#he wants to interrogate the lawyer who's switched sides again and she's like 'just say thank you. that's what you say in situations

[theinfinitedivides]

even when they're running for their f*cking lives (again!!!!! funny how that works) Young Hwa has to remind Do Ha about his manners (again). never change pls

[thatesqcrush]

Retrouvaille

Rafael Barba x Reader. For @barbasimp - winner of Holiday Bingo. Prompt: Maybe a fic where Rafael and the reader were a thing before he left new york after the incident, but when he comes back he sees how close Carisi and the reader are and gets HELLA JEALOUS.

AN: This takes immediately during 22x04, “Sightless in a Savage Land.”  Script found here.  Coffee reference (above and in the fic - from 19x9, Gone Baby Gone.

AN2: Using “Sway” by The Kooks for VDay bingo. Lyrics denoted in bold.

AN3: Retrouvaille is a French word meaning rediscovery - the happiness of meeting or finding someone after a long separation. 

Warnings: language & smut (p in v sex, implied cunnilingus).  WC: 3.3K

****

To say you were anxious was an understatement; your leg bounced restlessly as you and your Captain sat in the diner. It had been unbearably cold and despite still wearing your parka and the hot cup of coffee in front of you, you could not warm up.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Olivia replied as she poured some milk into her coffee. She stirred the coffee with one hand and reached out to grab your hand from across with the other. “You don’t have to be here.”

“Nope, I am good.” You replied coolly, your lips emphasizing the ‘p’ sound. You looked out the window, watching the people mill about on the street. A blast of cold breezed through the diner. You looked past Olivia and you felt your stomach flop at the sight of the man approaching the booth. You stood and switched sides of your seat, choosing to sit next to Olivia.

The last time you saw Rafael Barba, he was worn and depressed, with tears lining his eyes as he stood in front of the courthouse. It was there he poured his love for you making your heart swell before he shattered it into a million pieces as he broke things off with you. You were a wreck after, to the point you needed to take time off to get your affairs back in order. The apartment you shared with him was no longer your safe space  and no longer inhabitable. Rafael told you to keep the engagement ring. You took it off that night and left it in a lock box at your bank. Photos of you and him during happier times were taken down from your locker and tossed in the trash. Plans for the future - for a shared life together were gone, like a sandcastle being washed away by the sea.

Now Rafael appeared just as handsome as he did all those years ago. His hair was a more pronounced shade of salt and pepper and instead of being clean shaven, a beard graced his face. The infamous camel pea coat was swapped out for a grey one. Instead of a three piece bespoke suit under it, he wore dark jeans and a blue and pink checkered shirt. He turned to the counter and requested a coffee before he sat down in front of you. 

“Barba.” You greeted, taking a sip of your coffee.

“Olivia!” Rafael replied brightly. He shrugged his coat off and looked at you. “Y/N, it’s good to see you again.”

You didn’t reply, instead choosing to sip your coffee once more. Rafael shifted in his seat and looked at Olivia. “So--”

“Liv’s said you’ve been busy.” You spoke, cutting him off. “What have you been up to?” 

You knew Rafael had kept in touch with Olivia. She had mentioned Rafael here and there in conversation with you and the squad.

You knew Mickey Davis deserved a good defense. You were, however, caught off guard when Olivia suggested that perhaps Rafael could help secure a deal. You didn’t even know he was back in New York.

“Consulting with the Innocence Project, defending voting rights on the ground. I've barely slept since the election ended.”

“Liv said once everything cleared up, you might consider doing defense work.” You continued. 

“Her case or Fin’s?” Barba asked. 

“The city settled one of Fin’s. Liv's still waiting on her day in the barrel, but that's not why we're here. 

“It should be -- sorry.” Rafael shrugged, looking at Olivia. 

Olivia gave Rafael a small smile. “Hypothetically, if we... arrested a defendant who was not innocent…”

“Decorated vet. Six tours in Afghanistan. Comes home to find his daughter raped by her foster father--” You interjected. 

“And he shoots the guy point-blank range three times?” Rafael questioned. Both you and Olivia give him a pointed look. “Hypothetically.”

“So you're all caught up.” Olivia replied, now picking up her own cup.

“All right, hold on.” Rafael shook his head. “Did Carisi ask you to intervene on Davis' behalf?”

“Well, actually, Carisi doesn't know that we're here.” You murmured.

Rafael laughed. “Of course not. Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“We wanted to see if you would feel him out. And see if he would cut Mickey a deal.” Olivia continued.

“With Carisi's stomach? He won't have the stomach to take this to trial.” Rafael rolled his eyes. “This case is a dog.”

“Really? Some mentor you are. Not even believing in your protege.” You sneered.

Rafael cocked a brow at you while Liv put a hand on your shoulder, in an attempt to comfort you. You jerked your shoulder away from her, and stood. You tossed some bills onto the table. 

“Sorry, Liv. I thought I could handle this. But I can’t. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You heard Liv call out your name as you stormed out of the diner, but not once did you look back.

Rafael looked at Liv, a frown on his face. “Honestly, I am surprised she didn’t leave sooner.” 

***

You and Phoebe were watching through the double-mirror in the squadroom as Kat and Rollins interrogated a suspect. Phoebe watched as Carisi approached you and she tapped your shoulder, nodding towards him. 

You looked over at Carisi and smiled. “How did voire dire go?”

Carisi sighed, crossing his arms. “It was the Rafael Barba show, charming and cherry-picking jurors for twelve straight hours.”

“He was always a dog with a bone.” You replied. “Walk with me to my desk. I am gonna order some Chinese.”

“I gotta know, Y/N. I saw Barba’s witness list, and he tracked down Ajay's other foster kids, ACS employees, VA shrinks. How big of a staff does he have?”

“I can’t say but know that I am not helping him out.” You hissed in a whisper.

Carisi huffed. “It's fine. Barba was here before me. He was your--”

You held up a hand. “No! That doesn't mean I'm more loyal to him than I am to you. You forget - he broke up with me. He wanted nothing to do with me. Why should I help him?”

Carisi’s ears turned pink and when saw the broken look on your face, he felt shitty. “Y/N, I am so sorry.”

You shook your head. “Dinners on you Mr. ADA and all will be forgiven.”

***

When Rafael entered the squadroom, it was late - he did not expect to see you. But there you were, Carisi perched on the corner of your desk, laughing. Seeing you and Carisi together like that - his jealousy flared and he wondered if there was something more than friendship going on. You plucked food out of the takeout container and offered Carisi a bite. You grabbed a napkin and reached up to Carisi’s face and you were about to say something when you spotted Rafael. Your laughter subsided and you smacked Carisi on the knee and pointed to Rafael. As he made way to your desk, you murmured something to Carisi and made a beeline to the locker room, dropping your food on your desk, causing it to spill a bit. The chopsticks fell to the ground with a clatter.

Rafael paused mid-stride and turned to follow, when Carisi approached him and blocked his path. “Barba, I don’t know why you’re here, but leave Y/N alone.”

“Is there a problem Carisi?”

Carisi jutted his jaw, clearly displeased. “Just leave Y/N alone - you hurt her. I know you never meant to. Don’t make it worse.”

“I came here to talk to her. That’s all.” Rafael huffed, before pushing past the young attorney to follow you, much to Carisi’s protests. 

**

You sat on the bench in front of your locker, crying. You dropped your head in your hands, your body shaking. You heard the sound of footsteps and you stood up, wiping your eyes. 

“Y/N.” Rafael’s voice was dark and deep, and hearing your name escape his lips sent shivers down your spine.

“Rafael! What are you doing here? Y’know you’re really not supposed to be back here!” You hissed, dabbing your eyes once more with your sleeves. 

“I wanted to check in with you.”

“Why? You’re not my boyfriend anymore.” You replied, as you grabbed your belongings. You slammed your locker shut, the metal clanging sound echoed. 

There was another sound of footsteps. Now it was Carisi who arrived. “Y/N, you okay?”

You looked at Carisi. ‘I’m fine. I’ll be out in just a bit.” Carisi nodded and made his way back out. 

You adjusted the strap of your bag. “Move.”

“No, I’m not your boyfriend anymore.” Rafael agreed, but not moving. You stepped to the side and Rafael followed your movement, blocking your way.

“Move.” You commanded. “Now.”

When he did not budge, you let out an exasperated sigh. “Say whatever you have to say. Get it out.”

“I just wanted to say I am sorry for everything. I wanted to make sure you’re okay.” Rafael replied.

“Suddenly you care? Please, I have plenty of people in my life who have taken an active role in that. I have gotten by just fine since you left.”

“Who? Carisi? Trading in one lawyer for another? You got a kink or something?" Rafael replied haughtily. 

You snorted in derision. “You know what, you can go fuck right off.” You pushed past him and Rafael grabbed your wrist and pulled you flush to him. Rafael met your eyes, they were puffy and red from you crying. 

“What are you--” You began, but Rafael crushed his lips against yours. You were initially stiff, but you relaxed into his embrace, allowing for the kiss to happen. You let out a soft moan and Rafael used the opportunity to deepen the kiss, by sliding his tongue into yours. Rafael wrapped his arms around your waist and you wrapped yours around his neck, dropping your purse to the ground.

“I love ya.” Rafael rumbled into your ear before dipping his head to your neckline, sucking a mark that you knew you would not be able to hide.

At his words, you pushed Rafael away. “What the fuck? You can’t just barge back into New York, into my life, say that you still love me and expect me to forgive you on the spot!” You were angry, there was a fire in your eyes that Rafael had been at the end of before, and he dropped his head, shamed. He took a seat on the bench and you followed suit, sitting next to him. “Me, the squad… that was always your M.O. - take whatever you want to take - to hurt the ones you love. You never thought about the consequences of your actions on others - nevermind baby Drew.”

“I know. I am an asshole.  I know this is the wrong time and the wrong place but I had to tell you. I love you. And I regret the way I left things with you. And if you tell me you don’t love me - that you still don’t feel the same way - I’ll leave. After the case - you’ll never hear from me or see me again.”

Deep down you knew you still loved Rafael. You had always loved him. You didn’t initially understand why he did what he did with baby Drew or why he left, but with therapy, time, and deep talks with Liv, you understood. It didn’t mean you weren’t angry - you were - but you could see why Rafael felt he had no choice but to leave.

“I need your heart. I need your soul. And getting over you was the hardest thing that I’ve ever had to do.” You replied, not answering his question. Your breath was still uneven from the tears you shed. You were worn and all you wanted to do was go home. You stood and slung your purse over your shoulder. “I am going home. Figure your shit out but don’t expect me to wait around.”

Carisi watched as you stormed away, with Rafael trailing behind you. He was going to say something but he noticed how Rafael allowed for the space between you and him to grow. 

***

The following morning you were getting ready for the day as usual. Coffee was brewing, music was blasting, you were digging around for some clean clothes. There was a staccato knock on the door. You ignored it and found a shirt from the pile of clothes and sniffed it.

There was a second knock, this time louder than first. “I am coming!” You shouted as you tugged your shirt on. You huffed as you marched to the door before tripping over a stack of books that you were planning on donating to your neighborhood library.

You swore loudly and hobbled over to the door. Swinging it open, you all but shouted, “What do you wa--”

On the other side was Rafael. Holding a tray of coffee and a paper bag, that you presumed were some kind of sweets. “I know I am the last person you want to see. I don’t know what to do. Um… do you want some coffee?”

You wrinkled your nose, but you took a step forward and plucked the pastry bag from his grasp. You opened it and inhaled the fresh pastries; your stomach rumbled in response. You reached in and grabbed a honeybun. 

“Come in.” You waved him in before taking a bite of the sticky pastry. Sorry it’s not more neat.”

Rafael made his way in. You entered your apartment, turning the lights on as you made your way in. 

“It’s fine.” Rafael replied as he took in your new-to-him space. There were elements that reminded him of your time together, but it was more uniquely you than anything else.

“You said something yesterday that has stayed in my mind all night long.” Rafael sat down on your couch. 

“Yeah? And what’s that?” You asked, taking a seat across from him. You reached over and plucked the two coffees from 

“I need your heart. I need your soul. All this time away from you has made me realize that. I am sorry for hurting you - for even breaking things off the way I did.” He confessed. “But then I realized, I couldn’t do it. All this time… I still love you.”

You didn’t respond and Rafael felt his heart sink. His stomach knotted and he thought he would throw up. 

You were quiet when you finally did speak. “I still love you too.”

Rafael looked at you, a huge grin on his face. He was overjoyed to hear your proclamation. “So now what?”

You furrowed your brows and an idea came to you, your face brightening. “I suppose we’re due for some makeup sex.”

Rafael blinked. “What?”

You stood up and tugged off your top. “Look, I don’t know about you - but it’s been awhile and I have needs. Are you complaining?”

Rafael stood, shrugging off his coat and also making quick removal of his clothes. “No, not at all. Just not what I expected to happen.”

You were down to your panties. “Just gotta make one call.” Rafael nodded, continuing to undress. You grabbed your phone and called Liv. “Hey, Liv - personal emergency, I won’t be able to make it - no everything will be fine - no you don’t need to come by. I’ll make it up. Thanks.”

You tossed your phone onto the couch and stretched out your hand. “Come on.”

**

Rafael groaned as he pounded into you with punctuated thrusts. You grabbed the sheets desperately as pleasure coursed your body. Being reunited with Rafael was almost too much - no one ever fucked you as well as he did - and no one ever made you feel complete as he did. Rafael pushed your knee higher, changing the angle. His cock hit you at a new angle and you cried out.

“Oh fuck, fuck, yes, just like that!” Your back arched slightly. He dropped his mouth to yours, swallowing your moans as he slid his tongue into yours. Rafael quickened his pace and you snaked your hand between your bodies to rub your clit. 

“Gonna… fuck… gonna come…” Rafael groaned. 

“Come for me, give it to me.” You panted. “Need it. Need you.”

Rafael stiffened, groaning your name as he came, filling the condom you insisted he wear for the time being. You continued to rub with one hand as your orgasm approached, you used your other hand to grip his arm tightly. You threw your head back as you cried out Rafael’s name as your orgasm peaked and washed over you. 

Rafael pressed a kiss to the top of your forehead as your body grew slack. He removed himself and rolled his body off yours. He removed the condom, tying it in a knot before disposing it into the trash bin at the foot of your bed. Rafael rejoined you in the bed and you curled into his embrace.

You stroked his chest softly, running the tips of your fingers through his chest hair. “We have a lot to work on.”

Rafael grabbed your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. “I know, hermosa.”

You looked up at him. “For us to work - it’s going to take time. We have a lot to work on - a lot to unpack.”

“As long as it takes. I don’t want to lose you again.”

You propped yourself up and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Well, since we have so much time ahead of us now… why don’t we make up for lost time?” 

Rafael arched his brow and you squealed as he pulled you up on top of him.He kissed you deeply and rolled you onto your back once more. He began to press kisses along your body, shimmying down. 

He got to the apex of your thighs and spread your legs. You met his eyes and he winked before dropping his mouth to you again.

FIN.

***

Tags: @mgarner1227   @madpanda75  @tropes-and-tales @dreamlover31 @beardedmccoy @youreverycolor @neely1177 @witches-unruly-heart @mrsrafaelbarba @skittle479 @ottosuricato @sass-and-suspenders @mommakat32 @dreila03  @beccabarba @garturbo @lovebennycolonmiguelgalindo @imjustreallynosy @sweetsummertime99 @whyissvuruiningmylovelife @annabelleb49 @scarletsoldierrr @cesarofangirl78 @redlipstickandplaid @redlipstickandblacktea @zoeykaytesmom @differentshadesofgray @misssirenlove @esparza-army @bananas-pajamas @mishaissocoolike @thefanficfaerie @theenchantedgalleryofstories @catnip987 @choppedgalaxynerd @pieceofshittytitty @ktiz90 @evee87 @itsjustmyfantasyroom @detective-giggles @rampantmuses @jazzyjoi @stormtrooperofficerbrowneyes @rachelxwayne @prurientpuddlejumper @lv7867 @permanentlydizzy @bisexual-dreamer02 @madamsnape921 @averyhotchner​ @teamsladsandgents @qvid-pro-qvo @alwaysachorusgirl @amelia-song-pond @wanniiieeee  @tintinxtintin @law-nerd105 

[insufferablelust]

Pretty little thing, (II)

Warnings : this series will be filled with Adult content, upcoming smut, murder, psychotic behaviors, dark kinks, traumatic events, manipulation, gaslighting, and isolation, interrogations, Daddy issues, abusive parents, blood, Spencer Reid x Unsub!Reader.

This is a dark fic, there might be stuff that could trigger you so please read with caution and/or don’t read it if you are sensitive to the stuff in the warnings.

MASTERLIST.

——————

like i’m a flower,

that’ll rot at a speed of light,

like i’m a ripe peach,

that’ll bruise in the daylight.

——————

“Y/N Y/l/N put your hands on the air and hand us your weapon!”

Y/N’s brain thrummed against her skull, her lips quivered as she laughed loudly at the situation she was under, her hands up after she has tossed her gun and knife, turning around with knuckles all bloodied and face tear stained with angry red splotches— the sight truly psychotic.

“You’re making the biggest fucking mistake, Professor.” She chuckled, head tilting to the side at the gun cocking beside her head. Her eyes never leaving Spencer’s as Luke cuffed her scarred wrists behind her break and guided her outside of the house to the police car.

Spencer watched as she continued laughing from inside the car, her eyes never leaving his as his eyes stayed with hers. “She’s truly a narcissist huh?” He was blurred out of his thoughts by JJ’s voice beside him, His brain can’t seemed to let go of her voice chanting ‘mistake’ over and over inside his head.

“Spence?” JJ tapped his shoulder, jolting him from his mindless thoughts of a girl, the girl he arrested, the girl in the car, the girl who killed so many others, the girl who worked with cat, the girl— that looked innocent.

————

He stared at her through the window pane, he saw her bandaged knuckles, her head hung low and the wrist twisting around the cuffs. The more Spencer looked at her, the more he connected the dots, the more her remembered every foggy memories that surrounded her, every time cat mentioned her name before.

“Y/l/N isn’t dumb Spencie—“ Cat rolled her eyes, “She’s quite smart actually, when i’m dead she wouldn’t dare to betray me. do you know why?” She challenged, licking her lips in a cocky manner,

“Tell me.”

“Because i live inside her, every time she breathes it’s because i allow it— even after i’m dead, she’ll keep doing what she does best, killing our fathers.”

Our fathers,

Our fathers,

“Our fathers.” Spencer blurted out suddenly, alerting Emily who was about to stepped into the interrogation room. “What?”

“Our fathers, that’s what cat said when i visited her last to talk about Y/N.” He whispered the last part, still unable to connect all the dots. It’s like when it comes to Y/N, he freezes, he stopped breathing, his mind stopped thinking. Its like he had known her for so long— that she was someone special to him.

“Let me talk to her..” He pleaded, fingers gripping the door tightly— eyes begging Prentiss to just let him talk to her. “Spencer you’re—“

“Conflict of interest, yes but i— i know her better than anyone here okay, give me a chance. She trusted me more because she knows me.” Emily’s eyes switched between Spencer’s and Rossi’s, looking for the best decision. “You know the protocols, just get her to talk, if things get difficult in there i won’t hesitate to pull you out of this case.” She stated firmly giving the files over to Reid, which he thanked her for, before stepping into the room.

———

Y/N felt him before even seeing him, she felt the warmth of his presence before she even had the knowledge of touching him— his body heat. Yet, Y/N knew it was him, he’s here with her. She kept her head low, closing her eyes tightly as she felt the low rumble of his voice as he sat down on the opposite chair.

“Hello, Y/N.”

She smiled, the sound of her name— her real name rolling from his tongue brought her some peace and quiet. Stopping her raging mind from all the torture she endured. It was 5 seconds of heaven, she concluded.

“Y/N, I’m—“

She giggled before he even muttered a third word, she giggled loudly but her head kept hanging down, she could already paint his expression inside her mind— she had studied him in great details for years, she knew every twitch of his face without even looking at him, like it was imprinted deep in the core of her memory.

“Is there something funny?”

He used that tone, the tone that made her shivered whenever he uses them on class, when he had scolded her because she was late, when he corrected her because she ‘accidentally’ did all her homework wrong. The very same tone she adored, that made her nerves twitched and seared her core. So she shrugged, licking her lips as if he could see her.

“Y/N Y/l/N, born November 17th 1985, only daughter of Amethyst Ren who died giving birth to her, and William—“

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Her head snapped, looking at him with a sharp glare— a glare so sharp that it could cut through the glass. Spencer remained calm as he sees the way her fingers twitching together, and her skin on her wrist digging painfully against the cuffs.

“Be careful not to hurt yourself, as i was saying.. William Y/l/N who was a—“

“Fucking stop.” Her skin digs through the cuffs painfully as tears spilled out of her eyes— her tone was raging with anger.

Reid looked at her briefly before continuing with a straight face, trying so hard not to show any emotions, “A local businessman, apparently he raised Y/N—“

“You have a fucking death wish, Professor.” The blood dripped onto the interrogation table as the sharp cuffs nicked the skin, her legs bounced hard against the desk, a sign of agitation and pent up frustration.

“He raised Y/N dutifully and he—“

“He was an abusive fucking prick, who destroyed my life.” Y/N screamed loudly, her hand banging the table as Emily marched in to the room, trying to pull Spencer out, “Reid, out.” She said sternly but Spencer refused.

“He was a fucking coward, do you know what he did, professor? he broke me— damaged me into this this fucking monster” Y/N let out a sinister smile as she fought through the sobs, “My mother— my mother, he killed my mother. He killed her because do you know what men like him wants? what gets him off, professor? some young girl to torture,” She’s full on laughing now as she stopped the bounce on her knees and stilled completely,

“My mother was his precious girl, yet she’d grown too old so- so then he had me— and it was time for her to go.” She tilted her head to the side, “I was perfect for him, his personal punching bag..” Y/N closed her eyes briefly before opening them again and smiled sweetly at Spencer and Emily, “I never killed anyone, not once, i might be insane— might thought about killing, but there’s only one person i want to kill, and i haven’t gotten the chance yet.” She leaned in closer to Spencer as her waist bent over the table,

“I’m not Cat, Professor. I’m smarter than her, you know that. She thought she manipulated me, made me her personal clean up puppet. But, look at us now— she’s underground and i’m up here with her favorite man.” Y/N bit her lips, eyes pierced at Spencer’s “If you want to Arrest me, arrest me. But you know damn well, i’m just an innocent and beaten up daddy’s girl. My hands are clean.” She sat back down as her eyes flicked to Emily and smiles sweetly,

“I want a lawyer, please and thank you.”

————

“We’ve got enough evidence to arrest her, her fingerprints was all over Cat’s victims.” JJ voice rang through the room as the others kept on discussing about Y/N lawyering up,

“Yeah, but why is she lawyering up now? she knew about the evidence, she left them on purpose at the latest crime scene 2 years ago.” Rossi said, his eyes trailed over to Spencer who hasn’t said much after the interrogation room, eyes glued to her file and seemingly deep in thought.

“Right, it doesn’t make sense. She could’ve stayed hidden if she wanted to— she managed to do that all this time. Why expose herself to Spencer now?” Tara chimed in, head shaking at the puzzle thats in front of them, confusing each and every one of them. Whilst Spencer’s eyes blinked repeatedly as he remembered, the words that left Y/N’s lips,

“My hands are clean.”

“You know that, Professor.”

“Beaten up Daddy’s girl,”

“Daddy’s girl.”

“She never killed anyone.” The table went silent as he spoke up, his eyes darted to the picture of William on the board then back to his team,

“Spencer—“ JJ was about to cut him off before he murmured,

“The reason why she exposed herself now is because she found her ultimate target, the one she has been after all these years, she was right— she’s way too smart to fall into anyone’s game even Cat’s. I’ve seen her ability enough times to know how observant and smart she is combined with the fact that She has managed to stay hidden all these years when Cat was too unstable to see through my lies when i arrested her,

That’s why we never found any evidence except the fingerprints— we profiled that this splatter of blood..” He pointed to the picture on the board and took a deep sigh “was an act of someone cleaning up, all of the murder site said the same things about her fingerprints— clean up.” He finishes, whispering the last word.

Spencer looked up to see his teammates all shocked, especially JJ who has her palm on top of his shoulder trying to say something but clearly couldn’t, then his eyes flicked to Emily as she stood and walked over to him,

“It’s not impossible.” She stated, leaning into the table as she used her palm to support her body, “Emily—“ It was Alvez this time whom raised the doubt,

“No i mean think about it, The blood, the way she stayed hidden and her sudden appearance, her behaviors— we profiled her as the exact epitome of Cat Adams but what if that was only her cover up. If she was truly a narcissistic psychopath she wouldn’t have the ego to deny any of the murders— she would be proud of it. What if, all these time we weren’t looking for a killer, but the misunderstood puppeteer?” Emily grabbed a photo of her and placed it on the table,

“Well then who’s her actual target?” Penelope bit her lip nervously as Spencer placed a photo of,

“William Y/L/N, her father.” Next to her’s.

“Garcia—“

“On it!”

————

Taglist and Requests are open! Message me or simply send in your asks!

( @drreidshands , @annestine , @addie5264 , @maybankslut , @lolitstiana , @imjusthereformggcontent )

upcoming updates : TAAHM VII, Blurb Requests!

[ac3id]

Selfish [ii/iii]

Pairings: Yandere!Miruko ( Usagiyama Rumi ) x fem!reader

Warnings:  y/n's life goes📉,alcohol consumption, harassment, uses of aphrodisiacs, dom!Rumi consensual smut

[a/n:dm us if you want to be added or removed from our taglist]

Summary: You are satisfied with your life, as a successful lawyer, you’re rich and powerful. Your life never boring as you often visit foreign countries with your friends, of course until you meet Miruko the Rabbit Hero one day in the court. A conflict between your boss and her end in the court and pique her interest when you manage to win the case. Miruko is selfish, and she must have you, she’ll not stop until she has you. She may along the way ruin your life so the only person you have is her. Miruko really doesn't care, she’s selfish.

word count: 2.9k

part i, ii, iii

masterlist

The frantic ringing of your cell phone woke you up from your sleep.You frowned thinking it was your alarm clock waking you up for another tiring day. You brought the device to your face and squinted as the bright light illuminated the darkroom and stung your eyes. 

"What?" you said as you recognized the caller I.D, it displayed your boss's name and you groaned. Picking up the call you placed it to your ear and immediately regretted it. 

"L/N," he snarled into the phone and you almost flinched. Your mind started going about all the reasons for him to be calling you at this hour. 

Did he found out about me slacking? In the end, you couldn't find a reason. 

"Yes? Sir?" you ask, "Don't play innocent now! Why did you do it? Do you realize what could have happened if the Mayor had died? How much did they pay you?" he screamed into the phone and your face paled.

 "What do you mean? I-" "Oh! Don't start now!!" he cut you off, sweat was rolling from your forehead despite the chillness of the air conditioning. You felt sick. An urge to throw up your dinner propelled you. Your boss continued to explain how you had leaked confidential information about the Mayor's whereabouts for a secret meeting. Your firm was the only one who had this information, it was only given to a trusted few- including you. 

Your boss informed that a few villains had attacked the Mayor and when interrogated about how they knew about the meeting, they answered that a woman by 'Y/N L/N' had told them about it. This was, obviously, false. The night the villains reported about meeting with you- you were with Neo (more like Miruko) at the gala. It could not have been you. 

Confident, you blurt out your response. "It was not me! I was with Neo on Saturday night. The annual Pro-Hero meet. I was with him the entire time! I'm being set up!" there was a pause from his side and you hear a sigh. 

"That must be true, Y/N." He called you by your name, finally. "I trust you, you would never do this to us. There will an inspection. You'll be called anytime now. I called to warn you. I have known you for five years! There is no way it was you! Do you have any ideas about who could be setting you up?" 

His voice was softer as he spoke and a wave of relief hit you. "I don't know, sir. Could be anyone who does not like me, could also be someone from the firm!" you exclaimed, "You're correct. Listen, Y/N, you'll be fine. We will get you out of here, okay?" he continued and both of you talked about the potential suspects for about ten minutes and ended the call. 

Sleep came scarcely it felt as if you had only closed your eyes for ten minutes and the birds had started chirping welcoming a new day. You got up on your bed and palmed your temples the anxiety from the night started to build up again. You ran to the washroom as you hovered over the toilet seat and emptied your stomach vomiting. You felt sick. Even though you knew that you weren't at fault the nervousness of getting sued still built up bad.

You started cleaning up and heard your phone ring. You knew why they had called. 

"Hello? Y/N L/N?" a feminine voice greeted you, "Yes, that's me, good morning." you greeted despite how bitter your mouth felt. "Good morning to you too. Can you come down to the station ASAP? It's for a case." she asked. "It's for a case?" 

"I cannot disclose the details via call, we will tell you as soon as you arrive, good day." she hung up the call and you scoffed, you continued with your routine and made your way down to the station. 

They sat you down in an integration room, you had been here before but this time it was different. You were not with client this time.

"Hello, L/N," It was Lee David, the bastard hated you. All the time at trial, the suspect he brought back was proven not guilty due to your courtesy. Seeing you sitting down, minutes away from getting sued brought him great satisfaction. 

"Hello, Mr.Lee," you greeted him with a bitchy smile which he returned. "You look like shit." You continued signaling to his messy hair and sleep-deprived eyes. "What's with the new hair? Did you shed your skin, you snake?" he glared at you and you laughed. "That was a very bad one Mr.Lee," 

"Enough, let's get down to business." Another inspector came they asked you questions and you answered truthfully.

Maybe it was that luck was not on your hand that day because, in the end, you were charged with breach of contract and had to pay your entire life's worth to the Government. 

How did this happen? When the detectives called Neo to confirm your alibi, he confessed that you did attend the gala with him but the entire night he did not know your whereabouts. That was no lie, you were with Miruko. But you couldn't have disclosed that or what the two of you were doing together. So, you sat and watched as your whole life fell apart. 

Every day became harder after your fall. Your friends 'left', your firm fired you. You couldn't even afford your apartment anymore! You lived with a college friend who still cared about, drank away all your worries. You had reached the rock bottom. Nothing could have been worse than this. 

Oh boy, you were wrong. 

It was another one of those nights were you drank away your worries and down at a park thinking about better days. It was late, you did not notice the thugs who were surrounding you until you felt a hand on your shoulder. You quickly turned back to be greeted with an ugly face smiling down at you. 

"It's late miss, why don't you come with us? We will take care of you. It's quite dangerous for women like yourself to be alone now, right?" 

He turned to his friends behind him and started giggling, your blood grew cold as his grip tightened on your shoulder. 

"No, I am fine." You tried swatting his hand away but it wouldn't budge, "C'mon now, princess. Come with us! we'll show ya' a great time." 

"What's going on over there?" A familiar voice calls out and everyone whips their heads to the source. Miruko stands, glaring at the men and you feel the leader's grip fall from your shoulder. She was in her joggers, probably out on a run. 

They knew better than to mess with Miruko. 

"Hey, you there? Are you okay?" Miruko runs up to where you were sitting, you stand up as she approaches. A small gasp leaves her when she recognizes you. 

"Y/N," she starts, "How are you- I heard what happened and I can not help but blame my-" 

"Thanks for scaring those guys off." 

Maybe it was Miruko fault, maybe it was not. You did not care anymore. 

"Y/N," she called out sternly trying to look at your face but you turned away. There was a pause, silence, and then she placed two fingers under your chin and pulled your face to face her. She wore a soft expression which made you groan internally. You didn't need her pity. 

"Listen,-" "It's not your fault!" you exclaimed before she could start. 

"Please don't." Miruko sighed as she let go of your face, "Where are you going to stay tonight?" she asked. 

"At my friend's place," "How far is it from here?" 

"An hour." Miruko frowned, "Stay over at mine, you're in no shape to travel alone for an hour." she says pointing out to your red cheeks still intoxicated. She was right if you left now there was no guarantee you wouldn't run into weirdos from before. 

"Fine." You say as you follow Miruko.

Miruko's place wasn't far. She lived in a gated community very much like you did before your life went upside down. You followed her into the kitchen where she put down a glass of water for you.

"It's late, you should sleep. I'll be arranging the guest room. Just come upstairs after you've...drank the water.." It was an awkward sentence to say. 

You followed her instructions as you gulped the water slightly cringing at the taste. You walked up the penthouse and saw Miruko standing in front of the guest room scrolling through her phone. She turned to you as she saw you approach her, "I have kept some comfortable clothes you can sleep in," she said scanning your body you almost thought she was checking you out (she was) until you realized you were wearing jeans. "Yeah, um, thank you again. Miruko."

 "Rumi, call me Rumi, Y/N." 

"Right, Rumi."

You wished her goodnight and changed out of your clothes into the large shirt and shorts she had presented out for you. You got into the bed, switched off the lights, and drifted off to sleep. After what felt like minutes you were awoken again. 

"Hot," you whispered. You felt hot all over your body, you discarded yourself of the large shirt and shorts. Left in a spaghetti top and your panties you kicked your blanket and tried to go back to sleep but your mind felt hazy. 

You felt your clit throb with need, you couldn't take it anymore.

You open the door to Miruko's bedroom. You feel yourself get wetter when you find sleeping on her bed, glowing under the moonlight. 

You climb on her bed and make your way to straddle her left thigh

You tried to relax your breathing as you find yourself shamelessly grinding on her thigh, trying desperately to get yourself off and make the pain go away. This was embarrassing

you leaned down to softly kiss her neck, you let your hand go under her robe, tracing her abs, your breath hot against her neck. You feel her stir under you she slowly opens her eyes. Her red eyes ran over your body taking in your desperate figure. You panties wet, clinging to your cunt and nipples hard under the thin tank top you wore. You realize she had woken up and stopped grinding against her, embarrassed you look away from her bringing your trembling fingers from her body, 

"I am sorry, I don't know wh-" 

"Continue." 

"What?" you were confused, your brows knit together as you look back at Miruko. Her face is stern, she is looking up at you with a glare, her gaze makes your clit throb and you try your best to not act on instinct. 

"I said." she pauses and pushes her leg harder between your legs, applying pressure on your clit and you let out a soft moan.

 "Continue, fuck yourself. Give me a show."

her voice was deeper, it sent shivers down your spine. Your face heated up as you started grinding yourself against her thigh again small whimpers escaping.

Under you, Miruko smirked, the aphrodisiac she had given you had worked. 

She lets out the quietest moan as she watched you fuck yourself on her thigh. Her gaze so intense you felt the tips of your ears burning.

You brush your lips against hers, Miroku kisses you passionately, gently, softly, wanting to be as tender with you as possible. Your lips molding perfectly together. You bite her bottom lip softly, trailing kisses down her neck, tugging on the ends of her hair slightly to make her head go back, allowing you more access.

"So impatient today, huh?" she purred, her hand resting on your hip, urging you to go on. You panted in response, clutching her leg between your thighs

A soft whimper escapes from you making her grip tighten on your hip, definitely leaving bruises, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. The flimsy material of your panties allows you to feel the defined muscles of her thigh as your clit grounds into it.

You pull away from her neck to grind down harder. she can feel your arousal seeping to her thigh.

You began leaving kisses down the valley of her toned breasts, slowly lapping your tongue and sucking on the skin around her nipples. You attach your lips to her right nipple, rolling your tongue on the bud and sucking harshly as you continued to grind yourself against her. You shivered at the stimulation your clit received from the friction of her muscles, feeling your arousal dampening the cotton of your panties, her head went back a moan escaping her lips.

You whimpered, the noise fueling you on moving your hips faster. Miruko looked up at you in awe, there was something so needy about you as you rode her thigh, your pleas, and whines, making her clit throb with arousal.

You place your arms over her shoulders and begins to rock you back and forth on her thigh, gently encouraging you with soft strokes to your skin.

You close your eyes, head rolling back as your hips stutter, the wet soft slapping of your skin against hers bringing you much closer to your climax.

Miruko piercing eyes never left your body. Her grip on your waist getting tighter, "Go harder, sugar. I wanna see you cum." You nodded and quickened your pace.

Your grip tightens on her shoulders as you prepared yourself for the intense wave of pleasure.

Within seconds, an orgasm washed over you like a wave. You continued to ride it out grinding yourself on her thigh. Your grinding slowing down and eventually coming to a stop. Both of you were panting. You looked down to see the mess you made on her thigh.

''Mommy, p-please take care of me'' you sobbed, tears pricking around the corner your eyes. The way you were addressing turned her on. You were so desperate. 

''It hurts'' your voice cracked which broke Miruko's heart she underestimated the dose of the drugs she had given you.

"Is my pretty girl horny?" you sobbed in response making her move your panties to the side, letting her finger move up your folds collecting your arousal. She groaned softly. "Fuck I've barely touched you, sugar and you're already soaked."

"I-I want m-more." it was nothing more than a mere whisper with a sob.

She discards your drenched panties and strips off her robe and gently lays you onto your back, lining your cunt up to hers. She looks up at you, a smile playing around her lips. The look on her face made you drool further for her, your thighs rubbing together in an attempt to soothe your intense heat

You lie pliantly beneath her, your hair splayed beneath her, making you look angelic.

"you ready, sugar?" she asked, gazing at you as she straddled your waist. you nodded jolts of pleasure running up your spine in anticipation.

She grinds her pussy down onto yours, she chokes out a moan, her eyes rolling back as your juices intermingle.

Your clits rubbed against each other. You moaning softly underneath her drove her wild. It fueled her desire, causing her to grip your hips and grind into you harder, panting wildly pressing you further into her mattress. Every thrust against your sensitive cunt an electric charge shoots through your body.

Your moans are loud and obscene as your wet pussy rubs over hers. "Oh, yeah, mommy! Harder! Right there, fuck!" you screamed, throwing you head back and moaning.

"Shit," she whispered and growled, "Like that, sugar?" 

"Ah, fuck, right there," you moan, gripping the sheets beneath you. Miroku pants, reveling in the sight beneath her; your spread legs in between hers, your hardened nipples and back arching at the slightest movements. 

"My pretty girl. You look so cute like this," she grinds her cunt against yours faster, her tits bounce with every thrust. The pitch of her moans growing higher. Both of your moans fill the room. You tremble beneath her as she fastens her pace again

You pull her in close, your lips claiming hers in a hot kiss. You explored every part of Miruko's mouth, feeling her soft lips against yours. you bit her bottom lip as the erotic and lewd noises of your cunts rubbing against each other fill your ears.

"Ahhh -fuck-mommy," you scream in between kisses. she pulls away to look at you moaning and whining. she moved a few strands of loose hair, biting her lip and putting her hands on either side of your head to help her increase her pace.

You both groan out, your hands clasping her arm as she grinds forward quicker and harder. 

"Dirty girl... feels so fucking good," she breathes out, increasing her pace to a medium as she throws her head back in ecstasy.

"shit... I'm close mommy, so close," you whimper, your lips parted as her pace quickens. her head is slightly thrown back, moaning into oblivion as her orgasm comes closer. "God, cum for me, sugar," she groans, her grip on your leg getting tighter.

Your back arches one last time before your orgasm rolls like powerful waves through your body, making you tremble beneath Miruko's frame. 

"You did so well for me, my precious girl. Always so good for me."

her hands find your hips and her brows scrunch together and her lips opening with soft pants. Riding her orgasm as you tremble with the aftershocks of yours.

Honestly, she just wanted you to cum again. You looked so hot while doing so, she wanted to see you doing it — she wanted to see your pretty face in pleasure, and your eyes rolled back. she wanted to hear you moan while watching you do it, too.

"Thank you," you murmur, your lips just barely brushing against hers. you sigh heavily, chest heaving as she kisses you back.

"It’s all right." 

You slump down next to Miruko and drift off, Miruko watches you sleep as she smiles to herself. Her plan had worked. 

[megaguardain]

Fake AH Crew: The Bat-Heist Chapter 2

Note: This has been edited to remove James Ryan “The Asshole Guy” Haywood from the story. Please enjoy nonetheless.

Full Story: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22719961/chapters/54293320

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/megaguardian

Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/megaguardain

Chapter 2: Take a Night...

“Michael Vincent Jones,” the detective said as he tossed a hefty file on the metal table in front of a handcuffed Charlie, “aka, Mogar. Wanted for assault, gunrunning, grand larceny, grand theft auto-,”

“Love that game,” Michael interrupted.

“-murder, manslaughter, possession of a whole ton of illegal firearms and a much, much longer list of things I don’t want to list off because I have better things to do with my time. All of this in the Lone Star State,” the detective said. He leaned close to Michael and growled, “What are you doing in Gotham?”

“Sightseeing,” Michael snarled back at him.

“Right,” the detective agreed sarcastically, “You here with the Fake AH Crew?”

“I’m on vacation,”

“You rob banks while on vacation?” the other detective in the interrogation room asked.

“You have your hobbies…” Michael shrugged.

“You’re gonna have to give us something other than this vacation bullshit.” the first detective said rather threateningly.

“Don’t I get a phone call before you try to beat me?” Michael asked.

The detective grabbed Michael by the collar and lifted him out of the chair, “Listen to me scumbag,” the detective growled, “You’re gonna tell us why you’re really here and where your crew is or we’re gonna give you to-”

“Detective,” a woman’s voice said with authoritative tone. Everyone looked at the entrance to the interrogation room to see a woman with greying black hair wearing a trench coat with a gun and badge strapped to her belt.

“Uhhhh….Commissh?” the detective holding Michael asked, not putting the criminal down. The Commissioner looked at the detectives, then at Michael, then back at the detectives.

“He’s on his way,” she said before leaving.

“Who’s on his way? My lawyer?” Michael asked as the detective put him back in the chair, “Is it my dad?” he called as the detectives let the room and closed the door. Michael sat in silence or a moment before saying “Maybe it’s my mom,”

“Okay, you a get a million dollars but every piece of furniture you interact with is that breakaway stunt furniture from movies,” a British man with a large nose said. He wore a blue dress shirt and pants, sunglasses were holstered to a pocket on his chest. He sat in the passenger seat of a car parked across the street from a garage entrance. Above the garage door it said GCPD Parking.

“Every piece of furniture?” the man in the driver’s seat asked. He wore a white dress shirt with a dark vest, tie and pants.

“Every piece,” the British man explained.

“So, what if I’m really careful getting into bed? Will it collapse after I go to sleep?”

“No, it’ll collapse,”

“Damn...I don’t think I can do it, Gavin,” the man in the driver’s seat said, “I couldn’t go hang out with anyone without breaking their furniture!”

“You’re usually so careful Trevor. You might not break anything,” Gavin explained.

“I’d be way too stressed out that the slightest touch would collapse the table I’m setting a drink down on,” Trevor explained.

“It’d be like the most stressful game of Jenga,” Gavin joked.

“Exactly!” Trevor laughed.

The laughter abruptly stopped when they felt the car start vibrating.

“Why is the car-?” Trevor asked before they heard something roar. 

In the street in front of them, they saw a large vehicle swing in front of them and screech to a halt, facing the parking garage across the street. From what they could see of the vehicle, the rear had larger tires than the car Trever and Gavin sat in, and had a shell-like cover between the sets of the wheels. Below the cover was a large burner exhaust they could see heat emanating out of it.

“Hole….ly...shit,” Trevor gasped.

“That’s the Batmobile?” Gavin asked, leaning over the dashboard, “It looks like a tank had a baby with a Porsche or a Lambo,”

“Why do you think he’s just parked there?” Trevor asked after a moment of the Batmobile not moving, Gavin just shrugged.

Shortly after, the Batmobile began moving forward, rolling down the ramp toward the parking garage. As the car approached the large metal garage door it began to open, rattling as it the rows of links ascended and rolled back into the ceiling.

“Go, go, go, go!” Trevor whispered as he grabbed a satchel from the back seat and got out of the car with Gavin. The two moved to the edge of the ramp as the Batmobile entered the garage, as the Batmobile passed the garage door it bagan to close. They proceeded down the ramp as the Batmobile turned right and ventured down another ramp. The gate was about half way closed before they got close.

“Gavin!” Trevor hissed.

“On it,” he said as he outstretched his arm. His hand began to glow with a pale green aura and the garage door suddenly slowed to an almost standstill and gained the same pale green aura as Gavin. Trevor ducked under the door, followed by Gavin, keeping his hand trained on the door as he ducked under. Once inside, Gavin’s hand stopped glowing as he put it down and the door resumed closing at it’s normal speed.

The two followed the ramp down to their right, descending down deeper into the GCPD Parking Lot. They stuck to the walls of the garage and duck behind the police cruisers parked inside, even though they didn’t see anyone else. They travelled down three floors before reaching the bottom of the garage. It was a roundabout looking base, it was completely circular with a small set of stairs leading up to a set of doors with a sign that had an elevator symbol above them. The Batmobile was parked parallel to the doors, it’s left side facing Trevor and Gavin as they hid behind a police cruiser and looked around.

“See anyone?” Gavin asked.

“No, let’s go,” Trevor said.

They cautiously approached the Batmobile, Trevor pulled a collapsed drone out the stachel. The two looked over the car with confused expressions.

“Where do I even put this?” Trevor asked.

Gavin kneeled on the ground and looked under the car, “Here?” he suggested, pointing under the car’s armor and chassis. Trevor kneeled down and reached under the car. He made faces as he moved his arm around until he felt the drone magnetically stick to something.

“Now, let’s hope that doesn’t fall off,” Trevor said before he noticed Gavin giggling, “What?”

“What was with the faces?” he asked, still laughing.

“Listen, a man’s face does weird things when he’s focused on sticking something in someone’s undercarriage,” Trevor explained.

“Whatever, let’s leg it,” Gavin laughed, standing.

Batman was brooding as the elevator played cheerful music. Cassandra didn’t know why they needed to play the music in an elevator that only police took, but she didn’t really care. The elevator dinged and the doors opened and Batman was greeted by the sight of Commissioner Wayne.

“You changed the garage codes,” Batman noted, the voice distorter still active.

“We had a Joker attack this week, what did you think I was going do?” the Commissioner retorted. She turned and led Batman to the interrogation rooms, taking him inside one of the adjacent rooms. Inside was a one-way mirror window that let them observe the interrogation room next door. The bank robber Batman caught hours earlier sat handcuffed. He looked bored out of his mind.

“Name’s Michael Jones. Jersey native, moved to Tyler, Texas when he decided to become a career criminal,” the Commissioner explained, “Runs with a crew called the Fake Achievement Hunter Crew, mostly they commit robberies and other kinds of theft,”

“Where’s his crew?” Batman asked, watching Michael pick his nose.

“We don’t know, he won’t talk,” she said.

“He will to me,” Batman stated.

“Cass,” the Commissioner said, “these guys are crazy,”

“We’ve dealt with crazy,”

“No, I’m not talking about Joker and his cult, or Pyg or even Ivy. These guys don’t steal stuff to make a profit or plan to take over the world,” the Commissioner explained, “They do it for the bragging right,”

“Bragging rights? Really?”

“Yeah. They once stole a fighter jet from a military base just because someone online challenged them to do it,” she explained.

“I’ll stop them Helena.” Batman said matter of factly. Helena Wayne stared at Batman for a moment, “What?” he asked when he noticed.

“It’s kinda scary how similar you are to Dad sometimes,” Helena explained.

“I try to live up to his example,” Cassandra explained, not turning off her voice distorter.

“I know,” Helena said, “I’ll kill the lights so you can do your thing,”

Commissioner Wayne turned and flicked a switch on a nearby console and the lights in the interrogation room turned off.

“Hey! Who turned off the lights?” Michael called out. Helena heard a thump, “Fuck!” Michael shouted and she turned the lights back on. Inside the interrogation room, Batman had dented the table with Michael’s head and held it there.

“I miss doing that,” Helena said.

“Where’s your crew?” Batman demanded.

“Up your ass,” Michael retorted.

Batman slammed Michael’s head into the table again, “Tell me,”

“I did. You’re gonna need a proctologist,” Michael chuckled.

Helena began to hear a commotion outside in the bullpen, “What the hell is going on now?” she sighed. She left the room and saw her officers and detectives arguing with a man.

The man was about five and a half feet tall and wore a faded blue dress shirt with a police badge on a metal chain around his neck. He had dark brown hair and a full beard.

“And who are you?” Commissioner Wayne asked.

“I’m Detective Tapp,” the shorter one stated in what sounded like a Boston accent.

This is going to be a long night, Helena thought to herself.

“Okay, detective,” Helena sighed, using the term ‘detective’ loosely, “What are you doing here?”

“Got word you arrested one of the Fake AH boys,” Detective Tapp explained, “I’ve been followin’ them from Texas. They’ve been robbin’ all the way up here,”

“Well, they robbed a branch of Gotham Trust. Made off with ten thousand dollars,” the commissioner explained, motioning for the detective to follow her. She pulled out her phone and texted someone before stopping away from her officers, “Why are you following them?”

“They’re my beat. Been tryin’ to get something to pin’em for years,” Tapp explained.

“They don’t seem that good at hiding who they are or who did the crime,”

“True. But someone keeps posting their bail,”

“Who?” the commissioner asked. There was a moment of awkward silence as the detective was suddenly interested in his shoes.

“We...don’t know,” Detective Tapp admitted.

“Well, we’ll know in a few minutes,” Commissioner Wayne said, “Batman will get Jones to spill their beans shortly,”

“Jones? Michael or Lindsay?” Tapp asked.

“Michael Jones? Why does it matter?”

“Batman can’t crack Jones,” Tapp said, “Man’s like ten bears in a human body. He’s tough,”

“We’ve had a lot of people like that here, Tapp,” the commissioner said.

“You read his file?” Tapp asked.

“Yeah, man’s cuckoo for Coco-Puffs. I believe in Batman getting info out of him,” 

“Is he beatin’ Jones?” Tapp asked. There was an awkward silence between the two of them, “I’ll take that as a yes,”

“Listen, Jones is the Fake AH Crew’s go-to fixer. Beating him isn’t gonna work,” Detective Roger Davis explained.

“Let me guess, you have a plan?”

“Eat shit you pointy-ea-,” Michael said before being punched. He was face up on the heavily dented metal table, he was bleeding a little bit out of his nose.

“Tell where your crew is before I start breaking bones,” Batman growled.

Someone about Michael was off to Batman. On the road, his body language told him he wanted to escape. He did everything he could to prevent himself from being captured. His body told Cass everything; he’s a fighter, he’s confrontational and really enjoys alcohol, but now he wants to be here. Why?

“Alright!” a male voice behind Batman called. He turned and saw a men with the Commissioner. He presented himself as a detective like the commissioner, but he was something else too, Cass could tell. 

“Oh goddammit. Not this guy,” Michael groaned in annoyance after seeing who was in the doorway.

“Batman. A word?” the commissioner said. Batman let Michael go and followed the commissioner out of the interrogation room, leaving the man alone with Michael.

“What’s going on? Batman asked.

“He’s a detective from Tyler, Texas. Been going after the Fake AH Crew for years,” the commissioner explained.

“He’s not very good at it,” Batman said.

“No, but I had Tim verify his identity and it check out,” Commissioner Wayne explained, “He’s going to offer Michael a deal,”

“A deal?”

“Yeah. In exchange for where his crew is-,” the commissioner ware interrupted by intense shouting and crashing sounds from the interrogation room. Helena drew her gun as she and Batman approached the door to the room. They got within a few feet of it before it was kicked off its hinges by Michael.

“Freeze!” the commissioner ordered, aiming her weapon at Michael.

Michael ignored her as Batman charged at him, throwing batarangs ahead of him. Michael dodged the batarangs, Batman punched him in the face as he dodged. Michael didn’t budge.

Michael smiled as he jabbed something into Batman’s abdomen. Cass felt prongs pierce her suit and then an intense, hot prickling sensation spike across her body from the prongs. Michael dug the taser in deeper before punching her across the room.

Batman crashed into several desks, he felt his head go through a computer monitor as he slid across the desk tops. He slammed into the wall on the other side of the room. Everything hurt.

As Batman staggered up from the floor, there was a loud CRASH and the sound of a wall breaking. He looked up to see a large hole where a window used to be. Running over to the hole, he looked out onto the street, Michael was no where to be seen.

“What the hell happened in there?!” Commissioner Wayne demanded as Detectives Tapp limped out of the interrogation room.

“Why’re you yellin’ at me for? You didn’t properly restrain him!” Tapp groaned.

“He was cuffed! He had no weapons or tools!”

“He’s part Amazon! You think some steel handcuffs are gonna stop him?” Tapp yelled.

“And you didn’t think to share that information?!”

“It’s in his file!” Tapp exclaimed.

“That does not matter!” Batman interjected, sounding almost like a demon with his voice distorter, “He got out. We need to search for him and his crew,” he said, he turned toward the commissioner, “I will head back to the Cave and see what I can dig up. You,” he turned toward Detective Tapp, “tell her everything you know about the Fake AH Crew,” he said before heading toward the elevator.

Michael ran down a nearby alley and stopped.

“Where the fuck did they park?” he asked no one. Michael ran down the street around the GCPD building, keep his head down and hiding in the shadows. He eventually made it to an alley that faced the garage door of the precinct. He looked down the alley and found a car running in the alley.

“Hey-o!” Michael said, getting in the backseat of the car.

“Michael boi!” Gavin said.

“How’d it go on your end?” Trevor asked.

“Great. Got my ass beat by Batman,” Michael said as Gavin drove the car out of the alley and away from the GCPD building, “What about you guys?”

“We got the drone on his car, I was surprised he doesn’t have a sensor or something to detect that kind of thing?” Trevor said.

“Dude’s pretty confident,” Michael said, “Can we stop at like a Big Belly Burger before heading back to the warehouse?” 

[lovinlikeloki]

The Lone Wolf

Masterlist // 03

Warnings: Swearing, Anxiety Attack

Word Count: 4.4k

I struggle with the growing sharp pain in my chest, gasping for air that doesn't seem to exist. The pain feeling like shards of glass are trying to pierce their way through my skin and out of my chest as slowly as possible. My heart pounds as if it's trying to escape my ribcage. And me? What am I doing? Nothing. I'm not doing anything. Because there's nothing I can do.

I just lay on my back on the ground of that airport runway, my mask pulled off my face and lying beside me, clutching my chest like I'm having a heart attack and hope and pray that no one questions me. But I'm Fianna MacBhfloscaidh. And my Fianna Luck™ would never allow that.

"Hey, uh, hey wolf girl? You okay?" it's the Spider hero, he's crawled over to me.

"What's it to you?" I snark through my desperate attempts to breathe, propping myself up to sit.

"Look I don't know if you're injured or something, but I just wanna help," he reassures me, sitting up.

"I'm," I gasp, "I'm having a goddamn anxiety attack. It feels like I'm bloody dying."

"Okay, uh, okay, I'll help you through this. Just, um, just try to, try to focus on your breathing. Yeah, breathe with me, okay?"

"Just focus on breathing," I mock him, "What the fuck do you think I'm trying to do?"

"At least I know you haven't lost your snark. Now come on, breathe with me, in for five, four, three, two, one and hold for seven, six, five, four, three, two, one and now out for eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. Okay, come on, you can do it," he grabs the hand that's not clinging to my chest to try and ground me, "You got this, come on, in for five... hold for seven... and out for eight."

We go through this mantra several times before the pain slowly disappears and my breathing is back to normal.

"You good now?" he asks, cocking his head to the side.

"I'm fine," I say sharply, yanking my hand from his grasp. He flinches slightly and I soften, "Why... why did you help me?"

"Because that's what I do. I help people, or at least I try to. And you're only here to help your family, which I'm assuming is Wanda?"

"Yeah, it's... Wanda's my connection to the team. I owe her a debt that, no matter how many favors I do for her, no matter how many car park fist fights I help her in, the debt will never be paid off."

"...So it's like a college debt?"

I laugh at that, like an actual real laugh, it's been a while since I had one of those, "Yeah, like a college debt. But instead of giving me a degree that'll probably be useless because getting a job is impossible she gave me... a chance to live a normal life again. Well, as normal as you can be when you're like me."

"Can I ask why you helped me?" he questions, "Like with the boarding tunnel, and then I think you caught me when I was falling too."

"While I may be here for Wanda I could tell you were a kid, and I do have a moral compass. It might be a roulette wheel, but it exists, and ev'ry now and then the arrow points north. Especially for kids."

"That's good to know... I think. You know, we're gonna have to bring you all in. Captain America and the dude with the metal arm left, but you guys are technically criminals now."

"I knew what I was getting into since the beginning. Besides, it's nice to be wanted."

He's wearing a mask, but I can practically feel the smile on his face, "You're Gen z, right? You gotta be with that sense of humor."

"Maybe I am, what's it to you kid?"

"Why are you calling me kid? Aren't we like around the same age?"

"Maybe, maybe not."

"Well, I, uh, I gotta go. But I'll see you around?" he says, standing up and getting ready to swing away.

"As soon I get through the prison break," I smile, standing up as well and shaking his hand.

"See ya, Wolf girl," he says, swinging away.

"See ya, Spider-child," I call after him before someone walks towards me, handcuffs in his hands.

"You're gonna have to come with me, kid," he says. I look around, I see Wanda and Clint already cuffed and Sam being told the same as me, Scott is getting pulled into a vehicle.

I bend down to grab my mask, putting it on over my mouth and nose and turn, holding my hands up to the agent, "Just do it already."

"You are under arrest for violating the Sokovia Accords, you have the right to remain silent, you have no right to a lawyer and will not stand trial. You are being transferred to the Raft prison immediately."

You must go directly to jail. Do not pass GO. Do not collect 200 monopoly monies. Whatever dude, I get it, I'm a criminal, I go to the special superhero jail, you can spare me the monologue.

° ∆ -------- ••• ------- ∆ ° ∆ -------- ••• ------- ∆ °

I am thrown from the vehicle I was transported in. I'm now dressed in a dark blue jumpsuit and have a shock collar attached to my neck. One almost identical to Wanda's. I can't use my powers. It doesn't disable them, but it sends a very strong electric shock that hurts like a bitch. Trust me, I tried.

After that I'm thrown into a cell. I have a bed in the cell and that's it. I feel like shit. I was supposed to help Wanda. And here we both are, in a prison, in the middle of the ocean. This was supposed to be different than last time we saw each other. This time was supposed to be hugs and smiles and freedom. Not this. Not cells and cages. Not again.

I'm lying on the ground face down trying not to get seasick. Unlike last time I was in the situation I have zero escape plans. No ideas, no thoughts, no plans, no him. Nothing. Everything's different this time. There's too many variables, more of everything. There's more guards, more escapees, more in the middle of buttfuck nowhere.

This place is a hellhole. In Hydra we were at least volunteers, while we couldn't leave we had some level of freedom, here I'm an actual prisoner. We're all prisoners. I guess we almost have it coming, since we're criminals and all, but that is no excuse for how they're treating us.

Clint fought the aliens in New York, and the robots in Sokovia, and here he is in a cell. Sam hijacked one of the helicarriers in DC and saved millions of lives, and here he is in a cell. Wanda tore the robots in Sokovia to pieces, and here she is, in a shock collar, in a straitjacket, in a cell. Scott... I don't know much about Scott, but I'm sure that he's done good things, and here he is in a cell.

Me on the other hand? I almost deserve this. I've done nothing for humanity. I signed up to be experimented on by Nazis. I beat the crap out of jerks for a day job, that might sound good but it's not. I don't do that out of the goodness of my heart, I do it for the money, to pay rent.

We're in these cells for about eight hours by the time the infamous Tony Stark arrives for a visit. He walks in, circling around to see the place before going by our cells individually. He doesn't give Wanda a glance, presumably because of how broken inside she looks.

"The futurist, gentlemen!" Clint claps sarcastically, "the futurist is here! He sees all! He knows what's best for you, whether you like it or not."

This prompts Stark to walk over to Barton's cell.

"Give me a break, Barton," he says. "I had no idea they'd put you here. Come on."

Clint spits, "Yeah, well, you know they'd put us somewhere, Tony."

"Yeah, but not some super-max floating ocean pokey. This place is for maniacs. This place is for..."

"Criminals?" Clint finishes for him, standing up, "Criminals, Tony. Think that's the word you're looking for. Right? That didn't used to mean me. Or Sam, or Wanda. But here we are."

"Because you broke the law."

"Yeah."

"I didn't make you."

"La la la..."

"-You read it; you broke it. You're all grown up; you got a wife and kids."

"-la la la la la."

"I don't understand why you didn't think of them before you chose the wrong side?"

Stark begins to move along to the next cell, but not before Clint gets the last word, "You gotta watch you back with this guy," he slams his hands on the bars, "There's a chance he's gonna break it."

He walks by Scott's cell and Scott is there at the bars, almost waiting for him. "Hank Pym always said you can never trust a Stark."

"Who are you?" Stark questions walking on to my cell.

"Come on, man."

Stark stops in front of my cell, I'm no longer lying but sitting, my back against the back wall and staring at him.

"You're quiet. Don't you wanna throw in your two cents like the others?" he quirks an eyebrow.

I look him in the eyes, speaking slowly and angrily, "Tá a fhois agam a lán focail in a lán teanga, ach chan go leor le chuir síos ar fuath s'agam duit."

(I know many words in many languages, but not enough to describe my hatred for you.)

"I- I don't speak that," he says and I roll my eyes, "But your tone was angry so I think I get the gist."

"Not even a wee bit," I spit at him.

He gives me one last look before walking to his final destination, Sam's cell.

"How's Rhodes?" Sam asks, his back facing Stark. I found out what happened when we were being transported, I know how bad Sam feels about Rhodes getting hurt.

"We're flying him to Columbia Medical tomorrow. So... fingers crossed," Stark says almost coldly before switching up his tone. "What do you need? They feed you yet?"

Sam turns around, baffled by Stark's change, "You're the good cop, now?"

Stark shakes his head, "I'm just the guy who needs to know where Steve went."

Don't we fucking all. Otherwise we might be with him rather than stuck in this shithole.

"Well, you better go get a bad cop... because you're gonna have to go Mark Fuhrman on my ass to get information out of me."

Stark then does something on his smartwatch on steroids, "Well, I just knocked the A out of their AV. We got about 30 seconds before they realize it's not their equipment."

"What do you want? A gold star?" I quip, done with his shit.

He rolls his eyes and goes to work on his smartwatch again, "Just look," he brings up a small projection, "Because that... is the fellow who was supposed to interrogate Barnes. Clearly, I made a mistake. Sam, I was wrong."

"That's a first," Sam admits.

"Cap is definitely off the reservation but he's about to need all the help he can get. We don't know each other very well. You don't have to..."

"Hey, it's all right," Sam sighs, "Look, I'll tell you, but you have to go alone and as a friend."

"Easy."

"He's going to Siberia, there's a Hydra base there with about six other soldiers, just like Barnes."

Sam then spews some coordinates that don't mean anything to me and they're done. When walking past our cells again Stark looks at me and his eyes soften slightly.

"How'd you even end up in this mess kid?"

"My sister needed me; I had her back. Besides, a change of scenery is always nice," I reply dryly.

"This is a prison cell," he says cautiously.

"It's sarcasm, ye twat."

He nods at that and leaves the room. This whole thing is a mess. He claims to be going to Cap as a friend, but where does that leave us, floating in the ocean.

° ∆ -------- ••• ------- ∆ ° ∆ -------- ••• ------- ∆ °

It's been a few hours since the man with the money left. We just have to entertain ourselves I guess. I'm lying on my bed, humming to myself. Music has always been a big thing for me, always. It's gotten me through a lot, Hydra, leaving home, losing him, every hardship I've had to get through I've had music.

I've begun writing songs in the last year, ever since I lost- ever since he died, I've been using it as an outlet. I've wrote a few songs, but mostly I just cover songs, letting go of all my feelings as I sing my lungs out and strum my guitar or play my keyboard.

I'm humming a soft lullaby to myself, the only one I can think of, Báidín Feilimí or Feilimí's little boat in English I guess. It's something I learned as a wane (kid) and while a load of the other songs have been forgotten this is one of them that's stuck. It takes me back to before... all of this; before I even had powers. This song brings me back to being that small wane in P3 having to learn a song for school.

I hum the simple tune of my childhood when the alarms begin ringing. The noise hurts my ears and I'm covering them with my hands, hating my enhanced senses. That's when I hear punches landing and blows being traded.

Then, out of the shadows like the dramatic ass he is, Captain Steve Rogers emerges. He's not alone either, he's got T'Challa, the Black Panther, and Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow. They're here to save us.

Natasha opens my cell and walk towards me slowly, showing me the tool in her hand, she unlocks the shock collar and I nearly cry in relief. She takes my hand and helps me up.

"Come on, you're gonna be okay, we gotta go," she says.

"Thank you," I gasp, squeezing her hand. She returns the gesture before giving me small, short-lived smile.

She helps Wanda with her collar and the rest of us are out of out cells. We follow the trio saviours and they take us to the platform where there's a quinjet, we pile in and it takes off.

° ∆ -------- ••• ------- ∆ ° ∆ -------- ••• ------- ∆ °

When we land in Wakanda we were told that we could get some rest before we make decisions, decide where to go and who with. Wanda and I decide to share a room. We've been separated for so long, alone for so long that we deserve to be together for the little time we have together. Instead of taking two beds like was offered, we share a double bed, needing each other close for comfort and reassurance.

When we awoke we stayed in our room a little longer, wanting to talk before being ripped apart yet another time. We haven't spoken about it but I know we're going to be separated, of course we are. That's just how my life goes, I get something good and then it gets torn away from me. Always has, always will.

"A lot has happened since I last saw you, over a year ago. I'm in a better place, well kind of. I've got better friends. Like Orlaith, and Eoghan. Eoghan especially has done a lot for me," I tell her.

"What do you mean? What's he done for you?" Wanda asks.

"Well, when I got back home people were happy. I got to see Tommy again which was amazing. But... one day I was picking him up from school and my powers, they spazzed out. I shifted... in front of his entire class and their parents."

"What happened?"

"Sheá and Erin McConnell couldn't have such a freak connected to them, especially as a daughter, so... I was kicked out. I spent a few nights at Orlaith's before I had to stay in the streets, it was my... third night, I think, when I was approached by a man named Liam. He had heard about what happened at the school and he told me he knew somewhere I could stay."

"And that led you to Eoghan?"

"Yeah, he owns the place I've been staying," I smile before mockingly announcing the bar, "St. Marie's. It's a pub and inn, for mercenaries mostly. I had to pay rent somehow, so I became a mercenary too. I don't do anything too bad, don't hurt wanes, if they're present I make sure they don't see or hear things."

"Well, while I'm glad you have housing I wish you didn't have to have such a violent job. There were no other jobs you could've done?" Wanda asks, but she knows she's grasping at straws.

"Nothing else would pay enough for rent and other needs. You can't win them all, or any at all in my case, I guess. Anyway, what's new with you?"

"As you might have guessed, when we tried to escape I, along with P, was captured again. We learned to control our powers, I don't hear all the voices anymore and things don't go haywire when my emotions are high."

"That's good. Really, I'm proud of you Wands."

"Yeah... I've also got a better hold on the energy stuff and the telekinesis. They also taught me how to do the mental manipulation a lot better... now I can do what the Brauns was supposed to do."

"Aw, aye, the other twins. Did they... are they really gone?" I remember the Brauns. They were like masters of causing mental chaos, they could drive you insane if they wanted. Then all of a sudden they were dead, it never added up to me.

"Fianna, they were confirmed dead a month before you left."

"I know. It's just- I know we weren't close, but they seemed pretty powerful, it's hard to believe they're gone."

"I understand, besides, the boy had a thing for you, you must miss the attention."

"Alexander? No! Wait- did he?"

"Definitely. I can't believe you didn't know."

"Well... I was a bit preoccupied with someone else. Anyway, moving on, you got control over your abilities," I try desperately to switch the subject, while the male Braun twin wasn't sore on the eyes I had eyes for someone else, but that wasn't something I wanted to talk about at this moment.

"Then last year the Avengers attacked the base. There was a lot of disagreeing when it came to whether or not us twins would go on defence, and like the impatient boy he is P brought me with him to the battlefield to fight them off."

"I gcónaí mar síota bheag mífhoighneach," I revert to my mother tongue while speaking fondly of my former amour.

(Always an impatient little cheetah)

Wanda laughs, "Always. Then... we joined Ultron. We thought it was the right thing to do, but we were just consumed with rage and wanted revenge-"

"As you should."

"Fianna, please, let me finish. We joined Ultron, but then we found out that Ultron didn't want to save humanity but to end it."

"Don't blame him. Humanity sucks."

"Fianna Colleen McConnell! Stop interrupting me!"

"Sorry Wands, no need to middle name me," I hold my hands up in surrender, "But it's Fianna Colleen MacBhfloscaidh, not McConnell. Not anymore."

"Okay, I'll bear that in mind."

"Anyways, uh Ultron didn't know the difference between saving humans and ending them, continue."

"Well yeah, I saw his plans and we joined the Avengers, we fought Ultron and then... well you know how it ended, Sokovia in ruins and-"

"And him gone. I saw it, on the news. Wanda, I was- I was different, I am changed after what happened. Wanda I've done things, things that you would never have let slide. When I found out, I went to a... a dark place, and that dark place has a big ol' closet and it, heh, it is jam packed with skeletons," I vaguely tell Wanda.

What I've done since I escaped, it's- it can be gruesome. I could never completely tell Wanda the extent of my carnage, I don't think I'll ever tell anyone that wasn't there. All I can tell her is that it was brutal, it was my unhealthy way of coping with my loss. I've done damage that can never be undone, and because of that I try not to dwell on it, but it's difficult.

"Fianna, he- when he died, his last thoughts were of you. He loved you, and he knew he was dying to make the world a better place for you."

"But Wanda, how can it be a better place if he's gone? How can the world be better when he was my world?"

Wanda looks at me. She's in shock. She's always known I loved him, so has he, but I'm never usually this blunt about emotions. He's the exception to that. He's always the fucking exception. So I stare back at her, tears in my eyes, eyes that are wide with wonder of how the world could ever be better if he's not here to hold me, to love me.

"I... I don't know Fianna. I just know what he was thinking. And that's what it was. Of you. It was always you."

I feel the tear that's been awaiting its moment finally trickle down my cheek. That boy. It was always me. Sometimes I almost wish it wasn't. Maybe if I was his second choice he would've lived. Maybe if I never knew him he would've lived. Maybe-

"Stop that," Wanda grabs my wrists gently, "Stop with the maybes, stop with the what ifs. He made his choice, and yes it hurts, but you can't change it."

"But I could've," I sob, "If I had just not left, or- or not volunteer in the first place then maybe-"

"Fianna, don't do this to yourself," Wanda pleads, pulling me into her lap. "You'll torture yourself with these scenarios, trust me, I know."

"But... but he- it's my fault. It's always my fault. I'm cursed."

"You aren't cursed malen'kaya volk. You've got me. You've got Orlaith, and Eoghan, and your other friends. You've got Tommy," Wanda says hopefully, trying to cheer me up.

(Little wolf)

She's doing her best, but she'd wrong, she doesn't realise how wrong she is. It doesn't matter who I've got. I'll lose them. I always do. I lost my parents. I've lost him. I've even lost the Braun twins.

"Yeah, you're right, I do have you. Except you're leaving me. I've got Orlaith and Eoghan. But I can't go back to them. My other friends are mercenaries who travel around the globe and if the feds have even looked near the bar then they hate me. No matter who I've got its only a matter of time before I lose them."

"You still have Tommy."

"Ah, yes, Tomás 'Tommy' McConnell. My baby brother. The one I abandoned to get experimented on by Nazis. The one who's class I shifted in front of. The one who's subjected to bullying because of that incident. The one who's been banned from seeing me and has to meet with me in secret without my parents knowing."

"Fianna, you didn't mean for that to happen," Wanda places a hand on my shoulder to reassure me. I jerk it off, not wanting the undeserved comfort.

"Wanda. I've done more to hurt my baby brother than I have to help him. I was supposed to see him the day you called. He probably hates me for bailing, but what can I say to him? 'Sorry I bailed, your big sis was too busy becoming an international criminal. Maybe I'll see you in a few years, I don't know, depends on when they let me out!' Wanda I've abandoned him, yet again."

Wanda freezes momentarily, realising how this mess I've been dragged into has impacted my life so drastically. I know that she's going to place blame on herself, and maybe she should, but I knew what I was getting into. She told me to jump and I'd merely questioned how high.

"Fianna, you should- you shouldn't have come if you were going to see Tommy. I would've understood, you know that."

"But I couldn't have said no Wanda. Not to you, not ever. I owe you my everything. I probably wouldn't be alive if it weren't for you. If I stated with HYDRA any longer I probably would've ended up in the same ditch the Brauns were buried in. I'm a dog, you know that, you call me and I'll come running. There is nothing in this world I wouldn't do for you, I always come through for you, every time. Just in time."

"Fianna..."

"Time's getting on, we'd need to get to the others. We have conversations on more pressing matter to talk about," I say coldly, standing up and leaving the room without even glancing back at the girl I know that I've hurt.

I never wanted to hurt her... I never wanted the conversation to shift to where it did beyond our catch up. I've never been good with feelings, feeling them or expressing them. That's what happens when you grow up with emotionally constipated parents and then become a child soldier. I've brought most of the pain I've experienced onto myself, but that doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt.

[thelastyetfabolousmidwestmadman]

Detective Conan Deconstruction/Plot Twists/Subversion's

Howdy!

I've been thinking a lot because I haven't slept or been made sensible enough to see reality through rational means of comprehension.

For a black and white series of tales such as Gosho Aoyama's DCMKverse I can sure think of a multitude of ways to turn it grey. So many dark, bloody possibilities, such a endless plethora of grief, angst, and schadenfreude, of voided bowels and lost innocence, so many terrifying ideas yet so little time...

Anyway, to summarize the contents of all that verbal diarrhea, my mind has created a vast orchestra of sinister ideas that I can't put them all in one or more stories. Some of them I'll use later, some of them I will not. I guess my main inspiration for this stream of consciousness that shouts madly into the abyss of the World Wide Web, is the idea that some intrepid, curious wanderer may come across my inane rantings and be inspired to write their own atrocities.

Or maybe it will the stoke the wondrous imagination of a writer who is more of a sick fuck then I am, (:

There are five areas that can be twisted into something cruel. They contain the following:

Cases

Heists

Romance

Character Flaws

Black Organization

Get it on!

Case’s

Suspect Gets The Last Laugh- Killer is revealed but manages to poison the victim with Ricin or something more subtle allowing the target to die a couple days later. Simple enough.

More Then One Killer- The killer is caught! However a quick look back at the scene reveals he wasn’t alone and he ain’t spilling the beans.

Hannibal Lector Wannabe- A killer decides to fuck with our beloved Teen Detectives by playing a game of manipulation and horror while he threatens their loved ones into continuing.

Escaping Through Statute Of Limitations- When Our Teen Detectives decide to give their customary breaking speech,

Killer Gets Out Of It, Now After Detectives- The killer proves much too clever and sees through our casts tricks. Maybe he begin’s to notice Conan’s con and swears revenge out of his ego.

Loved Ones Hurt In The Crossfire- They were too quick for Conan’s soccer ball, Heiji’s sword, Kogoro’s Judo, or Division One’s reflexes. The bullets, blades, bludgeons. and Pelvic Thrusts couldn’t be avoided and the innocent were hurt before they could be saved.

It’s Too Much All At Once- When the cast see a suspect state his intention to kill himself, especially in the early episodes, the cast would dare them to do it, thinking it is a bluff. It isn’t.

All For Naught- Going down a dark rabbit hole isn’t worth it, if a killer turns out to have escaped or has been dead for a long time.

Big Troll- There was no murder or kidnapping, they just wanted to humiliate them.

Green Mistake- Not all detectives succeed at once. Sometimes they make mistakes... Okay just here me out here. I sincerely doubt that all those amateur detectives despite their talent have a perfect track record in solving cases or even not getting a innocent person hurt. Just look at Heiji’s, Kogoro’s, and Sera’s early (or in Kogoro’s case many) mistakes. It’s statistically impossible to get it right all the time.

Victim Is Worse- Conan and the gang successfully prevent a client from being murdered. The criminal screams at them, telling them how evil he was, and how this was mistake. When they learn of the clients sick actions, they understand why.

Romance

Waiting For Someone Who Is No Longer There- Lets think about the situation between Shinichi and Ran for a sec. if your like me you come to a unfortunate realization that was also in the OVA “Stranger In 10 Years.” Shinichi may never get back to the way he was. Maybe there is no antidote. What if he disappears in that time? And I don’t mean move on, I mean dies without anyone knowing. Ran now has to deal with both a missing Shinichi and a vanished Conan. Yet, throughout her whole life Ran holds out hope, waiting for them. Waiting for Shinichi to call. She refuses to fall in love with someone else and becomes obsessed with finding them... Until in her old age, she dies.

The Sleeping Sleuth Sleeps Around- Okay just listen to my reasoning here for a sec. I know many of you are probably sharpening their knives in the comments but let’s really think about this for a sec. This is the same Kogoro who smacked the butt of one of the Black Bunnies, and repeatedly motorboats whatever young woman he comes across. I doubt if Eri is okay with that. Plus, alcoholism and nymphomania is not a winning combination. He could easily make a mistake while in his delirium.

Shinichi’s Toxic Jealousy- Once again bear with me on this. I don’t think either Shinichi (or Kogoro for that matter) are evil. They have flaws just like any other person. However, Shinichi can be sort of a dick with it comes to how territorial he is with Ran. Just look at Eisuke. Unlike most of the perverts who are after her, Eisuke is a genuinely nice guy and Shinichi treats him like garbage. That got me thinking... Maybe Shinichi’s claims about wanting Ran to be happy aren’t entirely true. A part of him knows what he’s doing is wrong but a selfish side can’t. What if Shinichi’s jealousy starts to hurt Ran severely? Again it have to be written well so Shinichi doesn’t come off like a unrepentant dick but I think there’s something there.

Character Flaws

Hot Headedness Get You Or Others Killed- This idea concerns Heiji mostly. A rather temperamental fellow isn’t he? Always rushing into danger without thinking or having trouble with guile... Ain’t that a losing combination innit? I wonder how many criminals can take advantage of that eh? How easy it would be to trick Heiji to go into a trap if Kazuha is threatened, how simple it would be to switch a blunted blade with a sharpened one, how effortless it would be to get important information, how utterly painless it would be to manipulate him... Well I’ll leave you lovely sick bastards to come up with more.

Dysfunction Junction- Let’s talk about the Mouri’s. They’re... Not healthy to say the least. With Kogoro’s gambling/drinking/man-whoring problem barely touched upon, as well as his abuse of Conan along with Eri’s absenteeism I can say that’s a huge target for blackmailers, debt collectors, and Count Of Monte Crisco wannabes.

Conan The Gremlin- Y’know for such a seemingly innocent little boy, he sure gets into a lot of trouble don’t he? Murders keep happening around him like a curse, and that animal tranquilizer can’t be healthy for Sonoko and Kogoro... Plus people could find out who he truly is and... Well it would probably be really messy wouldn’t it?

Incompetence From The Police- In all seriousness, let’s think about this for a second. You have a overburdened police dealing with a intense rise in the murder rate, illicit narcotic consumption, and terrorism... But before we can get any further let’s talk about real life Japanese criminal procedure. In Japan you can be held for 21 days in a tiny dark cell without due process or access to a lawyer. Your are also being interrogated with the police officers using abusive tactics such as telling you how ashamed your family would be, something that can’t happen in a culture based on Confucian values. You confess but take it back only to find that you’re basically fucked since Japan has a 99% conviction rate regardless of innocence. If your a drug addict, you are literally considered nonhuman by the public at large and due to the Reaganite standards treatment isn’t a option. If your on death row, you are never told when your going to die and even if innocent is unlikely to get out. Stressed at the rising crime rate, the police refuse to investigate any suspicious death and just like in Osaka (yes this actually happened) will simply not add to the police statistics. If your a police officer what are you to do? Just a few years ago there was so little crime and now your stressed to the bone. You’re largely conservative and full of pride so you won’t admit that you must change tactics. This quick jump to conclusions and borderline incompetence can be seen in so many episodes of Detective Conan that’s it’s a wonder that more people haven’t been wrongfully convicted or got away with it... Or perhaps they have.

Black Organization

Government Corruption- Given how much sway the BO has, it got me thinking. What if everything wrong with the Japanese Government is because the BO IS the government. Something sorta akin to how the Russian Mob are basically government officials. So many possibilities other then the usual blackmail, assassinations, and bombings. Electoral fraud, jury tampering, manufacturing consent, subtle revisions of the law to encroach on democratic rights such as those the Third Way, and Neoconservatives did in the west. So many more subtle yet intriguing ways to go about this! Perhaps the BO serves as a lobbying for other more savory companies that proudly align with them such as legalizing gambling or deregulating protections.

Caught!- The BO discovers Conan’s true identity. Hell follows.

Heists

Heist Bombing- Some madman or maybe the MK organization decides to bomb the Kid Heist. Lots of people die, are traumatized and have to deal with the aftermath. I’ll leave the rest up to you guys.

Crazy Fans- Self explanatory until you really think about it. If Kaito Kid is real in this universe, how toxic is the fandom? How many of them have pedophilic undertones with the beloved Kid Killer? What if a stalker discovers Kaito’s real identity and goes psychotic? Riots could happen! So many possibilities! Doesn’t have to dark like in my sick mind, can be played for laughs.

One last thing, because of how long this took to write, a certain beloved detective’s birthday is here.

So HAPPY BIRTHDAY SHIN-CHAN!!!

[experimentalmadness]

Interrogation

Back with more OC nonsense. Jacky’s little double act is found out and Harvey’s brought in as part of the interrogation. Remember when I said we only write Harvey as a fundemantally kind person in this house? Well...take a look. And if you’re curious about this OC and the fic that precedes this one check out her tag! Anyway if you’re liking my little drabbles reblogs and likes mean the world. :) 

***

Jacky always imagined the police interrogation rooms would be much colder, more impersonal. The room in the GCPD precinct almost felt like a regular office space. It even had a small, barred window overlooking the street. She could see the monorail line. The bakery was about three stops off of Grand Avenue and Miri would be opening soon. Funny, how that was what came to mind first. 

All those years of careful consideration. Living on the line. Over now. And all she could think of was if Miri was going to be able to handle the morning rush without her to man the registers. 

The door to the interrogation room banged open and Harvey Dent, flanked by two officers came inside. “Case number 0114, Miss Jacqueline Ripley held on suspicion of attempted murder.” 

Jacky had never heard Harvey at his work, never seen him in court, only heard the campaign speeches and the play by plays afterwards over a drink, or while watching a game. One of the officers took out his handcuffs to chain her to the table, which she fully expected. No need to make this nightmare go on for longer than it had to. Jacky put her wrists together and held them up. 

“Thank you, officer, but those won’t be necessary.” Harvey took a seat, pulling out a tape recorder and manilla folder from his briefcase. 

“All do respect, Mr. Dent, but the state we found her in warrants—”

“I’ve dealt with worse.”

The officer just shrugged and pocketed the cuffs. “We’ll be just outside,” and Jacky knew the warning was for her to not do something so stupid as to attack Gotham’s favorite DA. 

They left, the door clicking so loud it set off bombs in Jacky’s brain as she stared opposite of the man who was doing everything in his power not to look up at her. He fiddled with the recorder and opened his files, tapping his pen against the steel tabletop. “For the tape, suspect was found near 1st Street and Quinn in the Cauldron at approximately 3am with a Mr. Robert Young,” he flipped through the file, “Mr. Young was taken to Eliot Memorial with multiple contusions, fractures, and internal injuries. Suspect has given a full confession to Commissioner James Gordon at 5:15am. Are the following statements accurate, Miss Ripley?”

“Yes.”

“And you have waived the right to an attorney is that also correct.”

“I have.”

The recorder clicked off. “Are you being coerced? Officer Franklin has a history of taking cuts from Falcone, Jacky, I can make a call.”

“Harvey…”

“Get someone from legal aid down here in twenty. I can say you won’t talk to me.”

“Harvey, no.”

He turned on the recorder again. “For the record, Miss Ripley, again, are the following statements accurate? Was your confession coerced in any way by any interrogating officers?” 

He nudged the recorder closer to her. That was funny. She’d lived through a lot in her fairly young life already, seen a lot of nasty things, done plenty to make her numb to most, but it was that little motion--out of everything--that broke her heart. She leaned over the table so her mouth was hovering over the recorder. “My statements are accurate, no coercion.”

Harvey slammed another hand down to pause the recording, inches from her face. “Damnit Jacky!”

That was fine, he yelled in all her nightmares, too. Sometimes he hit her, they’d fight, she’d lose. In some dreams he even turned into the Batman—back when she thought they might have been the same person. Now he just sat back, eyes trained on the pages in his folder. “I’ve been doing this a long time, Harvey.” 

He ignored her, clicking the recorder back on. “You came upon Robert at around 2:45am by your statement, walk me through the events leading up to your confrontation, for the tape.”

Jacky leaned back in her chair, tilting her head back to watching the fluorescent lights on the ceiling. “I get calls for odd jobs at least once or twice a month. Robert had been selling--let’s call it information for the record—to Penguin, er, Oswald Cobblepot. That means I do it special.”

“What does special mean?”

She already had the shovel in her hands she might as well keep digging. “My employer likes to send a message. You think it’s easy beating a man to death? Normally it’s quick and clean jobs—”

Harvey was quick to shut off the recorder again. “I only need the details of this case.”

“But I’ve done—”

“You are looking at five to twenty-five years on this charge alone, Jacky. The police only have evidence following this particular case, do you understand?”

She always thought he’d stop looking at her like that after he knew. That those earnest eyes would go hard and distant. Why did he still look at her like she was his friend? Like she was someone he was still going to save? Didn’t he get it yet? The charade was over. She’d had a good long run, but the secret was out, it was time for the DA to do what he was supposed to do: clean up Gotham’s streets and put people like her away so things could be better for everyone. 

Jacky squared herself in her chair, slicing off another small piece of herself as she met his gaze. “I’ve killed a lot of people, Harvey.” 

“No,” he said, simply, certain, like she had just told him the sky was purple. “Off the record then,” he closed a hand around the recorder, knuckles going white under the pressure, “Are you protecting someone? Does Falcone have anything over you? I know that night at the shop—”

Jacky couldn’t stop herself from laughing. “There’s no protection racket, Harv! No coercion, no set up! No frame job! Do you haggle with any other suspects like this? Asking them if they were all put upon? You’re Harvey freakin’ Dent. How many nights I spent hearing about how you threw the book at a killer? A dirty cop? A mobster? Here I am, buddy, take your shot.”

Was nothing she said getting through to this idiot? When was he going to drop the act and treat her the way she deserved? Instead he just checked his watch, and ran a hand through his hair. “Right about now I’d be coming into your shop.”

“I’d ask if you had any exciting cases today,” Jacky continued, replaying the routine effortlessly in her mind. She’d slide him the coffee, he’d give her one of his signature grins that would carry her through the rest of the day, she’d make some smartass remark, he’d double it, they’d make plans for the evening or tomorrow, and Jacky would pretend to be the woman who was lucky enough to be friends with a man like him. “Guess I’m getting the news early.”

He covered his face with both hands, elbows leaning against the tabletop. He sucked in a breath and straightened up at once. “Get a lawyer, Jacky,” he snapped.

“Don’t need one, I’m guilty.”

“If you can get the DA’s office any pertinent information on Falcone’s operations I can look into getting your sentence reduced.”

“That doesn’t seem fair to me, you offer that to every other hired killer who sits in this chair?”

Harvey slammed a fist against the table. “You are not a killer. You’re not. I know you, Jacky.”

If she reached across the small expanse to take his hand the cops waiting and watching outside would be all over her in seconds. Not that she would anyway. Her hands twitched in her lap. All he had to do was walk her through the next steps, verify the case, make sure her rights were being recognized and leave. “I am a killer,” she whispered, hoping this time it registered. That it stuck. “I am a good sister, a pretty decent hitwoman--well used to be I guess, and right now a bad friend.”

She might as well have taken out her pistol and shot him with each word she said. Here it comes, she thought, the big bad lawyer all the rest of Falcone’s men would never admit they feared. She almost wished he’d haul off and hit her. 

“This city…” he sighed, running another hand down his face as he stared out the barred window. “It has a way of beating down the best of us. You can’t let it. We can’t let it.”

The bars on the window played a pattern of interlocking shadows across his face. She was prepared for his hatred, for all of that righteous anger she’d seen him direct at the sickness and corruption in Gotham. She hadn’t been ready for his disappointment. 

“So here’s what we're going to do Jacky. I’m going to switch on this recorder again, you’re going to tell me how to nail Falcone to the wall and you’re going to get five years. You’ll make good in Blackgate. Take any classes they offer, do everything right. Get out for good behavior in two. And you're not going to let the worst side of this city win. Got it?”

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. 

He reached across the table and took her hand, pulling it towards him, covering it with both of his. “You do this with every convict?” He was being a hypocrite and she wasn’t going to be the reason he went corrupt. He squeezed her hand, she kept wishing he’d punch her instead. 

“The whole spiel? Yeah, I do, actually.” He had the audacity to give her a small smile. “There’s enough people in this city that think there’s no other way. There’s always another way. Jacky, c’mon look at me.”

“Didn’t think I was part of the saving crowd. Thought you’d hate me.”

“Oh it’s going to take the full two years for me to stop that,” she almost laughed at his words. His hands around hers kept her steady, pulling her up out of the water that had been over her head for years. 

“But what I want to know, Jacky, is who convinced you you weren’t worth saving?”

[ma-sulevin]

Honestly, I really love this chapter. I made the banner like.... a month ago.

Pairing: Sharky Boshaw/Female Deputy Rating: E Warnings: Canon-typical violence, but nothing particularly explicit I don’t think Word Count: 5800, chapter eleven of fifteen (almost definitely this time).

Read it on AO3 instead and say nice things.

—

Whitehorse takes one look at Sharky and Mattie holding hands and turns right around and walks back into the jail. Sharky doesn't say anything for once, but Mattie can see his shoulders slump a little. Really, Whitehorse is the closest thing she has to a dad since her real daddy kicked her out of the house with her belongings all in black trash bags. It's not that they'd talked about Whitehorse’s approval or anything, and Mattie certainly wasn't expecting it, but… apparently, Sharky was hoping for it after all.

Mattie squeezes his fingers and leaves him talking about his flamethrower to the woman running the armory, something about a part he needs, and makes a beeline for Whitehorse’s office.

She doesn’t have to try forcing him to tell her what his reaction is; before his office door is totally shut behind her, he’s already struggling to keep his voice down.

“Rook, I have never once questioned your judgement, but just what in the hell are you doing with the Boshaw boy?”

Mattie blinks and him and he stares back, his mustache actually quivering, and she covers her mouth to stop herself from laughing. How has he ever interrogated anyone with that happening every time he gets upset? 

She pulls herself back together, drawing in a deep breath and pressing her fingers against her cheek instead. “I know. It wasn’t exactly planned.”

“You know there’s still technically a warrant out for his arrest.”

“I’m not gonna arrest him, Earl.” She’s never used Whitehorse’s first name before, and the sound of it makes him deflate as the anger whooshes out of him. “He keeps me safe out there, and he’s good at fighting, and there’s a distinct lack of volunteers in that department.”

He crosses his arms across his chest. “Be careful with him, at least.”

Mattie smiles a little, letting the warmth of his paternal concern settle in her bones. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

He makes a little grumbling noise, like he disagrees, but he lets the subject drop. “Good job with Jacob,” he says instead. “Just one more to go.”

Her smile is a little more forced, not because she doesn’t feel proud of what she’s accomplished, but because she’s exhausted from the weight of the county. She doesn’t know how many lives she’s taken, only how many lives she’s sacrificed for people who don’t even understand.

“Staci’s with Joey in Fall’s End,” she says instead of anything she’s thinking. “He told us where to start bringing down Faith’s operations. Is Virgil around?”

Whitehorse nods and steers her back out of his office and toward where Virgil’s set up in the other room. Together, they look over the beaten up map Mattie’s been carrying around, marking places they know need to be cleaned out — like the Water Treatment Plant and the Conservatory — and Virgil and Whitehorse make some guesses about other places she should go look — like the old summer camp that closed down before Mattie moved to the county. 

It’s dark by the time they’re done, dinner already served, and Mattie finds Sharky waiting for her on one of two cots he’s tucked together in the bullpen. He has some bottles of water, two beers, and two MREs, and his fingernails have been bitten down to the quick.

She greets him with a soft hey babe and a kiss, leaning on his shoulders for balance as she kicks off her shoes at the same time, and then she collapses across his lap instead of on her cot to eat her dinner. 

“You’re a peach,” she says, mouth full, and tries not to laugh when Sharky turns pink at the compliment. “We’ll spend the night here then head north. Have you talked to your aunt lately? If she still needs us to track down her helicopter, we might be able to make a stop. Sure would be useful.”

Sharky shrugs and shakes his head and shifts her legs in his lap so he can get his hands on her feet. He grabs one and digs his thumb into the muscle, and she groans around a mouthful of water.

“Ugh. You’re the best.”

Sharky snorts and shakes his head again, then finally works up the courage to say whatever he’s been thinking about since she ran off earlier.

“Did, uh, did the sheriff say anything about me?” He’s trying to whisper, but he’s still loud enough that Tracey glances over at them from where she’s trying to read on one of the other cots, an amused little smile on her face. Mattie ignores her.

“Nothing important,” Mattie says, finally. “We’re not going to arrest you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I wouldn’t let him.”

Sharky nods, and his shoulders relax a bit. He rubs her foot a little harder, and she bites off another moan. There’s no reason to be obscene about this, even if she kinda wants to be. More than anything, she wants him to massage her other foot and then let her fall asleep.

When Sharky stays silent, stays trapped in his thoughts instead of finding something to occupy their thoughts, she forces herself to sit up and reach for his face. She holds his chin and guides his face to hers. 

“I told him you take care of me, that you care about me. That’s enough.”

Sharky stares at her for another second and then his face breaks out into a wide smile. She pulls him forward the last few inches and gives him a soft, slow kiss that tastes like beer and dehydrated food, then she collapses back onto the cot and pushes her other foot into his hand.

“This one too.”

He obeys, staying silent for the last of his patience, which is about five more seconds, then he says, “It’s really kinda bullshit when you think about it, I mean, I didn’t mean to set that fire, you know, and I don’t think there’s really any proof that I did it or anything, so I think that warrant should get thrown out. I need a better lawyer than that shitbag the state sends in, and—”

Mattie throws her arm over her eyes and gives into her laughter even though she’s pretty sure he’s actually being serious. He trails off and chuckles too, but his hands don’t waver.

“Tell you what,” she says, catching her breath and peering up at him. “After this is over, I’ll call in a favor and get it thrown out. They’ll owe me. Sound good?”

‘’Hell yeah, shorty. Guess I gotta keep you safe until then, huh.”

She sighs out another laugh. “Yeah, guess you’re stuck with me.”

His grin grows. “I think I can live with that.”

---

They spend ten minutes on the hill over the water treatment plant watching the workers. Most of them are just standing around, acting as guards, but some of them are actively pouring bliss into the reservoirs. 

Sharky sits quietly while he waits, finally used to her method, and she’s just about able to ignore the sound of him picking at his nails. He even sits quietly as she sets up her sniper rifle to take down a few of the perimeter guards before they start to move in. She waits until she’s certain she’s done as much as she can, until Sharky’s pent-up energy has made him start to vibrate next to her, and then she nods at him.

“Try not to die,” she says, voice cheerful. 

“You too!” 

She can barely hear his reply as he skids down the hill, but she lets herself smile and moves more quietly down the other side. She’s not Grace; she’s not a good enough sniper to hit fast-moving targets, so she switches to her 1911 and sneaks in the back to quietly pick off some more peggies.

This plan has helped them take outpost after outpost across the Valley and through the Whitetails, but here in the Henbane? At this outpost? The scent of bliss hits her heavy and hard, white lights dancing in her vision so that she completely misses the next peggie she tries to shoot and ends up having to wrestle with him until she’s able to smash his head against the side of the closest building.

The scents, the blood and the bliss, remind her so viscerally of Jacob’s compound in the mountains that she gags, dry heaving a few times over the peggie’s dead body before she’s able to push herself back to her feet.

Her skin crawls and cold sweat breaks out on her skin, but she pushes forward swallowing down saliva and fear as she puts down the rest of Faith’s men.

Someone else sneaks up behind her, surprising her, and she spins around and raises her gun at the same time. He grabs her gun hand at the wrist and twists, a surprised shout leaving him. Her gun falls to the concrete as pain radiates up her arm, and she howls in pain and rage as she tries to punch him in the face with her left hand.

“Fuck you! You’re not taking me back!” He’s yelling too, nonsense words that overwhelm her screams, and now he’s got both her wrists in his hands so she stomps on his foot. “Let me go!”

The bliss is making it hard to breathe, and she draws in gasping breaths that rasp through her dry throat. 

She won’t go back to Jacob’s compound.

She won’t.

“Shit, Dep, it’s me! Stop it!”

She ignores whatever he’s saying and lands another solid stomp on his foot. He swears roundly, spinning her around and wrapping his arms around her, pinning her body against his, then he lifts so she can’t do anything but kick her feet and hope she makes solid connection.

She doesn’t.

“Mat, please, it’s me, it’s me.” He dodges her headbutt and presses his cheek against hers instead. “It’s just the bliss, I promise, come back.” 

She’s close enough now that she can smell his sweat, the stench of gasoline wafting off him in waves. She shudders again, shifting in his arms, and then she goes limp.

“There you are, you’re okay, I promise. I got you.”

Sharky lowers her to the ground, letting her support her own weight but not really letting her go until she starts to turn around. He lets her bury her face in the collar of his hoodie then squeezes her tighter again as he presses her face into her hair.

She’s shaking, sick, sweat still standing out on her skin, and she drags in deep breaths of his scent. He stinks a little, and she probably does too, but it’s familiar and not bliss or blood and after enough long inhales she’s able to pull her shit back together from where it was splintering apart at the seams.

“You okay?”

Sharky’s voice comes as soon as she relaxes her hold on him, but he doesn't move to pull away until she does. 

She puts just enough space between them to look up at his face, at the lines of worry, and then she nods.

“Sorry.”

He shrugs, a little half-smile gracing his features before disappearing again. “The bliss get to ya?”

She nods and tugs one arm free so she can wipe at her face.

“Forgot where I was,” she admits, fingers pressed against her eyelids so she has an excuse not to look at him. “It was just like I was in Jacob’s compound again.”

They’re still touching, so she can feel it when he goes very still. He starts moving again after a second, pulling her back against his chest with her arm squashed between them. He squeezes her too tight, presses kiss to the top of her head, mutters, “That’s never fucking happening again.”

The bliss still sparkles at the edge of her vision, but with her face pressed against his chest it’s easy to explain it away as simple pressure against her eyes.

“Yeah, ‘cause I killed him,” she says, and Sharky rumbles a laugh that she feels instead of hears, and she smiles against him as ridiculous, smug pride starts to fill her. 

“That’s my girl,” Sharky says, and she’s glad she’s already pressed against him because her face fills with heat and she just knows she’s blushing. She can feel it on her ears, too, the skin too hot all of a sudden. It’s a ridiculous reaction, but she really can’t help it. “Knew you could do it.”

She grumbles a little, more out of habit against the compliment than anything else, then she takes one last deep breath of Sharky’s scent before she forces herself to pull away and stand up on her own power for real.

The white lights are still there, wooziness overwhelming her for a second before she clenches her jaw and pushes through.

“Help me look through their pockets, see if we can find a keycard for these doors. We can destroy the pumps from inside.”

Sharky wrinkles his nose at her. “Dead bodies get diseases so fast though.”

She blinks at him.

He blinks right back.

“Sharky, that is not how it works.” She’s still on edge, voice coming out a little more sharp than she intended, and his shoulders hunch at the sound of it. She grimaces, already feeling bad, and tries again. “Sorry. It’s okay; I promise you won’t catch anything this fast. Just help me?”

“Sure thing, shorty,” he says, and he smiles at her even though his voice is a little quieter than it was a minute ago. She takes an extra second to pull him down by the collar of his hoodie for a quick kiss, really just a brush of her lips across his in an apology, then she pulls away and points where she wants him to go.

She can see him hesitate before he leans down to check the first corpse, and she doesn’t quite know what his problem is. The bodies are still warm, still bleeding — maybe she’s just been deadened to it over the years, but they don’t even smell. There shouldn’t be a problem here, not really, and she kneels down to rifle through the closest peggie’s coat without worrying about it.

“Check the pockets, avoid the feces and the genitals,” Sharky says, mostly to himself, and Mattie presses her lips together to avoid laughing at him.

Well… that makes a little more sense. Kinda.

It takes a few minutes, but they find a keycard attached to one of the peggie’s shirts with one of those retractable lanyard things. Sharky passes it to Mattie, along with a crisp ten dollar bill and a few crumpled ones, and she quietly squeezes his hand in thanks.

He helps her rig the bliss tanks to explode too, his skill with explosives better than hers on a good day, much less when she’s swimming in bliss fumes, exhausted, trying her best to ignore Faith’s voice in her ear telling her she’s making a mistake. 

She’s not. She knows she’s not.

They radio back to the jail when they’re done, say their first stop has been taken care of but they need to recoup a bit, and Mattie tunes out Virgil’s words of praise as she and Sharky drive out of the heavy fog of bliss.

It’s still daylight, but they stop at an abandoned cabin on top of a hill, far above where the bliss clouds usually travel. The fight at the treatment plant has left her exhausted and sore, her head aching and her sinuses burning. Sharky finds some expired Benadryl in one of the ransacked cupboards and passes it to her, watching as she washes two down with an entire bottle of water.

“This fuckin’ sucks,” she informs him, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “I wish we could set this whole place on fire.”

“Just say the word!” Sharky says, with too much enthusiasm, and Mattie smiles back at him.

“I love you,” she says, instead of addressing his offer.

He blushes.

“Hell, I love you too.”

She nods, content with that answer, then turns with the intention of passing out on the cabin’s single bed. “Don’t burn anything down until I wake up, please. I’d like to help.”

She can hear him laughing as she flops down on the mattress without pulling back the blanket, then she falls deep into blessedly dreamless sleep.

---

She wakes up slowly, confused, to voices filtering in through the closed bedroom door. She aches all over, but that’s normal, muscles overworked and body pushed to its limits as she’s done things she’s never even had nightmares about before all of this.

She lets herself drift in the space between waking and sleeping for a while longer, not in any particular hurry to force herself back to reality, and then she takes a deep breath and pushes herself up onto her elbows and knees, then sits up on her heels and stares at the wall directly in front of her. 

Now that she's more conscious, she recognizes the voices as belonging to Sharky and Hurk, and she starts to head out to the cabin’s main room when she realizes they're talking about her.

“She's pushing herself too hard, cuz.” That's Hurk, sounding worried and world-wise. “She can't keep goin’ like she's been goin’, or she’ll crash and burn. The bliss is still hitting her hard?”

Sharky sounds miserable when he responds: “I think she's allergic to it or somethin’, man. You shoulda seen her at the water plant. She nearly shot me.”

Mattie bites her lower lip and presses her ear to the crack of the door so she can hear better. She'd been so wrapped up in the bliss and her own feelings she hadn't stopped to think about how she would feel if Sharky got bliss-confused and tried to shoot her. She hadn't stopped to think about how Sharky felt.

“She’s been doing too much,” Hurk says, with the air of someone who’s seen it. “I don't know why the other deputies won't help her. It's a gotdamn miracle she's even still alive.”

Someone, she thinks probably Sharky, heaves a sigh and she holds her breath to see how he's going to handle that one, but she relaxes when she hears him say, “I honestly don't fuckin’ know either.”

Well he's not wrong about that.

She puts her hand on the knob but freezes again when she hears Hurk ask, “You two fuckin’ or what?”

She flinches, but Sharky just laughs.

“C’mon, man,” he starts, but Hurk cuts him off.

“You can't lie to me,” Hurk says, voice surprisingly stern. “I raised you--”

“You did not--”

“--and I know you've been in love with her since she helped us kill the angels at the Moonflower, so I need to know if she loves you back or what.”

Mattie smiles behind the door and waits for Sharky’s answer.

“Yeah, I love her,” Sharky admits, voice a little softer. She presses her ear harder against the door to listen.

“I know that, dumbass,” Hurk says. “I’m tryna figure out if she loves you back or if she’s taking advantage of you following her around.”

Silence follows Hurk’s admission, and Mattie doesn’t know what to make of it. Has that happened to Sharky before? Someone taking advantage of how he loves someone with his whole being? Just the thought of it makes her fucking furious.

“Don’t be a dickhole,” Sharky snaps back, finally. “She ain’t like that. She loves me. She’s good. ”

Hurk grumbles something she can’t quite catch, then adds, “I just worry about you. You’re my baby cousin.”

“Aww. I love you, man.”

Mattie’s still smiling when she tiptoes back to the bed and then pointedly makes noise, heavy footfalls and a hand against the wall to announce she’s moving around. She pushes down the guilt she feels at eavesdropping on their conversation; it was obviously private, but it was good to hear Sharky’s unfiltered thoughts about them, and about her. 

Hurk is pouring coffee into three matching mugs as she pushes the bedroom door open, and he gives her a wide, open smile as soon as he sees her.

“Hey, Hurk.”

“Morning, deputy.” Hurk smiles at her, face open and cheerful, and then he lifts his eyebrows at her and she’s suddenly sure he knows she was eavesdropping. She lifts her eyebrows right back, accepting his challenge.

He wants to protect Sharky, but he doesn’t have to from her.

He nods and hands her one of the mugs. He trusts her to take care of his baby cousin, and she’ll do her best to keep him safe.

It’s the first time she’s been on this end of a shovel talk, but she’s happy he believes her.

She takes a long sip of her too-hot coffee on her way around to where Sharky is sitting at a stool pushed up against the kitchen counter. His expression clears when she looks at him, lightening into another smile, and then she wraps one arm around his shoulders and gives him a lingering kiss on the forehead. His arms encircle her waist and pull her closer until she’s half sitting on him, and then he rests his head against her shoulder and clings to her like she’s a stuffed animal.

It’s comforting, and warm, and kind, and she leans into him as she sips her coffee. It’s strong and bitter, but it’s waking her up and chasing away the last of the lingering wooziness caused by the bliss.

The bruise on her wrist is obvious when she reaches out to put the mug on the counter, four clear fingerprints on the back and a thumbprint on the underside. The whole joint is sore, and she flinches when Sharky grabs for it again even though she doesn’t really mean to.

“Shit, shorty,” he says, voice as quiet as it ever gets. He pls her arm closer and runs his thumb over the marks he left in her skin. “I’m sorry.”

She pulls her hand free and uses it to grasp his chin, turning completely in his grasp so she can look him right in the eye. His face is shadowed, guilt shining from those beautiful blue eyes, and she shakes him a little before he says, “If I try to shoot you in the bliss again, you can break it off.”

“I wouldn't,” Sharky says, the protest loud and immediate and so, so honest she could cry.

“You have to,” Mattie insists, lowering her voice a little to add, “I can’t trust myself out there, but I can trust you. You did the right thing.”

Sharky looks over at Hurk before he makes a dissatisfied noise and grumbles out a “Fine.”

She rewards him with a kiss, and Hurk makes a loud aww noise behind them, and when Mattie turns back around Sharky’s already giving him the finger.

Oh, children.

“You boys ready to go? We have outposts to take and angels to kill before Faith tries to kidnap me like her brothers.”

Sharky tucks himself back around her, holding her close, and so it’s Hurk who answers with a smile and a shrug and the same relentless optimism that endeared him to her way back when she answered his SOS at his father’s house.

“You just say the word and we’ll be right there with you! Faith won’t know what hit her.”

She pulls her unbruised arm free of Sharky’s grasp and picks her coffee back up. She downs it too fast, ignores the way it burns her tongue and her chest, then puts the empty mug back on the counter. “Let’s go, then. C’mon.”

---

The first outpost they come across is in the remains of the hotel, the same one Mattie stayed in the night before her interview at the jail. It shut down not long after, and she never really knew why… but now, watching the peggies crawling all over it, she figures it out.

The cult ruined this business too.

It’s harder to control the chaos that seems to fill Sharky’s entire being when Hurk is also there. Their energy bounces off each other, increasing as they laugh and joke and tell Mattie stories from growing up no matter how many times she tries to tell them to keep it down. Even Boomer, brought along by Hurk, seems to pick up on the chaos and keeps running off into the thick underbrush on the sides of the road.

She doesn’t think twice when she sees the peggie standing in the woods behind the hotel; she’s so used to seeing Hope County residents kneeling in front of cultists that she just starts to move in their direction, abandoning Sharky and Hurk where she’d been trying to do recon on the hotel.

It doesn’t occur to her to wonder why this scene is taking place a hundred feet from the road, on the side of a hill, uncomfortably close to some bushes. It doesn’t occur to her that she’s never seen this happen anywhere but in a place where it’s easy to pull a hit and run on the peggie…

She just sees someone who needs her help, and she goes.

The peggie disappears when she shoots him, and when she trips in surprise and stumbles into the civilian…

Faith is there instead.

She smiles, beautiful, and takes Mattie’s hands in hers.

“Welcome to the bliss,” she says, and blows the dust in Mattie’s face. “I’m so glad you came.”

Mattie blinks and she’s somewhere new, somewhere beautiful, the scent of the bliss surrounding her but not making her gag. She’s laying in some grass, soft and cool as any she’s ever been in, and she’s staring up at a cloudless blue sky.

This is nice. This is lovely. What was she even worried about again?

She stays just like that, smiling, drifting closer and closer to sleep, until she hears Faith’s voice in her ear.

“You’ve been invited into our home… into our heart. Trust in the path and you’ll find the answers you seek.”

This sounds sort of familiar, the path. It’s something she’s heard about before, something she’s been avoiding for some reason. It doesn’t seem so bad from where she’s sitting — what’s so scary about a regular path?

She pushes herself up, marveling for a second that she doesn’t feel any pain — she feels good! — before realizing that’s normal. She never has pain standing up; she’s not quite that old yet. Joey keeps saying it’s going to happen soon; Joey’s back hurts if she fills out too much paperwork, but Mattie kind of things that’s just Joey trying to get out of doing what she thinks is boring.

She looks around once she’s on her feet, taking in the scenery. She’s on a path, obviously, one lined with trees on either side and covered in soft grass and little white flowers. It’s a little foggy now that she’s standing up, and she doesn’t know why she didn’t notice that before.

There’s a little bunny with antlers nestled in the grass next to her. Its nose twitches like it’s smelling her, but it doesn’t hop away.

She moves forward, toward the tree, toward Faith’s voice as she says, “This way, silly!”

There’s a moose off to the side, fully grown and huge, but it just watches as Mattie walks past. She’s not afraid; it’s not threatening.

This is lovely.

This is perfect.

Everything goes white when she reaches the tree, and Mattie blinks to clear her vision.

Is this… what usually happens?

Where is she?

“Even those who fight against us seek Salvation,” Faith says, but Mattie can’t see her through the whiteness. There’s another voice under Faith’s, a man’s voice, but Mattie can’t make out what he’s saying at first. “You’re proof of that.”

Faith is there, holding Mattie’s hands again, and Mattie lets her even though she wants to tell Faith that she’s wrong. Mattie doesn’t need Salvation — she found it when she was a teenager and she left it when she left home, left her chance to go to heaven in the garbage along with her daddy’s opinion of her.

“We all need guidance in times like these,” Faith says, because she can’t hear what Mattie’s thinking, pulling her along through the grass to where Joseph is giving a lesson to a group of men. 

Joseph is shirtless, and standing where everyone is sitting, and Mattie knows this should make her feel something, but… she can’t remember what.

“We must be strong,” Joseph says. “We must be vigilant.”

Faith keeps pulling her, closer and closer. “You’ll see! Now you’ll truly understand.”

“Because those on the outside,” Joseph continues, looking right at Mattie this time, “will see what we have built here together, in our New Eden, the love, and they will come.” He’s walking towards her now, and she wants to pull away but she doesn’t know how, and then she doesn’t know why she wants to. He wouldn’t hurt her. “And they will try to take from us all that we have built.”

Joseph stops in front of her, peering at her through those yellow-tinted sunglasses, and takes her elbows in his hands. “You judge me, you judge us, the things that we’ve done…”

What has he done that she should be judging him for? She tilts her head to the side and opens her mouth to speak, but no sound comes out.

“They say… that I am crazy. But when you wake up in the morning, and you look at the same news that I do… do your eyes not fill with horror? This is the world?”

He uses his grip on her elbow to turn her, and where she thought she would see more of that same field, she sees…

A mushroom cloud.

No.

“This? This is the world we built for our children?” He’s yelling now, arms outstretched as the cloud grows bigger and bigger, threatening to eat the sky. Mattie’s knees lock, refusing to let her collapse to the ground or to run away. Why is he standing there? Why can’t they get to a bunker? “Communities being torn apart? Walls being erected? Because leaders are too impotent to act, bullies are too addled to lead righteously.”

The cloud is growing and growing, turning black. Ash chokes out the sun, fills the air, sticks to her tongue and claws its way down her throat and into her lungs. She coughs, gags, spits, but can’t move to defend herself, even to raise her hands to protect her eyes.

Joseph reaches his hands out to her and she’s there, in front of him, leaning into his touch as he grips her arms. He leans in close like he’s telling her a secret, and she blinks at him as the air around them turns a sickly, radiation green.

“I did not ask for this,” he confides, voice low and deep. “I was chosen.”

He pulls her closer, and she lets him, leaning into his space until their foreheads are touching, just like she’s seen him do with his brothers.

She closes her eyes against the swirling ash, draws in a shaky breath, and doesn’t move again until he stands up straight once more.

“See? Everything is coming to an end.” She opens her eyes and looks around and he’s right, oh holy shit, he’s right. Fall’s End is on fire, destroyed by the bombs. She can feel the heat on her skin, singeing her, the flames roaring closer and closer and closer.

“You can feel that. I know you can.” He releases her, steps away, moves closer to a burning car. She lists forward, feet pinned to the ground, trying to get closer to the safety of his touch. “See, mankind is weak… and vulnerable. And we are hurtling towards our destruction and no one is willing to do anything about it. I can see that. You can see. And we are not crazy.”

She nods at him. She can do that much.

“So what are we supposed to do?” He spreads his hands, and the cross on the end of his rosary sways and catches the orange light of the flames. “We just sit back and await the inevitable?”

He’s not looking at her, but she answers anyway.

“No, Father.”

“I don’t claim to be a perfect man,” he says, the only acknowledgment that he heard her in his slow steps that draw him closer, “but I saw what was coming and I chose to act. To lead. Because society is broken, and the only way forward… is to go back to the way things once were.”

He touches her face, the beads wrapped around his hand cold against her cheek. “Innocent and pure. So safe and protected in our Garden.” He smiles, “I can save you.”

She nods at him and he smiles wider, pulling away and kneeling to pluck a blossom from a bliss plant growing at her feet. He hands it to her, and she takes it, and their fingers brush together.

“But you have to have… Faith.”

She hasn’t had faith in a long, long time, but… maybe she can believe again.

It would be foolish not to.

Right?

Right?

The world around her goes white again, just like before, and she can hear someone yelling her name.

No.

Not her name.

“Rook! Rook!”

Pain lances through her, every one of her nerves on fire, and she opens her mouth to scream but no sound comes out. She arches, brain and body rebelling, and she twists out of her control. Her body seizes, fighting whatever’s happening to her, and she screams and screams and screams and…

“Open your eyes!”

She does, white spots that have nothing to do with the bliss and everything to do with synaptic feedback dancing in front of her. She can just make out Whitehorse kneeling above her, hands on her shoulders, pushing her down into a cot, and she twists even harder to get away from him.

He’s hurting her.

He’s hurting her.

“C’mon give her the adrenaline,” he says, to someone else, and she can see Tracey next to him with a needle, and she raises the needle up high with both hands and swings it down and

Mattie catches it, something like adrenaline already coursing through her, and her mouth is still open and she’s still trying to scream and

“Stop fighting, goddamn it!”

Whitehorse is still hurting her and Tracey wants to stab her and what the fuck what the fuck 

what the

fuck

fuck

Pain slices her in two as the needle pierces her heart and everything goes black.

[balancingdiet]

Tabula Rasa

Detective Conan & Magic Kaito Characters: Shinichi/Kaito Words: 2000 ish Chapter: (1) ... (4) (5) (6) 

Shinichi always finds his neighbour weird. But he didn’t expect to find his neighbour lying on a patch of grass and donned in Kaitou Kid’s costume, too.

Shinichi had been so focused that he didn't realize the door opened until he heard it closed. He glanced over, watching as Detective Takagi approached him.

“How is it?” Takagi asked, staring at the suspect sitting in the interrogation room behind the one-way mirror.

Shinichi swallowed a sigh. Things weren’t good, and the interrogation was going nowhere. He had switched himself out and let Inspector Shiratori take over at the moment. Despite all the evidences already laid out in front of him, the suspect was still a tough nut to crack.

“The suspect isn’t saying anything," Shinichi explained.

“I see,” Takagi said, glancing at his watch. Out of nowhere, he started fanning himself. “Did they switch off the AC?”

Shinichi frowned. Now that Takagi mentioned, he did feel a little hot… He uncrossed his arms, considering to take off his jacket, but stopped mid-way as he crossed his arms again. 

“I don’t have the time to play games at the moment,” Shinichi muttered.

Takagi tilted his head. “What do you mean, Kudo-kun?”

“Detective Takagi doesn’t wear his wedding band during work.”

Silence fell, until Takagi laughed—with a pitch that Shinichi found all too familiar.

“Really?" Kuroba said as he fiddled with the wedding band. "But he was wearing it when I knocked him out."

“I lied,” Shinichi drawled and turned to the one-way mirror again. “It’s to bust you out, but I didn’t expect you’ll admit it so quickly.”

“I’d figured you have enough things on your plate at the moment.” Kuroba stuffed his hands inside his pockets and gestured towards the suspect sitting in the interrogation room, alongside with his lawyer, Inspector Shiratori and Inspector Megure. “Who’s he?”

“Do I really have to drag you out?”

Kuroba ignored him and pressed his face close to the mirror, eyes squinting at what Shinichi guessed was the name tag on the suspect’s hotel uniform. “Adachi Sakamoto...” Kuroba widened his eyes and looked back at Shinichi. “Adachi? He’s not the chairman of the hotel, but he’s related to the chairman?”

Shinichi really shouldn’t have said anything, but the word simply slipped, “Yes.” 

“Interesting,” Kuroba peered through the glass again. “Given his authority, he must have the master key to gain access into those victims’ room to see their holiday plans on their computer… That’s how he knew where the victims were going, killing them when they were alone...”

Shinichi narrowed his eyes. “How much have you read from the file?” 

“Till the part where the first victim made a complaint that her make-up kit was stolen from her room.”

“That’s already two-third deep into the case file.”

“Speed-read is my forte.” Kuroba smirked, which was weird for Shinichi when it didn’t quite fit Takagi’s features. “So what’s the thing you got from the hotel that made you think he’s the killer?” Kuroba asked.

Shinichi pursed his lips. He’d broken more rules today than he’d ever did since he worked here three years ago, and it puzzled him just how much he was growing less concerned about it. Maybe it was because Kuroba was wearing Takagi’s face, or maybe it was just Kuroba that he was getting used to—

No. Not ever. 

Shinichi watched as Inspector Shiratori slammed the table in the interrogation room, but the suspect didn’t even flinch.

Maybe he just had too much on his plate to care, like what Kuroba said.

“Adachi Sakamoto made a stupid slip-up,” Shinichi began to explain, “he managed to delete all the footages outside those victims’ room, but he’d forgotten to delete the one when he accessed into the security room to erase those footages.”

“What’s his excuse?”

“He said he went in there to take a nap.”

Kuroba scoffed.

They stood in their spots in silence, looking in vain as Inspector Shiratori and Inspector Megure dealt with the suspect, but nothing seemed to be able to rile him up enough to confess—

From Shinichi’s sidelong glance, Kuroba suddenly straightened.

“What is it?” Shinichi asked tentatively.

Stroking his chin, Kuroba glanced over his shoulder, his face split into a stupid grin. “In exchange for my information, I want the gemstone.”

Shinichi wished he was surprised at Kuroba’s demand, but he wasn’t, which made it all the more annoying; to think that he understood Kuroba well enough to see it coming. He looked at Kuroba warily. “How valid is your so-called information?”

“Very valid, which also explains why no one suspicious, much less anyone that looked like Adachi Sakamoto, was found following those victims in any of the security cameras around the crime scenes."

Shinichi closed his eyes and rubbed a thumb between his brows. “You’ve read the entire case file, didn’t you?”

Kuroba grinned and put out a hand. “Gemstone, or nah?”

“For the sake of those three victims, shouldn’t you share the information without any compromises?”

“For the sake of the three victims, shouldn’t you compromise and give me the gemstone, in exchange for the information?”

“…”

“…”

The clock ticked behind them as they began their staring battle. The lack of AC was not helping with the growing tension, but Kuroba showed no sign of retracting back his hand, and Shinichi, too, refused to move the arm that was pressing against the jewel in his jacket's pocket 

Another slam came from the interrogation room, and this time it came from Inspector Megure—

Kuroba suddenly turned, catching Shinichi off guard momentarily. Close to the mirror, Kuroba pointed at Adachi Sakamoto. “Look at his fingers.”

Unsure of what to say towards the change in Kuroba’s heart, Shinichi followed his instruction instead. It took him a while, but now that he realised, he figured it was natural for Kuroba to notice it faster than him too, given his disguise expertise; it wasn’t just his fingers Shinichi should look at—there was a slight, glossy tint on all of his clean and trim nails.

Adachi Sakamoto had painted his nails with clear-gel nail polish. 

Those four words was all it took to unlock all the locks Shinichi couldn’t break before.

Shinichi brushed past Kuroba as he stalked off towards the door, but he turned around right at the last moment, catching Kuroba’s stare.

“We’ll talk when I get back home,” Shinichi said, before gesturing a hand over Kuroba’s disguise. “And you might want to change out. Similarly to Hattori’s case, I’m sure Detective Takagi’s wife wouldn’t be pleased to know you disguised as her husband.”

Kuroba chuckled. “Is she going to throw me to the ground?”

“No, but she has a gun.”

With that, Shinichi dashed towards the interrogation room.

---- 

After Shinichi went into the interrogation room with the new information, Adachi Sakamoto broke down half an hour later. (He even took out his shoes and threw it at Shinichi in anger, revealing his red-painted toenails.) Adachi had been struggling with his gender identity for a long time and occasionally, he would resort to stealing visitors' make-up to let out steam. But soon after those desires and turmoils escalated into something darker, and so he disguised as a woman, followed three victims for the past one month and killed all of them.

Once the confession was made and the culprit was taken away, Shinichi let the rest deal with the press conference that would be held during the evening news slot. Although Shinichi’s colleagues had gotten over the shock of the entire Edogawa Conan’s mess, his reason to shy away from the media wasn’t known to most people, except for Inspector Megure. As a former colleague of Ran’s father, he understood Shinichi’s decision to keep a low-profile, and he agreed with his doing, which Shinichi was thankful for.

(Because unlike Inspector Megure, his mother, Professor Agase… they all wished he and Ran could get back together again.)

In the midst of the press conference preparation, Takagi suddenly trudged out from the toilet, his clothes a little wrinkled and eyes looking disoriented. But no sooner after hearing the outcome of the case, Takagi seemed too distracted to question why he fainted in the first place.

Ignorance is bliss, Shinichi thought.

(Though in his head, they were spoken in Kuroba’s voice.)

----

It was only till Shinichi reached home then he remembered he hadn’t eaten for the entire day, but his stomach seemed used to it, or perhaps it had given up trying to remind Shinichi it even existed. He shuffled his way to the kitchen and switched on the lights, wearily looking around to find something to eat (not drink i.e. coffee). 

He spotted the basket of fruits sitting on the counter—the fastest meal he could find—and reached out for an apple. 

His hand hovered over the fruit as he frowned.

The Kaitou Kid card, along with the little imprint that should be on the apple was gone; it was clearly a brand new apple. 

Shinichi turned to his fridge. The bag, which contained most of Kaitou Kid’s costume, was gone too.

Sighing, Shinichi grabbed the apple and gave it a bite. Now that he had some solid food, he wouldn’t feel too guilty for his non-empty stomach if he drank some coffee. He took a mug from the rack, and another bite from the apple—

Shinichi nearly choked.

Through the kitchen window above his basin, he spotted Kuroba squatting in his backyard.

He dropped the mug and apple and stomped outside.

“What are you doing?” Shinichi scowled over Kuroba’s shoulder.

Kuroba stood up and turned, dusting his hands and (Shinichi’s) shirt. “Your plants are dying because of your pathetic care.” Kuroba gave Shinichi the side-eye. 

Shinichi looked down to check Kuroba’s deed. The only two potted plants he had in his backyard were now neatly pruned, and they looked much alive and new, like the first time his mother gave them to him last fall. The dead leaves and stems were gathered next to the plants.

“I wouldn’t say dying when they’re growing,” Shinichi muttered.

Kuroba rolled his eyes. “It’s called overcrowding. And that’s bad.”

“Ok, plant expert. Now get out of my property.”

Kuroba put out his hand. “You promised to give me the gemstone.”

“I didn’t,” Shinichi reminded. “I said we’re going to talk.”

“The murderer confessed, and I saved your plants. I don’t think there’s any need for a talk. Just give me the gemstone.”

Shinichi couldn’t deny Kuroba did help in getting the murderer to confess, but he certainly didn’t ask him to save his plants. Still, he didn’t intend to bring that up and cause another pointless conversation, so he took out the gemstone from his jacket.

Under the dark sky with little light, the gemstone looked even more impressive than he saw earlier this morning. Shinichi glanced up, checking for Kuroba’s reaction. He looked unimpressed, though Shinichi figured the thief must have encountered much more valuable ones.

Which only made Shinichi wonder why Kuroba was so desperate to get this gemstone back. 

“I only have one question,” Shinichi said. Before Kuroba could argue, Shinichi continued, “Just tell me who stabbed you, and I won’t pursue the matter.”

Kuroba frowned. “I’m still not telling you.”

“Take it as that I'm curious. Once I know who it is, I’ll never speak about the stabbing incident again.” Shinichi waved the gemstone in his hand. “And you’ll have this back.”

Kuroba considered for a moment. “You have to delete the photos of me as Kid too.”

Shinichi pursed his lips. He was still hoping he could hold onto them and used it in the future for real threats, but he knew if he refused, this negotiation would go nowhere. Sighing inwardly, he nodded. “Ok.”

There was a few seconds of silence in which Kuroba readdressed the potted plants by their feet, and Shinichi wondered if he was going to back out on the deal again. But then Kuroba looked up, and something in his eyes changed. It wasn’t like the gutsy gleam Shinichi saw in the hospital, or the playful glint that could be found on a daily basis.

His eyes looked tired, and a little sad. And both seemed out of place and strange on someone like the ever-charming Kuroba Kaito and the invincible Kaitou Kid—

“It’s me,” Kuroba said. “I stabbed myself.”

Taking the gemstone from Shinichi’s weakened grasp, Kuroba raised it under the moonlight.

[too-attached-to-fiction]

Stepping In Time

Set: Post deviancy

Word count: ~ 1,600

Summary: Connor stops by fem!reader’s dance studio, and learns how to dance.

A/N: I can’t do angst so if you came here looking for that I guarantee you’re in the wrong place.

***

Music blasted through out your small studio, echoing off the wood paneled floors. You had a break in between teaching classes, and now you were alone, listening as the bass pumped.

The music was always unfamiliar to most, considering that you used songs from the turn of the century. It was more of your language, anyways. Still had comprehensible lyrics and feeling before electronica took over. Not that you had anything against electronica, but you preferred things with more feeling.

Feeling. Something your boyfriend still struggled to understand. None of the research databases could accurately describe the concept of truly being alive.

You’d met Connor and the rest of the Jericho crew at a protest months ago. While you yourself were human, you still came out to show support. The ex-deviant hunter seemed hopelessly smitten when you came up after the crowd dispersed. It took North tracking you down to set up a coffee date. It took all but ten minutes to find yourself falling for him. There was just something there that you couldn’t shake.

North was a frequent student when she and Markus weren’t pushing new laws. You’d originally introduced it to her when Connor mentioned the woman resorted to violence often more than not. The android was graceful and had perfect control of her body, a talent you often envied. She struggled with confidence, preferring to stay in the back of the class because of her history. It took months for you to convince her to move to the middle row. At this rate, she’d be the top student by the end of the year.

Sometimes Markus stopped by during or at the end of practice. Despite going out for months, they still acted in puppy love, exchanging shy smiles and pecks.

Connor, on the other hand, rarely stopped by. He ran around with Hank still, preferring to be a detective than a lawyer. He still did deviant cases, but North and Markus had talked the department into finding ways to de-escalate things during interrogations. Because of this, more androids survived the process.

You let the music flow. Where Connor was tense, you were flexible, always accommodating to those around you. Now that more deviants were revealing themselves, you’d opened the studio up to them. They all told you they felt a sense of relief when in class, and that overjoyed you. You knew their names, what they liked, where they came from. They seemed to be quite open after their first few lessons.

This month, you were going back twenty years, back to Justin Timberlake’s smooth voice. You kept Mirrors on repeat, improvising with every time.

You had about an hour. If you wanted to, you could take a break, or get something to eat, but you didn’t. The studio was your place, a space to think about when the world had gotten too complicated. You planned on teaching the routine in the next week, but it seemed as if it wouldn’t be ready in time.

The bell on the door rang out, but you ignored the interruption. ‘5, 6, 7, 8’. You counted in your head. You kept your movements robotic in the beginning, but they started to flow less rigidly, ebbing and flowing according to the music.

You tilted your head for a moment, listening to the lyrics. “And now I say goodbye to the old me, it’s already gone… And I can’t wait wait wait wait wait to get you home, just to let you know you are…” His voice switched to falsetto, and you found yourself closing your eyes, moving again.

The song ended two minutes later, and you snapped back to reality when it didn’t repeat. You turned to find Connor, his hand wrapped around the audio remote. He smirked a little, savoring the moment.

“You know, I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you dance.” His voice was low, enough to give you shivers up your spine. “Why?”


“Because you’ve never asked.” You walked toward him, stopping just centimeters away. “Now tell me, what brings you here?” You tilted your head to get a better view on him. You were sure you were sweaty and probably looked like a complete mess. Like always, Connor looked perfect, his synthetic skin practically invincible.

“Is it a crime to visit my partner?” He asked, and though his tone was innocent, you knew otherwise. He was smarter than he seemed around Hank, who was constantly making puns. You tugged on his tie. He still wore the uniform he came in, pulling it off the way he always had.

“You tell me, Detective.” You gave him a playful smile, swiping the remote from his hand before stepping away to grab a drink of water from the bottle in your little desk area.

“Captain Fowler let me off early. Well, North and Markus dragged me from the station and told me to come on your break.” You shook your head, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as you did so. Those two never ceased to impress you. “Once I got here, they suddenly remembered they had a meeting and left.” You let out a laugh this time, Connor’s confusion laced in his voice.

“Love, I think they were trying to set us up.” You smiled, going back to kiss his nose before going to change the song. “Hey, Con, you know how to dance?”

“Dancing is not in my programming, (Y/N).” He loved using that excuse. Kissing wasn’t in his program either, and yet he still loved giving you ones.

“And that’s why I’m going to teach you.” You said, plugging in the song and taking his hand. Gently, you guided him to the middle. You picked up his left hand and lifted it up, intertwining your fingers with his. His other hand settled on your waist.

“Okay, when I step forward with my right foot, you step back with your left. When I step back with my left, you step forward with your right.” You smiled up at him. “It’s okay if you stumble, or if you happen to step on my feet.”

Slowly, you guided him through the steps. “Step, together, back, together.”

The first time he tried it, he ended up stepping on your foot, his cheeks tinted blue. You smiled, but didn’t say anything. “Try again.” You encouraged. As you walked through again, he stumbled a little less.

After a couple of successful attempts, you moved your hand to lift up his chin. He’d been looking down at his feet since you started. His cheeks weren’t blue anymore.

“Music on.” You called out, and the song you chose started to play.

When the song ended, the two of you stared at each other, perfectly still.

“Picked that up quickly, did we?” You tilted your head with a grin. You leaned up to kiss the tip of his nose before gently removing yourself from his arms.

You had to remind yourself that the next class was starting in ten minutes, and students were bound to walk in any second. You walked over to the desk, unplugging your tablet so you could take attendance. With barely any noise, Connor crept up behind you, pulling you towards him and leaving a trail of soft kisses up your neck.

“Someone’s needy today.” You joked, moving to turn around and give him a proper kiss.

“Pardon my behavior, I couldn’t help myself.”

There were screams and laughs coming from outside, and you had to pull away before your next class walked in. Sure enough, a horde of adolescents banged the door open seconds after you had ended the kiss.

“Miss (Y/N)!” One of your favorites, Ella, skipped up to you and Connor with a wide grin. “I got the last routine done!”

You bent down to meet her eyes. “That’s wonderful, Ella!” You gave her a high five before her eyes shifted to Connor.

She stepped closer to your bent figure, whispering into your ear. “Miss (Y/N), who is he?”

Your eyes sparkled when you laughed, standing up straight. “Ella, this is Connor. He might be watching us today. Is that okay?”

She nodded shyly, running off to the others.

You turned to Connor. “You staying?”

“If you would like me to.” Like Ella, you nodded before going to the front of the room, checking off attendance.

Connor took a seat on the side line of chairs.

“Hi everybody!” You greeted. “As you can see, this is Connor, he’s going to be watching today.” You glanced over at Connor, who had that soft smile on his face that made butterflies flutter in your stomach. “Okay, let’s start with the warmup!”

An hour later, music was blasting as you led the class into the routine. You were still standing in the front, but you were facing the class as they moved. “5, 6, 7, 8!” You yelled, and right on time, they moved in sync.

“Music off.” You called out to the speakers. “Okay everyone, next time we’ll start on a new routine. Have a nice night, get home safe!”

Around Connor, a small group of parents had sat down, waiting to pick up their kids.

Once everyone had gone, you grabbed your things, Connor waiting for you by the door. As the two of you walked out, you said lowly, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[onewaywardwitch]

Just A Typo (3/?)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Hacker!Reader

Summary:  It was a simple challenge between a very competitive group of friends. A challenge that ended very differently than anticipated.

Warnings: Small bit of language

Word Count: 2300

A/N: Sorry it took so long for this part. I would have posted yesterday but I spent half of last night in the hospital because my friend nearly broke my finger! Enjoy part 3!

The drive up was… strange. If I had known I'd be sharing such a small space with two Avengers, I would have used more deodorant. A silence quickly settled over us all. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. At least, it wasn’t until I asked Sergeant Barnes if he had a large magnet collection. He must have thought I was making fun of him as he huffed and stared out the window grouchily. The air was definitely tense after that incident.

The tower was different to how I had imagined it in my head. There was a lot less people around for me to gawk at. Sure, the ground floor was pretty busy with all sorts of people running around. Many of them stared at our party of three. I liked to think it was because of me, but the two super soldiers flanking me on either side made it difficult for me to keep up my pretence.

“Why does an interrogation room look more expensive than my apartment?” I whined as the Captain closed the door, leaving me inside alone. He must have sensed my nerves when we were in the lift on the way up and reassured me that they only needed to talk to me. It didn’t help.

I took a seat at the table and leaned back on the legs of the chair. Rocking slightly, I began to sing to myself, seeing if I could remember all of the words to Alphabet Aerobics. I gave up once I got to ‘H’, the boredom slowly seeping in. I resorted to pulling faces at whoever was watching me behind the glass, because surely someone was standing there.

Just as I was about to start using hand gestures to go with the facial expressions, Captain Rogers walked back in again, this time accompanied by none other than Tony Stark. Even behind his tinted glasses I could tell he was eyeing me with interest before standing in the corner of the room. It was Rogers who was left to sit in front of me.

“We didn’t get your name earlier, Ms?”

The soldier sitting in front of me seemed to be in charge of getting answers from me. I was easily more comfortable in his presence than in any of the others. I couldn’t help it. There was just something so welcoming about Captain America. “Y/N Y/L/N. But really, I was just messing around earlier. It was a stupid dare and I- “

“How long?”

I turned to Stark, who had decided to remove himself from the corner. He stood just beside Rogers, awaiting my answer. I was only starting to realise how much trouble I could be in, and I was mentally cursing Becca for putting me up to this in the first place.

“How long for what,” I asked, hoping to buy myself a few more minutes to work out a proper excuse. I hadn’t confessed to anything yet, except back at my apartment, and there's no proof of that exchange taking place. I just had to distract them for a little while.

“How long did it take for you to illegally hack into my private cameras?”

Shit. New plan.

“Is this the part where I say I want my lawyer?”

“Can you afford a lawyer?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

“Yes, of course. I just need to get rid of my health insurance first then I'll be good to go.”

He snorted at my comment before taking off his glasses. “It should be near impossible to break through my firewalls. Even if you were to do it, it would take hours. Days, even. And by that time, we would have your location and be able to stop you before you even finish. But we didn’t even know someone was in our system until you were already done. So tell me, how long did it take you?” Stark’s face held none of the amusement that the world was so used to seeing him with. He was all business now. And while his tone sounded threatening, there was hint of something else that I couldn’t put my finger on.

“Just over half an hour.” I gave my answer slowly, unsure of his reaction to it. I hadn’t realised just how complex the system I hacked into was until Stark’s little speech. I was always good at computers, I knew that. But I didn’t tend to show off too much. Becca, Angie and I hacked companies all the time for fun and to keep our skills up to scratch. I was the quickest out of the three of us. There was never anything malicious behind our actions. Hacking was our hobby, and the foundation of our friendship. We didn’t tend to aim for any big businesses, but we knew we were good enough for the big leagues. A lot of shady people would pay large sums of money for the skills we possessed.

Stark stared at me before leaving the room. I had nearly forgotten that the Captain was still here until he started speaking again.

“Did someone pay you to hack into the tower? Who put you up to it?”

“My dick of a friend did. But she claims to pay me in hugs. Apparently, our friendship is worth more than any amount of money. At least to her. I'm still broke, I could use some cash. I really only did it for bragging rights.”

He smiled softly at me and I instantly relaxed. Steve Rogers, all around good guy, believed me. He didn’t think I was some lunatic determined to sell all their secrets online. He asked me what I saw on the camera footage and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Let’s just say that your Robin Hood should not be allowed anywhere near the fridge.” I winked at him, but before he could question me further, Stark returned, this time with my laptop.

I immediately sat up straighter when he placed it on the table in front of me, my fingers itching to open it again.

“My best employees have all been taking turns trying to unlock this. I tried to unlock it. You’re good, I'll give you that. But I won’t believe it until I see it.”

I couldn’t hide the curiosity that was beginning to make its way onto my face. I had an idea of what he was going to say next, and I didn’t know whether I should be relieved or wary.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I hope I'm not going to regret this, but I want you to hack into my system. Again.”

I narrowed my eyes at him slightly, before biting my lip to hide my smile.

“There’s one thing I'm going to need first.”

~~~~~

“Why were we sent to do this?”

It was Bucky and Sam who were given the task of getting the pack of jellies for their current ‘guest’. After Y/N had announced that she couldn’t do anything without her Haribos, Tony had sent the pair to the nearest store without questioning any of it. She refused to even open the computer before they came back.

“I don’t get why Tony is so worked up about her,” Sam commented nonchalantly, walking down the aisles.” She doesn’t seem like anything special.”

But Bucky couldn’t disagree more.

He found her more interesting than he cared to admit. The energy she possessed had a youthful and carefree tone, and her smile was infectious. Since he had joined the Avengers not long ago, people had been treating him with caution. He tried to ignore it, but it was difficult when everyone around still acted as though he was the Winter Soldier instead of just Bucky Barnes. The Avengers themselves were fine, it was just the rest of the world. He had a feeling that people would take a long time to accept him, if they ever did.

But Y/N had looked at him with respect when they first met. Awe. Maybe even admiration, he hoped. All that hope quickly disappeared when her nerves settled in as she began to understand the reason for their visit. Her smile fell and for some reason, Bucky couldn’t help but find himself feeling guilty for being the cause of it.

“Hey! Earth to Barnes, you with me?”

Bucky was jolted back to reality by Sam’s loud voice and large hand waving right in front of his face. He mentally cursed himself for zoning out completely and followed Sam to the cashier to get the sweets this strange woman apparently couldn’t do anything without.

~~~~~

Stark had been patient, I'll give him that. It was just us in the room and I'd been wasting my time, opening the jellies far slower than necessary, spending too long chewing on one cola bottle, until he finally had enough. He opened my laptop and gave me an irritated look.

“Now.”

I could tell he was beginning to think I was just pulling his strings. That I hadn’t really done anything spectacular. That I was just the face of the operation, not the brains.

“Well, call your bomb squad Mr Stark, cause I'm about to blow your mind.” I smirked back at him in response and popped another jelly heart into my mouth.

Within a few minutes I found myself in the same position I was in earlier. Except this time, I was sitting with Tony Stark instead of my misfit friends. And I was much more prepared this time. I knew his system better now, which definitely worked in my favour as I tried showing off my skills. I was better prepared for the defences he had set up and after nearly forty minutes, I had accessed not only cameras, but Stark Industries’ private server and F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s server too.

I cleared my throat as I pressed a small speech button in the corner of the screen, hoping it was what I thought it was.

“Here’s Johnny,” I said in a low tone, hearing my voice echo throughout the room, and I assumed the whole tower as well. When I looked up at Stark he was focused completely on my laptop, a small yet noticeable smile playing on his lips.

“I don’t think I've ever had to say this before, but could you explain how you got through those last few firewalls? Slowly?”

After showing him what he failed to comprehend (!!!), I switched my attention to the footage coming from the cameras around the tower. I felt Stark leaning over my left shoulder, determined not to miss what I was doing. It was only mere seconds before I had the footage I was looking for. It didn’t him long to realise what he was looking at. There on my screen, were many of the Avengers, crowding around a glass window through which I could see myself and Stark.

I looked up and waved directly in front of me, where I now knew Dr Banner was standing. I'd be lying if I said I wasn’t thrilled by the audience I had attracted. All I had to do now was wait for Stark to realise I'm not some threat that needs to be eliminated, and I could go back to my life of cheap wine and pining over fictional characters.

“How would you like a job?”

That’s the exact moment I felt betrayed by my beloved Haribos as one got stuck in my throat and I began choking violently. Stark watched on in amusement and I gave him a thumbs up while my face got slightly redder.

I was not expecting that.

I didn’t get a chance to reply to the sudden offer, before Black Widow herself practically stormed into the room and dragged the billionaire out.

It took a few minutes for my brain to catch up with my eyes and my gaze finally snapped away from the door that was slammed closed only moments ago.

“What is happening?” I cried out, allowing my head to just drop onto the table in both confusion and exhaustion. I had momentarily forgotten that my laptop was still in the room with me.

I lifted my head up quickly and began typing to gain access to the sound in the room hidden in front of me, as well as the video footage.

“What were you thinking?” Romanoff was seething.

“I was thinking that no one has ever done that. Ever. Did you see how quickly she accessed everything? I was thinking that I'd rather have her on our side than not.”

My eyes flickered from the faces of each of the Avengers, trying to figure out where each of their thoughts lay. All their faces showed varying degrees of anger and apprehension except for one. Sergeant Barnes didn’t look concerned, just intrigued. The fact that there was one person who didn’t disagree with Stark gave me the confidence to press the speech button once again.

“Sorry to interrupt.” All of their faces snapped up to look at me almost instantly. “But my rent has gone up and I wouldn’t say no to a bit more cash. If it makes any difference, I promise I'm not part of some covert foreign intelligence group. Plus, you kind of owe me. I'm most likely fired from my actual job because I didn’t show up today.”

Stark gave his friends a pointed look before speaking out loud.

“Perfect. You’re hired, kid.”

Natasha turned and spoke to him quietly.

“I know I can’t stop you, Tony, but don’t be surprised if this bites you in the ass.”

While I watched him leave that room, only to enter my own a moment later, the rest of the Avengers filed out. All except Bucky, whose gaze remained fixated on me.

 Taglist:

(if there’s a strike through your name it means I couldn’t tag you)

@amybarter15 @imperialoath @throw-some-music-my-way @mamaraptor @marbleowl @lydklein1 @wantingtobekorra

[tonystarktogo]

An Unwise Murder (An Inconvenient Survival)

Summary: “Someone within SHIELD sold out an Avenger. That was their first mistake.” When Avenger Steve Rogers is declared killed in action, everyone expects his best friend and fellow agent Bucky Barnes to go on a rampage. It’s the quirky mechanic with a sharp tongue and a secret talent for less-than-legal hacking that throws the whole agency for a loop. Featuring: A dead Steve (but when is Steve ever dead), a very pissed off, fucked-up secret agent Bucky (so basically your usual Bucky), and a very civilian Tony (who is exactly as harmless as you’d expect Tony Stark to be).

Read on AO3

Here is, as promised, the first part of the Double-0-Bucky/Hacker-Tony fic! To most of you, this part will probably be familiar already, but we have to start at the beginning *shrugs* and don’t worry, the next part will follow soon. Enjoy!

Part I 

Funerals aren’t meant to be a pleasant event, so Bucky doesn’t bother to put on a show.

His face could be carved in stone for all the emotion it conveys, and his muscles are tense, coiled, trembling faintly with the desire to grab his gun and pull the damn trigger.

Bucky isn’t sure if he’d stop shooting once he starts though. Not with how many tempting targets currently surround him. Not with how it would finally shut Pierce the fuck up. People tend to talk a lot less after you’ve emptied a magazine or two into them  — and Bucky has always been a man who appreciates silence.

Fuck, Bucky doesn’t even know what he’s here for. He doesn’t attend mandatory events. It simply isn’t done. The few weeks of the year that Bucky spends in his own country, he wastes drinking and sleeping around, often both at the same time. What’s to stop him from walking straight out of this impersonally sterile room filled with people he doesn’t trust, and go back to his favourite rundown bar to knock back vodka until he can’t feel the cold on his skin anymore?

Oh right. His best friend just got himself killed in action. The lucky bastard.

On a fucking nightmare of a mission in France of all places. If it had been Russia or Iran or North Korea or even just Sokovia (and really, it takes skill to be wanted by all four sides of the conflict), Bucky could have dealt with it.

But France? Bucky takes that as a personal offence.

Avengers don’t get killed in France. Avengers get killed the way they kill: brutal and messy, with no one left behind who’d bother to avenge them. Because justice is a fairy tale, and every act of peace is built on the actions of someone smart enough to wash the blood off their hands before they step in front of a camera.

At least the acknowledgements are short and free of false sentimentality. A whole lot of bullshit, sure, but it’s not like there is another choice. Not when the truth amounts to Steve Rogers died on a mission we weren’t authorised to give, in a country he wasn’t supposed to be in, over intel that we won’t admit exist.

Bucky doesn’t laugh. Barely huffs a a breath, but the people on both sides of him twitch tellingly.

Like all Avengers, Bucky has sought out the back of the room, where he can keep his back to the wall at all times, has a clear view on all available exists and a good excuse to keep an eye on the crowd of mourners.

The thought that one of them — multiple ones, possibly — are faking their sorrow makes Bucky clench his fingers against the urge to start an interrogation right now, Avenger style.

“Don’t kill anyone you might need to sign you off on field work again,” Barton mutters to his left, the words barely audible.

Bucky forces the tense muscles in his shoulders to relax, adopts an at-ease position that won’t fool the other Avengers, but at least won’t traumatise the attending techies and lawyers. The psych department always makes such a fuss when you break their precious, civilian employees.

There’s no point in fooling his colleagues though — if the Avengers can even be called that. It’s not like he meets them for brunch or goes out drinking with them in his downtime. They’re the elite of a internationally operating spy organisation for a reason, and it’s certainly not their ability to play well with others.

Just hours after having one of their own killed in a SHIELD-issued safehouse, all the Avengers are on edge. More so than usual. That the entire op smells like foul play all the way across the Atlantic does about as much to deescalate the situation as throwing a hand grenade into a room filled with weaponized uranium.

Someone inside SHIELD sold out an Avenger.

That was their first mistake. Their second was taking Steve out without killing Bucky as well.

There’s a shift in Bucky’s peripheral vision. Natasha Romanoff, codenamed Black Widow, looks as affected of recent events as she always does: not at all.

Is she the traitor? Bucky wonders as he tilts his head ever so slightly in acknowledgement. The rivalry between Black Widow and Steve is no secret. It isn’t a friendly one either, not that any of the Avengers are the sort of person one might associate the word “friendly” with. She betrayed the Red Room at eighteen. What offer would it take for her to turn on a fellow agent? An Avenger at that? Is she tense because she expects me to do this country a favour by killing Pierce or is she afraid to be found out?

The service lasts barely twenty minutes — unsurprising, considering how much isn’t said, can’t be said, because living within the specter of the highest security clearance makes for a shoddy eulogy — but to Bucky it feels like forever.

It doesn’t help that half the people around him are waiting for him to fly off the handle in either grief or blind rage. Blind rage admittedly being the more likely outcome.

It doesn’t help that the other half undoubtedly suspects him to be the traitor — who better to kill Steve Rogers than his best friend, after all? Especially when Avengers so clearly don’t have best friends — though Bucky can’t fault them for the sensible assumption.

He’d suspect himself too. The black hole that is four years of being held as a POW on his résumé hasn’t left him with what one might call a solid standing within the agency. Or a stable life in general.

Bucky has simply been lucky that Avengers don’t have much use for stability as it is. (Also, Steve was planning a revolt, should they stop attempting to recover Bucky. Not that anyone likes to acknowledge that. Pierce’s secretary still pales every time she catches sight of one of them.)

He’s been lucky that he’s too useful to be killed.

That might change now — Steve Rogers’ death changes a lot of things — but if it comes to that, Bucky will make damn sure to take the traitor with him. Another outcome isn’t acceptable.

And Bucky is very, very good at getting what he wants.

But first, he needs to find someone clean — meaning unaffiliated with SHIELD in any way — who can take a look at the USB flash drive he’s found in one of his dead drops two days after Pierce declared Steve KIA.

Fuck, but the first thing Bucky is gonna do when he sees Steve again is punch him in the fucking face.

*

Tony has always had an interesting way of making friends.

For example, Tony meets his best friend Pepper during a hostage situation when he’s sixteen. He’s never before seen a girl throw high heels at a guy’s head with such a deadly accuracy. Suffice to say Tony likes her immediately — and promises to buy her all the shoes she needs to knock stupid people down, naturally.

They keep in touch afterwards, and it’s the start of something great.

He meets his brother in all but blood much the same way, only Tony barely remembers that one because those kidnappers were smart enough to drug him before trying anything funny. Luckily, Tony has Rhodey for the straight thinking part — or at least he does after that episode.

On another, memorable occasion, Tony befriended one of his kidnappers.

In his defence: they were some pretty alright people, for being criminals holding him for ransom. No unnecessary threats or bodily harm, and they actually gave him drug-free food too. Also, you have no idea how mind-numbingly boring being kidnapped is. Well, not the getting kidnapped part but the staying-kidnapped-whilst-your-kidnappers-fail-to-get-their-money part.

Sadly, some people still believe that Stark Industries will pay for the disowned heir Tony Stark’s safe return. And usually they don’t react too well to being proven wrong. That time being one of those rare exceptions. In no small part thanks to a certain member of the crew whose identity Tony will protect until the day he dies. Or something.

Never mind.

The point is, Tony is used to meeting cool people under very hazardous, extraordinary circumstances.

Which is why — as he will later explain to a very exasperated Rhodey and an even more distrustful Pepper — when Tony locks up his garage at 7.40 pm after a long day of changing oils and busted tires, only to suddenly find himself face to face with a hooded stranger — after he’s already locked the doors, though he won’t share that part with his friends — he doesn’t panic.

He greets the guy — there’s a twenty percent chance Tony knows him, okay, hiding their faces as they track him down isn’t exactly a rarity — like a civilised person instead.

“Hi there,” Tony says with his best customer smile. “How may I help you?”

The guy — who definitely has more upper body strength than Tony, not that he notices or anything — doesn’t so much as twitch. He just stands there, body turned towards Tony, face shadowed by his hood. Tony really should have switched out the broken light bulb ages ago, maybe then he wouldn’t have to squint at his visitor like a sceptical squirrel, trying to make out the guy’s features.

“Anthony Stark?” the guy asks after a moment, voice low and rumbling, like gathering clouds on the far end of the horizon, as a violent storm approaches.

It’s that specific, unfairly nice sound that decides it: Tony definitely doesn’t know this guy. There’s no way he would have forgotten a voice like that.

Tony lets his smile brighten a little because if he’s about to be kidnapped — is it that time of the month already? Tony wouldn’t know, his last calendar sorta had a small accident involving a fire and DUM-E using up all the fire extinguisher on Tony rather than the actual fire. It was a pretty sweet, protective gesture, actually. Tony may or may not have teared up, just a little, but that didn’t change that half his equipment had to be replaced — then he’d like to start their working relationship on a good note. The kidnapping attempts tend to have less violent endings that way.

Additionally, Tony really doesn’t want to start a fight in his garage. This is his work place — which is basically holy, ask anyone. His cars are in here. They are not acceptable collateral damage, no matter what Pepper says.

“Do you know a Steve Rogers?” is mystery guy’s next question.

Which is a damn shame because it takes all of Tony’s not inconsiderable self-control to not tense at that particular inquiry. Steve Rogers.

God fucking damn it.

Tony forces the memories, the reflexive questions — a bloodied, broken body, screams of pain, narrowed, blue eyes glaring at him even as strong hands push him out of the line of fire — down immediately, takes care to keep his expression calm and clueless instead. He’s got lots of practice doing that. It’s just like being confronted with an obnoxious reporter who won’t stop bothering him with stupid questions about why he denies his father’s legacy. Bloodthirsty reporters, bloodthirsty assassins, it’s really just more of the same.

Tony has been handling shit like this since he was nine. If mystery guy expects him to trip up and give up even a single piece of information the easy way, he’s got another thing coming. Tony Stark doesn’t do easy.

Especially not when it concerns people he almost considers tolerable. Those gems are hard enough to find as it is — well, among the boring, totally legal working crowd at least — Tony will protect them with all he has. Not that he wouldn’t do the same for people he doesn’t like, he just wouldn’t be as happy about it.

Mystery guy is in for a surprise.

“Rogers?” Tony furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “That doesn’t ring a bell.” Close enough to the truth to count.

Then, the grin slides completely off Tony’s face and his eyes narrow in open suspicion. “Not that it matters. I don’t make a habit of handing out contact information to strangers who can’t be bothered to introduce themselves. Client privileges, I’m sure you understand.”

And yeah, some sarcasm may slip into those words, but can you blame Tony? He’s been working for almost ten hours in that special place reserved in hell for customer service, and, frankly, Tony is done with the world for the day. That he’s most likely dealing with what’s either a very diligent mercenary or a very strange kidnapper does little to lighten his mood.

Both options are far less appealing than mystery guy’s sexy voice initially indicated. Tony feels a little cheated.

“Oh, I understand,” mystery guy murmurs ominously.

When Tony squints, he can literally see the shadows behind the guy blacken. On an unrelated note, he really needs to stop binge-watching those horror flicks. Clearly it’s messing with his mind.

Not that this keeps Tony from bristling at Mystery Guy’s threatening tone — if anything, it has Tony reflexively square his shoulders because he does not fold.

Mystery guy snorts, and Tony has the fleeting impression that the stranger has the gall to be amused by him. He kind of wants to deck the guy just for that.

“I can see why he liked you.”

Something in those words freezes Tony into place long before his brain has puzzled through their meaning. By the time his mind catches up to the past tense that refers to a person it should absolutely not refer to, mystery guy has already taken a few steps towards the only functioning light bulb in Tony’s garage and slips his hoodie back.

The bleak light reveals a pale, handsome face with a strong jaw and icy, blue eyes. Absently, Tony approves of the way the hoodie has messed up Mystery Guy’s wild hair into something untameable and unfairly attractive, but it’s kind of hard to melt into a puddle of appreciative goo when you’ve just learned of the death of a friend.

Or well, acquaintance maybe. Rhodey always reminds Tony that he can’t just go around, adopting friends left and right just because he wants to. And with Steve it’s hard to say. The guy is almost impossible to read.

Still, it’s Steve they’re talking about. And whatever mess he’s gotten himself involved in, Tony doesn’t doubt for a moment that Steve thought he was doing it for the right reasons. He’s annoyingly self-righteous like that. It sucks even more when you listen to him rant and realize he’s got a point, not that Tony will ever admit such a thing to his face.

Which will be hard to do if Steve is actually—

Tony presses his lips together and defiantly stares up at Mystery Guy. Who is, in fact, taller than him. There really is no justice in the world.

“Who the fuck are you and what the fuck do you want?” is what Tony settles on to summarize the maelstrom of confusing emotions wrecking chaos inside him.

The man takes a threatening step closer. Of course, it’s not that hard to come across as threatening when you’re half a head taller and made of muscles and steel. Still. The guy could at least try to keep his looming on the downlow.

Not that Tony does him the courtesy of giving up an inch. This is his garage, damn it. No one makes Tony feel afraid in his own home.

Mystery Guy growls and there is a lethal coldness in his eyes that Tony doesn’t think a human should be able to portray.

“I was Steve’s best friend. And you’re going to find the people who killed him so that I can return the favor.”

Thoughts? 

[imjustthemechanic]

Our Own Demons

Part 1/? - A Bolt from the Blue Part 2/? - A Different World Part 3/? - Stark At Home Part 4/? - Pot Roast Night Part 5/? - Space-Pie Continuum Part 6/? - Energy Signature Part 7/? - Miss Potts Part 8/? - Bot from Beyond Part 9/? - Even the Odds Part 10/? - Miss Potts Arrives Part 11/? - Truth Hurts Part 12/? - The Third Reality Part 13/? - Thor and Odinson Part 14/? - The Tesseract Platform Part 15/? - Prime Suspect

What if Tony Stark really were the villain of the Marvel universe?  How would that work?  Tony himself is about to find out, as he battles his inner demons (and some outer ones, too) across a multiverse of infinite possibilities.

That wasn’t the note Tony wanted to end this experience on, but since the other was determined to be huffy, there was apparently no help for it.  Tony took a folded envelope out of his pocket and put it in the other man’s hand before climbing up onto the platform.

“Well, it’s been weird but I have to run,” he said. “Maybe I’ll see some of you again sometime.  And het,” he pointed to his double, “this is your standing invitation.  If you’ve got some tesseract juice and some vay-cay days to kill, come and be my Cousin Arno for a while.  I’ll get you a yacht and Aishwarya Rai’s phone number.”

But apparently the other just thought he was rubbing it in.  “I don’t really do vacations,” he said.

Foster and Hill went over the settings again, while Miss Potts stood watching as if lost in thought.  When everybody finally agreed that they were as ready as they’d ever be, Foster flipped the switch, and Tony felt his hair stand on end as the equipment began to hum.

“Say hello to your world’s Ginny Potts for me!” said Miss Potts.

“Pepper,” Tony replied.  “Everybody calls her Pepper.”

And then the world went white.  For a moment it flickered back in, and Tony saw a wood-paneled room full of people in historical costumes, with wigs and high heels and frock coats.  He might have recognized a few faces as they gaped at him in surprise, but then they were gone again, and he was suddenly thrown off his feet into a pile of boxes.

Tony had expected it would be easier to get his equilibrium back when he knew what was about to happen, but it wasn’t.  he was buried in junk somewhere very dark – he could hear crockery and metal crashing about as he tried to dig himself out of it. The whole place was vibrating and there was a smell of diesel… and after the initial moment of disorientation he realized he was in the back of a large container truck.  The truck was moving, which mean that somebody was driving it, and that in turn meant that some form of help was at hand.

He fought an arm free of the mess and climbed over more boxes to bang on the nearest wall.  “Hey!” he shouted.  “Hey, open up!”

At first there was no response, but Tony continued banging and hollering until after a minute or so, the truck pulled over and stopped.  Through the holes in the side of the container he could see shadows moving past.

“Is somebody in there?” a voice called from outside.

“Yes!” said Tony.  “It’s a long story – let me out and I’ll tell it to you!”

Something outside went clunk, and light came flooding in as the doors at the far end opened.  The tesseract platform had been packed into the truck along with all the boxes of useless kitchen stuff that had surrounded and disguised it, and Tony had materialized right in the middle of it all, leaving holes in the cardboard and crockery to admit him.  For half a second he was amused by the idea of the people in one of those other realities finding themselves with a Tony-shaped pile of junk on their platform, but then he brought himself back to the situation at hand.

Several people were standing in the open doors. They were dressed in black helmets and jackets with the SHIELD eagle logo on the shoulder, and all of them were pointing guns at Tony.

He held up his hands, although he was pretty sure they wouldn’t shoot once they saw his face.  “Just me!” he said, assuming they knew who he was.  “You guys wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had.”

The agents stepped aside to let him climb down from the truck.  They were at the side of the road somewhere in an area that looked halfway between suburbs and countryside – there were trees and telephone poles and fences, but very few actual buildings.  Tony couldn’t have put a name to the place.  The agents were all staring and exchanging glances, not too sure what to do about the fact that Tony Stark was suddenly in their truck.

“So,” Tony said, and turned to the nearest one to ask, but before he could get another word out, somebody hit him in the back of the head with the butt end of a rifle.  Tony had time to observe that he hadn’t done anything to deserve that, and then he fell face-first on the pavement.

He woke up with a splitting headache, to find himself lying on a very uncomfortable mattress in a tiny room with no furniture except the small bed and a metal toilet.  Three of the walls were bare whitewash, and the fourth was not a wall at all but a set of metal bars, through which Tony could see a hallway with a window at one end and a door at the other, and more cells in between.  He was being held at a police station, which he supposed was better than some other places he could have ended up – but still no way to welcome a guy back to his own reality.

“Hey!” he shouted again.  “I’m awake!  Time for my phone call!”  The last time Tony had been arrested, for a DUI in 2010, he’d used his phone call to order pizza for the entire police force and they’d let him go with smiles on their faces.  This time he was going to be much more responsible.  This time, he was calling Pepper.

The door at the end of the hallway opened, and two police officers – a tall, thin black man in clubmaster glasses, and a middle-aged white woman with bobbed brown hair – came to take a look at him as he stumbled, still somewhat dizzy, over to the bars.

“Are you really Tony Stark?” the man asked.

“Yes,” said Tony.  “I’d show you ID but I seem to have left it in my other pair of pants. Where am I?”

“Leesburg, Virginia,” the man replied.  “We brought you in about half an hour ago.”

Maybe they’d stuck him in a holding cell because they just didn’t know what else to do with him, Tony thought… although he hoped he’d at least been seen by paramedics of some sort. “I need to make a phone call,” he repeated.  “I’m kind of dealing with an emergency right now.”

“Been a hell of a week for that,” the woman observed.

“Of course, Mr. Stark,” the man said, without acknowledging his colleague.  “But first we’ve got a few questions to ask you.”

“I don’t have time for that,” Tony protested.  “I have to call Pepper!”

The cops exchanged a glance.  “Mr. Stark,” said the woman.  “You’re not free to go.  You’re under arrest.”

“For what?” Tony demanded.

“Attempted carjacking, for one thing,” said the woman.  “The woman who called 911 said you’d threatened her kids. For another,” she looked Tony right in the eyes, “murder.”

Tony was actually relieved – it was just a misunderstanding.  Of course it was.  He hadn’t killed anyone…

Then his stomach dropped so hard he was surprised he didn’t hear the splat when it hit the floor.

“I want a lawyer,” Tony said.

Two hours later, Tony was in an interrogation room drinking very bad coffee, with not one, but three lawyers standing in a sullen row behind him.  The male cop seated himself on the other side of the little table and folded his hands in front of him. Both the table and the chairs they were sitting in were bolted to the floor so they could not be moved.  As if the police expected Tony to suddenly go berserk and start tearing the place apart.

“My name is Sid, by the way,” the cop said, reaching to shake Tony’s hand.  “My kids are big fans of yours.  I gotta say, this isn’t how I ever pictured meeting you.”

“Yeah, well, life’s a funny old thing,” Tony replied. He noted the man’s use of a first name – this guy was playing ‘good cop’, trying to make like he was Tony’s friend. Making friends with policemen had been a good strategy in the past but this situation did not leave Tony feeling very sociable.

“Do you have any idea why you’re here?” Sid asked.

“Only what you told me,” said Tony.  “I’ve been out of town for a couple of days.  I just got back from a side adventure, and the first thing that happens is some guy in a black helmet knocks me out and I wake up in jail.  Whatever you want to ask me about, I’m sure it’s important and I’m sure you and my lawyers can iron it all out, but I need to call Pepper.”

“You want to call Virginia Potts,” Sid said.

“Isn’t that what I just said?” Tony asked, annoyed.  “Yes, I want to call Virginia Potts.”  Was this his own reality?  Lord, he hoped so – the last thing Tony wanted was to have to find his way out of another alternate universe.  What if he’d somehow gotten lost?  In infinite universes, could he ever find his way back to his own?  What a horrible thought!

“Why do you want to call Ms. Potts?” asked Sid.

“To make sure she’s all right,” said Tony.  “I don’t know if you noticed, but some kind of government hit list just got put up in Wikileaks, and her name was on it – I checked. I’ve been out of the loop, and I want to see if my girlfriend is okay.  Wouldn’t you?”

Sid didn’t answer the question.  Instead, he asked another: “Do you know where Ms. Potts is?”

“At the moment, no,” Tony replied.  The lawyers had advised him to tell the truth – if he hadn’t done anything, he had nothing to hide.  “Last I knew she had some kind of event at the LACMA, and I was trying to contact her there when events intervened.  Why?”  He was starting to get worried.  Sid’s interest in Pepper and the mention of a murder charge were a terrifying combination. “Where is she?”

“We hoped you could tell us,” said Sid.

“I can’t.”  Tony shook his head.

“Are you sure?” Sid asked.  “Because the last time anyone saw her, she was with you.”

That was almost, not quite, a confirmation of Tony’s worst fear, and he had to shut his eyes a moment to fight back the hot tears that pricked at the corners of him.  The only Way Pepper could have last been seen with him were if another alternate had been here… what the hell hat this other done, and would killing him for it count as suicide?

“I haven’t seen her in a week,” he said when he felt he could speak without either shouting or sobbing.  “Not since I left California last Wednesday.  We’ve skyped in the evenings, but the last time I saw her face-to-face was the morning I left.  Is she missing?”

“Witnesses saw her leave the Los Angeles County Museum of Art with you,” said Sid – his voice was gentle, aware he was breaking bad news. “Apparently you seemed very concerned that she go with you at once, and nobody’s seen either of you since, until you turned up at the side of the road earlier today.  Now that you’re here, we hoped you could point us to her location.”

She was gone.  The guy who’d started all this, playing with the tesseract in Reality B – or whichever one had been his – had taken her.  He’d put her in the Mark XLIII and taken her back to his world.  It was the only possibility, or at least the only one Tony was willing to entertain. With her gone and Tony the last person seen with her… this was the kind of thing that aired on Dateline.  They thought he’d killed her.

“All right,” he said with a sigh.  “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to explain this to anybody but her, but I’m going to assume if you know who I am then you have some idea what my life’s been like the past few years.  Here’s what happened.”

Sid was not very impressed by Tony’s story.  Even the lawyers tried several times to interrupt, but Tony shushed them and plowed ahead anyway.  The cop across the table listened with a carefully neutral expression, and when Tony had finished he said he would be right back, then got up and left the room.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” one of the lawyers asked once he was gone.  “Do you have any idea how crazy that sounded?”

“You told me to tell the truth,” Tony reminded her.

“That wasn’t the truth – that was ridiculous!” the woman protested.  “Your alibi is an alternate reality?”

“I’m a superhero!  This stuff happens!” said Tony.  “Didn’t you tell me you were Bruce’s cousin or something?  You should know our lives are bullshit.”

The door opened again, but instead of Sid coming back, this time it was his female co-worker.  She was scowling.  “Mr. Stark,” she said, businesslike, as she sat down.

Tony sighed and nodded – Mr. Stark.  Sid was done with him.  This woman was going to be the bad cop.

[laur-rants]

Fic Update – Wolfbann

Chapter 9 - With Golden Cats and Fevered Dogs

Fandom: Dishonored Ship: Corvo/Daud, Past Jessamine/Corvo Rated: Mature Chapter Synopsis: Emily, Emily, wherefore art thou Emily?

AO3 Link

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The Golden Cat has the worst kind of smell clinging to it. It looked clean and proper, but the truth of it hung heavy in the day’s humidity like a poisonous cloud waiting to fall. It smelled of sickness and disinfectant, it smelled of the poor and the corrupted rich, of festering wounds and broken minds and heavy hearts. Corvo was glad for the mask he wore as he quickly scaled the outer wall; it kept the overpowering scent of the brothel’s perfumed air out, and kept the curl of his lip hidden in.

Despite the plague, the Golden Cat defied all business logic by staying open. The property remained heavily protected by the dangerous Walls of Light and was filled with guards ready to usher out anyone showing even the faintest sign of a cough. The decadence of the nobles kept numbers in the green, and meant the place was busy enough that no eyes spared a glance for Corvo; he slipped in easily, a whisper on the wind that the courtesans and their clients paid little attention to. Corvo didn't ignore them, however; every conversation was vital information in a place where nobles gathered and gossiped. He hid himself around corners and above doorways, cataloging the stories revealed to him.

“Are you sure you only have Claire available tomorrow? Then I'm not sure if I can. There's been rumor she has a cough and I just can't afford to take that chance…”

“How much longer on this shift do we have? I was hoping to grab some whiskey and cigars before the downpour started, but…”

“Did you hear about what happened last night at Holger Square? If you didn't, the Courier is sure to run a piece on it soon. Either way, I don't think Campbell will be visiting any time this month…”

“Has the Madame given you today's schedule? Can you switch with me? This man, I just- he always hits too hard and I just- I can't, not this time…”

“Don’t lie to me, Officer! My brothers have been missing for over a week! Yet you're telling me you saw them just yesterday? The Pendleton twins are unmistakable, and none of the girls here have seen them recently, so once I find out who paid you to keep quiet, you'll have my lawyer to answer to!”

Corvo shifted in the shadows as the stiff and irritated form of the youngest Pendleton heir interrogated an equally agitated City Guard. He fidgeted, feeling his own annoyances grow. This brothel held many secrets and stories, sure, but did any of them matter to him? The increasing consensus so far was no, and that did nothing but bother him even further. His skin itched and his teeth gnashed and he pulled at the Void just to give his mind something to do.

He moved from room to room, trying to refocus on why he was here in the first place: finding Emily and bringing her back home.

Martin didn't say it so directly, but there was a chance that Emily was here, dropped off by Burrows in a plea to be rid of a loose end. Corvo could see the logic behind such a decision; killing Emily causes more issues than it solves, and conveniently “losing” her means she can be heroically “found" by Burrows later, cementing his spot in power. And if she isn't found, she can be forgotten, another lost daughter amongst all the others.

At least, that was the prevailing theory. It was sound enough that Corvo wasted no time in getting here and commencing his feverish search. But the more he looked, the less he found and the more he feared he was on a wild goose chase.

That fear was slowly morphing anxiety and anger. He crawled and smoked through the rafters, trying to quiet the growl threatening to bubble up and out of his throat. As much as he ached to change, it would do no good to make a scene in a place like this.

Though, if Corvo was honest with himself, a man turning into a giant wolf might actually be the kind of distraction a place like this would enjoy and undoubtedly look forward to.

He curled a lip down at the vivacious and inebriated guests and decided it best to simply move on and leave them to their strange sexual fantasies. Instead, he spied a pair of women making their way back to the powder rooms, and decided the back rooms would be quieter and less fervent than the main areas. He swept his eyes over the before smoking in after them, just as the door shut and locked behind him.

“All these folks are comin’ in like the rain; hard, fast, and far too wet,” the one complained to her friend once they were out of earshot of the patrons. Corvo flattened himself into a stall, holding his breath as he listened to the conversation. Through the Void pulled over his eyes he watched as the other scoffed out an agreement, moving to adjust her revealing outfit.

“At least we'll get paid double for our time,” the girl commented, “what with the plague and the weather, we'll all need it.”

“What? Madame Prudence said nothing to me about this!” The first complained, pulling out a bag from a locker down the ways. She brandished it at her co-worker, “She still owes me for having to deal with that noble who thought it right to smack my face. Sure, he was kicked out, but…”

“You should take it up with her then,” the friend huffed out, changing her top. “But she told me I'd get double pay, at least. And she should have the money, most of it comes from those Pendleton's, after all.”

“And did you hear the twins went missin’?”

The other girl paused.

“No? I mean, I coulda sworn I saw them just yesterday, but maybe it was their brother…”

They moved on to a different room; Corvo let them go, brain turning. It was the second time he had heard of the missing Pendletons, and of the Madame, who seemed to manage the girls. He didn't much care about the twins -- he ’s sure he threw one of them out of the Tower for insulting Jessamine -- but the Madame could be of some help. If anyone would know if Emily was here or not, it’d be her.

One stretch of the senses and stairwell climb later, Corvo found himself hovering outside the office door to the owner of the Golden Cat. His senses told him the Madame was on the other side, deep in a heated intercom conversation.

As he stood and weighed his options in the hallway, a soft, rhythmic thump from his inner coat pocket whispered it's own opinions to him.

The Golden Cat was here long before Madame Prudence found it, the Heart privately told him, but the curtains were her idea.

“An eclectic sense of taste,” he murmured back, head tilting as he watched the glowing body of the Madame end the conversation, tutting back to her duties. He waited a beat before smoothly raising a fist and rapping his knuckles against the door.

The Madame was halfway around her desk when she paused. Corvo watched through the Void as she wiped down her coat and vest, straightened her furred shawl, and stalked over. Corvo stepped out of her field of vision as she opened the door, waiting until she cleared the threshold before pulling a clawed hand down, bringing reality to a stop along with it.

The magic smoked from his burning hand as the world greyed around him, leaving all but himself suspended in time. Casually, he pocketed his hands and strode into the room past the annoyed form of Madame Prudence, noting her heavy makeup and beehive hair. His nose curled in anticipation of the heavy perfume her office undoubtedly reeked of.

He leaned against her desk and with a sigh, let his glowing mark fade to black as time resumed again.

It wasn't but another moment before a mumbling Madame turned back to her room, closed the door, and winced at the sight of Corvo, with his deep hood and gnarly mask. However, if she was afraid she didn't show it, but she did place a hand to her chest, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

“If you're here for my theatrics play, there are easier ways to get my attention, you know!”

Corvo's head cocked. His nose twitched; the office was not only perfumed but also heavy with drugged hookah smoke. His lip curled in disdain; not even a dunk in the sewers was going to get this stench out of his jacket.

“Apologies for the intrusion, Madame,” he rasped out, throat burning against the laced atmosphere. “But I'm not here to be part of the cabaret.”

He remained casual: she remained irritated.

“Then what are you here for?” She sniffed out, straightening her back. “If you aren't here by appointment, then excuse me, for the safety of my courtesans I must alert the guards to have you escorted-”

She moved to the knob. Before she could turn the door open he was there, one hand over hers and another gripping her throat to the wood of the door.

And there it was, the faintest sliver of fear. His grin slipped into place. Perhaps now he could finally get her to take him seriously.

“I don't think you want to do that, Madame,” he growled out, low and soft. “We can do this the easy way, but bringing in the guards will make this exponentially harder for both of us. Besides, causing that sort of scene is…” he adjusted his grip and tilted his head. “Bad for business.”

Even so threateningly close, Prudence managed to scowl up at Corvo, sniffing at his mangled metal mask.

“Is the best you can do? You come into my property, sneak past my guards, and can't even threaten me properly?”

Corvo stilled. Prudence scoffed.

“You haven't even told me what you want, boy. And do you have to be so close? You smell like a wet dog.”

Corvo removed the Madame's hand from the handle, putting his body between her and her only method of escape. He watched her carefully, undeterred by this old woman's lack of self-preservation.

“I'm looking for a girl. I was tipped off that she is here, in hiding.”

Prudence fixed her shawl and looked him over.

“There are a lot of girls here, if you hadn't noticed. Be more specific.”

Corvo rumbled out a growl, one clearly inhuman and tired of this business. Prudence stilled, eyeing him critically.

“Don't play dumb. The girl would be young, near ten. Royal blood. Probably asking for her mother… or the Royal Protector. I'm sure someone with two coins to rub would gladly pay out the nose to hide her here and keep her quiet.”

The Madame narrowed her eyes.

“You think I'm holding the late Empress’s daughter here? Do you think I have a death wish?” She scoffed out a laugh and paced, casual. “Well, truth be told, I didn't even get the offer. Not with those Pendleton's conveniently going missing.”

Corvo shifted, crossing his arms.

“What do they have to do with anything?”

“Outsider’s ass, you were the Royal Protector, weren't you? You can't hide from me, boy,” she laughed, before adding, “the Pendleton's own silver mines. Their wealth comes from them, they paid half the nobles here in Dunwall and perhaps even Gristol. They were among my best customers, even if they are rough with some of the girls…”

“Whom you should treat better,” Corvo muttered out. Prudence's eyes flashed dangerously.

“Those girls are mine, and I will handle them as I please!” She snarled back, but Corvo just rumbled out another warning himself, and they went back to their standoff. “I won't have some dog telling me how to care for my own property…”

“Get to the point,” Corvo stated threateningly, “so that I can leave you to find the Empress's daughter.”

“The point is that the rumor from the girls is that the Pendleton's were supposed to have her, but they never got their hands in her.”

“What?”

“It was quite the point of contention, one they complained about constantly. And then, they up and vanished.” Madame shrugged. “Must've been too loud, those idiots. And now I'm out my wealthiest customers and instead have to deal with their nagging brother.”

“Where were they last seen?”

“Outside the Distillery District,” the Madame said. She went over to her desk, pulled out a long cigarette and readied to light it. “But the Bottle Street Gang rules those alleyways. My girls aren't allowed there, so you'll have to go there yourself to look for any more clues.”

Corvo straightened up off the door.

“Thank you for the information. However, I need assurance you won't speak of this.”

Prudence lifted a drawn-on eyebrow, pulling a drag from the cigarette.

“Didn't we already discuss the fact that you being here and making a scene is bad for my business? The back door is to the right and down the stairs. Now get out of here before I change my-”

Prudence blinked, and looked around. The masked man was gone, and she was standing alone in her office. Huffing out a ring of smoke, she carefully checked under the desk, in the closet, around the hookah. All the most likely (and unlikely) places for a killer to hide. Nothing.

Five minutes passed. She sat down, contemplating as she smoked her cigarette. Finally, assured privacy, she reached out once again for the intercom switch.

A black, clawed, hand grabbed her wrist, holding it tight. She gasped, throat catching as the hand smoked and burned, and a low rumble emanated out from the mask glowering down at her.

“I mean it, Madame,” the destroyed voice told her, as the light caught on the glass lenses of the mask’s eyes. “Not a word.”

Her blood ran cold as she nodded. He nodded back and as fast as he had reappeared the figure fled again, leaving no trace behind.

For once, Madame Prudence decided to live up to her own name and chose to not speak of her meeting with Corvo Attano to anyone, ever.

------

There were worse jobs to be assigned to than scouting. There were more boring jobs to be assigned to than scouting. Like laundry. Or patrolling. Patrol duty was always assured to be a long shift filled with nothing but the smells of rats and whale oil and not much else to look forward to.

But if Connor was being honest with himself as he flitted from rooftop to rooftop over the Distillery District, scouting was still at the bottom of the 'exciting jobs’ list. Common folk probably saw assassin work as mysterious and interesting when in truth it was a lot of waiting and watching and doing next to bloody nothing in-between.

Connor also knows, in the back of his mind, that Daud only sent him out to give him something to do. Not that much needed to be done; the area simply had to be routinely watched. Devon and Kieron already dealt with Slackjaw and the Pendleton twins a while back, so his presence was more for quality assurance. His job was to listen and make sure nobody was asking the wrong questions or following up investigative leads.

And of course, Connor just needed to get out of the base one more time before the rain hit. After the seasonal deluge started, nobody would want to go out or do anything, himself included. Best to get the stir-crazy out of his bones now-- but with the rain threatening already, not even being dry was a guarantee on this particular mission.

“It's not that bad,” a soft voice offered in his ear, but he shrugged the contact away. As much as Connor enjoyed having the mental connection to his brother, he also didn't need to hear his twins’ soft admonishments from where Thomas waited back at base. Why Daud hadn't sent them both out was beyond him, but Connor supposed this was an easy enough job for one. It didn't require both of them just to make sure there weren't any more leads looking into the Pendleton's disappearance.

With a flurry of ash, Connor landed and hunkered down on a low rooftop across from the Distillery where Slackjaw kept his offices. He rested his head back against the nearest chimney and let his senses extend. Even through the muffled sound and reduced visibility of his heavy whaler mask, he could hear and see every passerby with the help of the Void. Daud had gifted him and his brother with plenty of abilities, including ones that made an endlessly boring job slightly more bearable. Connor turned his head, his eyes silently following the route of a guard, the sad lurching of a plague victim, the gamblings of the Bottle Street Gang.

It was shaping up to be a quiet shift.

All the better to eavesdrop with.

A flash from the sky caught in his peripheral for just an instant. Connor instinctively inhaled, tilted his head and counted the seconds.

Three beats later, the rumble came. Connor shifted and cursed to himself; the rain closer than calculated. The clouds didn't look any friendlier, either. Perhaps he'd be getting water-logged after all.

“As if we need another wet dog here,” Thomas mused, his presence brushing against Connor's mind once again. Connor frowned; as much as the Bond kept them connected no matter how theoretically far apart they were, sometimes he could do without his brother’s casual observations of his missions. Sure, their stronger mental link meant better recon back to Daud but still, privacy and silence would be nice sometimes.

“This is just payback for when you wouldn't leave me alone when I was stationed at the Boyles Estate,” his brother told him, the smirk coloring every thought that washed softly over Connor's mind. “You wouldn't stop asking me for better angles on Lady Boyle, if I remember correctly. I swear your voyeurism knows no bounds.”

“Alright, alright fair,” Connor eventually relented, and Thomas's smug triumph filled his mind, mixing with Connor's own irritations. “Just let me do this in peace, I'd like to try and make it back before nightfall.”

“Well before I go; Emily sends her regards.”

Connor swallowed. Thomas withdrew from his mind, the silence left behind a tangible thing. He clenched his fist, doubling his interest in the Dunwall citizens below to occupy the space left behind. He tried but failed to stop the mental image of Emily Kaldwin, back at the base and sending her love, probably hopping around Thomas as he relayed what Connor was doing and-

He ground his teeth down, biting at his tongue. They really shouldn't be so attached. It was all too dangerous. She was the Empress’s daughter. She was slated to rule one day. They didn't need to sleep cuddled up with her, or let her borrow their masks, or let her pet them or-

He took a deep breath. It was dangerous. He knew it; The Whalers all knew it. Daud probably knew it too, with how fidgety he’d become as of late. And yet, there was something about her, something that drew the wolves to her like flies to --

“Did you see that? Up there.”

Connor stiffened, the confused growl rumbling out of him unbidden. Instinctively, he clenched his fist; in a rush of ash he leapt 20 meters away, safely out of the sightlines below. He took a steadying breath; no way they had seen him, but something had made his hackles rise, had made him second guess himself.

And then it hit him.

The wind shifted and the scent of another filled his nostrils. Connor stilled and forced his body low. There was another wolf here, and it wasn't Daud, or another Whaler. He knew all of their scents by heart, like knowing a relative's face.

So who…

Movement by the distillery had Connor freezing in place, his limbs rooting him to the spot. By the door he witnessed the flash of light and smoke beforr a tall hooded figure appeared out of nowhere, spooking the nearby guard.

The figure looked around. A metal mask glinted in the remaining light.

Before their gazes could meet Connor was moving, already transversing to a new rooftop, one closer to the old brewery. His heart hammered in his chest as he crouched low, doing his best to hug the wall.

His distress didn't go unnoticed.

“Connor?” Thomas tentatively offered, mind brushing against his. He took a shaky breath but didn't respond. First, he needed to see what in the Void was going on. Conversation floated up to his position and he strained his ears, listening.

“Hmph. One of you dogs, again, huh? What you want?”

“I'm not one of those…” there was a pause, like the broken voice behind that mask had to take time to collect itself. “You were expecting me?”

“Slackjaw ain’t dumb. He always knows you lot come back for check-ups. Come on.”

A door unlocked, opened, then closed. Connor peeked over his hiding spot, breath heavy on the exhale. He looked down: the party had moved indoors. His attentions immediately turned the roof of the distillery, looking for cracked windows, bad ventilation shafts, or shoddy roof tiles.

“Connor , ” Thomas tried again, as Connor clenched a fist and let his body slip inside through a loose window. “Connor, who was that? What's going on?”

“I may have stumbled on someone, or someone stumbled on me,” he fed back to Thomas as quickly as possible. “Don't tell Daud, not yet.”

“Don't tell-- Connor are you insane?!”

But Connor didn't give his twin the benefit of a response. He ignored the surge of phantom anger and annoyance and instead hugged the rafters, squeezing through pipes and over wood to follow that hooded figure inside.

The interior of the distillery was hot, even in the large, open air space housing the huge fermentation vats. He transversed from shadow to shadow, keeping his body as high up as possible, doing his best to follow the voices leading him further into the brewery building.

“You look a little lost. Surprised that ol’ Slackjaw knew you were coming?”

Connor slipped around, claws growing from smoking gloves to grip at wood barrels. He caught the scent of the other -- the Turned wolf he was sure was Corvo Attano -- and he stilled in instinctive apprehension. With a tilt of his head and a wave of his hand, Connor watched their conversation through the Void.

“I don't care about that,” that raspy, broken voice said. “I just want to find Emily. To that end, I was pointed in your direction.”

Connor swallowed; there was a snap of teeth on the edge of those words that not even the Royal Protector’s mask could hide. How much control did he even have? Connor shifted uneasily at the possibility that it was less than expected. Fighting a feral, newly turned whale-wolf wasn't his idea of a good time.

But at least it wasn't boring.

“You were sent to me? ” Slackjaw asked, feigning surprise. “Why? I don't have the girl, and if I did I probably would have sold her for a pretty penny.”

The hooded silhouette of Corvo Attano shifted, fist clenching. The growl rolling off him was palpable.

“I went to the Golden Cat looking for Jessamine's daughter-”

“Mm-hmm.”

“And heard the Pendleton's had mentioned her-”

“Oh?”

“And now they are missing, and they were last seen in the Distillery District.”

“That so.”

Slackjaw didn't seem perturbed by Corvo in the slightest, but that didn't surprise Connor. Slackjaw dealt with worse than an agitated Royal Protector on a daily basis. Connor had seen his previous business negotiations with Daud -- that was truly terrifying.

Slackjaw coolly paced the office, picking a knife up and spinning it on the tip of a finger before sheathing it at his side.

“You best be careful where you're sticking your nose, Lord Protector, or you're gonna get yourself burned.”

“I'm not a Protector without someone to protect,” he snarled, hands flexing. “And I need to find her first. Either you help me, or you get out of my way.”

“That what you told the High Overseer, before he shat himself?”

Corvo shifted. Slackjaw laughed.

“Listen here, Corvo, this area is my business. And I have good friends in this business . You can be one of my good friends! I just need something in return.”

Not a beat passed before a heavy purse hit the wood table between them. Even Slackjaw appeared surprised; he looked from the purse to Corvo before slowly reaching down and grabbing the coin.

“Courtesy of the Golden Cat.”

“My my, I didn't know our fancy Royal Protector was a thief at heart.” Slackjaw rubbed a hand over his moustache before reaching in the purse and checking the coin. “So. My Lord. What would you like to know?”

“Where is Emily?”

Connor shifted as the cold dread of guilt flooded his system. Slackjaw, however, held no such feelings as he openly shrugged in front of Corvo.

“No idea, and that's the damned truth. But I do know the Pendleton's were talking about the Empress's daughter, and I know what happened to 'em as a result.”

“And?”

“Had a guy come through a few weeks back,” Slackjaw concluded, counting a few of the coins in the purse. “Was paying to have anyone talking about the Empress taken care of, and I knew some powerful people who were flapping their jaws.” He grinned, pocketing the money. “It benefited us both to have those mouthy twins removed from the picture.”

“Do you know who he was? The man who paid you?”

“Oh that assassin, who has all his little masked followers.” Slackjaw eyed Corvo carefully. ”You're not with him? That Daud fella?”

“He is not working with me,” Corvo snarled out, and the rage was so intense, Connor felt himself slink back. Even Slackjaw brought his palms up, looking for peace.

“Don't shoot the messenger, friend. I just know what you are, and what he is. I've seen his rooftop dogs, he can't fool ol’ Slackjaw.”

Heart thudding in his ears, Connor worked out of his hiding spot as discreetly as possible. He'd overstayed his welcome already, but if he didn't get back to Daud with this soon...

Connor's foot kicked. The pressure valve burst. Slackjaw yelled. Corvo's head jerked.

Connor clenched his fist, using the cover of the steam to transverse up and away through the rafters. He prayed that Corvo didn't notice him, hoped he could use this as a clean get-away.

The window he crawled in through was still open. He scrabbled through it, claws scratching on the glass, feeling the wind catch angrily against his mask and jacket as soon as he was free of the building. Connor looked skyward; the clouds were dark and angry and ready to drop.

“Thomas,” Connor sputtered out loud. Instantly his brother brushed against his consciousness, questioning. “Thomas, there's been a complication.”

“What's going on?”

“It's Corvo,” he told his twin. His gloved hand closed, the Void propelling him to a different rooftop. “He knows Slackjaw was paid off, he knows Daud paid him off-”

A crack of lightning. Connor turned his head from the too-bright flash. When he looked back, a figure stood in front of him, blocking his path.

Connor froze.

“Don't tell Daud yet,” Connor frantically relayed as the thunder crashed and reverberated in his chest. “I'm going to handle this.”

“Damnit, Connor!” Thomas shot back, worry lacing his anger, but Connor didn't respond, couldn't respond, not with that mask keyed on him, watching his every move.

Connor tensed. Neither of them moved. He knew he'd been spotted, but now it was a battle to see who would break first, who would give chase. They were both predators, in their own ways. They didn't flee or fear easily.

But this… this was different.

Connor knew he would have to run. He shared Daud's powers, yes -- he could transform, manipulate space, see through walls. But he was still just a bonded wolf, using borrowed magic. Corvo was… he was something much greater and far more dangerous than that.

Another flash. Corvo vanished.

Connor jumped through the Void as fast as the magic in his veins allowed. He felt more than heard the arcane power crackle in the air behind him, hanging amongst the ozone and electricity of the coming storm. His hair raised; his head ducked.

Those long black claws sliced right where his scalp had been.

Connor spun, twisting around to bring his blade up to parry the next swipe. Corvo's claws clashed loudly against the steel and Connor caught the glint of the mask, that laughing metal face, and felt the anger hiding just behind it.

Spirits, Corvo was going to kill him.

He pushed the blade up and side-stepped the next attack, but Corvo was faster than anticipated. He clipped Connor-- just for Connor to dissolve into ash. The Royal Protector's claws slashed through air and he snarled, taking no time to temper the growing ferocity of his voice and body.

“Coward,” he rasped out, looking for Connor even as the assassin reappeared silently behind Corvo. He bent low and kicked out his legs and then immediately blinked away again before Corvo fell on him. He then leapt off, trying to gain distance before Corvo gathered himself up and gave chase.

“I don't know how much control he has,” Connor shot across to Thomas, reigniting their connection. “I don't know-”

“How bad is it?” Thomas asked, sharp and clinical. “Can you transform and get away?”

Connor heard an angry roar from somewhere on the other side of the rooftop and cursed. Against his better judgement, he looked back; Corvo was blinking in and out, a blur of smoke and fur, that was quickly gaining on him.

“I can't. If I lead him back to the Flooded District-”

“Isn't that what Daud wants?”

“He'll kill everyone, Thomas! Not an option!”

“Okay, if he's that much of a danger then I'll tell Daud and-”

“No! No, I’ll deal with this. I'll send him on a wild goose chase then report back when the coast is clear.”

“Connor…”

It was stupid. Well, not stupid, but it was reckless. And it definitely wasn't boring. Might even be fun.

A terrifying, semi-feral bit of fun.

Outsider's ass, he needed to get out more often.

Connor breathed, then blinked right into Corvo's line of sight. The man -- if he could even be called that -- turned, zeroing in on his movement. Corvo's body was wavering at the edges; limbs too long, back too hunched, focus too tight.

Connor readied himself. He'd have to move faster than he ever had before. Under his own mask, he felt himself smirk.

“Please, don't get yourself killed,” Thomas pleaded.

“No promises.”

Connor's fist clenched and he was off, speeding over the rooftops. Corvo fell for it; like a carrot on a stick he leapt after Connor, chasing him across the skyline as another flash of lightning lanced by. Corvo was fast, but Connor knew the area better. He jumped diagonally, making his movements erratic. And while it worked for a time, it wasn't enough. Like a spear Corvo’s aim was straight and true. He crashed into a rooftop next to Connor, launching himself straight at him, claws raised, snarling-

Leaving Connor to blink away just in time.

The howl Corvo let out was screeching, like a dying whale. Connor's body stumbled against the power of it, instinct overruling his self-preservation. His knee hit the rooftop, hard: less than a beat later he's thrown, the wind knocked out of him, his mask smashing the tiles with a painful crack. He can smell Corvo, can hear the deep rumbles, can feel his claws sink into the lapels of Connor's coat jacket as he’s dragged up just to be smashed down again.

“Where is he?”

Connor didn't need to ask who Corvo meant, not when those angry daggers were digging into his coat, threatening permanent damage. Despite imminent death, Connor didn't respond, keeping his mouth closed, thanking the Void that his mask hid any and all emotion. Corvo waited, but as no answer came his patience waned. He threw Connor into the roofside again, snarling, the heat of his power coming off in waves.

Then a mind slammed into Connor's, angry and vicious and wild.

“WHERE IS HE?”

Connor gasped, his breath catching and his body shrinking away. Corvo threatened to mentally suffocate him, throwing all of the weight of his turmoil straight at Connor. Instinctively Connor’s mind retaliated, shoving against the pain and the emotion, frantically doing whatever he could to get Corvo out, out!

Corvo stilled and his mind retreated so fast it left Connor light-headed. The grip on his jacket lessened, the magic smoking off of Corvo's arms. Connor eyed him carefully; the hooded, masked man before him shuddered, his body cracking.

“What was that?” Corvo gasped out, as if his teeth were remembering how to talk. Connor said nothing, too stunned to move.

Oh Void, Connor realized, he's never-

Corvo himself was no longer paying Connor any attention. The man himself was falling apart; every now and then Connor would feel the distress of his mind brush against his, but even the softest push against Corvo's thoughts sent him wincing back, the foreign sensation too much for his mind.

And yet, Corvo couldn't control it. The contact felt terrified, angry, tentative , as if Corvo was realizing he yearned for the mental contact but didn't know what it was, or how it was happening. Which was possible, right? Connor didn't really know, his mind had been linked to Thomas -- to Daud -- for so long that-

Corvo vanished.

Connor gaped.

His head was clear; the distress of the Royal Protector completely gone. He sat up, looking around furiously. A quick inhale told him Corvo really was gone, as if he teleported -- or, more likely, stopped time--

“Connor.” The new voice boomed across the Bond, it's clarity and familiarity overwhelming. “Get back here. Now.”

“But sir, Corvo-”

“Left,” Daud told him, the irritation and acidity of his thoughts laced with relief. “And you're relieved of duty for tonight.”

“Yes, sir.” Connor replied, head bowing even without Daud there to see it. He stood up and called to the Void; fur flowed out, bones popped and senses sharpened as he leapt from the rooftop, four legs propelling him fast than two. His wolf body moving on residual adrenaline, beelining for the Flooded District.

“I told you not to tell Daud,” he shot angrily to Thomas, though he added the cool tones of reassurance as their thoughts touched.

“And I told you not to get yourself killed,” Thomas retorted back.

"And I didn't,” he stated, matter-of-factly. Around his paws, fat drops of water began to appear, signalling the coming rain. They were both quiet; Connor was tired, Thomas was upset. It wasn't until he had made it halfway back to the Flooded District that he finally asked what neither of them wanted to bring up.

“Perhaps we don't tell Emily?”

“Yes,” Thomas resigned, sounding defeated. “I agree. Let's not tell Emily.”

[kindofchaoticgood]

Til the Storm Comes and the World is Quiet - Chapter 5

Ariel, Queen of Seaside, former princess of Atlantica, is curled up on a couch and reading a story to her children before she receives the call.

Callie and Storm are sandwiching her, their heads pillowed on her sides. Storm is trying valiantly not to fall asleep, but he keeps nodding off, and then awakening with a start. Callie is also fighting a losing battle with sleep; her sandy eyelashes are fluttering over her cheeks.

Melody is pretending not to listen, but Ariel can clearly see that her phone screen has long gone blank. Moana is making no such pretensions; the girl from Motunui is listening with an enraptured expression. She has never heard the mainland fairy tales, and treasures each story that she hears each night. Once, when Melody had tried to pull her away to go watch a movie, Moana had waved her off and insisted, “Melody, these stories are wonderful! I don't care if they're for little kids, I’m staying!”

Melody had protested, but Moana refused to budge, and Melody had at first gone off on her own, but eventually came back, setting herself down on a chair with a sulky scowl. Callie had flung herself into her older sister’s lap while Moana and Ariel exchanged amused glances.

Eric is usually there for story time as well, but tonight is his meeting with the leaders from Maldonia and Dunbroch. Technically, this is his night to read to the children, but she's happy to take over for him. King Fergus is notoriously heavy-handed with the ale, and Naveen and Eric get along like a house on fire, so it's going to be the early hours of dawn before her husband makes his way home.

The room is quiet, save for the sound of Flounder’s aquarium buzzing in the corner and Ariel's voice, until her phone starts playing the theme from Hamilton.

Storm mumbles a complaint against her side, and she pats him absently on the head as she reaches for her phone and checks the number on sees Jasmine’s name flit across the screen. She wouldn’t call this late unless it was important, Ariel thinks, sliding the Call button. “Hello?”

“Turn on the television,” Jasmine’s voice is tense. “And after you’re done, come to Agrabah. We’re convening an emergency meeting of the Council.”

“Jaz,” Ariel says, alarmed. “What’s going—”

“Watch first,” Jasmine orders, then hangs up.

“Mom?” Melody is standing now, and Moana has half-risen out of her chair as well, a worried look on her face. “What’s going on?”

“I’m not really sure,” Ariel confesses, reaching for the remote on the coffee table and switching the television on. Snow White’s face fills the screen for a moment right before a video starts to play.

As the video goes on, Melody flinches when the guards and the children start to fight, and Moana looks horror-stricken when the Auradonians point their guns at the two boys. Ariel only stares at the screen, but her hands are covering the eyes of her children, who are starting to squirm around in complaint.

When the video ends and the news feed comes back on, Moana blinks hard, and tears fall down her cheeks. “What was that—” she begins, but her voice breaks halfway through.

Ariel is already on her feet, and her mind is racing a thousand miles. Part of her wants nothing more than to bundle up all of her children and stash them away from the world forever, but the bigger part is telling her to keep it together, because she has two very young children in the room and one very traumatized girl to take care of. “Mel, I need you to take Callie and Storm to your room. Try to get them to sleep, but if they don’t, then just have Carlotta look after them. I need you and Moana to try and find Eric right now, he’s probably already heard about this, and we need to figure out what our statement is going to be. Take Sebastian with you, he’ll have some input in this as well—”

“Don’t I need to attend the Council meeting as well?” Moana asks thickly, wiping her eyes. “As the representative of the Islands—”

“No,” Ariel says firmly, walking over to her as Melody starts to lead Callie and Storm out of the room. “You need to have Carlotta make you a hot chocolate and cuddle with your pig for a while. I’m not going to let you go to the meeting when you’ve just seen - that.”

“I’m fine,” Moana protests. “I - I was just shocked, that's all. I'm fine now-”

“No, you're not,” Ariel counters. “You just saw a room full of children being threatened with guns. No one is fine.”

Moana’s eyes, usually so bright and full of life, look absolutely shattered, and Ariel hates that, hates how the girl’s worldview has just been shattered by that act of cruelty. She wraps her arms around her, and feels Moana's frame shake under her. It saddens her, but mostly enrages her, because how dare Adam and Belle let this happen in their kingdom?

“Listen to me,” Ariel says quietly, pulling back slightly to look Moana in the eye. “Your parents appointed me your guardian while you tour the Realms, and as your guardian, I’m telling you to stay here until we figure out what's going on in Auradon.”

I refuse to put her in danger.

Moana sighs shakily and disentangles herself from Ariel. “Do you think there's any chance that it could be a mistake?”

Once upon a time, Ariel would have said yes without hesitation. She would have defended Belle and insisted that she would never let something like this happen. But she hasn’t spoken to Belle in two years, and she is no longer the naive little mermaid who believed the best in people.

“Absolutely not.”

*****

When the car screeches to a halt, Uma is up and out of the car before Marya and Gonzo even have a chance to process that the car has stopped moving.

I cannot believe that I cried like a little dick in front of them. What the hell is wrong with me?

Her skin feels itchy and too hot for her body; she isn't entirely sure if those Auradon bastards poisoned her or not with that stupid milkshake, but she wouldn’t put it past them. She's sure Ben has had an entire team of lawyers interrogate him about the exact wording of his vow to find all the loopholes. After all, if she is poisoned, it wouldn't have been Ben harming her, it would have been Melendez.

Uma grits her teeth and storms through the doors to the Chip Shoppe, Marya and Gonzo lugging the limo’s entire supply of food behind her. (Note to self, she is a dick for not helping.)

As soon as she steps through the doors though, an eggplant-colored tentacle wraps around her throat and lifts her into the air, cutting off her air supply.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Ursula snarls from the floor, taking a swig out of her ever-present cough syrup bottle. Her other tentacles are writhing dangerously and her eyes promise absolute murder.

But Uma just rolls her eyes, and pries a few suckers from her throat so she can talk. “Hello, Mother.”

“Don’t fucking try to change the subject with me, you little slut,” Her mother slurs the last three words, so they come out more like yalitleschlut. “I asked you a fucking question. Where have you been?”

Instead of answering, Uma casts her eyes around the room. Her mother must have opened up anyways, despite the fact that she sent Cook home today and had the closed sign up. Luckily, there aren't many people, only a few people at the tables and one over at the bar/counter area.

Thankfully the kids seem to be gone; Desiree and Murph must have taken them outside once her mother made an appearance. Ursula isn't exactly above strangling a child who isn't quick enough to get out of her way, and she especially hates her nieces, who make up the bulk of the children that hang around the Chip Shoppe at any given time.

Her crew is scattered around the room; Ashe and Claudine are in the middle of serving customers, all of whom look terrified, which means that Ashe must have shouted them into submission. Jonas and Reggie - what the fuck is Reggie doing here? She told him to go home and look after his brothers - are behind the counter, pretending that they know how to cook. Sierra is casually covering the sword check with her body while Gil and Bonnie are sweeping up the floor. Bonnie is handling the broom while Gil tries to sweep up the dust, but he keeps on sneezing and scattering dust everywhere again. Marya and Gonzo are quietly edging along the wall, trying not to draw attention to them or the large amount of food that they're carrying. Everyone is studiously avoiding looking at her or her mother.

Except for Harry, who is outright glaring at Ursula, despite the purple-black bruises forming on the left side of his face. And from her current position in the air, she can clearly see bright red sucker marks around his throat.

Blood roars in Uma's ears, but she forces herself to remain calm, because losing her temper will just make things worse, and she really doesn't have the fucking time to get into a screaming match with her mother right now, she needs to turn on the television and see if her plan is working. At the same time though, part of her is screaming for her to grab the knife in her boot and fillet the bitch. (She's never claimed to be rational when it comes to Harry.)

“School,” Uma lies coolly, making sure not to move too much. Her mother's grip is tight, but Uma knows that Ursula doesn't give a damn about dropping her.

“School,” Ursula repeats, sarcasm dripping from her tone. “That's interesting, considering today is Sunday.”

Fuck, the one time she looks at a goddamn calendar!

“Is it?” Uma asks, trying to keep her tone bored. “Well then, I guess that's why it was closed.”

“Maddy Mim mentioned that she saw you over by Yen Sid’s house,” her mother accuses, cinching her tentacles tighter in an unspoken threat.

From the corner of her eye, Uma catches a glimpse of purple hair and sees Morwenna Mim curled under a table. She jerks her foot discreetly and the younger girl looks up at her, revealing a cut lip, which stretches out as she grimaces at Uma. Uma closes her eyes, irritated beyond all belief because fucking Maddy Mim just doesn't know when to stop, does she?

She’s let Maddy live for this long because her grandmother is still a scary motherfucker, despite being a thousand years old, but Maddy just keeps on coming back like a V.D. Claudine and Morwenna still haven't given her permission to kill Maddy yet, and while Uma respects Claudine's views and the fact that Maddy is Morwenna’s sister, she's just going to have to kill her at this point. Not just for Claudine's sake, but for Morwenna's. Every time the younger girl comes back with a new scrape or bruise, Uma has to restrain herself from telling Harry to bring her Maddy's head.

“Come on Mama,” she croaks out instead, letting a smirk drift across her face. “Are you seriously gonna listen to a Mim instead of your own daughter?”

There is dead silence in the Chip Shoppe as Ursula’s bloodshot eyes run over her, and Uma can practically see her mother weighing whether it’s worth it to press this further. Her mother doesn’t have a particularly long attention span, and she knows for a fact that that tent dress she’s wearing is new, so Ursula probably doesn’t want to wash blood out of it just yet. She meets her mother’s gaze evenly, willing her body to exude indifference.

After what seems like an age, Ursula unwinds her tentacles from around Uma’s body and unceremoniously dumps her on the floor. But Uma has had a lot of practice falling by now, so she mostly manages to take the brunt of the impact on her side before rolling up and drawling, “Thanks.”

“Get to work,” her mother commands, tone surly as she heads towards the door. “I don’t want to see your face again until morning. Do not even think about closing up, I will find out and I promise you, you will regret it.”

With that lovely parting remark, Ursula slithers outside and Uma lets out a heavy sigh, briefly putting her head down to try and control her expression before standing up and yelling.

“Alright, bitches, show’s over! Get out now, and I’ll let you keep your wallets.”

“But your mom said you couldn’t close!” Kellan Stabbington protests, his red-haired cohorts grunting in agreement.

Uma rolls her eyes and pulls her pistol out of her left boot, firing two shots into the wall behind Kellan’s head. “Do I look like I care?”

Luckily, the other customers quickly take the hint and exit quickly, but Kellan still looks like he wants to say something stupid. After a dark look from Harry, he realizes that he’s severely outnumbered and strides out of the Chip Shoppe huffily, not noticing Morwenna quietly snatch his wallet.

Uma stashes the pistol back in her boot. “I told you to stay home,” she snaps at Reggie, who has the gall to look unashamed.

“Jonas told me your plan,” he says, grin crinkling the freckles on his face. “Are we really going to Auradon, boss?”

“If we get our shit together, yeah,” Uma mutters, then says loudly. “Move your asses, people! Jonas, stop cooking and go get Desiree and the kids back. Reggie, Sierra, I need you to make a list of kids on the Isle including our crew.  Marya and Gonzo can split the food up among all of you. Gil, turn on television and start taking notes on what's happening. I want a full report by the time I get back.”

“Where’re you going?” Gil asks, already looking alarmed at the prospect of responsibility.

“To set myself on fire,” Uma growls. Now that her mother's gone, she can acutely feel where the sweat has dried on her clothes and she's either about to cry again or scream if she stays here any longer. “I smell like a do-gooder.” She starts to head up the stairs to the flat above the Chip Shoppe, then pauses to yell over her shoulder as she catches sight of Harry helping Morwenna up from under the table. “And can someone get those two some medical attention?!”

Harry makes a move to follow Uma as she storms away, but Marya blocks his path. “I wouldn't do that right now,” the fire-haired girl warns. “She's been in a mood since Auradon.”

“She's always in a mood,” Harry retorts, trying to push Marya aside, as Bonnie grabs his arm and forces him into a chair.

“This time it's different,” Marya replies uneasily. “She . . . Threw up on the way back.”

Harry's gaze snaps up to hers. “Was it on . . . ?”

“I don't think it was on purpose,” Marya says quickly, and Harry looks like a giant weight has been lifted off his shoulders. “She mentioned the other day that she was seven months without an incident and seemed really proud. I don't think if she was that happy about it she would you know . . . Fuck it up.”

Harry considers all of this as Bonnie shows up with an ice pack and presses it firmly to his face. “Motherfucker,” he finally mutters, glaring at the floor.

“Did she eat anything?” Bonnie asks, handing the ice pack to Harry and starting to examine Morwenna's face.

A look of panic came over Marya's face. “I can't actually remember,” she confesses sheepishly.

Harry groans and Morwenna rolls her eyes. “Some help you are,” the younger girl snipes.

“She may have had a fight with Evie or something,” Gonzo says, walking over and handing Morwenna a large bag of gummy worms, which she tears into instantly. “When I came in to get her, the windows were shattered.”

“What the fuck?” Bonnie twists her head to stare at Gonzo, still trying to force a struggling Morwenna to stay still.

“Yeah, but here's the thing: Uma's hands weren't bloody and neither were Evie's. So I have no idea what the fuck happened-”

“Gil, stop flirting with Claudine and turn on the goddamn TV when I tell you to!” Uma descends down the steps like a storm, already having changed into an oversized flannel shirt that clearly belongs to Harry and leggings. Her hair is pulled up, and there is a thunderous scowl on her face.

Claudine blushes furiously and starts playing with her hair, while Gil turns bright red and mumbles something about how he wasn't flirting, Uma, God, and goes over to the television to turn it on.

The dim clamor in the room slowly stops as an image of Jonas with his hands up fills the screen.

*****

Ariel manages to catch a last-minute portal to Agrabah after sending a series of quick texts to Eric to warn him about Melody and Co. 's impending arrival as well as an explanation about where she's going. As she steps through the portal door, her heart is hammering wildly in her chest and her skin feels feverish. Portal traveling is the absolute worst generally, but after what she's just seen? So much worse.

The Portal opens out to an ornately decorated hallway and Ariel has to blink a few times to adjust her eyes to the sheen of the gold surrounding her. Jasmine obviously sent a servant to go get her, because there is a young woman in front of her with an earpiece and a harried expression.

“Queen Ariel?” She asks desperately, fiddling with the stack of bracelets on her arm.

“That's me,” Ariel replies politely, trying not to make any sudden movements. The woman seems like she might burst into tears at any moment, and Ariel doesn't want to startle her.

“Right this way,” the woman takes off at a clip down the hallway, and Ariel hurries after her, silently cursing herself for not changing out of her heels earlier.

“They're in here,” the woman points at the door and Ariel walks in, bracing herself for anything.

There are several televisions clustered on one wall, all blaring at full volume but broadcasting different channels. Unlike the gold splendor of the hallway, the walls in here are painted a simple cucumber color, with comfortable armchairs and a sofa scattered on top of a creamy carpet. A white desk with two large computer monitors crouching on it and two matching cabinets next to it are facing the same wall as the televisions, along with a high-backed chair. There is a hallway leading out to a small kitchenette, and through it, Ariel can see Tiana furiously slamming dough on a board, flour sticking to her curls.

Jasmine is pacing around the room, her cerulean hijab whirling wildly. She's muttering angrily under her breath in Persian, arms gesturing wildly in a silent argument with an invisible foe. Ella is leaning against a wall, focusing intently in the centermost television, face drawn. Pocahontas is sitting next to Aurora, one hand resting protectively on her bump while the other holds Aurora close to her. There are tear tracks down Aurora’s face and her phone is clenched in a white-knuckle grip in her hands.

“Welcome to hell!” Jasmine exclaims once she catches sight of Ariel. “Don't linger in the doorway, come in and suffer with the rest of us!”

“What's going on?” Ariel asks cautiously, entering the room and sitting on an armchair.

“Adam and Belle arrived in Auradon just now, but my father still refuses to let me give a statement to the press until 'we have all the facts’. What the hell is that supposed to mean? There’s a video, we know what happened,” Jasmine’s voice is rising and she looks about ready to kill someone. “Al’s on the phone with the Prime Minister right now, they’re trying to convince my dad to let me give a statement. I had to leave the room, I was about to start throwing things if I heard Dad say ‘give them a chance to explain’ one more time.”

Ariel winces. “I’m sorry, Jaz.”

“Whatever, I’m over it,” Jasmine strides over to the desk and presses a side button, making a vanity mirror rise up from the middle, along with a selection of makeup. She unscrews a bottle of eyeliner and continues. “I’m going to give the statement even if Al and the PM can’t convince him. It’s just a matter of how angry he’ll be at this point.” Her hand moves the brush steadily across her eyelids, movements precise even though she is clearly agitated.

Ella sighs. “At least you can do something. My father-in-law and Rory’s parents are refusing to do anything.”

“What?” Ariel turns, horror stricken, towards Aurora, who lets out a sob against Pocahontas’s shoulder. “Why?”

“Because he’s an awful human being who cares more about keeping the trade agreement between Montcavrel and Auradon alive than about children almost getting shot,” Ella snaps out, fingers fiddling with the large diamond solitaire on her ring finger. “Kit got into a shouting match with him, and they were still arguing when I left. Meanwhile, Rory’s parents are insisting that everything is fine and that this is all propaganda.”

“That doesn’t even make any sense!” Pocahontas calls out grumpily, still stroking Rory’s hair.

“Believe me, I know,” Ella sighs, sharing a commiserating look with Ariel.

Rory looks up, eyes full of tears. “Those kids are so young, and they look so scared . . . and I know it’s stupid, but every time I see them, I just think that it could have been Audrey being shot at . . .”

“No one would dare lay a finger on Audrey, Rory,” Jasmine says quietly, turning around in her chair to face the room. “She’s royalty.”

“I know, Jaz, but I’ve been calling her nonstop and she isn’t picking up her phone. Her phone is practically attached to her hand, why isn’t she answering?” Rory asks, tears starting to slip into her voice again.

Jasmine has nothing to say to that and an uneasy silence falls over the room for a few minutes until Tiana appears from the kitchenette, two plates of beignets in her hands.

“You know,” she says quietly, eyes fixed on the screen. “I can't help thinking that this is our fault,”

“We couldn't have known that this was going to happen,” Ella protests, but her tone is half-hearted.

“Didn’t we though?” Tiana asks, her voice distant. “After what happened with Ursula, we knew that they were capable of sentencing innocent children to die.”

She looks away from the televisions, tears falling down her face.

“Face it,” Tiana murmurs bitterly. “We knew that this was coming, but instead of doing anything about it, we just sat by and pretended that nothing was wrong.” Her voice is breaking, but her tone is freezing. “And now, because we did nothing, children are getting shot at.”

Abruptly, she places the plates on a coffee table and heads back to the kitchenette, the door slamming shut behind her.

*****

In a rare stroke of luck, Uma's mother hasn't come back and fucked up all of her schemes, so she and the rest of the crew are able to work, undisturbed. Reggie, Gonzo, and Murph are talking in low voices in a corner, drawing a crude map of the Isle in preparation to leave once Claudine finishes the list of people to come to Auradon.

“Damn Auradonians,” Ashe grumbles, scowling as she examines the smears of ink across her left hand. “We’re doing their job and they don't even give a damn about us.”

“I can't believe they didn't know that the kids were dead,” Sierra whispers, glancing around to make sure that her sister and Uma's cousins aren't paying attention to her. “I knew they didn't care about us but - goddamn.”

Uma shrugs, shifting Lala (one of the aforementioned cousins, currently playing with a tattered stuffed animal) in her lap. “When she told me she didn't know, I honestly didn't know if it was better or worse.”

“Worse,” Ashe and Harry say in unison, Jonas nodding in agreement.

“There's no use in cursing them out now,” Claudine studies the list on top of the table, absently doodling on a corner. “We just need to focus on getting as many people out as possible.”

There is a murmur of agreement about the table, but Harry still looks like he wants to argue with someone, so Uma quickly yells over to Gil, “What's happening in Auradon?”

“They aren't letting the press in,” he calls back, stuffing his face with fried rice and eggs. “Also, they mentioned something about the King not giving a statement yet,”

“Fu- I mean, figures,” Uma manages to catch herself after Lala looks up at her curiously. “They're probably still trying to figure out a way to play this off.”

“Bitches,” Ashe mutters, then lets out a startled yell when Jonas jabs an elbow into her side. “What fucking gives?”

“Ashe said a swear word! She owes us candy!” Lala announces to her two-year old sister, Talea, who glances up for a moment, before continuing to play with the buttons on Harry’s jacket.

“What have I told you about swearing in front of my sisters?” Jonas hisses at Ashe, who scowls at him unrepentantly.

“By that age, kids have seen orgies—”

“Screw you—”

“Can we please focus?” Sierra cuts in, but then Desiree appears at the table, holding a wailing baby and looking harried beyond all belief.

“It's your turn to take Poppy,” she shoves the baby unceremoniously into Jonas's arms as he lets out a noise of protest.

“I'm busy!”

“I don't care! We agreed this morning, I would take her during the day, and you take her at night. And wow, look at that, IT'S NIGHT. So you will take your baby sister Jonas, because I am going to make up for all the sleep I wasn't able to get last night.” With that, Desiree storms upstairs, the stairs creaking in displeasure.

“So who has suggestions for names to add to the list?” Claudine asks, raising her voice to be heard over Poppy's crying.

“Rick Ratcliffe,” Jonas suggests, standing up from the table and starting to walk around, pillowing Poppy's head on his shoulder.

Uma wrinkles her nose. “Isn't his dad a racist?”

“Yeah, but I don't think he's about that ‘whiter than thou’ stuff that his dad's always going on about. I mean, he looked embarrassed when his dad accused me of being a drug-selling negro trying to corrupt his son,” Jonas says nonchalantly, whispering something soothing to Poppy.

“Jesus,” Harry says disgustedly.

“To be fair though, I was in the middle of selling him some weed, so I see where he was coming from.”

Claudine carefully pens in Rick Ratcliffe's name. “Anyone else?”

“That we don't hate and isn't already either related to us or in the crew already?” Sierra asks sardonically, then turns serious. “I think we got everyone. I mean, we even asked the kids for names, and they listed out everyone they had ever met.”

At that moment, Jia, Sierra's little sister, chose that moment to wander up to the table and pout at her sister. “Si-Si, I’m hungry.”

“Go ask Bonnie or Marya for more food.”

“They already gave it to people.”

“Then that's tough, little sister,”

“You can have my food,” Uma offers, pushing her bowl of broth towards Jia.

“No,” Harry says instantly while Ashe shoves Uma's bowl back towards her and Claudine shoots her a quelling look.

“That won't be necessary,” Sierra says quickly. “Jia, we don't have any food. Just go steal Talon’s food or something.”

As soon as Jia heads over to her brother, Harry rounds on Uma. “Stop doing that,” he accuses, somehow managing to look intimidating, even with a two year old on his lap.

Uma looks immensely frustrated. “Come on, there is no way that I am going to be able to eat all of this—”

“I don't care,” Harry cuts her off. “Stop trying to get rid of your food.”

“And stop trying to pawn it off on the kids,” Sierra adds, scowling at Uma.

“Are you saying that they don't need to eat?”

“I'm saying that you need to eat, because we need you alive, Uma Triskelion, so pick up the damn spoon and eat your broth.”

There's a dark look on Uma's face, the one she gets right before she verbally destroys someone, so Claudine intervenes. “Just a few more spoonfuls, that's all we’re asking.”

For a few seconds it seems like Uma isn't going to do anything, but then she reluctantly sips a spoonful of broth, making a face at all of them. “Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Ashe says dryly. “Girl, you can't be mad at us for wanting you to eat—”

“Holy shit - Uma!” Gil vaults over the table and starts frantically turning up the volume on the television. “The press just broke through the gates!”

****

The text messages from her mother and father say basically the same thing. Stay put. Comply with everything they tell you to do. We're handling this.

Lonnie has never been one for just sitting down and letting things just happen without her say. When Ben had been kidnapped, she had insisted on going with Mal, Evie, Jay, and Carlos to rescue him, and when it seemed like Agrabah and China were about to come to blows over their trading outposts, she had been the one to initiate diplomacy.

But she has no idea how to even begin handling this.

King Adam and Queen Belle - sorry, former King and Queen - had showed up, stone faced, to Auradon an hour ago. Fairy Godmother had rushed up and the three of them had had a hushed discussion before Adam had thrown up his hands and yelled, “I don't care, Verity! Just handle it!” He had then stormed off in the direction of the Royal Offices, but not before curtly ordering Lumiere that nobody was to disturb them. When Evie had tried to follow them, Belle had gently told her to go stay with the students, before following her husband, skirt swishing on the floor.

Fairy Godmother had stared after them for a few minutes, before visibly gaining her composure and announcing gravely that all students were to go inside the common rooms and wait inside until further notice. She suggested that they all text their parents that they were safe, but that they wouldn't be able to contact them anytime soon because effective immediately, Auradon Prep was on lockdown.

This had drawn gasps and people had started demanding answers, but they received none. Instead, all of the students had been ushered into common rooms by grade, and the doors had been locked securely behind them.

After the doors had been closed behind them, Jay instantly tried to open them again, and then cursed when they didn't budge. He had been dragged over to a couch to sit down by Carlos and the two of them and Evie had entered into a hissed conversation, occasionally gesturing at the doors. Jane sat by them, listening and occasionally whispering something as well.

Strangely enough, only a few other people seemed to find the lockdown odd. In a corner, Audrey, Jordan, Ally, and a group of other girls were painting their nails and gossiping about the new coach of the swim team - “He’s so dreamy!” “I know!” - while Chad was telling anyone who would listen that this way, they were guaranteed a night off from homework. All around Lonnie, people were pulling out decks of cards or just leaning against the walls and chatting. No one seemed the least bit concerned.

But all of that had changed once Mal walked through the doors, looking absolutely shell-shocked.

“M?” Evie stood up and rushed towards her best friend. “What’s going on?”

The purple-haired girl seemed to be in a bit of a trance though. It took Evie repeating her name three times for Mal’s eyes to focus on the room, and Lonnie noticed that there was nervous, prickly energy all around her.

“I - it’s bad, E,” Mal said haltingly, eyes darting around at everyone. “It’s really bad, and I don’t think anyone knows what to do—”

“What’s bad?” Jay was standing now, and Carlos was half-risen from his seat as well. “What’s going on, Mal?”

“Turn on the TV,” Mal said faintly, sinking into a chair. “It doesn’t matter what channel - the video is everywhere at this point.”

Carlos had switched on the television, and nothing had been the same after that.

No one is playing cards anymore; the cards are lying abandoned on the floor, while the participants, stare at the TV, their faces pale. Chad is no longer laughing; he had actually snapped at someone to shut up when they had dared to suggest that they turn the television off and do something else. Carlos looks sick to his stomach, and Jay looks queasy as well. Evie and Mal are having a whisper-fight in the corner of the couch, and Mal is shaking her head obstinately at what Evie is saying. Ally and Jordan are having a hushed conversation that Lonnie can only hear snatches of, (she heard the words ‘highly illegal’ and ‘racial profiling’ being used by Jordan though,) and Doug is furiously scribbling notes on what the news reporters were saying. Audrey is staring at a wall, her face utterly blank. When she had tried to answer her mother’s calls, her cell signal had failed, and that was when they had all realized that all communications in and out of the castle were blocked until the lockdown was over.

“We can see what’s happening, but we can’t send or do anything,” Doug muses grimly, flinching when the camera zooms in on the children being backed to the wall by guns.

“They can’t just keep us in here,” Lonnie declares, because, well, they can’t, right?

Doug looks unconvinced. “I have a feeling that they would disagree.”

“My mom’s not answering any of my texts,” Jane says worriedly, holding up her phone. “I have no idea when we’re going to be let out of lockdown.”

“That’s just—” Jay begins, but they don’t get to find out what it is, because someone says, “Hey Lonnie, isn’t that your mom up there?”

Lonnie whips her head so fast towards the television that her neck cracks uncomfortably, but sure enough, it’s her mother onscreen, looking utterly cool and collected in her black suit and her jet-colored hair in a high ponytail.

“When did they let the press in?” Chad demands, looking furious. “They’re keeping us prisoner in here while the paparazzi fawns over them?”

“I wouldn’t say they’re fawning over them, Chad,” Jane says slowly as reporters rush up to Mulan, who is currently walking down a hallway.

“Fa Mulan! Fa Mulan! Can we get a comment on the shocking video that was just released?” One lady asks, thrusting her microphone into Mulan’s face and nearly smearing her red lipstick everywhere.

“Some people are calling this a racial matter. Do you think that’s true, or does this purely have to do with them being villains?”

“What do the king have to say about this, and as Consul General, how does that affect your point of view on the matter?”

Lonnie watches, as her mother leans into the microphone, her voice calm and reasonable. “I think the video was appalling. No child deserves to have a gun pointed at them, whether or not their parents are villains.”

“People are saying that the children refused to comply—?”

“Even if the children didn’t comply, those guards still had a choice of whether or not to use violence to deal with the situation. The guards are adults, and they should have known better than to ever point a loaded firearm at children who can barely walk. I think that the bigger picture is that we have guards that have no qualms about shooting children due to who their parents are, but at the same time, I do think that race has a factor in all of this, and that is a very troubling thought for me, especially since I have two kids of my own.”

Lonnie feels her mouth quirk up, and her mother continues. “As for how the king’s opinion on the matter and how that affects my opinion as Consul General . . . well, as of five minutes ago, I just resigned from my position, and therefore, the king’s opinion has no bearing on my own.”

Mulan gives the press a tight smile and says, “No further comment,” before continuing to walk down the hallway, the reporters chasing after her and demanding for clarifications on her resignation.

Evie's mouth is in a perfect 'O’, Jay is staring between her and the TV,between her and the TV, dark hair whipping back and forth, and Jane’s eyes are the size of dinner plates. Audrey has stopped staring at the wall, Chad is gaping at her, and Mal looks frustrated beyond all possible belief.

Lonnie smiles uncomfortably at all of them, not used to being the least surprised person in the room. “Does anyone want to play poker?”

*****

“Oh my God,” Claudine whispers. “Did that really just . . .?”

“It did,” Gonzo confirms, though he looks like he can’t quite believe it.

“What an icon,” Ashe says, her eyes wide.

“Sierra? Are you okay?”

Uma glances over. Sierra is staring at the television, hazel eyes unfocused. She’s muttering something under her breath and her face is unreadable.

“Sierra?” Bonnie repeats, her tone starting to get concerned.

Sierra lets out a long groan. “How the fuck am I supposed to live up to that?”

“ . . . What?”

“Come on! Fa Mulan just gave up her job for us! All of my life, my father has told me; ‘Remember, Shaoyen, it is no use being like me. I was defeated. Instead, be like the girl who outsmarted me. If you can be like her, then I can die a happy man’. Well, I can’t be like Fa Mulan, because she is too much of a damn legend. Do you see my problem?”

“No, not really.”

“Sierra, none of us speak to our parents anymore,” Harry reminds her, rolling his eyes.

“Shut the fuck up, my life is over,” Sierra moans, collapsing on a chair and burying her head in her hands.

Gil and Ashe shrug at each other, bewildered, but go back to paying attention to the television.

Uma leans back in her throne and surveys the room. The Chip Shoppe is filled to the brim with people now, some of them sitting at tables, some leaning against the wall, and the little kids are running around gleefully. Gonzo is teaching Morwenna how to clean her blade properly, while Murph is chasing his son around, trying to convince him to go to bed. Her cousin Piper is comparing knife sizes with Sierra's brother Talon, (ha, that's gay) and Bonnie and Desiree are fussing over Jonas's hair. Meanwhile, Harry has his makeshift tattoo parlor set up on the longest table, and is carefully tattooing anchors on their brand-new crew members. Rick Ratcliffe has challenged Nia to an armwrestling contest, but judging by Nia’s sneer and the amount of sweat pouring off his face, he’s regretting this decision. However, Nia’s sister Allegra is eyeing Rick with great interest, so maybe the night won't turn out so bad for Rick after all.

She herself is on Poppy duty; the baby is finally asleep, no thanks to Jonas, who kept yelling at his other sisters and waking up an increasingly cranky Poppy. Finally, Jonas had passed Poppy onto her, and after a few minutes on her shoulder and no yelling, the baby had fallen asleep.

Harry finishes up a tattoo on La Foux Deux, and the smaller boy thanks him before scampering off to try and flirt with an uninterested Ashe.

Uma carefully makes her way over to him, careful not to jostle Poppy too much. The bruising on his face has gone down, but his face is an interesting mix of purple and green. His jacket is off, revealing bandages on his right arm. When she had demanded to know what had happened, he simply told her that he had gotten a tattoo sleeve, nothing to freak out about. She believes him, but she knows exactly what happened to his face.

“You have to stop doing this,” she orders, sitting down across from him.

Harry gives her an innocent look. “I don't know what you mean, darling.”

“I thought I told you to stay out of my mother's way. She already hates your guts, and seeing you just makes her even more pissed off.”

He gives her an unimpressed look. “I'm not staying away from you just because your mum has anger issues.”

Uma scowls at him. “It also doesn't help that you keep on antagonizing her every time you see her,” she gestures to his face.

“Alright, this time it wasn't my fault. She was the one who threw me into a wall first.”

“I don't care,” Uma snaps. “I can't worry about you getting hurt by my mother. There's too much at stake here for me to get distracted.”

A slow grin plays across his face. “If I didn't know any better, I would say that you cared what happened to me,”

“I'm serious.” The lack of mirth in her tone makes the smile tilt off his face. “We have a real shot at getting into Auradon. For the first time, the cards are in our favor. And I need all hands on deck, especially you. I can't always be here, so I need you to look after them.”

Harry nods, eyes fixed on her. “I know, love. I won't let you down.” The conviction in his voice is real, and she feels calmer as she reaches across the table to take his hand.

“Good.”

*****

“I do not care if they are villain children, they have rights, same as every other citizen of Auradon,” Jasmine hisses at King Hubert, fighting to keep her voice level. On his other side, Snow White is fighting a smile and the Auradon News Network anchors are exchanging baffled glances, wondering how the conversation got so off the rails.

“Go off, Jasmine,” Pocahontas beams at the television, taking a delicate bite of her beignet. Next to her, Tiana just smiles and shakes her head. Her eyes are still red, but after composing a succinct, but brutal condemnation of Auradon that Maldonia had released as its official stance on the video, she seems to be less furious. Mulan’s public resignation had helped to improve the mood of the room as well, and they are all getting a lot of joy out of watching Jasmine debate King Hubert, who has absolutely no idea what he’s talking about. Ariel catches Tiana’s eye, and they both grin at each other before turning their attention back to the television, where the aforementioned King’s face is growing steadily redder.

“Now see here young lady-” King Hubert blusters, but Jasmine corrects him, tone icy.

“Sultana.”

“What?”

“Oh, you poor fool,” Rory sighs, watching her father-in-law resignedly.

“I am the Sultana of Agrabah, your Majesty, and you would do well to address me by my proper title.”

“I’m sure his Majesty didn't mean to give offense, Sultana,” one of the news anchors interjects, and Ariel can clearly hear Ella wince from the other side of the room, and she wants to bang her head against the wall, because that is not how you pronounce 'Sultana’. “Besides, can we really claim that the villain children are entitled to the same rights as us? After all, that girl did initiate the fighting.”

“Yes, because the guard refused to take his hands off of her, even when she asked,” Snow retorts, then claps a hand over her mouth, blushing crimson as everyone stares at her in disbelief.

“You know you're a bad person when you get Snow White, the nicest person in the Realms, to tell you you're wrong,” Pocahontas declares, fingers flying across her phone.

“What are you doing?” Ariel asks, eyeing her phone suspiciously.

“Posting that to my StoryTime followers,” Pocahontas replies breezily, just as a swoosh noise echoes through the room, signalling that the upload has been successful.

“To add on to what Snow said,” Jasmine says on-screen, casting a smile at her friend, whose face is still bright red, “I don't know about all of you, but I’ve told my children many times that they are never to go anywhere with someone they don't know. It doesn't surprise me that the girl punched him in the nose, I’m rather surprised she didn't punch him earlier.”

“Are you seriously trying to play this off as a case of Stranger Danger? I think that shows a severe oversimplification of what happened-”

“Of course it's not Stranger Danger, but still, her actions are understandable for someone in her position-”

“There they go again,” Rory says wearily as King Hubert starts arguing with Jasmine again, with the two news anchors desperately trying to stop them. Next to her, her phone is vibrating so violently that it's threatening to fall off the table, but she ignores it.

“Aren't you going to get that?” Tiana asks, casting a wary glance at the phone.

“Absolutely not,” Rory scowls at the phone, which looks strange on her normally cheerful face. “It's my mother again. I'm not picking up until Audrey calls me.”

Ariel frowns. “She still hasn't called you back?”

“No, and logically, I know she's okay, but I cannot keep listening to my mother insist that everything is fine, when clearly, it isn't!” Rory's tone is bordering on hysterical, and inwardly, Ariel thanks the gods that she and Eric refused to let Melody attend Auradon Prep.

“It’ll be okay, Rory,” she says outwardly, trying to inject a soothing tone into her voice. “Whatever I may think of Auradon, they’d never lay a finger on Audrey. Like Jaz said, she's royalty. She has nothing to do with this. As for your mother-” she pauses because Queen Leah is a menace at best, and at her worst – well, that's too scary to think about. “Actually, I can’t really give you any advice on that front—”

“Oh, I know,” Rory sighs miserably, wiping her eyes. “I was just about to tell her about my conversion to Buddhism before I got the call, and the first thing she said when she saw me was; ‘where’s that lovely diamond cross your father and I gave you’?”

“Rory!” Ariel stares at her friend in horror, who winces and cringes back. “You’ve been a Buddhist for six months now! Are you seriously telling me that you haven’t told your mother yet?”

“I know!” Rory wails. “I’m a schmuck, I admit it, but you know my mother Ariel! She’s insane!”

“True story,” Pocahontas calls over, balancing the plate of beignets precariously on top of her bump. “No offense, Rory.”

“None taken,” Rory says sadly as Ella gives her a sympathetic smile.

“Chad isn't texting me back either,” she says quietly, then groans. “Dear God - now I'm saying it too.”

“It's a very catchy nickname,” Tiana suggests tactfully.

“Oh, don't give me that! He has a perfectly lovely name, why would he want to be called a name associated with a drunken frat boy?”

“You're asking the wrong people,” Pocahontas shrugs. “Personally, I like the name Chance. It's poetic!”

“Exactly! And he used to think so as well!” Ella's face hardens. “This is my father-in-law's doing, I just know it. He’s always hated Chance’s name, something about it not being 'masculine’ enough. And now, thanks to him, my son sounds like a drunken jackass you avoid at parties!”

“Wasn't he the one who suggested that you send him to Auradon Prep?” Ariel asks.

Ella rolls her eyes. “Yes. And now because of 'diplomacy’ and 'strengthening the bond between our kingdoms’; I can't speak to my son!” She leans back in her chair, looking exhausted. “Thank God we sent Adele, Dexter, and Lainey to different schools.”

“Agreed,” Ariel and Tiana murmur.

Pocahontas strokes her belly. “All of this has just confirmed my initial inclination not to send little Minnow to Auradon Prep, no matter how much King James pesters me.”

Tiana side-eyes her in horror. “Are you seriously naming the baby Minnow?!”

“No! Give me some credit, T, I don't want the kid to grow up to be some sad emo child in a corner-”

They're all laughing when the news anchor announces, “This just in - we are about to go live to Auradon, where King Ben will be making an official statement on the video-”

That brings their laughter to an immediate halt. Ella straightens up, Rory and Tiana already have their eyes glued to the screen, and Pocahontas is already switching off her phone, in order to have no distractions. Ariel just turns her phone on silent though, because she has a feeling that even with the insurmountable evidence, Auradon will never admit anything they did was wrong.

For them, those children are just collateral damage.