it. And then, well,” he gestured expressively around him with his cookie. “Like I said. Snowball.”

Bucky could only stare, bemused. If he had heard the same story on his first day of work, he might have been unable to keep from laughing in Stark’s face. But now…well, it was increasingly hard to square what the police knew – or thought they knew – about Tony Stark and what Bucky was seeing. “I guess no kid wants to be a criminal when they grow up,” Bucky said. “We all just kind of wander into it.”

“Yeah? Is that how you went from Bagram to Brighton Beach?”

Now it was Bucky’s turn to shrug, uncomfortable. After hearing Tony's story, he didn’t want to feed him some bullshit line from his cover story. “There’s only a few career opportunities for a grunt back home,” he said vaguely. “Even fewer that pay well.”

He glanced up to see Tony studying him thoughtfully. “Do you miss it?”

“The Army? Hell no.” That part was true enough.

“How about here? Are you happy here?”

Bucky’s mouth quirked. “Are you asking me about my job satisfaction? One means not at all satisfied, ten means highly satisfied?” He had the pleasure of watching Tony almost spit out a bite of cookie as he surprised a laugh out of him.

“Sure,” Tony said after a moment when he finished chewing. "One out of ten."

“Ten,” Bucky said truthfully. “I like helping people.” He had the traitorous thought that the past few months working with KT had been closer to what he'd thought it would be like to be a cop than what it had actually turned out to be like, and felt vaguely guilty.

“Yeah, me too.” 

They sat there in a surprisingly comfortable silence for a few moments before Bucky heard the ding of a notification on his phone. He silenced it without looking – his handlers were still yelling about the Policeman’s Ball – but sighed when he saw the time. “It’s getting late,” Bucky said reluctantly, more because it seemed appropriate rather than any desire to actually leave. He opened his mouth to say, I had a great time tonight and immediately felt like an idiot because, bare feet and half-eaten box of cookies aside, this wasn't, in fact, a date.

But apparently he wasn’t the only one who had lost the plot, because Tony said, “Would you like to come up for a dr-” before he cut himself off with a look of horror that would have been funny if Bucky hadn’t, deep down, wanted so badly to say yes. “I’ll call you a cab,” he said instead, looking away to grab his phone.

“I’ll wait outside,” Bucky said, and fled.

                                                ***

Tony watched from a window as Blue Eyes' taxi drove away, then as Tony went up the elevator to his penthouse condo he texted a sad face to Rhodey.

Told you it was a bad idea, Rhodey wrote back.

Don’t say I told you so. I’m sad, Tony responded.

You’re making yourself sad pining after an undercover cop. I don’t feel bad for you.

“That’s fair,” Tony said out loud. You should. I got you cookies and you’re being mean to me. Tony texted Rhodey a picture of the half-empty box of cookies and made himself sad all over again, remembering the intensity with which Blue Eyes had stared at the display of cookies when told to pick one, like it was a pop quiz that he was determined to pass.

Go to bed, Tones.

With a sigh, Tony tossed his phone on the bed and started peeling himself out of the monkey suit, setting the cufflinks he’d been wearing on his dresser as he threw the suit and shirt on the back of a chair to be dry cleaned. The problem was that tonight, like every night for the past few years, Tony was going to bed by himself. There had been a certain point where he’d realized that he’d tipped over from bending the rules, to breaking the rules, then to breaking the rules in a way that would get him put on lists written by people with badges, and at that point he’d realized that to bring anyone into his life was to put a target on them. The only way to avoid it was to not get close to anyone, but he’d done the one-and-done lifestyle and wasn’t interested in that anymore. It had been Pepper for a  while, because she was more than capable of protecting herself, but after a year she had gently but firmly told him that it wasn’t working for her, and that had been the end of it. Since then, there had been a few people that he thought maybe, maybe this one but in the end, they didn’t feel right.

Blue Eyes felt right. He knew it was dumb and he knew what Rhodey would say – star crossed lovers only exist in fiction, Tones - but as he slid between the sheets that night, he let himself daydream about it until he fell asleep.

[kk095]

Robbery Gone Wrong

It was a chilly Friday night in late January with temperatures expected to drop down into the single digits with snow flurries. A lot of people decided to stay in that night, but the cold never bothered Jocelyn and Jose, so they decided to go into town for a date night. Jose was a 28 year old Hispanic male who had a large, husky frame with a comb-over hairstyle and clean shave. He worked as a car salesperson at a local car dealership and was considered a gentle giant by those who knew him. His girlfriend of a little over a year was Jocelyn. She was a 25 year old black girl who worked as a hairdresser. She was of average height and slim build, had a medium length lob hairstyle with bangs, a small tattoo on her left wrist, and a belly button ring.

The happy couple’s date night started off with food and drinks at a sushi restaurant they both liked, and then followed that up some ice skating at a nearby ice rink. After an hour or two of ice skating, the two of them decided to call it a night and walk back to the car which was parked in a public lot a few blocks away. Unfortunately, they’d never make it back to the car.

The couple walked back towards the car by themselves holding hands with one another. There wasn’t anyone else around, and the night was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. But the couple would quickly realize it was a little too quiet. A tall, thin white man who had a really rough look to him appeared seemingly out of nowhere. The man pulled out a knife, holding it up to Jose and started yelling at the young couple, demanding them to hand over their wallets. Jose got between Jocelyn and the robber, and told his girlfriend to run to the car and call 911 on her cell phone. Jocelyn stood on the sidewalk frozen in fear, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

The mugger angrily demanded the couple’s wallets once again. Jose responded by shoving the attacker, knocking him down to the pavement. Jose once again told a terrified Jocelyn to run, but she was frozen with fear. Instead of the hard shove to the ground thwarting the attacker, he sprung right back up and began stabbing away at Jose. The first wound was to Jose’s neck and the second was to the anterior chest, with the others occurring on his left forearm as self defense wounds. Jocelyn began crying and attempted to run away, but the attacker shifted their attention to Jocelyn since she was a witness. The robber quickly caught up to her and stabbed her multiple times: twice in the back, near the left shoulderblade, and once in the left armpit, which occurred when Jocelyn tried to defend herself.

After the vicious attack, the robber picked up both victims wallets, tossed the bloody knife into a nearby dumpster, and made a beeline out of there, disappearing westbound down a nearby side street. Unbeknownst to the attacker, there was an eyewitness about 100 yards away from the attack who alerted 911, informing them of a robbery turned double stabbing, and the suspect fled on foot, naming the side street.

First responders arrived on scene in the coming minutes, finding Jose motionless in a pool of his own blood and Jocelyn crying hysterically, with her clothes bloodied up. The first set of medics looked after Jose. His eyes were half open, staring lifelessly off towards his girlfriend. He was pulseless and had agonal respirations, so his jacket and shirt were cut off and resuscitation efforts began on him. One medic performed deep, violent chest compressions on him while the other stuck the defib pads to his bare chest. The defibrillator pads corresponding heart monitor read PEA, so the one medic continued chest compressions while the other set up IVs, pushing a round of epinephrine and atropine into the IV port, while also hanging a bag of ringer’s lactate to commence fluid resuscitation. Once IV drugs and fluids were set up, one medic attempted rapid sequence intubation. This proved to be a difficult situation since his airway was flooded with bright red arterial blood. The medics turned the man onto his side in an attempt to clear his airway, only for it to quickly refill with that same arterial blood. “probably a carotid artery lac or tracheal transection… or maybe even both.” One medic said to the other, shaking their head. A second attempt at intubation was attempted, but the bottom of the ET tube protruded from a neck laceration, confirming a severed trachea. “we need to trach him.” One of the medics called out.

Jose’s neck below the Adam’s apple was splashed with betadine and a quick, 1 inch cut was made. After the initial cut, the thyroid was located. Next, a vertical incision was made between the cricothyroid membrane and the thyroid cartilage. Once this tissue was incised, the tracheal rings were exposed. The site was bloodier and more obstructed than usual, but the medics were able to incise between 2 lower tracheal rings and place a tracheotomy tube. The tube was secured with a white cuff and an ambu bag was attached. After the surgical airway was confirmed, resuscitation efforts resumed. The burly man’s chest was pumped repeatedly, but still remained in PEA.

While all that was going on, the other set of medics tended to Jocelyn, who laid just a few feet away. The medics removed her jacket and shirt, only sparing her black bra. The medics rolled her onto her side to locate the stab wounds, noticing that 2 were to the posterior torso and 1 in the left axilla. Jocelyn’s breath sounds were diminished on the left side, and sounded winded when talking to the medics. One of the stab wound on her back turned out to be an open pneumothorax (or colloquially known as a sucking chest wound), so a pressure dressing was applied, while the other 2 wounds were packed and covered. A 5 lead ECG with a portable heart monitor was set up. On scene, Jocelyn’s vital signs were: BP 80/43, pulse 134bpm, oxygen saturation 93%. With these stats in mind, the medics placed 2 large bore IVs, hanging a bag of ringer’s lactate and pushed a round of morphine for pain management. Jocelyn was then moved onto a gurney and whisked away into a nearby ambulance.

The other set of medics continued coding Jose after Jocelyn’s ambulance sped off towards the emergency department. A 2nd dose of drugs were able to convert the young man to v-fib, so the defib pads were charged to 250 and a shock was delivered. The man’s chunky body flopped on the sidewalk, failing to respond to the first shock. After suctioning his trach tube and a cycle of compressions, the medics shocked him again at 300 joules. The slightly increased strength of the shock caused his back to arch just above the snow dusted pavement, shooting his chest upwards. Shock #2 failed to achieve ROSC, so a third shock at 360 was delivered. His torso shook harshly while the electricity ran through Jose’s dying body. This 3rd shock sent him into asystole. Unfortunately, the medics felt that this deterioration combined with his extensive injuries made him unsalvageable, so the medics called time of death at 9:57pm. The ambu bag was detached from the trach tube and the defib pads were peeled off his chest. After all other equipment was removed, the medics placed the man into a body bag and handed him off to the county coroner’s office.

Jocelyn’s ambulance arrived at the emergency department a few minutes later. She was still hypotensive and tachycardic, showing signs of hypovolemic shock. Tears rolled down her face while she asked about Jose in between labored breaths. A nurse told the young woman that the paramedics were taking care of him, even though the ER staff were already informed of his death.

The trauma team quickly sprung into action after Jocelyn was transferred onto the trauma room table. 4 units of unmatched o-neg, 2 units of platelets, and 2 units of FFP were hung to begin blood transfusion. A CBC, BMP, and tox screen were ordered, along with a chest x-ray, and echocardiogram. The chest x-ray showed a left sided tension pneumothorax with right sided tracheal deviation, and the echo came back clean. However, auscultation of the heart revealed distant heart sounds and a bruit de moulin murmur.

The trauma team’s next course of action was left sided chest tube placement to alleviate the tension pneumothorax. The left ribcage was rapidly sterilized with betadine before a 1 inch incision was made in between Jocelyn’s ribs. Jocelyn moaned in pain, feeling the cold, metal blade’s every move. Once the incision opening was created, the trauma team inserted a large, flexible tube into the space, navigating it deep into the incision site, into the thoracic cavity. The insertion of the tube was extremely painful for Jocelyn, as she yelped loudly during the whole insertion. After the chest tube was placed, a large clump of air shot out of the tube, along with 300ML of blood.

After the chest tube placement, Jocelyn’s breathing improved, but she still remained hemodynamically unstable. One nurse pointed out jugular venous distention, so the attending physician ordered a repeat echocardiogram on the young woman. In the 2nd echocardiogram, the heart appeared obscured. The heart can look obscured during pneumothorax because of excess air in the chest cavity, but since the chest tube was placed, that was unlikely. With that in mind, the other diagnosis was something known as pneumopericardium. This is a situation where air becomes trapped in the lining around the heart, which squeezes the heart and ultimately affects its ability to pump blood normally. With this diagnosis being agreed upon, the trauma team decided to perform an ultrasound guided subxiphoid percutaneous pericardiocentesis.

A nurse snipped off Jocelyn’s bra, exposing her perky C cup breasts. While the needle was being prepped, the subxiphoid portion of her chest was wiped down with alcohol wipes. The echocardiogram was put back onto her chest to provide a visual aid for the doctor. Next, a large, fine needle was inserted into the chest cavity below the bottom portion of the sternum at a 45 degree angle. The procedure wasn’t overly painful for Jocelyn, but she felt a burning sensation and pressure from the needle pinching it’s way further into her chest. Moments later, the needle was at the correct location, and the plunger was carefully pulled back. The body of the needle filled with air, confirming the pneumopericardium diagnosis. After the air was aspirated, the needle was carefully withdrawn from her chest.

After the pericardiocentesis, Jocelyn began to drift in and out of consciousness and her vital signs started to plummet rapidly. The sudden decline prompted the trauma team to perform rapid sequence intubation. In the following moments, a 7.0 ET tube was placed into Jocelyn’s airway and held in place with a blue tube holder.

Shortly after intubation, things took a turn for the worse. The monitors began chirping loudly, displaying v-fib. One of the nurses started deep, violent chest compressions as the attending physician called for a thoracotomy tray. Jocelyn’s perky breasts bounced and jiggled while her bare chest was splashed with betadine. With harsh compressions ongoing just inches away, the doctor picked up a 10 blade scalpel and made an incision in the 5th intercostal space starting at the sternal border, extending across the chest, under the left breast, and ending just shy of the mid axillary area just an inch or so below an already existing stab wound. With the first cut out of the way, the underlying fat, muscle, and connective tissue was cut and snipped away, making a space between the 4th and 5th ribs for the spreader. Once an adequate space was created, a finochietto rib spreader was placed into the opening with the bar pointing up towards the patient’s shoulder. While CPR continued, the knobs on the spreader were turned, forcing Jocelyn’s ribs apart. Her belly bounced outwards from the force of the compressions as a cracking and popping sound filled the room from the rib spreader.

There was a rush of both blood and air upon entry to the chest cavity, so suction was applied to the area and a 2nd chest tube was placed for additional drainage. Once a satisfactory view of the thoracic structures was obtained, a pericardiotomy was performed. Air exited from the incision site, but there was still air trapped in the posterior portion of the heart. The incision was extended and the heart was delivered, but the posterior pericardium still had air trapped in it. With internal massage beginning, a cross clamp was placed on the descending aorta near the diaphragm and another clamp was placed on the left pulmonary hilum since the moderate blood loss couldn’t be explained. After a few cycles of internal massage, a 2nd pericardiocentesis was performed to aspirate the remaining trapped air from the posterior pericardium. The large, thin needle was stuck deep in the fidgeting organ, and the body or the needle aspirated more air. The back of the heart still felt a bit inflated, almost like a fleshy balloon of sorts, so a small drain was placed into the pericardiotomy incision site.

The trauma team then decided to shock Jocelyn with the internal paddles. The large, spoon shaped paddles were charged to 20 joules and lowered into the young woman’s exposed chest cavity. A dull, wet thump was heard during the delivery of the shock. V-fib was still present, so a cycle of internal massage was performed while the internal paddles were readied. A wet, rhythmic squishing sound was heard during internal massage. The doctor could feel Jocelyn’s heart weakly fidgeting around in their hands as they manually pumped the girl’s heart.

In a moment’s notice, the next shock was delivered. Shock #2 was a 30 joule shock, which caused the patient’s torso to flop violently on the table for a brief moment. No change was present on the monitors, so internal massage was resumed and doses of atropine and epinephrine were injected intravenously. The internal paddles were recharged to 30 joules in the meantime, and placed around each side of Jocelyn’s frantically twitching heart. The next shock caused her toes to curl, showing off the large, prominent wrinkles in the soles of her size 9 feet. This shock sent the attractive 25 year old into PEA, so internal compressions were immediately restarted.

Jocelyn received numerous cycles of internal compressions, and another 2 doses of drugs before converting to v-fib at the 12 minute mark of the code. The internal paddles were recharged and a 30j shock was delivered. Jocelyn’s full breasts jiggled around while the quick jolt of electricity ran through her dying body. Once again, she remained in v-fib, so another shock at 40j was delivered shortly afterwards. Her torso flopped quickly on the table, and her left arm hung off the table. The internal paddles were recharged and placed around the woman’s fidgeting heart, and another 40j shock was delivered. This shock caused Jocelyn’s feet to leap up slightly above the table before crashing back down a second later, once again wrinkling her beautiful, size 9 soles.

The trauma team continued coding the beautiful, young stabbing victim. Jocelyn was shocked 3 more times with the internal paddles, given 2 more doses of drugs, and given numerous cycles of internal massage. Fixed and dilated pupils were reported at the 20 minute mark of the code, so resuscitation efforts were terminated at that point. Jocelyn’s time of death was called at 10:48pm while she was still in v-fib.

The ambu bag was detached and the monitors were turned off. The attending physician thanked everyone for their efforts before exiting the room, feeling defeated. The ER nurses removed the rest of the equipment and placed a cover and toe tag on Jocelyn before sending her off to the hospital morgue.

Jocelyn’s autopsy concluded that she died from rampant pneumopericardium. Upon removal of the heart during autopsy, the pathologist discovered air within the coronary arteries- a lethal clinical entity associated with high mortality rates. A laceration the left lung, and laceration of one of the smaller arteries explained the blood loss, but it wasn’t enough to be considered the cause of death.

Jose’s autopsy occurred shortly before Jocelyn’s. He had received 2 devastating wounds: the neck wound severed both the common carotid artery and the mid-trachea, while the chest wound hit the aortic arch just above the heart. Even if he made it to the hospital, it’s highly unlikely that a good outcome would’ve occurred.

The young couple’s attacker was identified via fingerprints from the murder weapon found in the dumpster. The attacker was 47 year old Jeremy Wilson. Wilson has been in and out of jail most of his adult life, with prior convictions such as drug possession, robbery, and burglary. He was located by detectives 4 days later in the next town over and was taken into police custody. He was charged with: 2 counts of 2nd degree murder, 1 count of armed robbery, and 1 count of felony battery. Due to the heinous nature of this crime, he received a sentence of life in prison without the possibility of parole.

Even though justice was served in this tragic case, it’ll never bring back the 2 young victims.

[falseroar]

Silver and Peppermint (Part 2)

((Part 2! This is a fantasy AU, in which Monster Hunter Abe is called in to find the killer behind a string of murders in the city. He and his reluctant partner, the District Attorney, believe it’s not just a werewolf behind the deaths, but one very much in control when it attacks.

Links to Part 1, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, and the Epilogue.))

The first victim was a grocer, lived in one of those up and coming neighborhoods where all the houses looked roughly identical. This guy’s house was easy enough to spot thanks to the bright yellow tape blocking the door that was already starting to droop and fall away, but otherwise it looked like an exact copy of the one next to it with a slightly different coat of paint slapped on it.

“Nice place,” Abe said.

The District Attorney shrugged. “If this is your thing. The victim and his wife used to live above the grocery they own in town, but now they pay someone else to run it and the second store.”

“Sounds like business was booming,” Abe said and the District Attorney gave another noncommittal shrug.

“His wife is staying outside the city with her family,” the attorney explained as they followed him around the outside of the house, in search of anything they may have missed the first time around. “At the time of the murder she was at the hospital emergency room with a sick friend and didn’t return home until the next morning. As far as she knew, he was home alone at the time.”

“And the neighbors?” Abe asked as they rounded the corner of the house and ended up at the front door again.

The attorney shrugged and gestured toward the fences on either side of the yard. “They didn’t even recognize his name. As long as he mowed his lawn on time and didn’t play loud music after ten, they couldn’t care less what happened next door.”

Inside the place looked much as it had been left on the night of the murder. There were still dirty dishes in the sink, bills on the dining room table, and a pervasive, lingering aroma that met them at the door.

Abe sniffed the air and asked, “What is that, lemon?”

“Something citrus,” the District Attorney agreed, their voice muffled by the handkerchief they had pressed to their face. “We had to open every window in the house to vent it out when we first came in. Some kind of essential oil poured out over the carpet in the study, same thing at the other two victims’ houses. Wasn’t that in the reports Damien sent you?”

“…Maybe,” Abe said, but didn’t stop long enough for them to comment on that. “What kind of werewolf drops a scent bomb behind them?”

“To cover their own smell maybe?” the District Attorney asked. “Can normal people, I don’t know, smell that kind of thing?”

“Wolves do have a distinct odor,” Abe admitted. “But it still feels like they went out of their way on this one.”

The District Attorney nodded in agreement but otherwise kept their mouth shut and hidden behind the handkerchief as they led him to the study, where the stains gave away what happened here. The lemony scent was stronger than ever here, and Abe felt his eyes water as he knelt down to get a closer look at the carpet and then at the walls and furniture.

At first glance there was nothing to indicate a werewolf had been here, especially not one of the size they had seen signs of back at the park, but eventually Abe called out for the District Attorney to look as he pointed at the scratches in the carpet where claws had dug in and cut the material.

“Our perp can try and hide their trail all they want, but I’ll still finger them in the end,” he declared, and suddenly the District Attorney had a new reason to hide their face behind the handkerchief.

The second victim was the owner of a real estate company who lived alone in a real old money place, all brick on the outside and polished wooden floors and arches inside. The smell of wood, tea tree or pine maybe, met them at the door but it wasn’t until they went into the sitting room that the scent reached heavy, choking levels. The District Attorney coughed and Abe gave them a helpful slap on the back while pressing his own cap over his nose.

“Take a walk if it’s that bad,” he suggested and they quickly disappeared into another corner of the house, leaving him to go around the room. He gave a grim smile at the tuft of fur found beneath the coffee table, the same shade and texture as the clump from the park this morning, and then went over the room again, this time looking for anything that might connect the woman here with the grocer.

“Hey, Partner!” he shouted as he walked out of the sitting room sometime later with a bundle of mail in hand. “Where are you at?”

“Kitchen,” they called, and he followed the sound of their voice to find them studying the fridge, or at least the pictures, magnets, and other personal odds and ends stuck to the outside of it. They were frowning at a business card with a worrying intensity and said aloud, “I wonder why she kept this. As far as I know, she and her company were well off financially. Why would she ever need a money lending company’s number?”

“Some people don’t know how to live within their means,” Abe said with a shrug. “Even someone who lives in a place like this. What does it matter if she did take out a loan?”

The District Attorney shook their head. “It’s the same place on the bills the first victim had lying around back at his house.”

“That’s not the only connection,” Abe said as he flourished the mail and laid it all out on the kitchen table. “Look, invitations that weren’t mailed yet, and a letter from the grocer.”

“These addresses, two of these are the other victims,” the District Attorney said as they slid the envelopes around. “These other two, Franklin, he’s on the board for the biggest bank in the city, and Garroway, she runs the theater downtown, a friend introduced us after his last play. What kind of party was she throwing to invite these four?”

“You said the third victim owns a construction company, right?” Abe asked.

“Yeah, they’ve managed to get most of the city contracts for a while now,” the District Attorney answered absentmindedly as they read through the letter from the grocer. Although it was more like a note, considering how short it was.

“And the grocer was moving up in the world too,” Abe mused. “Maybe they were helping each other out, making connections, that kind of thing?”

“’Have you heard from any others? We cannot be the only ones who want out of this, but even if we are, it is still two against one. If we stand together, he cannot take us all,’” the District Attorney read aloud and turned the note over, but there was nothing more. “Abe, where did you find all of this? We went over that whole room, there’s no way we would have missed something with the first victim’s name on it.”

“You might have if it were hidden in a wall safe?” Abe said, giving an awkward smile.

“You have got to be kidding me.” The District Attorney stalked off to have a look and the hunter followed in time to see them swear at the portrait of the victim’s long since passed cat and the exposed safe behind it. “How did you even find this? How did you get it open?!”

“Oh, well the second one was easy, there’s a switch over on the fireplace I found when I accidentally knocked over that vase, or I mean, that was totally broken when I got here—”

The District Attorney put up a hand to stop him and then gave a massive sneeze that nearly made their whole body leave the ground. “N-Never mind, I really don’t want to know. Let’s just get out of here, before—”

They gave another sneeze into their elbow and then a weak sniffle as they followed Abe out of the house. They insisted on taking a break before going to the third victim’s house and Abe took that as an invitation to drag them into a nearby diner for some food.

“So, we’ve got five people all on the invite list for some get together of a hootenanny, and three of them have been bumped off. Are you sensing a pattern?”

Okay, and maybe a little case talk to go with lunch.

“Do you really think this is the best place to talk about this?” the District Attorney asked. Abe noted a touch of irritation in their voice even as they took a long, deep inhale of the steam rising up from their coffee. They had tried to negotiate for a peppermint brew like the one from the coffee shop but had to settle for the darkest roast the waiter could dig up.

“Feeling any better?” he asked and received a grunt in return. “How is it the scent bombs from the houses bothered you, but that god-awful peppermint concoction doesn’t?”

“It’s one thing to choose to have one smell override everything else for the next half hour, it’s another to have it beat you over the head like a street mugger,” they declared. “And yes, I can see the connection too.”

“The big question is if the last two are potential future victims, or if one of them is a killer making his or her way through the group.”

“Seriously, could you lower your voice?” They looked around, but the diner was fairly empty at this time of day. “And there’s the problem of our fourth victim, Mr. John Doe. That wasn’t Franklin or Garroway in the park, which is yet another way our killer’s broken out of his pattern. If it wasn’t for the matching fur and claws, I would think we had a copycat on our hands.”

“Exactly why we need to find out how he connects. How long will it take the local cops to ID the guy?”

Abe received the answer to that question when he and the District Attorney arrived at the home of the third victim, the owner of the construction company with all the right connections. His home was in the middle of the city and shared a lot with an office building where a sign declared the construction company was closed until further notice. Aside from the pedestrians on the sidewalk who only spared a glance and a few mutters at the police tape on the house’s door, no one seemed interested in yet another crime scene.

That is, until they started up the front walk to the house, at which point a woman called out to them.

“Are you with the police?”

Abe and the District Attorney turned to find a young woman standing on the sidewalk behind them, her chest heaving enough to suggest she had barreled across the street at the sight of them.

“We’re working with them, yes,” the District Attorney answered. “Can we help you with something?”

“You’re looking for the monster that killed Mr. Haywood, right? Is it the same thing that killed Marcus?” She saw that neither of them recognized the second name and said with a voice that trembled on the edge of tears, “Marcus, he worked for Haywood with the rest of us, the police said—They found him in the park this morning, they won’t tell us anything but I know it has to be—”

She broke into sobs at that point, her breath catching in desperate heaves as the tears failed to fall out fast enough.

Abe hesitated but the District Attorney was at her side in a moment, handkerchief in hand as they rested a hand on their shoulder.

“I’m sorry, the last we heard the police still didn’t know his name,” the District Attorney said. “Marcus. Were you two close?”

She started to give a noncommittal shrug but at another gasp for air she nodded furiously.

“I’m sorry,” the attorney said again, and Abe started to suspect that while they knew how to comfort someone, the actual words to say in a situation like this weren’t as quick to come.

Fortunately, he was here to help.

“Good, then you would know if he had any enemies. Anyone have a grudge against your friend, a reason to—” Abe stopped short when the District Attorney gave him a furious glare and mouthed a few words he pretended not to understand.

“N-no! No, Marcus got along with everybody, no one would ever…Why would someone do this? He’s never hurt anyone!”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Abe answered. “When’s the last time you saw him?”

“When…when they closed the company a couple of days ago, I think? We showed up to work at the same time, and there were police everywhere, and… A bunch of us, just spent the day together, trying to figure out what we were going to do now. His roommate called me this morning, asked if I’d seen him because he left the bar early last night but never went home, and I-I said he would turn up and we should just wait…”

She sucked in a large breath and pressed the handkerchief to her eyes, less to dab away the tears and more to block out the world around her that had already done enough damage.

“His roommate was the last person to see him?” the District Attorney asked.

“Him and the other guys at the bar, he said Marcus had been upset the last couple of days because, well, why wouldn’t he be and they tried to cheer him up, but he ducked out early saying he needed to take care of something. It was only a short walk to the bar, the park was in the opposite direction, it doesn’t make any sense.”

She lowered the handkerchief, her red eyes focusing on both of them as she said, “You have to find whoever did this, they can’t just—It’s not fair, Marcus didn’t deserve this!”

Abe looked her straight in the eye and said, “My partner and I are going to get to the bottom of this.”

It was the first time the District Attorney didn’t correct him on the “partner” thing, instead focusing on encouraging her and the roommate to make official statements with the police with as much detail as they could, telling her that anything could help find Marcus’s killer.

“And we will find them,” they added, the steel and determination in their voice an echo of Abe’s own. “I promise.”

Inside of the house, though, they quickly fell into their own thoughts as Abe paced around in search of clues. Their expression was difficult to read with one arm pressed against the lower half of their face to block out what smelled like an entire flower shop condensed and concentrated in the space of a single room, but their eyes strayed over everything from the sofa, still damp from the scent bomb, to the magazines on the end table, to the stains in the rug.

They gave a sound of disgust when Abe, on his hands and knees, pressed his nose close to the stains to get a better whiff and walked out of the room to check out the rest of the house.

Only to return less than a minute later with a sheet of paper in hand.

“What are the odds that at least three of our victims would all be dealing with the same loan company?” they asked, turning the page so Abe could see the letterhead above the polite reminder to one Mr. Haywood about his current rate of interest. “Honest John Loans. Never even heard of them before today and now the name’s showing up everywhere.”

“Well, as suspicious as a name like ‘Honest John’ is, it feels like a bad business practice to kill off the people who owe you money,” Abe pointed out. He had one arm shoved under the sofa as far as it would go, but for his effort he was only rewarded with a couple of dust bunnies and a penny.

They put the page down, their eyes lingering on the address even as they said, “That girl was right. Marcus’s death doesn’t make any sense.”

“We know he worked for one of the victims,” Abe said. He stood up and didn’t bother dusting himself off before stepping on the couch to get a better look at one of the paintings. “Maybe he knew more than he should have about what happened to his boss, why someone would want to kill him and his dinner party pals.”

“But there were days in between those two murders. Why would the murderer wait that long, if he or she knew Marcus might have known something? Something must have changed in those two days, either Marcus let something slip or the killer took that long just to happen to find him walking the street at night, which doesn’t feel right. His friends said he had been upset. Could he have confessed his suspicions to the wrong person? Or did he recognize the killer on the street and tried to run? But if it was a werewolf chasing him, there’s no way he would have been able to run that far into the park, unless…”

“Unless it was toying with him,” Abe answered. He jumped down from the couch cushions and looked the DA in the eye as he said, “Maybe it did know, and watched him for those two days, waiting until he was finally ready to break and tell someone. Then it shows up and he runs, only it’s steering him further and further from help until they’re all alone in the park together.”

He saw the way the District Attorney’s eyes wavered and looked away before he dropped a friendly hand on their shoulder. Ignoring their flinch at his touch, he added, “There are some messed up monsters out there, Partner, and not all of them have the fangs to give them away. Lucky for you, I’m on the case.”

The District Attorney ducked out from under his hand and took a swift step away. “We are on this case, and again, don’t call me ‘Partner.’ I have a name.”

“Got it, got it,” Abe muttered, but he was already back to looking for clues again.

“Franklin, Garroway, and ‘Honest’ John. It has to be one of them,” Abe declared as they walked out of the building later. Despite the lack of new clues in Haywood’s house, he sounded sure enough as he added, “Shouldn’t be too hard to find the wolf in sheep’s clothing, if you’ll excuse the expression.”

“I absolutely will not,” the District Attorney answered as they followed him down the steps. They paused on the sidewalk and glanced both ways, but the block appeared to be just as quiet as when they walked in. “I thought you threw out the loan guy as a suspect.”

“Everyone is a suspect until they’re cleared,” Abe said. He considered and then added, “Even then, not a guarantee of innocence.”

“So much for innocent until proven guilty,” the District Attorney muttered. They glanced at their watch and said, “You should get over to the police station. They’ll need an…expert’s advice on how to keep themselves and others safe tonight, even with Damien’s curfew. I can take you there on my way to the office.”

“The office? What about the investigation?” Abe asked even as he fell into step.

“What do you think I’m going to be doing?” they asked. “I’m going to be pulling out all the information I can on these three. Franklin and Garroway are practically public figures, and if this John person is running a legal business there has to be records of it. If we’re going to be questioning them tomorrow, then I want to have all the facts I can in place going in.”

“How long are you planning to be doing all of that?” Abe asked.

The District Attorney shrugged. “As long as it takes. Pulling the public records shouldn’t take too long, I have a friend who can help with that if I get there before City Hall closes, and I have my own files going back at the office.”

“This sounds like a lot though,” Abe said, and the District Attorney shrugged modestly, still not getting his point. “There’s a curfew tonight, you can’t be walking home by yourself at who knows what hour.”

“Good thing I have a couch in the office.” They caught his stare and laughed. “Please, like it would be the first time. Don’t worry about me, Hunter. What about you? What are your plans for tonight?”

“Probably stake out our theaterbug Garroway’s house tonight in case any wolves come sniffing at the door,” Abe said idly. “Way I figure, there’s a fifty-fifty chance she’s one of the victims to be, and still good odds she’s our wolf. Either way, a strong chance I might use a silver bullet to end all this tonight and you can clean up the mess tomorrow.”

“Lovely.” They dropped the sarcasm to ask, “Why Garroway though?”

“Eh, I never trust these theater types. Spend half their lives pretending to be someone or somewhere else, and I never met an actor who wasn’t full enough of their self to think they could get away with murder.”

To his surprise, the District Attorney nodded along in agreement before they could stop their self.

“I’ll keep an eye out for anyone competent looking to keep an eye on the other one,” Abe offered. He realized that until now he had assumed without even thinking about it that the DA would be that other person, and it was now, with a flash of horror, that he pushed that thought far away. He couldn’t afford to lose another partner, especially not one so close to the guy paying for this whole endeavor.

With that in mind, he stopped the District Attorney outside of the police station and said, “Here, take this. Just in case.”

The District Attorney seemed momentarily surprised when he grabbed their hand and dropped a silver pendant in their palm, but then they pocketed the pendant quickly without even looking at it and gave him a muttered thanks before disappearing down the street.

He watched them walk away and felt his heart skip a beat when they disappeared into the crowd.

It’s okay, he told himself. You’re not going to lose this one, not if you can bag that wolf tonight.

Preferably before it takes a bite out of anyone else.

((Thanks for reading!

Link to Part 3.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight ​ @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat  @catgirlwarrior  @neverisadork  @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy  @purpstraw @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl  @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead  @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette  @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate ))

[allstarsstorymode867]

All-Stars -Story Mode- CHAPTER 15 Pt. 6 -FINAL-

Artists who helped me in this chapter are:

@askgamermeandgamerbendy

@this-person-is-slowly-dying

and

@sampoststuff​

They are good and they deserved the credit for this, I originally waited for one of artists to draw me the last scene of this but something came up and I can’t disclose it here, so, please enjoy this last part of Chapter 15 and I will talk to you all later!

Part 5

-Back to the group of All-Stars-

They are walking in the streets of an old apartment buildings, Frank was speechless yet taking pictures of this as he had never seen anything like this before, he had seen Willamette, Los Vegas, Fortune City and then Willamette once again had been through each zombie outbreaks in U.S.A but nothing like this city; it looked like it had been abandoned for a long time, maybe longer than Willamette.

“This is something out of a post-apocalyptic novel, plants growing everywhere in a ghost town and zombies walking around like they own the place.” he said as he took another picture of a wrecked car that was being devoured by moss.

Radec carefully looked around the area around them, clear yet fading signs of struggle and chaos that ensued. “Holy sh*t,” P!Dempsey muttered as he looked around the area as well, “It looked like it had gone through the second World War…” he muttered as he got out of the pistol and then scans the are further.

“Scanning the area is just fine,” Radec spoke that made Dempsey looked at him with a glare, “But we must be very cautious in a city like this. If you let me lead you all out of this city alive, I would let you all live.” as U!Richtofen and P!Takeo looked at him with annoyance.

“Odd, just moments ago, you were going to kill us and had two kids as your weapons for that Empire.” Dempsey taunted as he crosses his arms. “And not pretty much not a good leader when you gone after the kids when the assault happened.”

“I had them fend you all off when I had to go to retrieve them.” he said back, defensively. “Sacrifices are necessary”

“Quite a lot of sacrifices you did, for something you had believed in.” P!Takeo spoke up as he walked up to Mael Radec and looked at him in the eye and then continued “But what are the causes and consequences of those lives who they lost?”

Radec could only stare at the warrior before him before P!Takeo simply turned away from him in  irritated disgust and said “That is what I thought.” before walking away from him, leaving the Colonel alone with his thoughts.

Cuphead was walking beside Mugman when he noticed something in a block but barely got a glimpse of a yellow tail similar to a lion’s tail with orange stripes on it. “What’s that?” Cuphead muttered as he looked at the block and Mugman and Frisk looked at him.

“What do you see, Cups?” Mugman asked as he looked at the block as well with Frisk stopping and then looked at it. “I saw something down in that block.” Cuphead answered as he looked at the block continuously.

*? *You ask Cuphead what he saw?

“Only a tail of someone, I wonder whose it belongs to.” Cuphead said as he points at the block once again, before walking over but he was soon stopped by Mugman who said “We shouldn’t get too far from the group, Cuphead.”

“But I just want to check what it is.” he complained as he looked at his brother, Frisk walked over to the two brothers and have their attention.

“Yes Frisk?” Mugman said as he looked at them.

*You told them if they want to enter that block, you had to always be cautious when entering. *You said that you can never be too careful with muggers and/or criminals that might be crawling around on the streets.

“Frisk is right about that.” Mugman added as he looked at his brother, “They had gone with us with Boris on the scavenge before this started.” he concluded with his hand on his shoulder.

“This whole thing had started with us, something or someone had brought us here for something and it took members of RED, Primis, Ultimis and Chaos to a different world of some sorts.” Cuphead relayed what happened earlier, before looking at Frisk and asked “You have been on the streets before, Frisk?”

[Drawn by askgamermeandgamerbendy on Tumblr also known as InkedEspeon on DeviantArt]

Frisk nodded with a smile as they relayed their time alone after their parents had passed away suddenly, they had been traveling on their own to avoid going to the orphanage and to going to Mount Ebbitt where the Monster Race had been relocated after the war. They knew the cities like it was on the back of their hands.

They had only stick with a bag attached to it and they are still walking on two feet that are aching. “Pretty independent of you Frisk.” Mugman commented to Frisk’s life story, “Yeah, was it pretty hard, Frisk?” Cuphead asked, Frisk smiled.

*You said that it was but you know that their love is what keeps you going until you reached the mountain.

“Ah. Wonderful, can you show us the way of the block?” “Cups.” Mugman said as he looked at him again, Frisk nodded and suggested with their hands.

*You told Mugman that all three of you will be alright if they stayed together this time. It would be a quick check.

“Alright, fine.” Mugman said in defeat, Cuphead smiled and looked around for anyone older than them if they are watching them and then walked away from the group to investigate but they made an error that someone who had been following them was watching.

They walked down the block as they entered the new street somewhere in the city, that street was known as Crossing Corner, it is in the shape of a circle. A few shops will be on two sides of the circle, then you get a large tv-like screen on one building in the center of that specific circle and then the two-way of the circle, one way leading to the park while one leads to another neighborhood of apartment buildings. On the streets, a few trees were growing, ether through the concrete or planted with a hole that helps it grow out of it.

The street had four stores named each of their own, "Carly's Food Service" for the Food shop, "Warmth Cloths" for Clothing shop, "Hunter's Smith" for Weapons shop and "Crash Survivors Supplies" for Survival shop.

[Drawn by TikTak, known as This-Person-is-Slowly-Dying on Tumblr]

They looked around the area, at the stores and at the big tv in awe. “What’s that big thing?” Mugman asked as he points at it.

*It's a big TV used for people in the area whenever the usual time had come around. *It’s a human thing.

“I see, I guess it’s for news or other things?” Cuphead asked as he looked around the area and at the stores again. Frisk nodded as they gestured to Carly’s Food Service and then explain more of it.

“We can come back with everyone to get some food and supplies when it’s time to escape the city, it’s too much of my heart could handle.” Mugman suggested as he looked at the store with his brother, “I can agree with this plan and that Knight lady… I couldn’t trust her, she’s planning something with us but it more involves Bendy somehow…” Cuphead cautioned as he holds the boiler that he had been wearing after battling and captured the Colonel.

“Cuphead, Knight can be like she’s planning something, yes, but she had shown us where they had taken to.” Mugman reasoned with his brother’s bothering judgement on Knight’s actions, “Maybe some vodka could numb that sense of doubt.” before realizing what he had just said before placing his hand on his mug head and then concluded, “What is wrong with me?”

*It was the scarf, it often had traces of the holder’s soul trapped within *and even if they are haunted, they are still useful.

“True, it has made me more blaverer than ever. More than usual.” Cuphead nodded as he looked at Frisk after they had explained that part about the Human’s Haunted Belongings. Mugman looked at his brother and then at the scarf he is wearing to keep the cracks together until he is healed properly, “You’re right,” Mugman accepted as he held the scarf a little bit.

“I don't like how it is affecting me but you’re right.” he concluded as he looked at Frisk once more with the look of understanding. Frisk smiled as they looked around the area once more, then they all heard a siren going off that made all three of them looked up in surprise and looked around.

“What is that?” Mugman asked as he looked up at the sky with Cuphead.

>[It’s a siren]      [It’s none of your business]

>[It’s a siren]<

“A siren?” Mugman said as he looked back at Frisk, Cuphead then said “They had used those things during the Great War before it ended in 1918.”

*It was known as World War I in later future of 1930’s.

“World War I? What is that-?”

“WATCH OUT!!” Mugman yelled as he dragged Cuphead and Frisk out of the way of the incoming Panzer Soldat as it crashes onto the road and crumbled underneath of it while the impact made them tripped onto the ground and then stumbled back on their feet to see what it was.

“What is that?” Cuphead said as they once enter Battle Mode, souls appeared in front of them and the optains appearing again as music is playing.

*It is Frisk’s turn.

[FIGHT] >[ACT] [ITEMS] [PARTY] [MERCY]

“Here we go again…” Cuphead said as he and Mugman readied the finger guns and he choose FIGHT button but-

*It is not your turn.

“What the-?” Cuphead said as he pressed the button again and the same reaction;

*It is not your turn.

“What is wrong with the button?!” Cuphead finally said when he saw the text once again, Mugman gently grabbed his brother’s hand and said “I think it wants us to take turns each. Wait for Frisk to decide what to do.” before looking over his shoulder to Frisk.

They nodded and then looked at the PARTY button and pressed it, looking at the part of three: Cuphead, Mugman and themself.

[Choose a teammate(s)]

[Frisk]                   >[Mugman]

[Cuphead]

[Frisk]                   [Mugman]

>[Cuphead]

[Frisk]                   [Mugman]

>[Cuphead]<

[Frisk]                   >[Mugman]

[Cuphead]

[Frisk]                   >[Mugman]<

[Cuphead]

*It is now Cuphead and Mugman’s turn!

“Thanks Frisk!” Cuphead said as he readies the finger gun with his brother doing the same. Mugman took a deep breath and then lets out, ready to fight the Panzer Soldat.

Cuphead picks the FIGHT button and then they both steadlied themselves for the fight as Frisk stood behind them, just not wanted to fight an armored zombie with a claw and flame-thrower attached.

This is going to be the home of a showdown! Begin!

“Finally.” Cuphead muttered as he began to open fire magic bullets onto the Panzer Soldat, most of it bounced off of it and then actually hitting and damaging it with 28% on hits. It was Mugman’s turn and then shoots at the faceplate of the Panzer’s as it was struggling to move to attack them.

Frisk watched the Panzer’s struggle to be free of the unseen force and they knew it’s not yet it’s turn, much to their relief but worried that Mugman’s turn is being used up as he gives his power all he’s got in him to damage the Panzer and it was at 34%.

“Wow, you got better hits than me.” Cuphead commenting as he looked at the Panzer Soldat, looking slightly damaged as it raises it’s flamethrower. Frisk knew that it’s going to attack since it’s no longer Mugman’s turn, it’s Panzer’s now.

“Threat detected, preparing the flamethrower to attack” P!Richtofen’s voice from the hidden speaker inside the armor the Zombie is hearing, it groan as a small Orange flame is lit at the opening barrel.

Frisk had recognized this attack’s color right away as the box with white lines on each square had appeared and trapping them inside it but that causes both Cuphead and Mugman to fraughtly bangged on the sides of the box to get out and trying to find a way to escape but to no avail.

Then, it uses its flamethrower on the three kids as all three of them ran around in a panic but Frisk is running around in the orange flames with the two Brothers as the flamethrower begins to die down and come to a complete stop.

Frisk stops right away but the two brothers hasn't stopped running around and screaming as they believed they were on fire as their arms are flailing around like there’s no tomorrow until Frisk had hold their hands out and stopped them right then and there.

“Frisk! Why aren't ...!?” Cuphead yelled as he looked at them but then soon realized that they are not on fire as he finished with “On fire ...?”

He and Mugman looked at each other and saw that they are not on fire as well, they looked at Frisk and both of them said at the “How are we all not on fire?” as they looked at Frisk as they said it.

Frisk nodded as they explained what had fire didn’t kill them, they knew it because of its color.

*You had said that the fire are Orange. *Orange is a type of magical attack where in order to avoid getting hurt, you must move through and around in it until the Orange attacks are done. *Each Magic Attacks had each type of their own.

“That’s the reason why we didn’t been lit on fire?” Cuphead said as he looked at Mugman who was looking back at him. Frisk nodded as they looked at the text above them.

*It is now Frisk’s turn!

Frisk nodded as they looked at the options again, they simply  ACT  button and see the options in the ACT button.

>Check                  -Taunt it

-Talk to it.

-Check                  -Taunt it

>Talk to it.

[Talk to it]

*You talked to it about resisting what it was destined to do and try to be good. *But Panzer Soldat only groans in anger and feels nothing but hunger.

“Uggh….” was all the Panzer could muster as it began an attack with the flamethrower with the flame is now cyan blue as Frisk nodded as they quickly acknowledge what that meant.

The flames fired once more as Frisk stood still like a frozen statue as the fire goes right through them like they were nothing but ghosts phasing through a hardened steel wall. Frisk moved once more when the Panzer is done attacking them and it was Cuphead’s turn now to do something.

“Alright, what do we got here?” Cuphead said as he looked at his opations he had and choosing the act button, pressing it and presented with the same buttons that Frisk had seen it.

>Check                  -Taunt it

-Talk to it.

-Check                  >Taunt it

-Talk to it.

[Taunt it]

*Cuphead sticks out his tongue to taunt it before saying that it stinks as a decaying corpse in a fancy suit of armor. *... *That only seemed to make the situation worse than it already was as the Panzer Soldat had became very angry, VERY angry enough to see steam coming out of it’s armor.

“Oh boy….” Cuphead mutters in fear as he realized that the taunting against an armored zombie was indeed, a mistake. “Oh now you done it Cuphead!” Mugman yelled as they spotted the flamethrower who had a mix of Orange and Cyan Blue in the flames but this time it readies it’s claw for the next attack it had got. Cuphead was about to run for it but was trapped inside a box with his soul exposed to all attacks of the Panzer Soldat.

“Oh crap-!!” he shouted as Panzer Soldat attacks with fire throwing at him first, Cuphead had barely dodged the orange and cyan blue attacks unscalthed but he wasn’t watching it’s claw had raised up and ready to fire.

Mugman had was watching the Panzer when he had noticed that it had risen it’s claw upward to attack his brother.

“Cups-!”

“It’s okay, Mugmans! I’ll be alright-” but he didn’t have the time to finish his sentence when he felt a claw grabbed his head and then it was quickly crashed in it just as Mugman screamed “CUPHEAD!”

*It is now Mugman’s turn.

He can see his soul had cracked a little and was going to crack further if it’s not parried on time, Mugman looked at the options and noticed the MERCY option is Pink colored. He pressed the button and saw it in the button, it was the PARRY.

“Hold on, Cups! Hold on!” Mugman mustered a voice as he pressed the button to act out that option and then his blue-striped straw had turned into pink as it glows. As he is in the same box as his brother, he ran up to his cracking and breaking pink and red soul and then with a quick slap of his straw and it quickly healed up Cuphead’s soul and then watched Cuphead was quickly relieved right away with the pieces of his head are pulling themselves back together in five seconds flat.

Cuphead crossing his legs together as his straw is spinning around and around in the air before he tips his head with his straw forming an exclamation mark with a smile on his face. “Woo!” he said as he places his head back on his shoulders before saying “Thank you Mugman!” as he looked at him.

Frisk smiled as they looked at them but then was soon drawn back by the Panzer’s groan and it had gotten ready to attack once again as Mugman and Cuphead noticed it as they turned their heads to look at them.

They all stood ready for what Panzer is going to throw at them when Frisk heard a gun went off and saw a bullet soaring through the air and makes itself a mark on the Panzer's shoulder metal plate.

It roared as the trio turned around to see who they can't believe who it was. Erron Black.

[Drawn traditionally by Meaghan “Icefir” Halter]

He walked towards them before going through them and then stood in front of them in defense, he looked over to them and said, “Now I know where you three had gone into.”

“Thank you, Erron.” Mugman stuttered as he and Cuphead stood behind Frisk who is looking up to him as they and the two brothers took 4 steps back. Erron wasn’t looking at them as he had kept his eyes on the Panzer Soldat at all times, he then said, “I was scared about what will happen if I didn’t show up now but we’ll talk about it later now go.”

Cuphead looked at Erron with a scared look on his face, he stattered “B-but we can-”

“Go now!” he barked out, causing the three to retreat back to the way they came from, mostly with Mugman pulling his brother along the way as he’s shouting “Cups! Come on!” but Frisk mostly stops for a minute and then turned to look at Erron who turned to look at them in return.

The look in his eyes told them so, they really did told them so indeed and they had said “I’ll be fine, it will be alright, you’ll see.” and like he had never looked back, he turned back to look at the Panzer again.

Frisk looked at him further before turning and then running after the two brothers as Mugman yelled “Frisk, come on!”

Erron stood his ground as he double checked his revolver again as he muttered “This is the filth time I had encountered one of you.” as he looked at it once more, with wearly look in his eyes before adding “And by the way you were treating the kids like that, I don’t think Kotal Kahn would approve that one ether.” then spinning the cylinder as he took a standance as the Panzer roared as everything around them had turned back to normal to its original color.

Round 1

Fight!

Panzer raised it’s flamethrower once again, a tiny flame was lit once again and pointed at Erron.

The time has come to an end Yeah, this is what nature planned

[1 out of 4 are done by SamPostStuff on Tumblr]

It fired the flames at Erron but he acted quick and dodged the fire as he rolled to maneuver it, he then quickly fired bullets as he stood on his knee and several bullets had managed to hit it again but then the Panzer then charges at him with the claw opened and he was grabbed by it.

Being tracked by a starving beast Looking for its daily feast A predator on the verge of death Close to its last breath

Erron was then tossed by the Panzer into a door of one of the stores, crashing onto a glass door and causing it to shatter into pieces as he lands inside. He groans in pain as he rubs the back of his head as he sits upright before turning his head to look around before his eyes had settled onto a winchester rifle. An old western kind of a gun that is the winchester rifle and Erron had found it in a weapons shop in an zombie-infested city. He heard stumbling coming from outside and those stomps aren’t very friendly in his ears so without hesitation, he reached out and grabbed the rifle and he didn’t care if he doesn’t know how to use it and he'll learn how to use it very quickly.

Getting close to its last breath

He loaded a bullet into the rifle and then acted very quickly as he aimed it at the Panzer Soldat, before taking a deep breath and then opened fire at it.

Rules of Nature!

It hits and cracked the glass of its faceplate as it screeched to a halt for a moment, giving him a chance to make a run for it, he ran and then slid under it and then continued running as he heard it’s siren went off.

Then his ears rang when he heard thrusters going off and heading right for him.

And they run when the sun comes up With their lives on the line (Alive!)

Erron turned his head to see the Panzer is coming after him with thrusters roaring with flames and the look in its eyes is nowhere as terrifying as it’s face was. He then decided that he leads to get out of the collision course of the Panzer Soldat that is on ramming speed.

He tucked out of the way and rolled across the road before stopping on his feet and seeing the Panzer going by him.

For a while (No choice!)

Panzer Soldat stops dead in its tracks with a screeching halt before turning to face Erron who put the new weapon away and then pulled out one of his revolvers again and them pointed at the armored zombie.

Gotta follow the laws of the wild

Panzer Soldat raised its mechalized claw and with a few snaps from it, it launched it at the Outworder who tried firing but only gotten clicks of it instead as he cursed under his breath.

What's done is done Survived to see another day The game of life The hunter and the agile prey No guarantee Which of them will succeed Strong or weak

*It looks like it’s the end for the Cowboy… *Or was it?

[2 out of 4 are done by SamPostStuff]

Ah!

Panzer had stood there when it was split in half, Erron had dodged the incoming claw just in time he sees a red hot glowing line going downward in the middle and then each half of it fell down with a metallic thud.

Rules of nature Rules of Nature!

[3 out of 4 are done by SamPostStuff on Tumblr]

Behind the Panzer was a man… a Cyborg man with platinum-white blonde hair and his whole but the rest of his face had been through a lot, a LOT of cyberonic surgery until it became his exoskeleton. He had a rag covering his right eye while the other is fine and little gray-light-blue colored. He is gripping tight on a sword that looked more advanced than a traditional samurai sword and what is strange to Erron the most is that the way he had electricity pulsing through him almost as if he is Raiden that he knew but now a cybonic god of thunder, so he place his hands on his hips as Raiden walked over to him.

The last time he saw him was in Outworld before everything else was a blur came in just in time to face him and freaking cuts the Panzer in half right down the middle, killing it. He then looked at Erron who looked back at him, he then said "I guess Special Forces had upgraded.”

[4 out of 4 are done by SamPostStuff on Tumblr]

“What do you think you could take that large hunk of junk head on?” the Cyborg finally responded as he kept the katana sword in his hand, refusing to let it slip out his hands.

“I had fought one of them before, just a zombie wearing a mechanized suit of armor.” Erron answered as he placed the revolver back in it’s hoister. Raiden let out a sight chuckle and then said “How did you know if that’s a zombie instead of a person like you?”

“I know it’s eyes are glowing and it had just tried to kill me until you-”

“Saved you from it?” Raiden interrupted as he turned to look at the Panzer as a pool of blood is beginning to form from the two halves of the corpse as he realized something unusual about this one. It’s not cyborg as many others he killed had produced electricity from the slashed bodies, this one is not and when he had scanned it to double check to make sure, he noticed something in it’s blood; small tiny crystals that are glowing in the sun’s light.

“This man was infected…?” Raiden said under his breath, as Erron had answered, “From the inside of the suit, I had a feeling it was somewhat leaking from the inside the suit.” as Raiden looked back at him. Unsure about this “man” inside a suit of armor is no longer human.

“Let me guess: a Zombie is involved?” Raiden asked finally after a long pause, “Yep,” Erron answered, “Apparently, there's been a zombie outbreak that had happened and…”

“I thought Metal Gear was behind this.” Raiden said unsure now, the words “Metal Gear” somewhat confused Erron Black as he raised an eyebrow. “This is now getting ridiculous…” Broken had said as two Hallows entered the chamber of their crystalline home, watching this change of events from the one-way mirror that allows her to spy on her prey. Looking very unamazed by them talking and not fighting right away like she wanted.

Two Alpha Hallows walked over to her side and then sat down with pulsing crystallized rocks, one of them had the neon-pink fur that had been in the wind for too long and it was too proofy as it is goofy looking.

The other Hallow had silky-smooth ocean-blue fur and hardly had a crack on it at all, it was somewhat more mature than the pink one.

True villain watching them

“So far, we had the fighting and now we are seeing this, just two men talking about Metal Gear winch it is a zombie in armor attached to rockets and stuff.” she sneered under her breath. “I need to fix this situation, how can I do that?”

She then looked at the Ocean-blue Alpha Hallow and then a spark of inspiration was lit in her head as the Hallow can see the gears in her head are turning and turning in a sinister way that he knows.

“Since I had the power to shape-shift and given the form of what I want to a Hallow…” she began as she placed her finger on her chin while she continued to look at it before turning back to the portal and laughed “I had a tender idea!~” with ill-omened malice and spine-chilling glee.

She then points a finger at it and said “Sea, I think you know what to do.~” as it looked back at her and then growled before jumping into the portal and falls out of the sky towards them. It screeched loud enough for them to hear it, they looked up and saw it as it lands on all fours while it hissed at them, just the size of it reminded Raiden of Bladewolf on one of his missions and looking at it is just unbelievable.

“One of them again?!” Erron mustered as he got his revolver out once again, Raiden took a stance with his sword and asked “Friend of yours?” while he kept his eyes trained on it.

“Before we fight, I must question your reality of the situation.” Sea spoke while his tail swayed as his fur glowed a medium that surprised them both, it can talk?

“Did it just talked?” Erron asked as he kept pointing the gun at it as Raiden answered, “Who knows? We’d heard it.”

“I must ask you again, do you understand the gravity and reality of the situation she had put you in?” Sea questioned them again that further confused them, the reality of the situation? What is it talking about?

“What is this about?” Raiden answered while Hallow’s fur glow is building up as it stood on that exact spot it had landed on before crawling over to the spit-up body of the Panzer Soldat. “The Broken was highly disappointed that there is no free-for-all fight didn’t jump start yet, a battle royale, a war of all against all.” Hallow answered with hesitation in it’s disembodied voice that echoed like it was in a cave.

“Mortal Kombat,” Erron said as he took another step closer while the Cyborg gave him a confused look on his face as he thought “Mortal Kombat? What the hell is that?”

“I guess that’s what Broken wants us to do, is another Mortal Kombat.” Erron continued with a glare at Sea.

“On the conterity, like Mortal Kombat, it is a completion but with a few slightly different rules but one rule stayed the same: Fight, fight until one soul is left standing and they will face the final challenge: Broken herself.” He said as he stood his ground like a wolf could do when threatened.

“And what does she won when one of us loses?” Raiden asked without hesitation, already beginning to realize the gravity of the situation he had put himself in. “ Cyberized Thunder God or just a cyborg trying to be him had a lot of balls to ask you that question.” Erron added as he looked at him with ease, he wasn’t sure what this Hallow is offering choices to them: Either fight each other or fight an even bigger threat instead.

“I am offering that it’s either kill or be killed as The Broken’s rule, for me and my kind is no choice, serve her or be dust until the new Hallows will be born from it. It is for our sakes.” he continued as his fur is glowing bit brighter along with his eyes while his tail swayed.

“There can be a choice to fight it,” Raiden objected with reason to talk about, “I understood that kill or be killed as options but you can make a choice of what you are doing is right or wrong.” before standing still on his word when he said, “Besides, even if she does won, you can act while a window stays open for a little while.”

It stayed silent for a moment, before shaking its head in refusal at the words the Cyborg had said and answered “It never matters to me or my kind, what only matters that we were offered no choice and we will continue to be loyal and suffer in silence. Do you understand my words? We had no other choice but to make you fight!” and then Sea began to have cracks all over him, cracks that had light appearing from them as Raiden stood his ground with his sword in hand while Erron got another revolver out of it’s hoister as he points the other at it.

With a screech, it had burst into pieces of what had once been Sea as a shining round glowing sphere, it’s SOUL, had floated still while the pieces are flying all around it before they go straight towards it and then formed around it, but it is forming a different body than the original one.

It had first formed legs, two human legs and arms but the formed hands, was more tentacle-like than human and the head…. It was something from a sci-fi horror movie or a novel of some sort, it had no eyes, no nose but a mouth with revealing sharp teeth and a tongue, had more tentacles on it’s head like it was hair or what it once was.

It had appeared to be wearing a fancy dark manga/purple suit from the 1940’s. “What… Is that thing…?” Erron whispered with disgust and horror as he had looked at it, the Cyborg could only whispered to him “I was hoping you would know.”

“Kneel before the Dark Lord!” Shadowman cried as he raised his hand towards them, they stood ready what about to come to them. The creature roared and then lunged out towards them as gunfire was the last thing you’ll hear from this.

[second-hand-heaven]

79 or 80 for TimKon? I love your writing btw and hope you’re having a great day

(cowers in shame) I’m so sorry this took so long anon, but here’s timkon with 79 “I don’t feel well” and 80 “i didn’t drive all this way to say ‘hey’”

“I don’t feel well,” Kon says, voice impossibly weak through the phone line.

Tim frowns, tucking his phone between his shoulder and chin while his fingers dance across the keys of his laptop. “What’s wrong?” He was trying to get the last surveillance reports done before Kon came over, but it sounds like that won’t be happening any more.

“Sick. Head hurts.”

He pauses the video feed, spinning around in his desk chair. “How the hell can you be sick? You’re Kryptonian.”

“Try telling Clark that,” Conner scoffs, “ but, you know, still half human.” There’s a cough that sounds ridiculously fake, and Tim can barely restrain an eye roll.

“Get some rest, Kon. I’ll see you-” But Conner has already hung up. Well then. Tim stares down at his phone, hand shaking.

So Conner is lying to him. That’s new.

Tim’s used to being the one doing the lying, the denying, shitty excuses falling from his lips with ease. He did it for ages before Kon knew his real identity, and still does it on occasion. But the thing is, he hates every moment of lying to him, to his best friend, the one he can trust no matter what. This is different.

Lying is one thing, but avoiding him is another. They’ve been planning this for two weeks, a weekend with just the two of them, a couple of video games, and more junk food than their combined body weight. Kon was so keen for it last time they saw each other, he flew all the way to Gotham just to say so. And to help Tim take down a few muggers, but Tim was more than capable of doing that himself. If Kon was so excited to hang out, then why was he making up cheap excuses not to see Tim?

Tim tries to evaluate the facts, but he keeps getting stuck on the first point: Kon is avoiding him, despite being by his side almost all of the week before. It doesn’t make sense. Maybe Kon really is sick, some alien parasite in his brain, gnawing away at what little common sense the clone had. Maybe he accidently made plans, like a date with some hot Kansas girl, and is with her instead. Tim’s stomach roils, an unsettledness that he’s grown used to, despite the bitter taste in his mouth.

Or maybe Kon is just ignoring him, avoiding him, and that though hurts even more. Either way, Tim can’t just sit in his room and wonder why Kon is acting like this, pining like a lovesick teenager (which he most definitely is not). He grabs his jacket and keys and slams his way out of his bedroom.

He passes Alfred in the hallway, who quirks a dignified eyebrow at him. “Master Tim? Aren’t you expecting company?”

“Not anymore,” Tim says, trying and failing to keep the bitterness from his voice. “I’m going out. Don’t wait up.”

The eyebrow arches higher. “I’ll inform Master Bruce that the plane will be out of use for the evening,” the Brit tuts at him, all-knowing, but Tim pays no mind as he heads down to the Cave. Bruce can reprimand him later, but right now, he needs answers.

Tim pulls up outside the front porch of the Kent house, killing his bike’s engine. It looks quiet, Ma’s truck missing from its usual spot by the side of the house.

The BatPlane is parked in an abandoned field a few miles back, its cloaking device activated and hopefully cow-proof enough to survive until Tim gets back.

He makes his way through the house, finding neither Ma or Pa Kent. A soft, blurred sound comes from upstairs, Kon’s room, like a conversation he can’t quite make out. Tim scales the stairs silently, the noise of the conversation growing louder. But no, not a conversation, it’s one-sided, one voice, Tim discovers with a relief he’s ashamed to feel.

He pushes open the door and finds Kon stretched out on the bed, alone, watching TV in a pair of red boxers and nothing else. Tim bites the inside of his cheek. “Hey.”

“Tim?” Conner yelps, sitting up on the bed, pulling a pillow in front of him “What are you doing here?” He flicks off the TV, submerging the room in an awkward silence

“Well, I didn’t drive all the way here to say ‘hey,’ if that’s what you’re asking.” He didn’t really drive all the way here, anyway, but flying has to count for something, especially with the whole not-asking-permission-to-take-the-BatPlane thing. “You’re obviously not sick, so what the hell is going on?”

“It’s nothing,Tim,” Kon tries, “just some stuff going on.”

But Tim won’t let him try another excuse. Not today. “Conner, you can talk to me. If I did something wrong, if I hurt you, I’m sorry, but please talk to me.”

“I said it’s nothing, okay? So just forget it.” Kon moves from the bed, the pillow falling to the floor where the rest of Kon’s clothes lay.

“How can I? You’re my best friend,” Tim pleads, “or at least I thought you were.” He turns, so very tempted to walk out that door, even if it is just to cool down for a moment. His anger is ripe, ready for picking.

Kon yells at his back, “did you think maybe that was the problem?”

What? Tim whirls around, his brow furrowed. “You don’t want to be my friend?” He swallows, trying to digest the hurtful words that stick in his throat.

“Yes! No, I-” Kon scrubs a hand across his face. “It’s not like that.”

“Then tell me, what it is, for God’s sake! What have I done?”

“It’s not you.”

"Oh really? 'it’s not you, it’s me?’ This isn’t some break-up with your girlfriend of the week, Kon.”

“Screw you.” Conner yells, eyes glowing a fiery red.

Too far, Tim thinks, and holds his hands up in surrender. “Kon, c’mon. Just tell me what’s wrong and let me help you.”

His eyes back to their usual heartbreaking blue, Conner pleads with Tim. “Don’t make me say it.”

Tim grits his teeth, waiting for the worst. “I need to hear it.”

“I really like you, okay? I shouldn’t, but I do.”

Tim’s mind goes blank. “What?”

Kon keeps talking, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “Yeah, you can hate me all you want, okay? But you wanted to hear it, so here it is: I like you.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me about this?”

Kon scoffs. “What would you say? What could you possibly say?”

“I might say that I like you too, you jerk.”

The tacked-on insult does nothing to soften admission, and Tim is met with a sharp intake of breath from Kon, like the clone was dunked in an ice bath wholly unprepared.

When the moment wears off, Tim watches Kon shake his head, a sour smile crossing the clone’s face. “You can’t just say shit like that, Tim.”

Anger washes over Tim in a renewed onslaught. “Why not? You literally just did, how is that different?”

“I know you think you’re helping, but this is too far. Just leave.”

“Kon, c’mon,” Tim says, pleads, because God, is this Kryptonian dense.

“I said leave!”

No, no he won’t leave, not when this, when Kon , is almost within reach. Tim steps closer. “I’ve lied to you about a lot of things, if I’m being honest.” He can’t help the smirk that tugs at his mouth at the irony. “But I’m not lying to you about how I feel, I promise you.” Tim reaches out and finds Kon’s hand hanging at his side. Kon’s lips press together in a firm line, but he doesn’t resist as Tim takes Kon’s hand in both of his own. Warmth spreads through Tim’s fingers almost immediately, warmed by the Kryptonian’s skin. He hadn’t realised how cold he was. He brings Kon’s hand to his chest, palm resting against his sternum, fingers splaying toward Tim’s sharp collarbones. “I really like you,” Tim says, his heart thrumming so heavily in his chest it must sound like an explosion to Kon’s fine hearing. “And I might even be in love with you if you would just fucking listen to me.”

Kon’s fingers flex against Tim’s chest. “I- I’m listening.”

“Good,” Tim smiles softly, “good.”

FIN

[kineticallyanywhere]

Idea for a Superman origin movie

built around two solid points: 1) Lois Lane is the lead character; and 2) The audience dose not know who is playing Superman going into the movie.

So the movie centers around a young Lois, who’s desperately trying to get a job as a reporter at the Daily Planet, despite a hiring freeze as the printed journalism business struggles to keep up, and despite the fact she has no prior journalism experience (at least, not outside of an expensive degree that has yet to start paying for itself). Even though no one at the Planet will even return her calls, she barges in in the middle of a work day, trying to get an interview. She bounces off a lot of people (a number of them tall guys with dark hair and nice eyes who she barely notices) until she tracks down Perry White, who tells her, sarcastically, that he’ll hire her on the spot if she can bring him a properly sourced article revealing the story Metropolis’s new hero, who just yesterday stopped a runaway train with his bare hands. 

She gets to work. Her friends tell her she’s crazy. Her sister bails her out of jail at least once (maybe a montage of times). Her father, General Lane, threatens disownment and/or military arrest. This “menace” broke a muggers arm last week, and is wanted for vigilantism. If she really does find out the identity of this man (who’s been gaining notoriety with every feat) and brings it to a newspaper before the military, her father would have to take action. (This country is his family, after all.)

But the more Lois looks into this ‘super man’, the more she likes what she sees. It’s hard without credentials, but she’s been collecting eye-witness reports for months trying to find the pattern to track; the pattern that everyone’s been looking for. She has dozens of interviews with police, and store owners, and caught criminals, but it’s in the interviews of the regular folk that she finds the pattern:

This man is kind. 

Every headline is about a larger-than-life figure who catches falling statues, wins chases with cars, and stops bullets with his pecs. In the words of the innocent people of Metropolis though, is someone else. Someone who flies broken cars to the shop from the highway during rush hour. Someone who takes a sobbing child from the scene of a bike accident and drops off a smiling one with their parents. Someone who's been spotted leaving flowers by the headstones of the ones who didn’t make it out of that train crash. Someone who sits in a secluded corner of the park and plays chess with the old woman who’s husband can no longer leave the house. Someone who literally pulled a dog out of a river and a cat from a tree. 

So, to find the Man of Steel, Lois searches for kindness - and she finds it everywhere. She finds all the coats freely shed for someone cold. She finds all the grocery carts paid for by the previous customer. She finds lonely veterans offered a seat at the family table in restaurants. She finds hate symbols painted over with cute cartoons and symbols of love. She finds dozens and dozens of volunteers who help clean up and serve food and rebuild after train crashes and car wrecks and robberies. 

She finds Superman.

And then she finds a man in the park.

He’s not doing much, just sitting on a bench with his head in his hands. The copy of the Daily Planet on the bench next to him speculates on the dangers of super humans, as it has every day for the last two weeks. Some have even suggested that the Man of Steel is an alien, though those theories have only barely broken into mainstream. Whatever this man is worrying over, whatever weight is on his shoulders, seems much heavier than a newspaper, though. Lois hasn’t worried herself with the same issue’s as her prospective employer, either. Thoughts still on the group of teens she’s just passed, each promising to beat up on some boy for their friend, are still fresh on her mind, and she takes the spot next to the stranger on the bench.

He’s not a stranger, though. Lois recognizes him. She doesn’t know his name, but she saw him that day at the Daily Planet months ago, and she’s seen him across the police tape at scenes she’s investigated. He wrote today’s front page article: “Man of Steel, or Menace of Steel?”

He’s politely flustered when she sits down, and she promptly tells him that everything about his article - she’s already read it, of course - is absurd. She doesn’t care who “made him write it”, the entire thing is just plain wrong. She finds herself repeating stories she’s read and re-read at all hours of the morning. Stories of regular people who’d told her how they’d been inspired by Superman. How they’d taken leaps of faith toward recovery and new lives thanks to Superman. Teenagers have chosen to live because of Superman. She quotes sources, and sources of people, including herself, who have said that the city of Metropolis - maybe even the world - was so much better because of Superman.

“Superman?” the reporter asks.

“It’s just something I’ve been calling him. He’s got that big S on his chest, right?”

The reporter laughs. He hasn’t smiled the whole time, only looked at her with wide eyes. His smile is... nice. His glasses are dumb though.

“Yeah,” she admits, “it’s a dumb name.”

“No,” he says. A weight has fallen off his shoulders while she was flipping through her notebooks. He sniffles a bit. Lois had just torn into his article with all the fury she could muster, is he crying about it? No, he’s smiling, still. “I really like it. Have you written all this down?”

Lois Lane writes it all down. Her new friend (who proofread the hell out of it because Lois is driven as hell but can’t spell) Clark Kent turned it in to his boss. The newest headline reads:

The Story of Superman -by Lois Lane

She's getting paid more than Clark in under a year. He just seems to be so distracted all the time. Maybe she should look into that...

[imababblekat]

Imagine Trying To Push Away Dark

~

(S/N):

It wasn’t specified whether or not you wanted a scenerio, but I’m assuming you did; however if request aren’t specified I’m going to start defaulting them to headcannons. And thank you so much, I’m glad you loved it!

cursing, mild violence(?), and slight angst

~

It was around lunch, and you had planned on going to this little cafe a few blocks down. The fresh air would certainly help your growing migraine. A change of scenery would also be really nice. You'd need all this after the toxic thoughts and feelings about your co-worker/ friend. Walking up to your little car in the parking garage, you dug into your hand bag for your keys. You grumbled, become annoyed with the day as you couldn't locate the cold metal.

"Are you serious?! Did I leave them on my desk?!", you exasperated opening the brown bag wide and peering in.

The sounds of an engine from behind caught your attention, and recognizing the vehicle as well as its owner, you clenched your teeth. He would show up now wouldn't he.

"Need a lift?", Dark asked. Even though his brows were narrowed, this was him being nice.

"No, I don't need a lift. I need food.", you snapped at him.

Dark took a slow inhale, reminding himself to stay calm. What was with you lately?

"If you really think you can go back, grab your keys, get back to your car, and still make it to lunch, you really do have no sense of timing."

You opened your mouth to retort back when your stomach had growled in agreeance. Without another word, you opened the passenger door and strapped yourself into the seat.

"Loui's Cafe, by Bridgette's Bookstore.", you instructed with crossed arms.

Nodding his head, Dark pulled out from the parking garage. The whole drive there was silent and thick with tension. Dark kept taking glances at you, seeing your jaw tight and a strong glare on your face. He wanted to joke that if you kept it up, your face would be stuck that way, but decided against it. Why were you so angry? For whatever reason unknown to him, you had become very short tempered and hot headed with him recently. Before, while he was never very open to begin with, you two had still managed a form of happy a friendship. Then out of the blue one day, you had just started being more sarcastic than usual, and definitely not in a joking manner.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer.", you glared at him from his unbearable glances.

Dark's brows narrowed more, feeling a slight blush on his cheeks when focusing back on the road.

"What's your deal?", he asked, more like demanded. Dark was tired of this act, and decided it was best to go ahead and see what was eating at you.

"My deal? What's yours?", you retorted.

"Will you knock it off and just tell me already! This is getting really old!"

"What is?! You constantly on me like a mother hen?! Cause that sure is getting old!"

"No! You being sarcastic and hard headed for no reason! Just tell me what's caught up your ass already!"

"Excuse me?! I don't have to say shit to you!!"

Coming up to a red light, Dark snapped his head to face you with deep frustration," Wanna bet?!"

You bared your teeth at him in an equal scowl, grabbing the door handle and your seat belt button. "Wanna bet I won't leave this car?!"

"(Y,n), don't you dare!"

"Try me!"

Dark jumped as you slammed the vehicle door, quickly rolled down the window to try and call for you. The light had turned green just as you left and the cars behind him grew impatient, honking and causing the entity to shout in anger as he had no choice but to drive forward.  

~x~

Why did you leave the car? You should have stayed buckled in and dealt with Dark. It'd be a lot nicer than your current situation. Ragged breaths escaped you as you desperately held your side, still clenching your hand bag as the mugger tried ripping it from your hand. You had been so caught up with blind rage, that you didn't see the strange man following you for a few blocks. Then all of a sudden, you were thrown into an alley way and threatened to hand over the goods. Already very angry with the world, you just shouted at him in rage. Not the best decision on your part, as it landed you with a deep stab to your body.

"Stupid bitch!", the man grunted before kicking you harsh in the side, causing you to yelp and let go of your possessions.

You laid on the cool ground, gasping and crying for help. At this point your body had become numb and shook from adrenaline. Before you knew it, someone had picked you up and were suddenly inside your home. Looking up you saw Dark, his face stone but something lingering in his eyes. Putting you down on the couch, he disappeared before reappearing once more. Without a word of warning, he lifted your shirt and started working on the deep wound. The whole time you just stared up at the ceiling, still freaking out and feeling jolts of stings every now and then. You didn't want to look at what he was doing, fearing what you might see.

When Dark finished, he left once more to quickly wash his hands before returning and holding you close. You were hyperventilating, and he gently rocked you back and forth while making soft shushing noises. It took a while, but eventually you had calmed. Sure that you were fine now, Dark stopped rocking, but still held you close. There was a moment of silence before he spoke.

"Don't do something stupid like that again.", his voice was stern and scolding, a contrast to the comfort he was providing a little bit ago.

You scoffed," Thanks for the soothing words, jerk."

Dark stiffened then sighed; he already had his guard down with the way he was cuddling you, minus well tell you how he feels. "I was worried okay? I thought I was going to lose you. . ."

Noting your silent reply and how your body had hunched up, Dark felt his heart skip a pace. Maybe he needed to be more straight with his feelings, or perhaps this was just a really bad time. Just as he was about to apologize, you had cut him off.

"I'm sorry for being such an ass to you, it's just that. . ."

Dark shifted, easing his grip so you could move into a more comfortable position to face him.  

"It's just what?", his voice was much gentler this time.

"It's just. . .I-I don't know. . .", you sighed, shaking your head.

"I. . .I care about you a lot as well. And that scares me. Not because of what you are-well, actually it is because of what you are."

Dark sat back, feeling his chest tighten,"What do mean by that?"

"Well I don't mean it in a way of being scared. I think it's actually really cool that you're this all powerful entity. But it's just that; an entity. You'll live forever and I'll, well, I'll die. The reason I've been so harsh to you is because I've been trying to push you away I guess. I'm scared because I like you, but I know it couldn't possibly work with how time effects us differently. I'd grow old, and you. . .you'll still look the same at my funeral. . ."

Dark was silent while processing all of what you said. While he was glad that you had liked him back, he was devastated at knowing the horrid truth of the matter. But he wanted to be selfish; to have something nice in his eternal life for once, even if it wouldn't be there forever. He wanted to have and enjoy the times he could share with you through out the years. Grasping your hand, Dark rested his forehead against yours.

"I know, I've thought about it too, but. . ."

You glanced up at him beneath your lashes, catching his soft gaze.

"Anytime spent with you would mean the world to me."

~xXx~

[jackcowboyhero]

Colonel at the Palace

I started writin’ this story way back when Pop was on trial, but tryin’ to help save your old man from Old Sparky makes a fella a little distracted.  It wasn’t ’til comin’ across an old picture o’ the Palace o’ the Governors that I remembered I’d started it--an’ then it took a couple days for me and Sarah to hunt it down, and a couple more to finish it up.

What I’m sayin’ is, things ain’t bad like they were when I started it.

So, you know how I told you I don’t dream about Santa Fe anymore? That don’t mean I don’t think about it. When stuff’s bustin’ loose in the city, I guess it’s only natural a guy’d start to look somewhere else, and for me it’s the desert with Charlie and Lim and a blindin’-blue sky and a big herd o’ cattle.

Now, if you want the truth, for every hour o’ lazin’ around havin’ fun, we spent ten or more breathin’ dust, getting��� hurt, bustin’ our backs diggin’ postholes or wells or stickin’ rogue horses. But it takes work to remember that. Lookin’ back, it seems golden. The four best months o’ my life. And I forget that I missed Sarah and Nell and the boys sometimes.

But what counts is I think o’ it when things get rough—which means lately I’ve been thinkin’ a lot. And ‘cause a fella can only tell so many stories ‘bout murder and trials before he starts soundin’ like Skitts, here’s a Santa Fe story. It’s about Cowboy and Charlie and a horse he called Colonel and a race in front o’ the Palace o’ the Governors on a hot July afternoon.

‘Cause right now racin’ sounds better than stayin’ in New York.

I don’t think I’ve told ya ‘bout Colonel yet. He was Charlie’s own horse, a herring-gutted red dun with a bulged-out forehead and angry expression. He was near twenty, which is old for a cowhorse, but you couldn’t tell with the saddle on—his back’d started swayin’ a little, but that was all. And boy, you couldn’t tell by watchin’ him move. ‘Cause the minute Charlie’d sit down on him, he was gone.

I don’t mean he took off. Lots o’ cowponies do that. Like a sorrel bronc colt I had, Mugger—if I didn’t remember to cheek him he’d head for the border the second you stepped in the stirrup. But not Colonel. Colonel just wanted to move out, to work, and he’d go and go and go and he’d never quit.

The story was he’d been owned by an officer down in the Indian Territories, and o’ course he would’ve done great at that, ‘cept for prob’ly outwalkin’ any horse in the regiment. But the guy’d bet him away in a poker game, and the fella who won couldn’t deal with him, and Charlie was lookin’ for cheap horses to work on, and there ya go. Charlie’s rougher on horses than I’d be sometimes, but he’s real good with Colonel. ‘Cause Colonel ain’t a horse you can roughhouse without stuff blowin’ six ways from sideways. Charlie got that, and figured him out, and was the same kind o’ patient-but-stubborn you’ve gotta be if you’re gonna ride Nell.

So, anyway: Colonel was fast. He was fast when he took after cattle, and fast when he walked to the trough for a drink. And Cowboy ain’t fast at all.

That don’t mean he’s worthless. There’s a lot more to a horse than speed, and Cowboy’s a great hand. He’ll work and rope and swim and climb anythin’, straight up or straight down, and one time he got his foot stuck between two rocks comin’ downhill and if he’d gone loco woulda got us both killed. But he didn’t. I owe a lot to that horse.

But the one thing he wasn’t was fast, and we sure got that handed to us that day at the Palace.

We’d all gone to town on a Saturday night, hangin’ around in a dancehall and drinkin’ and playin’ cards, just like you’d read in a dime novel except for the gunfights, and we’d spent the night in a corral to save money, and Lim and Skip and the rest were hung over the next mornin’. But not me and Charlie.

I ain’t sayin’ we were dead-sober, either, but we felt good enough to be up and around instead o’ layin’ there grousin’ like the other guys, so eight o’ clock saw us finishin’ breakfast at one of the restaurants (there ain’t a place in New York that makes Mexican food) and then moseyin’ outside to look around town.

Now, the difference between a cowboy and a newsboy is when a cowboy moseys, he doesn’t do it on his own two feet—I ain’t sure I walked more’n a hundred feet at a stretch that whole summer. Cowboys are always on horseback. So Charlie had Colonel and I was on Cowboy, and there we were, ridin’ through town like some kind o’ Western heroes, while singin’ and churchbells rang out from the cathedral at one end o’ the plaza.

Boy, it was peaceful. You never get that kind o’ quiet in Manhattan—there’s always too many people bustlin’ around and a million things goin’ on. But in Santa Fe, Sunday mornin’s are quiet.

…Well, until Charlie and I showed up.

‘Cause ya know how when a kid sees a long stretch o’ space, like at Sheep Meadow in Central Park, there’s nothin’ he can do but run? That’s kinda what cowboys are like. If they ain’t got a job to do (or sometimes even if they do), given a good place to run, they’ll take off.

And, well, the empty, peaceful plaza was a real good place.

So when Charlie said “Race ya,” it weren’t nothin’ I wasn’t about to ask him.

When Race ain’t around to make bets ya just take off, no startin’-or-finish lines or rules or nothin’, and I leaned forward an’ gave Cowboy a nudge and yelled at him to go, and he went.

But all Charlie had to do was let up on the reins.

There was maybe one second where Cowboy and Colonel were side-by-side, hooves poundin’ and both o’ us hollerin’ like Comanches, but then me and Cowboy might as well have been standin’ still.

Colonel got so far ahead he disappeared in the dust he raised, Charlie’s dark shirt and hat barely showin’ above it like some kind o’ ghost, and Cowboy was tryin’ his best to catch up, but there was no chance in the world we would.

But you know somethin’?

Sometimes losin’ a race makes ya mad as all get-out—but this time, it was worth it just to see Colonel stretched out goin’ faster than I’ve ever seen, like it weren’t an effort for him at all, and like he was runnin’ just ‘cause he wanted to.

When Charlie pulled him up, prancy and snortin’, at the edge of the plaza, and about ten years later me and Cowboy finally caught up to ‘em, Charlie didn’t rub it in, either. ‘Cause he knew as well as I did that there wasn’t a horse in the ranch’s remuda who could ever beat Colonel.

I mean, maybe one o’ Race’s Sheepshead Bay favorites might have a chance. But seein’ them, an’ seein’ him, I still ain’t real convinced they could.

So, that’s the kind o’ story I think about. Racin’ Colonel and when me and Coyote ran along that ridge (I swear I didn’t spend the whole summer gallopin’ around doin’ nothin’) and when my only worry in the world was that we’d sent a dumb letter to Billy the Kid’s girl.

I mean, it wasn’t all perfect. And there’s nothin’ worth givin’ up Sarah and Nell—I just miss it out there sometimes.

…Kinda like the people in Santa Fe prob’ly miss their peace and quiet when two Four-Diamond-Rail hooligans come to town.

1904 – Colonel’s still doin’ well. I saw him myself when Sarah and I took our honeymoon last spring—he’s twenty-four years old and still looks barely half that. Heck, he’s older than Charlie is! And he’s still faster than any horse on the ranch. Last time I heard from Charlie he said he’d slowed down just a bit—but for Colonel that means there was once or twice Charlie’s been able to ride next to Lim’s Whitefoot, who’s a pretty fast walker himself, and not have to hold Colonel back every step o’ the way—only most steps.

You know who else is a fast walker, even though her legs ain’t much longer than Race’s? Nell. So while I know better than to think she could beat Colonel runnin’, if Charlie ever decided to come visit the Brace farm, or me and Sarah and Nell and the kid go to Santa Fe, we might be able to ride next to each other without my horse havin’ to trot, or without laggin’ behind—which is good, ‘cause if all that happens, me and Charlie are gonna have to make some more plans.

I mean, you never know when the good, peaceful people o’ some little town might want a little dime-novel excitement.

[shallahraekwon062488]

Not I

Summary:

A small collection of tales of the early days of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Notes:

———————————————– (See the end of the work for notes.) ———————————————–

Chapter 1: Fire To My Soul

————————————————————————————————– Disclaimer: I only own the characters I created. Not Daredevil or any other character that appears any other Marvel works. They are the property of Marvel. ————————————————————————————————–

————————————————————————————————–

Psalm 34:19 The righteous person may have many troubles, but the Lord delivers him from them all;

————————————————————————————————–

Not I

Chapter 1: Fire To My Soul

Jonathan “Jack” Murdock was a professional boxer. He lost more than he won, with a record at 24-31. But he could take a beating. Every now and then he’d get hit and something inside him would snap. He’s mother, She used to say, “Be careful of the Murdock boys. They got the devil in ‘em.” And you’d see it sometimes in the ring. His eyes would go dead… and he’d start walking forward real slow, hands at his sides like he wasn’t afraid of anything. And the other guy, he’d see that look, and he’d try to get away from him. he’d catch him and trap him in a corner. He let the devil out.

Jack’s son; Matthew couldn’t understand what grandmother meant, not back then at least. But now he did.

Cause he was about to let his devil out. ———————————————————————————————-

Krystal White was a 20 year-old, who worked at Rome’s Palace after school. Not only to pay for school, but to also help her mother around the house. The job didn’t pay a lot, but it more made up for it in tips. Plus her boss; Relly. Let her take some food home sometime, which helped as well. Tonight in particularly was good. Not only did she make almost hundred-fifty dollars in tips tonight, she also got her overtime.

“Maybe I’ll get me and Ma’s hair done and Ben that new Madden?” Krystal wonder to herself. Thinking about how her little brother got a paper route job. Too try help her and their mother. He’s been wanting Madden 15 for weeks now.

Yes!!! Tonight was a pretty nice night. But little did the young lady know it was about to go south really fast.

While walking through the parking lot to catch the 11:30 P.M. subway to head home, but lost in her thoughts. Krystal didn’t see or hear the sleazy figure coming upon her. It quickly wrapped it’s unsavory hands around her throat and waist, carrying her struggle 5 foot person to a dark ally.

“Don’t worry baby. If you play nice you might like it and ask for more.” The assailant said in a sleazy voice. Letting out a chuckle to match.

Krystal’s brown eye’s widen with panic and heart thumped furiously with fear. Realizing this mugger wanted more than her money. Using all her might and taking advantage of the Mugger/Rapist’s relaxing grip, as they neared the alley. She was able to break the grip of her assailant grip and run.

“Help!!!!!!!!! Someone Please Help Me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Krystal screamed as loudly has she could. Her voice mix with dismay and begging. For she knew the odds of someone hearing her were low, even lower were the chance of somebody hearing and actually helping her.

This was Hell’s Kitchen nobody helps nobody for free.

Krystal’s hopes was extinguish and fears realize, when the Mugger/Rapist caught up to her. Grabbing her hard by the shoulders and throwing her into a parked car near by. Her head bouncing off the side of the car door, leaving a small dent.

“ That wasn’t very wise little tramp. Now I guess I’m going to have take it right here. If you do anything I will break your fucking jaw, got it sweetheart?” The Mugger/Rapist spoke in a voice matching his whole persona and left no room for conversation. Has he slowly walked to the young woman he threw to the ground, he’s grimy hands going towards his belt.

Tears started to roll down Krystal light brown face. Has she came to the realization that nobody was going to save her. This guy was 6’2 and weighed as least 200 pounds. He was way out of Krystal’s weight class.

But he was just right for Matt who heard Krystal’s pleading screams and terrorize heartbeat a block and half a way. Who processed to run, jump and flip through the rooftops of Hell’s Kitchen to get her.

After flipping down a fire escape Matt came upon them in the same alley the assailant tried to take his would-be victim. Both hearts pounding. One in anticipation of a conquest, the other in fear of being conquered.

Matt Murdock could hear both heartbeats as If they were his own, and they made him sick.

Moving quickly and quietly, the way his teacher taught him long ago. He snuck up on the Mugger/Rapist until he right behind. Taking both his hands Matt smashed them in both the Mugger/Rapist’s ears, making his head ring and throwing his equilibria off. As the Mugger/Rapist let out painful yelp and threw his hands to cover his head. Matt used the opening to perform standard Aikido throw, his opponent hitting the concrete ground with loud thoud.

Pausing in his attack for a moment to check on the young waitress. Matt focused his powerful senses on Krystal to make sure she was okay. He’s didn’t hear her bones shifting or grinding together, which meant she didn’t have any breaks, fractures or sprain. But he could taste and smell some copper in the air.

“She has a small cut on her head and some tiny scraps on hands, that must of broke her skin. Most likely from when this asshole threw her into the car and she tried to brace herself.” Matt thought angrily to himself. Fists clenching harder with anticipation of giving this worm, the beatdown he so needed.

The Mugger/Rapist stood up on wobbly legs. Before finding his balance and facing his attacker, it was The Man in Black. The guy who has been making life difficult for people in his line of work.

“YOU!!!!!???? YU… Y… YU…YOU SHOULD SERIOUSLY BACK THE HELL UP FREAK!!!!!!!!” The Mugger/Rapist stuttered then shouted, pulling out a long pocket knife. Trying he’s very best to be intimidating. But Matt could hear the fear in his voice.

The Mugger/Rapist charged at the Man in Black, looking to stab or slash him, The Mask ducked and weaved between the The Mugger/Rapist attacks, looking like a highly skilled boxer. Sensing an opening The Mask Man swung a left hook catching his opponent in the side of his abdomen with hard shot, then following it with hard three piece combination of punches straight to the cheek and jaw. The blows drawing blood.

Matt let a small wicked smirk grace his lips, as he smelt the aroma of blood in the air. Also as his opponent heart beat increase with hate and terror.

The assailant let out a loud angry groan as he again, charging at the Man in Black in a more wild fashion. Who caught one of crazed swings by the wrist and gave it nasty twist, which snapped the bone in two. The assailant howled in agony, but didn’t know it was more to come.

The Man In Black than performed a Judo technique that broke assailant’s forearm in a ugly crunch. Swinging him off the ground by the same arm until he standing up, the Masked Man perform a agile kick. Connecting to the Mugger/Rapist jaw,making his head snap back and blood fly from his mouth. Along with a tooth.

Turning to face the young lady, who watched the whole exchange in shock and wonderment. Matt slowly walked towards Krystal, who was still on the ground.

Coming directly under the street light, Krystal was able to clearly see the Masked Vigilante. That stood before her. He wore a black mask over his head, eyes and nose, leaving only his mouth uncovered. Along black suit with reyd stitching, with pants and boots to match. Krystal couldn’t deny that, while this man saved her. His outfit gave her the creeps sightly. “Are you alright?” Asked the Masked Vigilante in firm, but gentle tone. Offering the still anxious young lady a hand, to stand up. Which she took slowly, but thankfully.

“ You’re safe now he won’t hurt you or anyone no more.” The Man in Black said his tone still firm and gentle, as he helped Krystal get to her feet. Smoothly and softly.

“Th… Th.. Thank you!!!!!! Thank you so very much!!!!!! You saved me from being……” Krystal couldn’t finish her thanking he rescuer. Her voice filled with deep gratitude, as she broke into tears of relief and thanks.

Matt couldn’t help but let, a tiny smile display on his face. In sense accomplishment and appreciation. He gave her a simple nod in thanks and as well as saying your welcome.

“Call the police and have your boss stay with you until they come.” The Masked Vigilante said, tone still the same as before. Letting go of Krystal’s hand, and nodding his head towards the restaurant. Krystal’s boss came running to the window, then through the door. Gun in hand ready to help his employee and friend.

Looking in the direction we’re Relly was coming from, with a GLOCK 19 in his left hand. He had his cell phone in right hand, and he was on it. With 911 Krystal concluded.

Turning back to face the Man In Black and give her thanks one more time, Krystal was shocked to see he vanished.

“ He was just standing in front of me second ago, now he’s nowhere in sight” Krystal thought in amazement. Taking a few steps forward, searching the area for her savoir. But find nothing but the man who tried to robbed her of something more important than money, her dignity. On the concrete ground, still unconscious and his forearm and wrist bones showing.

————————————————————————————————–

Crouched on the ledge of a building across the street, Matt monitored the conversation between the waitress and boss. Relly saying sorry for not hearing and coming to her sooner, that he was in back counting tonight’s inventory, with the his headphones on. Krystal replying that was it okay and she was fine. Pointing his gun in line of the man who layed on the ground, asking who the hell he was and what happened to him.

Krystal process to explain the incident that transpired to her friend, but then asking him did he see where the Man in Black. Still wondering.

Relly said he didn’t see where he went. That when he looked down to put his phone back in his pocket and back up, the Man in Black was gone.

“I thought that maybe he was the one trying to rob you.” Relly said his voice hard to place. But sounding thankful none less.

“No!! He the one who saved me!!! I was saved by the The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen!!!” Krystal replied with a tone full of thankfulness and admiration for the man that helped her.

Matt let out light dry chuckle from where he observed them, listening to the radios, engines and sirens of the police and ambulance. They were about a mile or two from the scene, moving fast tonight for a change.

“Things should be fine here.” Matt thought evenly to himself, now performing expert acrobatic parkour movements along the rooftops. Heading west, having picked up on a home invasion in progress on the police radio.

One thought that Matt Murdock has been having lately; Is how would the people of Hell’s Kitchen would take it if they knew or ever found out. That the Devil of it was blind.

———————————————– Notes:

This is chapter one of a small drabble of stories I’m doing, that chronicles some of Matt Murdock early days. Of protecting Hell’s Kitchen and the people in it.

Please tell me you’re thoughts and feelings of this chapter.

[bluepenguinstories]

Happiness Overload Chapter Forty-One

Ever since I decided to do a little helping out in my community, I've been a real busy man (and let's be honest, sometimes woman). Real talk, my phone was on blast all day. Now, I just ignored the first few calls, because that's just common practice when you're someone important. But couldn't do that forever, as much as I wanted to. When I was out on the street, after just finding a $20 bill on the ground, and about to get a bite to eat, my phone once again rang, and that time, I finally answered.

“Oh hey, Kelly Roger! Long time! Well, really it's only been a day, but time is so messed up, I tell you what.”

That sounded like that one guy...M..something. Yeah, fuck that dude.

“Okay, first of all, how the fuck did you get this number and how did you know I would pick up? This isn't even my phone!”

Streets were crowded, I kept bumping into people. Mostly shoving, though. They had to know that I meant business. But damn, did I have to prove it to them that hard? My fucking shoulder, man.

“I have frogs in high places.”

“Look, I don't have time for metaphors! I know what you're up to and I'm here to stop it!”

“Oh, you do, do you? Listen, my good sibling, K-Rog, I have an offer that you can't refuse.”

“My mom already has essential oils from you guys! We don't need a new knife set, and no, we were never friends in high school!”

It may have seemed like I was talking nonsense, but I had to be discrete about what I said. I was outside, in the public eye, and if I just let slip the truth, who knew what eyes were listening or ears were seeing? Yeah, I wanted to bring Lilypad's plans to light and foil them, but it was too risky at the moment.

“How cute, my brother and also sister, you really think you're being clever, but I see right through you. Right now, your underwear is on backwards. Wait...no. That's not what I was getting at. What I meant to say was that I know your current situation. You need a place to sleep. You need food. Most importantly, you need Wi-Fi. I could give you those things, if you just join me. Better yet, if you don't join me, and you decide to proceed further with your findings, I will have no choice but to have you killed. So, what do you say?”

“Yeah, that's gonna a nope from me, Chief.”

“Very well, just know that --”

Oops. I hung up. Totally an accident and not that I was sick of hearing his voice. Nope, totally wasn't that at all.

Just after I was about to put the phone back in my pocket, it started ringing again. I answered, like a complete dumbass would.

“FOR THE LAST TIME, I'M NOT JOINING YOUR WEIRD SEX CULT!”

I pressed a hard “end call” before whoever was on the other line was even able to get a word in. When I looked up, I saw a few people giving me weird looks.

“Oh, that? That was just my grandma, no big deal!”

Those few people nodded and went about their business. I let out a sigh of relief and was about to keep walking when once again, the phone rang.

“WHAT DID I JUST SAY? I'M NOT--”

“Guess again, fucko,” came a snarky little voice.

“Yeah, I have no idea who you could be so I'm not even going to guess.”

“Not even a little guess?”

I tried to put some thought into it. Who else did I know or once knew that was snarky and knew how to access anyone's number...

“Velvet? If that's you, I am so kicking your ass.”

“WHAT? WHAT THE FUCK? WHY WOULD YOU THINK I'D BE HER? I AM SO MUCH COOLER!”

“Oh, so you know her?”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“Yeah, you do. I can already tell.”

“FUCK YOU TOO, THEN! I WAS TRYING TO BE MYSTERIOUS!”

“Okay, well, who even are you?”

“Heh,” she did that cliché snicker you hear all the time in fanfiction. “That's for me to know and you not to find out.”

“Okay then, bye.”

I tried hanging up, but found that I couldn't. I put my ear back up to the phone.

“Guess what? I can control your phone remotely.”

“Uh, so? That's amateur work. What do you even want, anyway? I'm busy.”

“I want you to tell me everything you know about Lilypad. Then, I want you to tell me everything you know about any other sensitive information. You got it?”

“What's in it for me?”

“Nothing!” She cackled. “Nothing at all!”

I threw the phone on the ground and crushed it. Screw that deal.

“So much for not being able to hang up.”

I shrugged and went on about my day.

...Okay, so some folks might have been thinking the whole way through “did I miss something?” And the answer is yes. Yes you did.

You see, earlier in the day, I was at a coffee shop (no, not ScarredButts or whatever that place's name was) and leeching off their Wi-Fi. Now, I knew there might have been some prying you-know-what's, so I used a VPN. Don't worry, it wasn't one of those ones you had to pay for. Screw those guys. Mine was a homemade VPN.

All it took was a few hours of searching. Searching I knew others wouldn't have wanted me doing. But deep in my heart, the right people would have loved to see it. It started with a simple search: 'frogs gay', from there I was led down a whole spiral of loosely connected dots. At first, it was the usual theatrics from right-wing talk show hosts, those conspiracies they espouse for attention. It didn't matter what their actual beliefs were, all they were doing was selling you their own brand of bullshit.

Nah, I couldn't say how I got there, for fear of others retracing my steps, but the end result was that I was in a secret database in Lilypad's servers. Every organization, profit or non-profit had a databases. Files and documents they didn't want seen. Must've been some kind of compulsion hardwired into their brains which told them to keep account of everything, because not once have I found a group that didn't keep track of their shit.

“So this is what they're trying to do...” I whispered, hands over my mouth, hoping that my idiot mouth wasn't speaking the words loud enough for any of those nosy types to hear.

It went a little something like this:

“Three years from now, in an alternate universe, there will be an explosion members of our group will have caused. It will have been in an abandoned building, or one empty, but also one that looks pristine, so that others think it's still occupied. That way, it will cause a commotion. People will watch. It will cause a distraction.

That's the intention. In truth, people will be so doped up on Dr. Etna's doses of euphoria that no one will notice. I'm not sure if I'm supposed to be the one that comes after the me in this alternate universe, or if he's supposed to be the me that comes before. I think I'm supposed to come before, because events of this universe ends up affecting the other. Either way, time is a thing I'd rather not get into. It makes my head hurt and then I zone out for hours and next thing you know, the whole fridge is empty.

What matters is that the end result is that I know the explosion will not distract anybody and, in fact, the me in that universe, won't even have remembered calling such an order. It's a little random detail, but what if it wasn't? What if we could make it so much more?

No, I don't want to hurt anybody. Not unless they got in Lilypad's way. But what if it was a helpful, not harmful explosion? What if...and call me crazy, here, because I don't know which dimension I'm in right now, but what if...it was an explosion which caused everyone in the surrounding area to become amphibious humanoids? Not only that, amphibious humanoids who, if they weren't gay already, will become.

Ah, such a thought is truly beautiful. Right now I am thinking of how the red sea is full of iron. That doesn't have to do with the information above. In some respects, I pity my other self, even though in some other respects, we are the same selves who at times know of each other. Which, because we know of each other, we are both pitiable, for we both succeed and fail at our same end goals. For added measure, we spoil the endings for ourselves, and yet we proceed anyway.

By the way, I've placed trackers on this document, so if anyone reads this, I'll know.”

Damn. I couldn't believe it. He wanted to make everyone into gay frogs. That just wasn't right. Someone had to stop him. Now, don't get me wrong, I have nothing against gay frogs, I just think they should be frogs in the privacy of their own homes. The phone started ringing. I ignored it. Whoever that mugger was, he probably had some dealer friends. That wasn't me stereotyping, it was just me making a hypothesis. Big difference.

My stomach rumbled again. It was the hunger. The hunger for justice. So I packed up and went out into the street. I received several other calls while on the prowl for food, and you already know what happened there. I was a dumbass and that dumbassery didn't need to be told a second time.

I blinked. My signal cut out. I couldn't believe it. Whatever Kelly Roger did, I couldn't hack into their phone anymore.

I'm dealing with someone smarter than they appear. More research has to be done.

I took a gulp from a can of my favorite soda, Crush soda. Why was it my favorite? Because I just loved crushing the can when I finished!

...What? What other reason was there?

I went back to looking at my monitor and that was when I noticed what Kelly Roger had done.

“Oh. I'm the stupid one in this situation.”

I slammed my head onto my desk.

FINALLY.

Forever I roamed, in search of diners, drive-ins, and dives, and lo and behold! Danny's Diner, only the best diner in the whole 48 states.

“I'll take a pancake suplex,” I snapped to the waitress.

My stomach would at last be appeased. Their pancake suplex meal was known to be the greatest meals in all the land! Tales were told of brawls being held in the back of Danny's parking lot at 3 AM. While it couldn't be verified, I had no doubt pancakes were involved. That was the magic of a place like Danny's.

Once my food arrived, I dug in. Everything was going smooth, bite after bite. Sure, I've still had a pretty rough day. For every little bit of progress, I was set back. I found out what Lilypad was planning, but in the process, my phone got destroyed. That was not gucci.

Note to self: steal a new phone.

Not only did I not have a phone, but I also still lacked a place to sleep. I didn't want to spend two nights in a cardboard box, even if the rent was cheap.

Note to self: steal a place to sleep.

I nodded as I ate. At the very least, I had food. That was good enough for the time being.

What would Hilda or Dimitri do in this situation? Thinking about Fire Emblem's never failed me before, and I'll be damned if it fails me now.

I looked up from my plate and took a quick glance out of the window. Something in the distance soared in what looked to be my direction.

“Now what could that be?”

What was meant to be a quick glance turned into a stare and the 'something' in question came closer into view. Whatever it was, it shot right at me. I jumped back, and startled in my seat, I stared at the thing that landed on the window. It croaked.

“...The fuck?”

But no, it wasn't a 'fuck', it was a frog.

Before I had time to think about just what in Miku's name was going on, a few more frogs landed on the window.

“Ah, looks like it's rainy season.”

I turned around and the waitress who took my order stood by my table.

“How are you liking your meal?”

“THE FUCK?! YOU THINK THIS IS NORMAL?!”

She shrugged. “I work at Danny's. You get used to seeing weird shit around here.”

As I turned back to the window and watched the frogs slide down, leaving a trail of slime on the glass. I tried to take a deep breath and sigh, but before I was granted such a comfort, a fancy-as-fuck black limo sped outside and some figure I couldn't make out stood on the roof and held a bazooka.

I could only guess what would happen next. I had to act fast.

“Hey, lady, can I use your phone to call a friend?”

“Uh...sure?”

She handed me her phone and I got up out of my seat and ran for it.

“Hey! My phone!” I heard her call. “You can't just take it! I'm on my parent's plan!”

“Don't worry, I'll block your parents!” I called back. I had no time to argue about ethics, not when I was in danger.

Sure enough, I heard glass shatter and screams erupt. In spite of my brilliance, my brain decided to have a moment of dumbassery and make my head turn and look back.

Frogs. That's what got shot from the bazooka. Not missiles. Just croaking, freaking, frogs.

I shoved past the staff of the diner. Cooks, wait staff, management, you name it. I just had to get out of there, so I kept moving until I pushed my way through the back door. Then, I called 9-1-1.

“9-1-1, what's your emergency?” The operator began. “Hey, some asshole outside just shot frogs at Danny's!”

There was laughter on the other end. “Did you say...frogs?”

“Yes!” I growled. “Now do your fucking job and send someone over to deal with this!”

“Calm down. Are you hurt?”

“No, but I will be if you don't get someone over here!”

“What is your name?”

“Kelly Roger! Sheesh!”

“Kelly, please hold while I redirect you to the proper department.”

It's Kelly-Fucking-Roger. Not 'Kelly'. Stupid operator.

By now, I was right outside, behind the diner. I hoped the shooter didn't notice where I had gone, but just in case, I made a break for the the nearest place to hide: a hotel. At the hotel parking lot, still on hold, I hid behind a truck. There was a clicking sound and I found myself no longer on hold.

“Hey, how's it going, buddy?”

I froze, dread taking over. Not who I was hoping to hear, but there he was: Mar...Mar...it's on the tip of my tongue...Mario?

“New phone, who this?” I found the nerve to reply.

“Oh, come on, don't do this to me. I thought we were friends.”

“Get real! What are you even doing on a 9-1-1 call?”

“Mm...yes. I did tell you I had frogs in high places, did I not? While half of the police force has been bought out by the ETNA Corporation, the other half answers to me. Turns out money really does buy you happiness.” He laughed up a storm. I was unamused.

“Frogs, huh? So you're behind this attack?”

“You could say that. I wouldn't call it an attack. Just a friendly surprise. However, there will be an attack if you don't do as I say.”

“Like what? You're going to throw frogs at me?”

He laughed again. “You're real funny! Actually, you're going to come to the parking lot off 94th and Sideburn avenue.”

“Why would I do something like that?”

“Because we have your parents.”

That had to be a lie. My parents weren't interesting enough to kidnap. I just HAD to call his bluff.

“No, I have your parents! They're in bed with me right now!”

I hung up the phone.

If anything, the attack on the diner was a good call, as I never did end up paying for my meal. Plus, I got a new phone. Being the kind person that I was, I blocked and deleted all of the waitress's contacts.

I sat in my office, stroking a pet salamander. All was going according to plan. One of my underlings came up to me, a scientist named Gumby.

“Do we really have Kelly Roger's parents?”

I shook my head.

“We don't really need them. Kelly Roger will show up regardless.”

“And then what?”

I slammed my fist on the table.

“You come to me, on the day of Polo's birthday, and ask me 'and then what?'”

“Well, you must have some kind of plan if you wanted Kelly Roger to go there.”

“Indeed,” I grinned a devilish grin. “We can't just keep letting Kelly Roger have all this sensitive information and keep playing hero, now can we?”

Gumby shook his adorable head. What a great brother. Though we weren't in any way related.

“I think it's time Kelly Roger met a good friend of mine,” I cupped my hands over my mouth. “JEREMIAH, YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO!”

Out from the corner of the office, where the shadow hit, Jeremiah, the human-bullfrog hybrid appeared.

“ALKJLKJDSKJSDLKSJ,” Jeremiah bellowed. “ASLKSJLKDJSK.”

“I can never understand a single word he says, but he sure helps me drink my wine.”