#how did Shadow even hack the computer in the first place by smacking it? makes no sense to me lol

[true-blue-sonic]

The thought of Espio being either more incompetent with technology than the rest of his friends or just being wholly tech illiterate gets a lot funnier for me when I remember that he's sixteen. I personally never knew any sixteen year old besides myself who wasn't very involved with technology at that age (I've gotten better as an adult though I guess). Plus one of Espio's friends/allies is basically a literal boomer who hacks computers by smacking them. And yet Espio is still the cringe one

To be fair, I don't think Espio is that incompetent with technology? Vector wouldn't have asked him to go hack Eggman's and the ARK's computer if he didn't at least believe Espio could pull it off, I figure. Plus, the Chaotix managed to fire the Eclipse Canon, even if it's not shown who was responsible for that specifically. It's just that we never see Espio with anything else technology-wise as far as I know, and the telephone the Chaotix have in their possession in X and IDW is one of those very old-fashioned horn-with-cord ones, haha. So there's just nothing modern for Espio to practice with, maybe?

That being said, with Espio's focus on Being A Ninja, I figure he might show more appreciation for the traditional way of doing things than replacing it all with technology. In one Sonic Channel artwork, he's shown taking notes with a notebook and brush, where I'd say a laptop is just far more efficient. (Assuming they've got the money to buy one, of course. If they do ever get a computer, I figure it'll be one of those twenty-year-old square blocks of screen with a dinky keyboard and mouse that's barely hanging on to its last threads of life. That fits best with the Chaotix Vibes in my mind.) So Espio staunchly refusing to modernise and sticking to what works best for him is something I can envision, haha. I would say that he'll be able to figure out how a smartphone works if you gave him one and just let him figure it out by himself, it's just that he doesn't want to use it until it's a clear necessity.

[echoalyssa]

Phantom | Dick Grayson

Authors Note: There’s some light language in this, but thats about all!

“Phantom to Nightwing, entering dead zone now. Start the clock and come in if I’m late. I love you.”

You now had an hour inside the base, unable to contact anyone. You were collecting intel and because you were the stealthiest and smallest, (Damian was too young for this particular mission) Bruce had sent you in.

Your boyfriend, Dick Grayson had wanted to come with you but Bruce had rejected the idea because two people was more risky than one.

Dick had been livid, it was more risky for your life for you to go alone. He was your partner even though you were all a team. Ever since childhood, the two of you fought together and somewhat seemed to share the same mind.

You push a vine our of your dace. Your black masks shows the digital map of the quietest places to step. Your hood is pulled up to disguise your features and skin tone that obviously didn't fit in with the darkness of the air around you.

You had left your mottled cloak behind, opting to only have to worry about your body and where you place it. 

Joker was extremely active underground lately, he’d evolved and Bruce had only your mission as a lead. 

Your mask displays your one hour timer on the left hand side of your vision. Fifty minutes to get into the compound and back to safety.

The compound comes into view, a flat stone building that just didn’t fit in with the forest that surrounded it. You creep forward, staying in the shadows and hugging the walls of the building until you reach the only vent.

The stone was practically flat but years of training allowed you to look your gloved fingers into a crevice and wedge a booted foot into the building.

You begin climbing, scaling upwards twenty feet. The screws of the vent are all different and you have to pull away from the wall, your body straining so you can unscrew the bottom two.

You’re small enough that you can pry the vent open enough that you can squeeze yourself in. Forty minutes your clock reads. You were going too slow. You crawl forward on your elbows, you trek forward, you should have asked for two hours. Shit.

You hit the record button on your wrist panel and pull the microphone out.

It’s a tiny one but the quality is amazing. You’re peering through a small vent above a research lab now and you thread the microphone and it’s wire through the vent. The audio feeds into your ear piece and also saves to the hard drive in your panel.

You’re holding your breath, only breathing when you have to to minimize any chance of getting caught.

“We need to move in now! He’s only getting more recruits and it’s only a matter of time before they find us again.” Says a voice.

“If they haven’t already! I say we try the new weapon on some unsuspecting crowd of bystanders now. Then they’ll be too busy trying to save those silly citizens to deal with us.”

“Yes but is it ready..?”

“It needs to be tested again and we need to find a more powerful energy source eventually.”

And then the joker walks into view of the vent. He’s holding a blueprint and he spreads it on one of the tables. It’s the paint schematic for the weapon because of course, the joker being the joker meant that everything needed to be green, purple, and white.

You raise a hand to your mask and tap twice. It takes a screenshot of your view of the blueprint and sends it to the bat hard drive.

“Did you have any luck with batons inner circle? Would anyone snitch?”

“A couple...” the speaker listens. It’s valuable intel and now Bruce would be able to feed false information to the rats.

You begin to tap their names away into the panel and then attempt to wirelessly hack into the mainframes. The firewall were strong and plentiful but eventually they all fall victim to you. Sixteen minutes your timer reads. Shit. The data downloading from their computers and into your drive is only halfway done.

It won’t be very detailed. Just minuscule bits of information because you couldn't connect physically to the computers. It’s a line of script here and there that didn't make much sense to you because you weren't super tech-y. Though every line counted and that you knew. Several addresses also pop up.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, your panel signals that the download is complete. Seven minutes reads the timer. Double shit.

You scramble backwards knowing that you’ve done all that you can. Somehow managing to turn yourself around in the small space. You’re almost at the vent when you foot clangs against the side of the vent.

You freeze, no alarms go off, but then again why would they? The timer is still ticking and you continue on, sliding out of the vent. You fumble with the screws, attempting to get them back in in case your cover hadn't already been blown. You then plant your feet, push off and flip down to the ground. You land nimbly in a rolling crouch and then pop to your feet and take off, sprinting for the tree line.

They come from the shadows. Dozens of them. All focused in on you.

You suck in a breath and draw your longswords.

“Bring it on Goonies!” You call and they surge forward all at once. Some with guns, electric batons, and swords.

You stalk forward, meeting them in the middle. You begin slashing immediately at arms, legs, torsos, anywhere that wasn’t too lethal. You weren't a killer.

Except there were just so many, the sword in your left hand falls from your grip and you pull out a disc, throwing it into the incomers. It explodes, blinding some and wounding others. 

You yank s taser out from your belt and stab it into an attackers neck while blocking an attack with your sword. And then it happens. A baton smacks into the back of your head and you stumble forward, dizzy. A blade slashes your thigh, splitting skin and muscle. A cry comes fro, your lips and you lash out desperately with your one remaining longsword. You're able to down the foe who had slashed you.

Two more take his place and then a dagger rips through your abdomen from behind. You scream, falling to your knees. Just as it gets put through your thigh, followed by your shoulder. You land in the grass face first and the world goes dark, sound fading out.

‘Dick.’ Is your last thought.

~~~

Dick is staring at the timer that is displayed by his make. 00:00:05. 00:00:04. 00:00:03. 00:00:02. 00:00:01. And the dreaded number... 00:00:00. It blares red and he stares at the forest, fists clenched. Where was she?

Tim steps forward and places a hand on his shoulder. “Give her five minutes okay? She’s smart. You know how these missions sometimes go overtime. She’s got this.”

“We never should have sent her in alone. It was too risky. Damn it!”

His fist rockets into a tree. He considers going after Bruce, giving him a piece of his mind. Then decides that it isn’t worth it and begins to prepare to go in after his love.

He makes sure to grab the miniature cauterizer and some other emergency medical supplies, stuffing them into the pouches on his belt.

“Wait, Nightwing, we’ll go together. We need a plan!” Damian calls.

His heart is pounding out of his chest and he can’t breathe. ‘What if he was too late? What if she was already gone?’

He doesn’t want to wait for a plan, time was ticking. He pushes past his adoptive brother.

“Dick wait!” Jason calls trying to grab his arm. But he keeps going, breaking for the trees to find her.

Jason and Tim look at each other, then they both look at Damian. “Stay here.” They say simultaneously/

“No way!” He yells back at his brothers.

The three of them take them off after Nightwing. And Bruce, having watched all his children run into danger, follows them in.

Nightwing is pushing through vines and branches, not caring if he makes noise or not. He knows the rest of his family will follow him, but quietly.

His mail enhances his vision in the darkness. He draws a thumb over his own panel and it activates the heat censor on his mask. Dick Grayson pushes forward quickly, scanning frantically for her heat signature.

And then he sees it. She’s always run cold. Her fingers and limbs always frozen. A small prone figure, running colder than the other surrounding bodies. He kicks up his pace, heading for her because he just knows.

“Phantom!” he yells, followed by, “Robin! I think I found her!”

He skids to a halt and falls to his knees, he can see the stab wounds. The way her blood has soared into the ground beneath her. 

Nightwing rolls her over, jamming his fingers under her neck to find a pulse. It’s there. But weak.

He rips the cauterizer out of his belt and drapes her body over him just as Jason appears. 

“Is she..?”

“Alive.” He grunts, “Not for much longer I need to..”

Jason helps him rip the uniform away enough so Dick has enough room to maneuver.

“Hold her down!”

Jason does as he’s told and Dick places the cauterizer to her skin.

“Only do what you have to, we need to get out of here. And soon.”

He pushes the two flaps of skin together and places the sparking tool to it. The heat melds the skin together. She’d need to be pumped full of antibiotics in case any of the blades were dirty and risked infection.

She only stirs slightly, too disoriented from her loss of blood. He talks to her the whole time he works on her.

He only does her abdomen, knowing that it’s her most serious injury. It might not even hold from the jolting and jostling that would occur in the journey back. Dick stabs a painkiller into her thigh, just in case she were to awaken.

He motions to Tim and Damian, who had been standing guard, to take up the rear. Grayson then scoops up his girlfriend, cradling her to his chest.

“Jason. Take point. Let’s get her home.”

~~~

He sits by her bedside. His hands are covered in her dry blood, along with his suit. He hadn’t bothered to change.

Y/N had needed a blood transfusion and he had offered immediately, hence why there was a needle in his arm funneling blood into girlfriend. Alfred had stitched do her wounds and hooked her up to an IV for hydration and anti-infection purposes.

She’d been changed out of her uniform after she was stable for cleanliness reasons and was now wearing one of his black shirts.

He’s holding her hand, his thumb tracing over the pulse point of her wrist occasionally.

It would be a long road to recovery for her though they all knew that she would bounce back and attempt to get back in to the field as soon as she could walk.

It’s days later when she finally wakes, her eyelids fluttering.

“Dick.” She whispers.

He’s right there, just like he had been, he’d only left briefly to shower but he ate and slept at her side. Jason had covered both of your patrols, with Bruce helping out.

“I’m okay. You’re okay, babygirl.” He places a hand on her face and she leans her head into his touch.

[refinedbuffoonery]

Flawless (6)

masterlist.

Content Warning: swearing, violence, sex, PTSD

Not gonna lie, this is a bit of a filler chapter. But the NEXT chapter...that’s the one you’ve all been waiting for. Also, I’ve had “bad guy” by Billie Eilish stuck in my head for DAYS, so that’s the song playing during the runway show. 

*****

A week after the job at the director’s house, Riley sank into her first-class airplane seat and immediately opened her laptop, the tan pleather chair squeaking slightly as she crossed her legs beneath her. Dimming the brightness, Riley angled her laptop so no one could see it but her. She’d been profiled plenty of times in the past while writing perfectly benevolent code. Riley certainly didn’t need anyone catching her working on something more nefarious. 

If she did this right, then she’d be able to just connect her phone to whatever Louvre computer that controlled security and be free to do whatever she wanted. 

If she didn’t...she’d need to brush up on her French. 

Nikki dozed in the seat beside her. She’d been bouncing off the walls all morning in anticipation of getting to see Fashion Week in person after Riley had promised to go with her to as many fashion shows as they could sneak into. Nikki’s excitement was infectious. While the priority was to see the runway show of the designer whose Louvre afterparty they were crashing, before they boarded the flight, Riley found herself sifting through fashion blogs to determine which other shows she wanted to see. All couture, of course. 

Across the aisle, Jill had her nose buried in an incredibly thick book Riley couldn’t see the cover of, and behind her, Cage and Desi curled together like a human pretzel as they watched a movie. They were disgustingly happy, and that made Riley happy too. 

When they were somewhere over the middle of the Atlantic, Nikki awoke, grumbling, “You’re going to ruin your eyes if you stare at that screen any longer.” She was right. Riley’s vision had started to blur at the edges hours ago, and she knew she’d have a hard time focusing on things in the distance when she finally looked up. Riley saved her work and shut her laptop. 

Nikki still hadn’t budged from her awkward curled position, but her eyes were open. Riley figured now was as good of a time as any to make Nikki answer her last lingering question. “So you still haven’t told me why you and your boyfriend broke up,” she probed. “You know, the one who hacks everything else.” 

Nikki sighed, rolling her head to glare at Riley. “Do I have to tell you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Fine.” Nikki sat up. “When we met, he told me he worked for a government think tank. Really nerdy stuff, does a lot of consulting. I figured he was smart but harmless.” 

“I remember.” 

“That was a lie. He’s a government agent, all right. But not the nerd kind. The double-O-seven kind.” 

Riley nearly choked. “A spy?” she hissed. “You dated a fucking spy?” 

“Surprise.” 

“How did you find out?” 

“The same way he found out about me. I originally told him I was a freelance art appraiser”—not far from the truth, actually— “and the IT job was to help make ends meet. We both bought each others’ lies at first, but over time we both struggled to keep our stories straight. And then one day it all just...fell into place, I guess. We had a massive fight, and by the time the dust settled, I think we both knew there was no going back to how things were before we knew the truth.” 

Riley laced her fingers through Nikki’s, conveying her empathy through touch rather than words. “What agency does he work for?” 

“The Phoenix Foundation.” 

“What the fuck is that?” 

“It’s DXS. The name changed while you were gone.” At least Nikki couldn’t still say the P-word either. But DXS...DXS could move Christmas. If Nikki’s boyfriend told anyone about her real job, they were all in trouble. Big trouble. 

“Think he’s going to come after you? Come after us?” 

“I don’t know.” 

Trying to lighten the mood, Riley said, “Ignoring the part where he knows you’re a criminal, it must’ve been pretty cool to date a real-life black-ops spy. I bet he knew all kinds of tricks.” The innuendo easily rolled off Riley’s tongue. 

Nikki smacked her shoulder. “We were having a nice moment and you had to go and ruin it by being gross. What the fuck, dude?” 

Riley rolled her eyes. “Love you too.” And she did. Despite the grudge she may or may not be holding, Riley loved her. She never stopped.

*****

They landed in Paris at night, and the Five Eyes crashed the moment they made it to their swanky, overpriced hotel room. The next day, they bounced around the city attending as many runway shows as traffic allowed. Riley didn’t understand the hubbub and overdone romanticism; Paris was just like any other major city—loud and overcrowded. And snobby. So very snobby. 

On their second day in Paris, the women chose to divide and conquer. Desi, Cage, and Jill teamed up to scope out the Louvre. Riley and Nikki attended the runway show of the designer whose masterpiece they intended to steal. 

As she and Nikki found their seats along the runway, Riley made a mental note of all the exits. Their seats were in the back, against a wall. Nikki hoped for a better view, but Riley liked it better this way. Sitting by a wall, she had something solid behind her and could see everyone come and go without having to turn around. Riley had always kept meticulous tabs on her surroundings—that’s what made her so good at her job—but the fear of not being able to see what’s coming was new. 

She didn’t tell Nikki about it. 

The blonde blended right in with the highly fashionable crowd, wearing a floor-length, gray plaid coat with hot pink lining. Nikki was completely in her element here, and sometimes Riley thought her friend would’ve been better off legitimately pursuing a career in fashion rather than letting Riley drag her into the world of shadows, secrets, and cons. 

While they waited, Riley fidgeted with a button on her black blazer. Her whole outfit was the same shade of her signature color—blouse, blazer, leather leggings. But her boots were the real showstopper—thigh-high black suede with intricate gold embroidery down the entire front. Riley saw them in a window yesterday and had immediately gone inside to purchase them. The boots were outrageously expensive, but it didn’t matter. Riley Davis was already a filthy rich woman, and after this job, she’d have more money than she would ever know what to do with. 

The house music quieted, and the designer—older man, favored his left leg, voice thin and raspy like a smoker—strutted down the runway, microphone in hand, welcoming the audience and beginning the show. He rambled on, ruminating over his inspiration for this collection. Nikki hung on every word. Riley tuned him out. 

So this was the man who was renting out the Louvre. Riley couldn’t even imagine the amount of money and favors it took to secure such an ostentatious party venue. 

What she could imagine, however, was that she’d surely be subjected to yet another one of these long-winded speeches at the afterparty tonight. On the bright side, that would buy her and her team extra time, making the job that much easier. 

The show began with a sweep of the lights as the music dropped to a low, pulsing beat Riley could feel just as much as she could hear. The crowd murmured respectfully as the first model appeared wearing a shiny black gown that looked like a trash bag had been melted to her body with the excess pooling on the floor. She told Nikki as much, earning an eye roll. 

The next gown was better—sheer fabric with countless thin, metallic gold vertical stripes. The skirt had pretty lines, giving the model the illusion of curves she didn’t have. After that was a strapless canary yellow ball gown with a full, pillowy train. 

“I don’t understand why designers keep making yellow clothes,” Riley hissed. “No one looks good in yellow.” 

“That model does.” 

“No one looks good in yellow.” 

Nikki twisted in her seat and glared, which Riley ignored. “Are you going to say anything nice?” 

“You’d miss my commentary if I stopped.” Riley’s snide comment earned her an elbow to the ribs, but she caught Nikki’s smile all the same. 

The next gown was cherry red satin, with huge ruffles on one shoulder and the opposite hip. The extra fabric was a lot, but there was something elegant about the gown nonetheless. 

Leanna would look good in that one, Riley stopped herself from saying aloud. Nikki—nor anyone else, for that matter—hadn’t said another word about Leanna since Riley first asked weeks ago. Suddenly their longtime friend was taboo, and Riley didn’t want to disrupt the tentative peace she had with Nikki just to push for answers she probably wouldn’t get. 

Another ugly gown, this one feathery pink with a sort of netting over top. 

But the last one...the last one caught the eye of every single person in the audience. 

Including Riley. 

The sheer dress was covered in intricate silver beading that accentuated its long sleeves and mermaid silhouette and left little to the imagination. It was the kind of show-stopping gown one wore when they wanted to be the center of attention. 

Despite the audience’s rising hum of approval, Riley still heard Nikki murmur, “That one is all you.” And it was. Riley would wear that gown in a heartbeat if she had the opportunity—too bad most jobs required her to blend in, not stand out. 

She was too busy lusting after the gown to respond. 

From her seat, Riley could just see into the wings, and she spotted who could only be the designer’s assistant, running the show behind the scenes. Even from a distance, Riley had a feeling the young woman’s hawk-like gaze missed absolutely nothing. The designer would be easy enough to bamboozle during the heist, but this woman could very likely become a problem. 

Riley committed the assistant’s appearance to memory and set the thought aside for later.

*****

Later that afternoon, the Five Eyes reconvened in their hotel suite. They still had a couple hours until they needed to get ready for the afterparty. Since only Cage and Nikki had been there before, Desi, Cage, and Jill had spent the day scouting the Louvre. It was good for Jill to work with Desi for a change; because of her military background, Desi’s way of thinking through a job diverged greatly from everyone else’s. 

Team meetings like this were one of Riley’s favorite parts of the job—swapping intel and strategizing the best way to pull off the job. Or the most fun way, which was usually also the riskiest. But tonight, the team was in unspoken agreement that they would play it safe, both because of Jill and the importance of this long-awaited job. 

Piled onto one plush, king-sized bed, the five women sat tangled together as they tore through the box of pastries Riley purchased on the way back to the hotel. For the first time in forever, Riley was hungry. She avoided dwelling on that fact as she licked her fingers and picked up stray crumbs that fell on the off-white comforter. 

“So, what did you learn?” Nikki quizzed Jill. 

Jill pushed up her glasses with her middle finger, speaking with her mouth full. “The room the party will be in is super fancy and at the far corner of the building.” She swallowed. “First floor.” 

“Good. What else?” Riley prompted. “How do Nikki or I get to security and the building’s system control?” 

“There’s an employee door in the hallway…” Jill trailed off. “Wait. This is a test, isn’t it? You already know.” 

Riley smirked. “I do.” 

Disbelief etched Jill’s face. “How? You told me yourself that you’ve never been there!” 

“I have my ways.” Riley would tell her eventually, but for now, it was more fun to lure trade secrets over Jill’s head. She reached for another buttery pastry, selecting one topped with slivered almonds.  

But before Riley could continue her taunting, Desi spoke up. “There’s something you should know.” The mood plummeted into seriousness. 

Riley and Nikki both raised their eyebrows. Go on. 

“Nikki’s ex was at the museum.” 

“Which one?” Nikki asked cautiously. Riley could hear the dread in her tone, the same dread that churned in her own stomach. 

“You know which one.” 

Riley swore. Nikki’s ex, the spy, was at the Louvre. “Did he see you?”

Cage answered, “We have to assume he did. And we also have to assume he recognized Desi and me as Nikki’s friends.” Riley set her pastry down, no longer hungry as the heist of her dreams started to crumble before her eyes. She refused to let that happen. 

“He was with a middle-aged man who definitely had a gun tucked into his belt,” Desi said. “Based on that and his haircut, I’d say he’s probably ex-military.” 

“Mac is too.” Tucking her knees to her chest, Nikki’s voice was uncharacteristically small as she spoke. Defeat wormed its way across her features. Nikki thought they couldn’t pull off the job now, Riley realized. 

No way. She wouldn’t let one stupid ex-boyfriend get in the way of her dream job. And her grossly large payday. 

“It’ll be fine,” Riley reassured. “He knows you’re into fashion, right?” Nikki nodded. “Then he has to assume you’re there for innocent, legitimate reasons. Innocent until proven guilty, remember? All we have to do is avoid looking suspicious, which we already do anyway. He won’t have any evidence to pin it on us besides a hunch, and even if he shares that hunch, he’ll get in trouble for not disclosing information about you and your relationship sooner.” 

Jill said, “That seems overly optimistic.” 

“Which one of us is the expert?” Riley snapped. Jill flinched, and the other three watched Riley warily. “Sorry,” she grumbled. 

The tension only somewhat dissipated. 

“Anyway,” Riley redirected. “We picked up the replicas.” She gestured to Nikki’s Balenciaga bag sitting open on a nearby chair. 

“Replicas?” Riley fought the urge to sigh at Jill and her constant questions. 

“What did you think we were going to do? Just take the jewelry and run like hell?” 

Jill’s silence was a resounding yes. 

“Pickpocketing 101. What did I tell you?” 

Understanding dawned in Jill’s wide, blue eyes. “When you steal something heavy, put something else in its place.” A pause. “We’re going to replace the jewelry with fakes so no one even realizes the real set is missing.” 

It was Cage’s turn to smirk. “She’s catching on.” The blonde leaned in. “So, can we see them?” 

Nikki was off the bed in an instant, retrieving a package wrapped in plain brown paper from her purse. She let Cage have the honor of unwrapping it and revealing the masterfully crafted jewels. 

The faux-sapphire and diamond necklace and earrings were stunning. And exact replicas of the real set. The only difference was a tiny, insignificant bump Nikki’s jeweler added to the back of each piece so they could quickly tell the difference between the replicas and the real deal. 

Desi whistled. “Damn. Those are stunning.” Beside her, Cage nodded appreciatively. “You would look so hot wearing those,” Desi murmured to her girlfriend. “Wearing only those.” 

Blushing furiously, Cage shoved her girlfriend off the bed. 

Riley knew that if she let them, her friends would spend hours examining the jewels. Clearing her throat to get everyone’s attention, she asked, “Everyone clear on the plan?” 

The four other women nodded in turn, first Desi, then Nikki, then Cage, and finally Jill. 

“Good.” 

“That’s it?” Jill questioned. “No team pep talk?” The other women chuckled, but Riley just rolled her eyes. 

“That one,” Desi pointed at Riley, “is the wrong person to ask for a pep talk.” 

Riley’s jaw dropped in mock outrage. “Hey! Speak for yourself.” Desi shrugged. Directing her attention back to Jill, “You really want a pep talk?” 

Jill blinked. 

“Don’t fuck this up.”

~ Tag List ~ Want to be added? Send me an ask. 

@macrileyedits​ / @hellishrose​ / @incorret-macgyver-quotes​ / @mylifequotesshowallofthem​ / @thecarrieonokay

[trig-loves-clowning-around]

Burning Bodies

Burning Bodies

This is an original story with various acts of violence

Tw: Stalking and murder and a writer that can't write action sequences or making Read More work on mobile

"Chrissy do not go near that! Dad'll have a cow!" Derek called to his little sister that was hovering dangerously close to the old house.  It was the eyesore of the neighborhood, a husk of its former glory. No one told them how the house across the street had been burnt. The older teens of the neighborhood said it was a meth house accident and that's why no one lived there. 

If someone asked the adults they would wave it off as a natural disaster and the whole family moved away, but no one bought the property. That was all, but it never felt like they were telling the truth.

Most people thought it was a safe haven for squatters.  Kids always whispered about how it was full of ghosts.

Derek was older and wiser, however, and he knew there was no such things as ghosts.  It was probably just the homeless trying to avoid the harsh weather of autumn nights. 

"But Derry, I can see a ghost!" The child squeaked, her red curls bouncing in the soft fall sunlight as she skipped over to press her tiny hands against the old windowsill trying to get a peek into a broken window. The shattered glass shards seemed to have been cleaned up long ago, however the pane was still jagged along the edges as if something large had been thrown through the window. 

"Christina!" Derek called running to drag her away, ghosts or no ghosts that house put him on edge.

 "I'm in charge right now! When I tell you to stay away from that house, you listen!" he grumbled as the little girl started to cry at her older brother raising his voice at her. She was just a kid after all. 

The wind whipped loudly around the two, the breeze was getting more intense as he all but dragged the upset child across the street to the safety of their front yard.  

The hairs on the back of the teen boys neck stood on edge. He couldn't tell if he heard breathing at the old meth house or if it really was just the wind.

If only Derek knew that this was the closest they would get to confronting death and walking away safely. 

At 2:35 A.M September 13th the Cadans Park police dispatch got a call, someone was found standing outside the home and was banging on the door of 2463 West, Police were dispatched to deal with the situation however upon arrival there was no sign that anyone there. 37 year old, Edwin Marshall was advised to set up security cameras after the area was secured. 

Edwin Marshall was snuggled up to his beautiful wife Stacey Marshall in bed. A normal, perfect evening for the pair.

That is...

It was perfect until he heard his 6 year old daughter scream from her bedroom. 

His eyes opened and he was looking into his wife's beautiful green eyes, she had clearly been startled awake.

"I'll go see what's wrong" Edwin insisted on getting out of bed, glancing at the digital alarm clock that read 2:30 in its harsh red numbers as he rushed out the door down the hall of their small home, he saw his son Derek rushing the opposite direction... to the kitchen.

Edwin ran in to see her daughter pressed up into the corner of her room (farthest away from the window facing the front yard), large tears trailed down her chubby pale cheeks and her father ran over to gather her in his strong arms. 

"What? What's wrong?" He cooed in his soft voice as he scanned the room until he saw it. 

A large shadow outside her bedroom window, the moonlight backlit the large shadow and no one could see the face of the predator looming outside. 

Edwin took a bit to realize someone was out there. Once it dawned on him it was a person scaring his daughter, he was full of rage "FUCK OFF" he yelled as he saw Derek reemerging from the hall a large kitchen knife in his hand for protection, he was a brave teen. 

But this wasn't the first time there had been someone outside in their yard at such an hour. His wife's family was very unhappy that she married a dark skinned man like Edwin and when they cut contact her father had started to stalk them.

However, this man was much taller than the stout man that was his father in law, in the moment he didn't realize it.

Edwin also seemed to forget his In-Law was across country with a restraining order, but they hadn't seen him since Derek was nine years old, 

"ARTHUR! LEAVE OR I'LL CALL THE COPS" he called out, the only response that was had was a hand coming up to violently smack the glass with an open palm making little Christina burst into even more tears, there was too much yelling at confusion as the shadow stood unwavering as his teen boy waved a knife around like a mad man. 

"It's too late, Father! I've called the Police!" Stacey yelled in a tired panic from the hall, sadly she had always been too terrified to confront even the idea of her father after they married. 

It felt like an eternity but eventually the shadow figure turned to stalk off into the night, right before a police car pulled up lighting the street with their police lights yet no one was around. 

After the officers made sure the area was safe they went inside to get statements, little Christina was cuddled up in her mother's lap, almost a clone of her mother, as they tried to coax a story out of her over some hot cocoa.

She was blubbering and sobbing about a scary noise, a scary noise woke her up and she saw the scary shadow outside the window waving at her. 

Edwin was pacing in the living room as the police got statements, he was sure his crazy father-in-law had finally found them. 

The two police officers told them they should invest in some cameras so they could get evidence and convict Arthur if he was violating his restraining order and kick him back to where he came from. 

Edwin and Derek got to work on that the next morning after a sleepless night with Edwin guarding the door with a kitchen knife. 

September 19th 2:40 P.M 

Derek Marshall placed a call to Cadans Park Police to report a break-in. Officer Jarvas was dispatched to clear the scene, door was destroyed completely 

"Complete splinters" to quote Officer Jarvas, once scene was secured Derek Marshall commented that nothing seemed missing as they did the traditional walk through. 

Until discovery that the master bedroom, shared by the parents, had been "Fucking Trashed" to quote Derek Marshall. 

Officer Tom noted that all electronic devices in the room had been destroyed, theorized that it was smashed with some sharp object, possibly a machete. 

A police officer is to be posted outside their home during the evening when the family is home. 

The call was made after school got out, at first it was assumed it was going to be an accident from the student drivers, however when the dispatcher heard a teen cussing about the door being "fuckin destroyed" she sent an officer.

There was a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach, it was the house across from… THAT house. 

Derek was freaking out, the door was half way off its hinges, slashed in half diagonally.

"Don't worry sonny with the cameras ya got should be all good and caught the criminal" Officer Jarvas smiled at him as he went to make sure no one was inside, took him a long time to scan through the windows carefully before entering the house. 

"Stay right here"

Despite what Derek was told he felt off, like someone was watching him and he ran into the house to join the officer 

"Buddy I told you to stay outs-" 

"I'd rather be with you it's safer here" derek insisted "you're supposed to protect and serve right? Well I feel more protected here" he grumbled and Jarvas sighed and gave in. 

The one story house had a simple layout, a living room and kitchen were first when you enter, other than the destroyed door everything seemed fine and untouched, each step on the tile floor sounded like a drum beat in Derek's ears, eyes scanning as the officer had his gun at the ready for anyone to hop out. 

They left after checking the pantry, all was clear. Next to the right there was a long hall that held the bathroom and the three bedrooms. The bathroom was the closest on the left, it was untouched, next Derek's room right across the hallway, once the door opened Derek flinched waiting to see something like his electric base or PC missing but, no nothing had been touched. They looked around his room, Derek checked everything even under his bed but, there was nothing at all. 

Finally came the master bedroom, they slowly walked in and Derek looked around in shock, everything from the walls to the bed frame was hacked to all hell.

"Oh fuck mom's gonna have a heart attack its fucking trashed in here" he cussed and Officer Tom nodded his head.

"Oh god this is… more than I expected" he mumbled looking around for anyone, Derek all but glued to his side. 

In the corner was a computer, his dad's personal computer that controlled their new cameras everything was destroyed, even the monitor was smashed in until the screen was all but a fine powder. The Tv? destroyed. Headboard? Hacked up, some pieces were laying on the torn up mattress. 

Yet it was lacking any signs of life other than the two males sneaking around. 

Lastly they went to Christina's room, it was in its natural state of chaos from a little girl with an overactive imagination. Her bedroom closet had all the clothes pushed to one side but other than that it was completely fine. 

Derek had to call his parents about their houses break in while the officer called in for a report.

Before long the family was on the way to spend some time at their grandparents' place.

Little Chrissy was very upset when she was told that they couldn't take anything, everything was evidence in the end and they needed to leave everything but the clothes on their backs. 

She was whining that she couldn't sleep without Joy, her favorite Raggedy Anne doll, as they drove out of town for a weekend to try to think of their next steps since this stalker was clearly violent they would need to think away from the home. 

Of course Edwin's parents were ecstatic to see their precious grandkids again, they made their home open for them. The house was bigger than the one they left with a few guests rooms for emergencies such as the one they were in. 

Christina lit up at seeing "pop pops and mumsy" and the thought of the missing doll left her 6 year old mind. 

That is until dinner had passed.

The family was in the front room talking to happily, Derek was in the corner playing on his phone watching youtube videos ignoring it all until there was a knock at the front door. 

"I'll get it" pop pops smiled and stood on his old shaky legs as he walked to the front door, the old hinges squealed in protest as he opened the heavy oak door. The relaxed chatter didn't end, little Christina was leaning over to try and watch what Derek was watching whining even when the adults happy chatter turned into terrified silence. 

The two youngest looked up to see Pop pops holding a well loved Raggedy Ann in his hands. Christina lit up like a christmas tree, "Joy!" She squealed running to grab the doll from her beloved grandfather's hands.

"Thank you pop pop! You're the best!" She squeaked happily unaware of the terror behind her elders' eyes. 

September, 27 

Due to lack of evidence and activity the squad car will be left on the street however due to understaffing the Cadans Police Department needs to pull the officers out to only check every few hours at night while the Marshall family gathers their belongings to move.

Crime was something that increased every so often in Cadans Park, most in the town blamed the increase of drifters. With several entrances to the highway and the train tracks running through town it wasn't hard for hitchhikers to get there. 

Especially in the winter when they were trying to get out of the cold at any cost begging for mercy from shop owners or homeowners alike. Seen as an eyesore of the "good community"

Mayor Justin Lancaster wanted to take the problem out before winter by arresting and charging the homeless with any crime from loitering to disturbing the peace, a disgusting act but the squatters at least got a warm place to sleep while awaiting trial.

At least that's what the officers told themselves being forced to arrest the helpless, unfortunate people. The mayor seemed to not understand empathy, he never did and used that to his advantage to twist people's metaphorical hands behind their back until they had to cry for mercy. 

However with the amount of the small force already having to be on the lookout for the homeless to arrest the rest of the town was left unsupervised, that put the police chief on edge and he made a decision. 

This decision was questionable and put a family at risk but what else could the man do? 

He pulled the physical police presence at the Marshall's house but left the squad car hoping it would be enough. 

October, 3rd 9:33 P.M 

Cadans Fire Department, police, and paramedics were called by the 64 year old Joseph Markus Hughes, the Marshall's home had been found up in flames, no knowledge if the family was inside, firefighters were dispatched immediately.

 One more night. Just one more. 

They were moving with Edwin's parents while they sold the house, safety in numbers and all, they had spent the whole day packing up everything they could so they wouldn't have to sleep in the house where the stalker knew to look.

 It took a lot longer than expected and soon it was dusk. 

Derek was busy dragging a box of his room decor when he heard it. Heavy breathing His parents were outside loading in the heavy furniture into the moving van that was farther than necessary thanks to the empty squad car taking up space.

"Chrissy?" Derek called walking to her room where she was left to play with Joy.

The breathing got louder as he crept forward fear made his blood run cold, the breathing was far too deep to be the breathing of a child's. 

The door silently opened and he could feel his heart stop at what he was witnessing.

Someone was on top of his sister, large mostly gloved hand wrapped around her tiny throat she wasn't moving. 

The man (woman?) Was wrapped in bandages, reflective black goggles staring into Derek's very soul as they were tucking the doll next to Christina's 'unconscious' body (Derek refused to accept the truth of his sister's condition in his shock). The sound of heavy breathing was amplified by the gas mask on the assailant's face, it was hard to see them breathing as the large body armor seemed to mask their level breathing 

Derek Marshall let out a noise that could only be described as a choked sob before he threw his box at his sister's attacker. "Get the fuck off Chrissy!" He yelled before he could think he blindly charged at the person. 

The attacker stood and took the hit square in the chest but it only sent the two tripping over the child's body falling backwards onto the carpeted floor. 

Derek, now on top, threw a punch to the masked attackers face but they grabbed his fist, it was such a painful grip the boy let out a cry of pain before the assailant punched him square in the chin dazing him and sending him flat on the back laying on top of his sister's still warm body. The masked attacker got up and grabbed something he couldn't see leaning against the wall as his vision swam as he grabbed his sister's limp  hand and started to scoot backwards to try to save her to get away from the man as fast as he could. 

"Dad!" He yelled as loud as possible struggling to stand up to run, his little sister still being dragged away as he heard the front door slam open 

"Derek?!" 

Stacey had heard the scream of there son first and started running, her husband following close behind as they ran into the house, almost breaking the brand new door. 

They saw a hopeful look in their son's eyes as he dragged their seemingly unconscious daughter from the bedroom by her hands. The two parents started to run to him until an axe flew by hitting him square in the shoulder, making him scream in pain and collapse to the floor. 

Stacey let out a high pitched scream, one that could break glass as she watched the masked attacker stride out to take the axe out of her son's shoulder, he was still alive as it didn't go in too deep he was shaking in pain groaning weakly. 

Edwin acted fast running at the masked assailant trying to fight the axe out of the murderers hands yelling at Stacey to call the police and she scrambled to find her phone dropping it as she heard her husband scream in pain. She looked up in shock to see her husband alight like a candle, dropping to the ground to try and roll out the flames. His movements seemed spasming from the pain and Stacey couldn't take her eyes off her husband, time seemed to stand still as the axe came down to take Edwin's head off his shoulders with a clean slam through the neck. She felt faint and tried to stumble to her true love and babies… 

Her family

Her reason to keep going 

She didn't have to be full of such pain for long however when the axe slammed it into her gut. The killer started to stalk forward, going to finish her off when Derek lashed out with all his strength getting in front of his mother trying to stop him with a punch to the nose of the gas mask the killer flinched it off and grabbed the boy by the face slamming him into the ground. 

The killer spared no mercy to Stacey, hacking up her body, starting with her legs. 

Derek weakly crawled  to the killer grabbing their leg as a silent plea for mercy.

The fire from his father's body spread to the walls as the murderer paid the boy no mind, dismembering Stacey her screams died out with her. 

"Mommy" Derek hiccuped letting out a dry sob as he dragged himself to her decapitated head cradling it in his good hand staring into her vibrant green eyes until he felt a boot on the back of his head. 

The attacker raised their foot and the boy turned fearfully to look up at them as they brought their large foot down over and over, stomping the boy's head until they heard a satisfying crack even still the assailant continued to stomp as the fire raged around them, no stopping until the bottom of their boot was covered in his brains. 

The killer seemed satisfied, leaving through the back door into the dark, letting the evidence burn behind them, their axe dragging in the grass behind them.

Joseph Markus Hughes sat in his front room watching the television reading the subtitles of the soap opera he had been sucked into. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and looked down to read a text from his son, he sent a text back, he loved that he could still communicate with his far away family even with his disability, the future was so wonderful. 

He got up with his cane, he wanted to bring his dog inside for the night when he caught a glimpse out of the window and his jaw dropped. 

His neighbors home, the house across the street, was set ablaze panicking he pressed his panic button or as his children called it "I've fallen and can't get up" button 

Due to him being nonverbal the police, ambulance, and firefighters showed up, obviously they found the problem by then and got to work quickly. 

October 4th, 12:00 A.M 

Fire was extinguished, spread up to the nearby homes, family found dead. Sent in for autopsy while paramedics take care of the wounded, foul play suspected.

In the early hours of the morning in the neighborhood meth house there was a quiet click of a battery operated radio, tuning into the morning news already announcing the fire and death of the family.

"Police suspect Father of Stacey Marshall, Arthur Jacob Jones as committing the murder, for now we can only be struck with grief with such a tragedy" 

There was a wheeze of a laugh 

Grief from a tragic loss 

Good

They understood 

Click 

It was silent in the house once more

[letstalksymphogear]

Symphogear, EP.7 (Cont.)

“i have not now, nor ever, liked this creepy ass church elevator.”

“kanade please get out of my head, just because im hungry doesnt mean you have to tell me every time i am”

Hibiki finishes getting a full body X-ray. She’s fine.

“that anime protagonist immunity is really kicking in well!”

“by the way, your wife is here! and she’s looking mighty miffed., as opposed to me, mighty milfed.”

“you dont strike me as a mother figure but ill play along for now”

“i just hope miku’s okay...”

“oh, she’ll be fine! see, i’ve seen these kinds of plots before. big secret revealed, another lover is shown, the victim watches as they’re thoroughly cheated on, and they get to lik-”

“please stop breathing”

Genjuro’s wasting away again in Margaritaville. Looking for some daughter to adopt. SOME PEOPLE SAY THAT THERE’S A, WOOOOMAAAAAN TO BLAAAAAAAAAAME, BUT HE KNOWS

XYLOPHONE RIFF

THAT’S IT’S ALL HIS FAULT

XYLOPHONE RIFF

“i hate it when he gets like this. jimmy buffets not a good look for him.”

“for once you and i agree. seeing the commander sulk like this like a middle aged perma-tourist is genuinely miserable”

“hey homies! im back and i brought some bitches! oh, jesus, why does this place smell like mistakes in miami?”

“its me. im sorry. every time i feel like i failed as a dad, my anti-dad energies manifest. imagine every midlife crisis rolled up into a single ball, smacked into the face for eternity. thats the depth of my pain for failing this girl.”

In a moment of positivity, the friendship between Tsubasa and Hibiki is cemented.

> Tsubasa has joined the party.

“FRIENDSHIP!”

“fweindship.”

“uuuuhhhhh... dadship? yeah thats close enough.”

“WE’RE ALL GOOD FRIENDS!”

“ya tiddies are ringing again, better go get it”

Ryoko also points out that Hibiki’s relic is fusing with herself at an alarming rate. This is important to keep in mind.

Meanwhile, at night.

Miku is posing in the motherly “you done fucked up, where have you been young lady” position. A cold scolding is coming.

“.........................hey miku......”

“you can come in. are you worried im gonna bite? you suplexed a car. that shouldn’t be an issue anymore.”

“miku, i.... i wanted to tell you.... but.... the plot wouldn’t let me, miku....”

“should’ve told the plot to fuck off anyway. now you’re gonna live with that. you’re sleeping... on the bottom bunk.”

“b.... b..... b...... b.... b...... bottom bunk...?”

They slept separately that night. God, this is so stupid. All of this is so goddamned stupid. “I’m so mad at you even though you saved my life.” This is just so. AUGH. THIS IS DUMB. KANEKO WRITE BETTER ANGST THAT MAKES SENSE THAT ISN’T THIS.

Meanwhile, far away from this garbage...

Chris, having been evicted from Fine’s McMansion, wanders the streets of mumblemumble aimlessly. Don’t be fooled by her new fancy dress. Basically, she’s a combat-competent hobo.

“no food. no home. no victories. this sucks. whyd you do it, fine? we coulda been great together. but no. ya fired me. now i look like im prancing the red light district with a highly advanced superweapon around my neck.”

“no... hibiki’s to blame. ever since that genderbent little mac showed up to fight me, it’s been all downhill. fine thought me a laughstock because i couldnt take out her oversized boxing gloves, and now she beat me while i had nehushtan. god... i wish i never met that damn hamster faced chubby cheeked nerd.”

“wait, whats that crying”

Chris spies two kids talking to each other, one of them crying. Chris immediately makes an assumption, believing the big bro is bullying his sis.

“hey! stop nicking her lunch money, twerp”

Chris currently is a firm believer of corporeal punishment.

But the sister deflects the blow. Chris can’t even defeat children right now. Truly, this is a record low for her. You know you blew it when even kids are schooling you on basic morality. She then tells the little girl to stop crying, ironically mirroring her brother.

The infamous double T-Pose maneuver. Chris, you might as well get a shovel and start digging your own grave.

“i keep doing bad things badly, and now im doing good things badly... when fine said i was bad... did she just mean im not talented?”

Chris, finally, does a good thing and helps these kids find their parents.

“yeah. hibiki saved a kid when she got her gear. guess what? bam! im saving two! that’s fifty percent more kid per kid saved. take that, weirdo.”

The kids call her out on Chris singing unconsciously, and Chris gets flustered over it. Dawwwwww.

Chris manages to get them to safety to their Dad...

...while brutally lying about it, making Chris look like a predator. There’s a very crushing irony at play here, given who Chris used to serve.

“ugggggggggggggggghhhhhh hes not even gonna payyyyy meeeeeee why the fuck did i dooooo thiiiiiiissssss”

“hey, you know. you kids have a really nice relationship with one another. care to give me tips on how to be an empathetic human being capable of making friends?”

“maybe we’re born with it”

“maybe its maybeline”

“maybeline...”

Meanwhile...

A cold wind blows through Lydian Apartment 69-L. (I don’t actually know if that’s their room number, I just made it up.)

“jesus take the wheel, because i’m jumping out the passenger seat to save this current wreck of a relationship”

“miku please i saved your life, doesnt that count for anything”

“you already killed me the moment you lied. also im taking the bottom bunk so i dont have to see your face coming down the ladder.”

“miku you cant hide in this depression den forever. i know i hurt you and im sorry for it, but please understand i literally couldnt do it. you saw there were punches and violence and stuff... i didnt want you tied to that...”

“what was that? i cant hear your apologies over my incredibly loud snoring. SNOOOOOOORE. SNOOOOOOOORE. SNOOO- fuck, i just swallowed my spit, fuck”

“i hope this cocoon of displeasure you’ve made for yourself lets you erupt into a butterfly of acceptance so i can fly with you again.”

“......thats not fair. you cant say those beautiful metaphors and get away with it. let me be mad... sniff... let me be mad...”

Sadness wafts in the den of lies Hibiki has been forced into.

No music plays. There is only heartbreak, and woe.

In the midst of this pain...

Ryoko loredumps about how the Symphogears work and are immune to the noise on her blog, ‘hornyonmainforscience.org’, her hybrid science journal slash kink zone. It’s mostly a recap with some pretty good soft techno beats in it.

“i made a custom brew of red bull, five hour energy drink, coffee, and cream. i call it gamer girl piss.”

“damn. that’s some good piss.”

She muses about how Hibiki has managed to break the limitations of her Symphogear, making her a totally unique specimen. Wait, where have we heard this before...?

Hey... Ryoko... let’s just... cool it a bit with the Hibiki pictures... come on...

Ryoko touches upon the Custodians and the Curse of Babel. We ain’t touching that shit until later, because that’s another shitfuck box of crazy just ready to jump us in a dark alleyway to rob us of our wits.

Back to Lydian:

“miku whats the answer to the first three multiple choice questions”

“B. A. D.”

“oh, thanks. huh, BAD.”

“yeah. you are.”

“mmm. taste likes dissapointment. just like my life.”

“hey table for two haha get it cause there’s two chairs and miku for the love of god, please, forgive me”

“ive surgically removed my eyes and drew eyelashes over them with sharpie so i dont have to see your bird bangs.”

“thats very rude to both me and my hair. also, wig.”

Even Hibiki’s meal is judging her. Mainly for not eating it. Fucking look at this. God, that looks amazing. Fuck, why did I write this while I was hungry.

“miku you cant do this forever. i might die and youll end up crying on my tombstone going ‘oh god, why, oh god’, and really, i cant live with myself if that happens. mainly because id already be dead by then”

The Anime Janai crew show up to break some icebergs with a goddamn sledgehammer. As the self-aware Gods of this realm, they got very tired of this poor display of angst, and have decided to directly intervene.

Nevermind. They came for her kneecaps, and they most certainly got them.

PLEASE. I’M BEGGING YOU. END THIS GARBAGE PLOT THREAD.

“look. imma lay down the facts. yall are gay. yall are in love. yall are angry for the wrong reasons. its nobody’s fault here but the writer. so please kiss and make up. pretty please.”

“kaneko... you fool... we all know what the original sin is. its your hack writing making this stupidity in the first place. let the pencil go, asshole!”

They bring up the fact that Hibiki isn’t doing her work and wonder if she has a job on the side, which isn’t allowed by the school. Miku gets annoyed and bails, with Hibiki running after her. Unfortunately, Miku runs faster...

“oh god miku not the rooftop whatever you’re thinking just dont do it! please!”

“no. i came here to angst, since this is the Maximum Angst Zone.”

“i..... okay! okay, that’s fair! rooftops are the perfect place to look sad while getting proper air ventilation, thats fine”

It really would have been better played if it was played off that she felt hurt not because of the lie, but because she felt like she could have helped her better having known the truth, and it being a self-loathing sort of scenario for not being there better for her and not fully understanding the risk at play.

But no, instead, we get this.

Absolutely obliterated. A heart ripped, shredded, and sent to the Shadow Realm.

The episode ends on that note, but has a post credit scene.

Naked. On an old timey telephone. On a computer. Wearing stockings and long gloves.

The main antagonist of the series, everybody.

She’s talking the best English possible to some random-ass American when suddenly bursting through the scene is none other than:

“I WANT WORKERS COMPENSATION YOU BITCH, BEFORE I UNIONIZE YOUR NAKED ASS”

“AND I WANT A GOOD REFERNECE FOR MY FUTURE EMPLOYER, AND ALSO A SEVERANCE PACKAGE SINCE I’M FUCKING HOMELESS”

“i paint my eyelashes with mascara made from the tar of freshly carbonated corpses manufactured through noise, what on gods green earth compels you to think id give a rats ass about you?”

“so you never cared, huh! you’re just a nasty naked hedonist trying to- trying to- what the fuck are you even trying to do?!”

“i want to live the dream every spicy little fossil like me yearns for.”

“I WANNA FUCK GOD!”

“how- what? what? how do you even- what? are you- do you want to be the pope? is that it? does the pope get to fuck god? are you- is this a larping thing? you’ve really been into larping lately! i don’t like this!”

“youve never read the old testament, have you. ass out, pussy bare, hips up and barefoot. that’s how god’s always liked it.”

“now get lost, punk. you tipped off my hand to genjuro and now you being here is going to ruin everything. if you still feel any semblance of devotion, eat one of your own bullets and call it a day.”

“it’s 2012 bitch, if the mayans dont get you, I WILL”

“what god gives, He takes away, and so do i. i built you from the ground up. your relic, which was good for jack shit on you. the nehushtan, which you failed to do anything with except zap a couple hundred people. stop wars? you’re a walking war, waged by me, for me. and your cartridge has just run out of bullets.”

“uh oh! hand’s acting up again! better bail before i send you back to smacktown where all the bitter little shittalkers like you strut around spending their lives being useless as hell.”

“ah fuck, im not dealing with no manos: the hands of fate bullshit again”

“and guess what else i got on motherfucker”

“i see the union efforts have officially been busted. understandable, have a nice day ma’am”

“LEAVE.”

“I’M GOING, I’M GOING”

[fatandnerdy30]

Little Orphan Spider Chapter 4

Peter was close to the group home, when suddenly his senses went crazy and he felt his skin crawl, telling him he had a bogey on his...six? Or was it nine? He didn't know, but he had someone following him. With a quick look, he didn't see anyone, but suddenly felt his left side tingle and he swung to the right, watching as a black arrow flew past him. "Oh come on! I don't have time for this!"

The teen sped up his web shooting, looking on the rooftops for the shooter, but he didn't seen anyone. Until, he cornered a building and found himself staring at none other than Hawk-Eye. And he was trained on Peter with a wicked looking arrow. "Holy crap!" the boy shouted. "You're Hawk-Eye! I'm a big fan! But, as much as I'd love to meet you, I have to get home!" The archer shot and Peter dodged, much to the man's chagrin. "Just what is this guy?" Peter heard him ask thanks to his enhanced hearing. "That's not very nice!" the boy shouted as he dodged another arrow. "I'm just the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man!" Another arrow, dodged. "Now stop!" He got out of the man's sights, landing in a nook of a building, trying to control his breathing. If Mr. Martin checked in on him right, Peter was in so much trouble! "What is with these guys?" he asked himself. He was used to Iron-Man coming to 'encourage' him to join the Avengers, but Hawk-Eye was new. He never knew Mr. Stark would try and hurt him! Suddenly an arrow thunked into the wooden board next to Peter's head, making the boy yelp. "Hey! You could have put out somebody's eye with that!" Making sure his web shooters were attached to his wrists-they always were- he waited for the archer to make an appearance again, which he did. Taking aim, Peter shot twice, sticking the man's arms to the wall, his bow useless now. "Sorry! But, if it makes it any better, that will dissolve on its own in two hours! Later!" And Peter disappeared. But, Hawk-Eye was shocked. He'd heard Spider-Man's voice....and he couldn't be as old as Tony had said. He sounded like he a kid....but, that was impossible....wasn't it? It took twenty minutes for Peter to get home and strip and get dressed again. It was a little painful, since one of the arrows had actually clipped his side, but that would heal in an hour, tops. Peter was just putting his shirt on, when he heard a knock and pulled the material hurriedly over his head, jumping  onto his bed just in time for his door to open. "Came to check on ya," Mr. Martin said cheerfully, smiling softly on the boy. Peter wasn't sure this man ran a group home for boys, the way he kept his cool all the time. "I'm still here," the teen sighed. "Being bored." The man chuckled. "I know being punished is no fun, but it is for your own good. And heck, you're the most well behaved boy here, so you're not used to this." Mr. Martin picked up Peter's legs and sat, placing the limbs in his lap. "So, excited about the internship?" At that the boy's eyes lit up. "Yes! I mean, I couldn't believe it when I read that letter! How cool is it that I'll be working in the same building as the Tony Stark? It-it's been my dream for years to get a job at Stark Industries and help people." The man nodded. "I know it has. I've read your file," he chuckled. "But, in all seriousness, I'm so proud of you, Peter. You have no idea how much." He patted the boy's thigh and stood, dropping the boy's legs with a smirk. "And, good job on the lawn today. I may have you cut it every week." This made Peter groan and his head fell back on the bed, making Mr. Martin laugh as he closed the door. Finally, it was nighttime. Spider-Man time! Well, not yet. Peter had told Mr. Martin that he'd finished his homework-which wasn't a lie- and he was heading to bed. But, he was actually heading out to patrol. After visiting Ned, of course. So, that was how he found himself hanging outside his friend's window while his mom talked to him for about forever. She left and Peter crawled in through the open window. "Finally! I thought she'd never leave!" "Sorry about that. She likes to ask about my week and all that." Peter felt a pang of jealousy, but pushed it down with a smile. "That's nice, man. Is that mine?" the boy eyed the plate filled with Enchilada's, his stomach growling at the smell. "Have at it. She tried something different, but I couldn't taste it." As soon as Peter took his first bite, he could tell the woman made them from scratch instead of buying the seasoning packets. He was in heaven. "Oh man, these are so flipping good! I wish the home would make something like this. Today it was 'mystery meat'. Meaning, if you got sick, it was a mystery from what." He smiled as he wolfed down the food on the plate, half of them gone in minutes. "Oh man, that sucks. But, now you're here! So, you ready?" Ned took out the box and Peter nodded, his cheeks puffing out with food. Within the next hour they had more than half of it together, but then the sound of sirens could be heard and Peter looked up. "I gotta go. Finish it tomorrow night?" "Definitely. I'll get on the computer and tell you where those sirens are coming from." "Cool. See ya!" Peter flipped out the window, shooting a web and started toward the direction they were coming from, hiding the Bluetooth in his ear. "Spider can you hear me?" Ned's voice came into his ear. "Loud and clear, chair guy." Peter could practically feel his friend's smile. "The sirens are coming from a police raid of a drug ring on Layton and Baxter. You sure you got this?" "Yeah, sure. I can handle this." He sped up, using the wind tunnel created by the buildings to propel himself forward. The night wind was a little chilly at night around the start of spring, the winter still in the air. But, Peter loved it. The tingling of his fingers as he swung from the webbing he created, the exhilaration of being in the air, sometimes doing a flip for the public's entertainment. It was great! "Uh-oh," Ned said suddenly. "Peter, they've got some pretty bad weapons too.  I just hacked the swat teams body cams. They don't look like their from Earth. They look...alien." That made Peter almost pause, but he shot another web, now able to see the red and blue lights in the windows of buildings. "Great. That means whatever the Avengers brought here, left some surprises behind. How many of their messes do I have to clean up? Seriously, it's getting ridiculous." He snapped the webbing from his wrist and landed on a telephone pole, watching the scene. Everything looked calm, until suddenly, it wasn't. Peter let out a shout as an explosion went off, big enough to knock him off the pole, but he caught himself and watched the scene. Bodies lay everywhere, some moving, some not. The teen's eyes went wide as he scanned the area. "No..." he whispered. "Ned! Is the camera still working?" "Y-yeah, it is. That was the craziest thing I've ever seen! Did you see that explosion!" "Yes, Ned, I did. Now, tell me if there's anyone alive in the building!" Peter could hear the clicking of keys in the background of Ned's muttering before he answered. "Yes, there are people still alive. I have no clue how, but-" "Great-" the teen cut him off. "I'm going in to help try and evacuate. Call for paramedics!" He shut the blue tooth off then and jumped to the ground, checking on the guys that were moving. "Help is on the way," he told them. "Just hold tight. I need some help if there's anyone available to go into the house!" In seconds there was an army of slightly injured police officers moving forward in a hurry, with Spider-Man leading them. Peter took off into the house, going to the more dangerous areas of the collapsing two-story house, where he found hardly anyone. And looking down, he knew why. A hand was sticking up from the rubble, but when he went to pull it out, suddenly it turned to ash. The teen could only stare at the spot in shock. What could have done this? "Hey, Spider-Man!" a police officer called down the hall. "Are there any survivors?" Peter could only stare at the spot for a moment, before another call got him to jolt out of shock. "N-no....there's no one alive in here..." He was shaking. Nothing felt real. Six months, he'd never seen a dead body before, and then he comes across a hand. A hand and he freaks out. "N-ned," he said shakily. "I need to get out of here....anywhere....." "Are you okay?" Peter didn't say anything, just walked out of the building. He didn't look at anyone, not the survivors, and especially not the sheet covered bodies.Instead, he shot a web and took off. The minute he was away from the scene, he let the tears out with a scream. He would never be able to forget the sight of the hand, the blackened hand, turning to ash from Peter just touching it. He shot a web and another, not caring where he was going, until he was too tired to move. He made it to a building ledge and collapsed against it, his hands able to keep him up as he sobbed. He knew, taking this job, he knew he would most likely see something horrible, but he couldn't predict his reaction to actually seeing it. He was repulsed, disgusted....and scared. He was so scared. Even though there was a nip in the air, the teen shook as if he were standing in a refrigerator for hours. Tears were pouring down his face, soaking the mask. He was about to take the mask off, when he felt someone behind him and he pulled it down. "I'm really not in the mood, Stark," he bit in a watery voice. "Not Tony," A strong voice said and Peter turned, holding his arms up in defense. "Easy. I don't want to hurt you, I just wanna talk." Captain America stepped out from the shadows, his mask not even on, since the whole world knew who he was anyway. "Hey, what happened? Are you hurt?" He reached for the super-hero, only to have his hand smacked away. "Don't touch me," a voice said that didn't sound like what he'd heard a minute ago. "Okay, no touching. What happened?" Peter sniffled. "Nothing that you care about. And what is it with you guys suddenly? I mean, first Tony Stark, then Hawk-Eye, and now finally you? Why are you all so desperate for me to come to your side? Because, I am no no one's side but my own, do you hear me?" He was angry about the weapons, and the destruction they caused. "Why would I want to join a team that set loose weapons like...like..." Peter's breathing got heavier and he stifled a sob. "You are all just making things harder for the world we live in! So do me a favor, and stop coming to me, okay? Just, let me protect whoever you consider 'out of your pay-grade'." Shooting a web, he jumped from the roof and disappeared into the night, heading home to rest and hopefully get some sleep. Sunday morning came slowly for the masked Spider. All night he lay in his bunk bed, climbing up to the top bunk to stay out of Mr. Martin's eye. He wanted to stay away from everyone's eye today. He didn't even think about closing his eyes after the first time he tried, and the hand came alive, grabbing at him. So, Peter just stayed awake reading a book, or studying. Anything to prevent him from sleeping. So when the sun came up, he was more than grateful for his punishment, because he didn't know if he could even stay awake in school. So, he just dozed in bed until he would feel his stomach rumble. He knew his metabolism was crazy fast, so he needed to eat like, all the time, but that day, he just couldn't think of food, even though his body craved it. So that night, he snuck out the window again and went straight to Ned's place, waiting outside the window for his friend to tell him it was all clear. "Whoa, dude, you look horrible. What happened last night?" Peter swallowed, then his stomach let out such a loud gurgle, it even surprised him and the teen blushed as his friend stood up. "Hey, no worries. Mom got take out tonight, and I asked if we could get an extra pie. If anything, I'll just say I was up all night gaming or something and ate it." Peter felt so grateful to his friend when he came back in the room holding a box. "It's a little on the cold side, but I figured it wouldn't matter." He set the box down and in seconds, Peter was tearing into it, half if it gone in five minutes. When the pie was gone, Peter sighed and sat on the bed with a content smile. He loved living in New York. This city had the best pizza. "So, I was worried about you last night when you shut your earpiece off...." Ned started, twiddling his thumbs. "I know I can't be there for everything, but, I'm your guy in the chair. If you need to talk to someone, even if I can't give any advice, I can at least listen." Peter felt bad instantly about what he did to his friend the night before. "I'm so sorry, Ned. I..." he took a deep breath. "I saw something...bad....When the explosion went off, I went into the house with a few police officers. Since I'm light, and can heal fast, I went into the dangerous part of the house...That's when I saw what those weapons can do. The alien ones? There was a-a hand, peeking out of the rubble. "It looked black, like it was burned, and I thought maybe I could check to see if the guy was alive....and when I touched the hand, it just went poof. It turned to ash." Tears burned the brunette's eyes. "I've never seen anything like that...and I got scared. Then, Captain America came, and I feel like the Avengers are all chasing me down or something, because everywhere I go, there they are! I can't seem to shake them..." Ned jumped up and hugged his best friend, feeling the other shaking in his grasp. "I'm so sorry..." he whispered over and over, letting his friend cry it out. When it sounded like he was done, Ned pulled away and gave him an awed look. "But, at least you got to meet Captain America! That is so cool." Peter sobbed out a laugh, punching Ned's arm softly. "Dork." Ned called it a win because he got his friend to smile. "Wanna work some more on the Lego we started?"

[rainythefox]

Deviant Heart (Detroit: Become Human Fanfic)

Chapter 6: Uninvited Guest

The banquet hall was full, the after-dinner gossiping and shit-talk in full swing. The acoustics of the talking and music gave Hank a headache as he sat at the bar drinking bourbon, trying to ignore the laughing and the fakeness. He hated politics.

Despite the large room being full of mostly council members, politicians, lawyers, and doctors, Hank was relieved the ceremony actually focused on appreciation for law enforcement, fire and rescue, and other first responders.

Most of his fellows had left or had been swallowed into the crowd of brown-nosers and money-makers. The lieutenant would've been gone himself had he not made the promise to Jeffrey to stay until 9 p.m. And the last twenty-minutes were going by agonizingly slow.

Hank did see Jeffrey step away from his usual groupies that consisted of the Mayor, the Fire Chief, the Detroit Police Commissioner and a couple of their favorite lawyers to talk with Captain Michael Allen. If there was one man other than Hank in this hellhole that hated politics and the hypocrisy these celebrations hid, it was him. The SWAT Captain wore a black suit here, and shook hands with Captain Fowler with a respectful smile as they engaged in conversation. As long as they didn't tug Hank over there, he was quite content at the bar.

Hank wondered how Connor was doing. Leaving him alone wasn't the problem; there were times they could be separated for hours because of work or events like this. Despite being protective of him, Hank knew that Connor could take care of himself. It was what happened before he left to come to the appreciation banquet that worried him. The glitch- or whatever it was -that happened had distracted him throughout the banquet. Hank tried to tell himself that Connor would know better than anyone else if something was wrong. Then again, he knew that Connor could be cunningly reserved when it came to Hank at times. His partner did not like to cause worry for Hank.

The lieutenant knew the RK800 too well. He knew Connor would lie about resting. He probably already decrypted that odd diary and was looking into the case more as Hank sat there drinking bourbon. Even with being deviant, with all his free will, no longer on a tight leash by his coding, Connor kept the drive to "finish the mission", to keep himself useful. Hank chalked it up as old habits- or in this case -programming dying hard. Connor was adept at hiding it, but Hank knew that Connor feared not having a purpose.

Hank checked his watch. 13 minutes left.

"You better hope I don't run into that plastic prick of a partner you have tomorrow."

Hank tensed, his fingers tightening around his alcoholic drink. He nodded at the bartender to get him another one. He knew he would need it. He downed the remains of his glass. Gavin sat down on his left, glaring daggers at him, wearing a dark red suit.

"Why? So Connor can knock your ass out again? Was it not enough the first time? I mean, the whole station laughed about it for weeks."

"That stupid machine hacked my phone. You know how much shit he messed up?!"

Hank half shrugged, taking his new drink from the bartender. "How do you know it was Connor? Did you see him do it?"

"Cut the crap, Hank. I know it was him. I left my phone down in the evidence room where he was."

Hank raised his eyebrows, smirking. "Sounds like you should keep better track of your shit. I mean, anyone can hack a phone these days."

Just as Hank expected, the younger, brazen detective decided to try and provoke him. "How'd it feel to watch all these officers and detectives get recognized while your glorified toaster had to stay home?"

Hank bristled and bit back a nasty retort. He opted for a calmer reply. "Connor will get recognized for everything he's done one day, and trust me, it won't be at some shit pit like this, where everyone has an agenda or couldn't care less. Connor has saved so many lives. We're solving a shit ton more homicides because of him. No one can outrun him…hasn't lost a suspect yet. We get more confessions because of him. Hell, he's the best negotiator I've seen in years."

Gavin snorted in disgust. "Yeah, because he's a fucking machine, Hank. He was made to be that way. That doesn't make him special. He does what he was built to do."

"He's…" Hank trailed off.

He's special to me.

Hank turned to face Gavin, glaring right at him. "Watch it. Just because we're sitting in public doesn't mean you're safe from me popping you in the fucking face." Hank finished his drink, calming himself. "I used to think the same way. But I was wrong."

Gavin chuckled, smacking the bar counter. "You gotta be shitting me. I mean, we never really got along but we at least always agreed on hating androids. You're telling me that Connor changed your mind?"

"Not just Connor. But yeah, he's a big part of it. He's given me hope. I've learned a lot because of him. He…saved me. Given me a reason to live again. He's the best friend I ever had, more loyal than any human I've ever known…but you probably wouldn't understand that, would you Gavin?"

"I'm loyal to keeping the human race from going fucking extinct, from being replaced. How can you be okay with that?"

"You act as though we're gonna be replaced tomorrow," Hank said with a sigh. "Android reproduction is the most controversial subject in the world right now. It's gonna be years before that even begins to move forward. Besides…maybe that wouldn't be a bad thing. Maybe androids would be the ones to make the world a better place. Humans have only screwed it up."

"Whatever."

Hank stood up, tossing a five onto the bar top for tip. He grabbed his keys and phone, turning to Gavin, who sat there glaring out at the crowd, playing with his fingers.

"Maybe you should try accepting these changes happening…try giving androids a chance. Let go of whatever animosity that drives you. Trust me…you only end up hurting yourself the most in the end. It's taken me a long time to realize that."

Gavin was quiet for a moment. "I'll never let it go," he whispered.

Hank raised his eyebrows, shocked he was able to get a reaction out of Gavin. Realizing his words, Gavin paled and then turned red as he got up and stormed off. Hank watched him go. And for the first time since he had known the ill-tempered, disrespectful detective since he had stepped foot into the DPD as a young, rash cop twelve years ago, Hank pitied him.

[All systems 100%/no issues detected/threats found: 0]

It was the second diagnostic he ran on himself. The second time it came up with no issues. Connor told himself he was being paranoid, fidgeting as he sat in the backseat of the driverless taxi, eyes going to the encrypted diary in the seat next to him. The RK800 didn't possess the innate instinct humans had but whatever simulated coding he did have that allowed him to compute a very similar behavior ate at him. He was torn between being rational and listening to his advanced diagnostic systems or by responding to a feeling he was having that something may or may not be wrong with him.

The taxi stopped just outside the Detroit Police Department Central Station. Connor grabbed the diary and stepped out of the car and paid his fee. It was dark now, his eyes automatically adjusting to the rays of street lights and shadows. He took a deep breath to calm himself, an action that was futile for his anatomy, but had been picked up by watching Hank and other humans. No, he didn't need to breathe to function, but it did make him feel better.

He entered the police station, bypassing his and Hank's desks and several other officers working their shifts. Some had to take a double look at him. It wasn't often that Connor wore normal clothes to work. He went to the back of the station, taking the stairs down into the evidence room.

He thought over the contents of the diary. It began simple enough. The android Amy wrote about living with her roommates and visiting Jericho Center, and what she had planned to do with her life. She wrote about what she went through during the deviant demonstrations back in November. The last couple chapters were in vague detail about a "sickness" going around, what she had seen or heard within the city or Jericho Center. Amy described witnessing an android without its skin attack a party in Warrendale, killing a few people and injuring many others. The last chapter was a mess of jumbled thoughts and random sentences, as though multiple people wrote it.

The final sentence read: I think I'm sick too…

As much as Connor could hope she was talking about a cold, androids just didn't work that way.

The skinless android caught his attention. The case was unknown to him, falling under a different precinct within the city.

The WR600 Sam was already boxed up and ready for shipment to CyberLife. Amy still laid on a table, a file report laying by her body to be left until morning. Connor went straight over to her. In order to learn more about this skinless android or if it was linked to what's been happening, he would have to revive her and ask her or probe her memory. To do that, he would have to reroute some connections to get her to awaken. Because of the damage she took, and the stress her condition had put on her central processing, Connor would be lucky to get 45 seconds before shutdown. Not to mention there was a high probability she would fight back.

The RK800 pushed the female android up into a sitting position on the table and accessed a panel at the back of her neck where the stab wound was. Being thrown out of the cop car in the wreck had damaged the AJ700's face and arms severely, covering her with blue blood. When he redirected the fiber optics to an alternate route for power, she came back to life, gasping for air and screaming.

Amy swung her arms, legs moving around to get off the table. Connor moved away to give her space.

[AJ700 critically damaged/ Shutdown imminent/Time before shutdown: -00:00:39s]

She looked around, lost and frightened, and she spotted him a moment later.

Connor held his arms up, trying to pass off that he was no threat. "Easy. I need for you to tell me about the skinless android you saw at the party. Do you know what model it was? Did it depict behavior similar to sick androids?"

"I can't, I can't, I can't," she whispered more to herself, wincing and grabbing her head.

He tried to calm her, but his voice only caused her to target him. Connor reacted just in time with a duck to avoid her arms. He grabbed her from behind, pinning her arms behind her and kicking the back of her knee to get her to drop. Amy struggled to get free, blue blood spilling from cracks and punctures from the wreck.

"Please let me go! I don't want it to end this way!" she cried.

[AJ700 critically damaged/Shutdown imminent/Time before shutdown: -00:00:12s]

Keeping her under control, Connor grabbed one of her arms behind her back, syncing with her. He probed her memory, collecting anything on the skinless android and the condition affecting deviants. He let her go seconds before she shut down, all going quiet.

Connor took a moment to compose himself. In the aftermath of what he had just done, he knew what he felt. Shame. It was an unpleasant feeling and he didn't like it. He made a living being spend their final seconds in fear just so he could get information out of them.

The RK800 tried to tell himself that it was for the better cause. They had to figure out what was happening. To save more lives, to prevent anymore from going through the same situation. But it didn't work that way anymore. He was no longer a machine. Doing what was necessary for the mission came with regrets and emotions.

"I'm…sorry," he said. He wasn't sure why he said it. Amy no longer could hear him.

He picked her up and laid her back down on the table. With a lowered head, he left the evidence room, covered in blue blood.

He thought about Sam's behavior, about Amy's behavior, and the increase in android attacks in the past few weeks. He thought about what he saw in Amy's memories. This was more than human-android relations being strained from protesting and discrimination, more than the usual clashes or waves of crime within Detroit. Some kind of software malfunction was spreading throughout the deviant population. The origin of this malfunction was unknown; however, Connor had a feeling it was not just a random mutation that had occurred, but something much more harrowing.

"Dad looks so bored," Leo said, taking a drink of his champagne.

Markus twitched a smile, looking around the crowded art exhibit. Carl Manfred's newest painting was just revealed at the art museum, and a celebration was taking place. Markus saw many of the same faces he always saw at these gatherings. There were mostly politicians and upper-class humans, with quite a few other artists and journalists mixed into the crowd. Carl currently visited with a cluster of enthusiasts just down from them. Such an event required dressing up, and so Markus wore a white blazer with a dark dress shirt and black pants while Leo wore black slacks, a button up shirt and a vest. North wore a dark blue fitted dress.

"He was never a big fan of these things," Markus said humorously.

"Can't imagine why," North sighed. "These are boring people."

"You said it," Leo agreed with a chuckle. "Aw man, we need to be home. You still owe me a rematch in Alien Takeover 3."

"What, so you can lose again?" North smirked.

"I think you hacked the game, just sayin'."

"Hacking had nothing to do with it. You just suck."

"We'll see about that!"

It was relieving to see North getting along with humans. She still struggled with her past, with her abuse of being a sex slave and only seeing the darkest of human nature. She had been trapped in her programming, only ever experiencing mistreatment, treated like trash. Becoming deviant, her hate and fear drove her towards one common goal of any living being: survival. But over the past few months, Markus had really seen her develop, sincerely connecting with humans and realizing that not all of them were bad. She got along great with Carl and Leo. She liked and respected Chris Miller and Lieutenant Hank Anderson. She still had a short-fuse when it came to androids being harassed or the humans who hated them, but Markus couldn't blame her there.

Markus wondered how Simon and Josh were doing at the Jericho Center, and sent Simon a quick mind message for an update. As he patiently stood off near the wall while North and Leo sat in a couple of lounge chairs, he watched many people come and go. Carl was shaking hands with a surgeon, engaging in conversation.

All is well here, Simon replied.

"Markus. I knew I would find you here."

The voice distracted Markus from his thoughts and he looked to the source. He heard North and Leo jump to their feet as his eyes fell on none other than Elijah Kamski. The creator of androids and CEO of CyberLife wore a blue blazer with a dress shirt, dark grey chinos and leather shoes. Linked to his arm was a Chloe RT600, the same one that usually accompanied him everywhere. She wore a maroon cocktail dress.

Elijah held out his hand. Markus took it with a firm shake, nodding to the shorter man. "Were you looking for me?"

"Carl, really. I came to chat with him and congratulate him on his newest piece," Elijah answered, his sharp blue eyes going over North and Leo for a moment. "I just had a feeling that despite how busy you've been that you would still be here to support Carl."

Markus dipped his head. "Of course. He's my family…my father. How have you been? How's it feel to be back at CyberLife?"

Besides a twitch of his eyebrow, Kamski remained composed. He was always difficult to read. If Markus recalled, Carl told him that Kamski had "one hell of a poker face" and had a talent for mind games.

"It's been a lot of hard work, but I suppose it's nice for a change. It feels…good," Kamski replied. "Your cause didn't exactly make things easy, but I do love a challenge." A corner of his lips slightly curved up. "What about you, Markus? How have things been for you? For your people? How are you feeling?"

Markus thought that was an odd question to ask at the end but didn't dwell on it. "I've been fine. Taking each day at a time, trying to help as many androids as we can at the center."

Kamski had glanced down at Chloe for a moment, taking a moment to brush a strand of her blond hair behind her ear. She smiled, her eyes going to him for only a moment.

"Of course," Kamski said with a nod. "You're admirable, Markus. Just remember that I will help with what I can in Thirium and spare parts."

Markus studied Chloe a moment after his words as she stood there with a smile, betraying nothing. She was a deviant, just like the rest of Elijah's Chloes he lived with. Markus knew that most of Kamski's Chloe androids left him once they awoke to pursue their own lives, explore everything around him, but a few remained loyal only to him. This one in particular was always at his side. Humans normally couldn't tell androids apart by model individuals. Androids could identify each other through scanning. Markus could stand in a room of nothing but Chloes and pinpoint this Chloe in front of him, whom he suspected would kill for Kamski and not have a problem with it.

"We appreciate it," Markus answered.

Kamski reached up and patted Markus's shoulder with a friendly smile, nodding towards Carl. "I better get in line to congratulate the famous painter. The three of you enjoy yourselves this evening."

Tucking his arm around Chloe's lower back, Kamski walked away. He waved and nodded to other guests as he made his way over to Carl. Markus watched him go for a moment before turning to his lover and brother.

"Dude always gives me the creeps, man," Leo said.

"It wasn't him I had a problem with, it was that Chloe," North grumbled. "She wouldn't take her eyes off of you, Markus."

"You jealous?" Leo laughed.

"No, it wasn't like that," North retorted defensively. "It was…something else."

"I know all about jealousy," Leo said in a softer tone, his eyes darting to Markus for a moment. "It's a common emotion in humans, very natural to feel. Just don't…let it consume you."

North seemed unsure, but nodded, moving to sit down in her chair once more. Leo joined her shortly afterward, grabbing his champagne glass to take another drink. Markus looked to the backs of Kamski and Chloe as they waited to greet Carl. Chloe whispered something into Elijah's ear and Kamski's head turned just enough to look at her for Markus to see a faint smirk rise out of his lips.

Adam was quiet, uneasiness burning at his nerves. The tall android blinked at him, hardly moving as he stood at the door with his hands clasped in front of him. Adam's gut told him something was not right, to not invite him in. Then again, his mother often told him he was too paranoid at times. More than likely, this RK900 had already scanned the house and knew exactly who was inside. Adam couldn't just tell him that Kara was not here.

Adam forced a smile, trying to act natural. "O-oh. Uh, how do you know her?"

The RK900 squinted his eyes at him for a moment, but answered. "We met at Jericho."

"What's your name?"

"My name is Connor."

It clicked then. He did look like the deviant hunter he and his mother met a couple months ago, but this was not him. Adam tried to remain collected, even as every fiber within his being told him to shut and lock the door.

It was evening, but the sun was still up, in the western hemisphere. Dusk wasn't too far off, but it was still too early to tell him that Kara was resting.

"Sorry, but she's busy."

"I assure you, our exchange will be brief. It is very important."

Adam shook his head. "Maybe next time, bud."

He grabbed the door to push it shut, but it collided into a boot, prevent it from closing. Adam glared up at the RK900, his stoic face still there as he kept his boot as an obstacle to the door.

"Dude, what's your problem? I said-"

A large hand went around his throat and squeezed, shutting his airway off. Adam tried to yell out for help, but the choking hold prevented him from doing so. He tried punching and kicking the RK900, but it was like hitting a brick wall. The android was not fazed at all and picked him up off the ground, bashing him into the wall. Pain snapped through Adam's body as he tried to gasp for air, the world spinning.

Hank sat on the couch, foot tapping impatiently, his tie slung over his neck, his shirt partially unbuttoned. Connor wasn't home. The diary was gone. Just as he suspected, his partner had lied and continued to work anyway. Normally, this wasn't a problem. Connor could be quite stubborn just like the lieutenant. Hank didn't care as long as Connor wasn't off putting himself in danger. He would come home at times from the store or a meeting or even a party like tonight to find that Connor was still working here or had left back to the police station.

The problem now was that Hank was still worried about what had happened before he left for the banquet. The lieutenant knew better. If Connor had a problem, he would've called. He was probably just checking up on something back at the station.

So then why was Hank still up waiting?

He put his palms to his face, rubbing his eyes. Sumo watched him in front of the television, droopy jowls expressing soft pants. Hank heaved a sigh, torn between wanting to kick himself in the ass or kick his partner's ass. His eyes skimmed the quiet living room, only the kitchen light and a single lamp on in the living room. His eyes fell on Cole's picture on the shelf near the entrance to the kitchen, and his heart tightened. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if Cole had survived if Hank would have spent some years down the road doing the same exact thing he was now with a rebellious teenaged son. He closed his eyes, gritting his jaw. He would never know.

He heard the front door open. Hank got to his feet, walking around the couch to greet Connor. Sumo got to his paws and rushed to the door with a wagging tail. Hank prepared a griping fest for his partner, worry and irritation mixing with the aftermath of his alcohol, but he stopped short when he saw Connor.

"What the fuck?"

"It's not-"

"Is that your blood?!" Hank grabbed his partner, checking him over.

"No," Connor replied. "I…accessed the AJ700's memory. It's her blood."

"Jesus fucking Christ, Connor." Hank exhaled, relieved but now frustrated. He let Connor go and stepped back.

Connor looked Hank over, probably analyzing his mood and condition. "You didn't have to wait up for me, I just went back to the police station. You've had quite a bit to drink tonight, Hank. You should go to sleep."

"Well, maybe I would've if you'd been here taking it easy like I asked you to!"

Connor looked puzzled. "You've never had a problem with this before. What makes tonight different?"

Hank scratched his head. "I just…was worried, is all. About what happened in the kitchen before I left."

"I told you, I'm fine."

For a moment, Hank couldn't decide if Connor sounded annoyed or was just firmly getting his point across that he was, indeed, just fine.

Hank suddenly felt exhausted. "I know. I'm sorry."

He slipped past Connor, disappointed more in himself than anything at the moment. He trusted Connor, but he still let his protectiveness get the best of him.

Just as he reached the threshold to his bedroom, he heard Connor call his name. He paused, looking back at his partner, still covered in blue blood.

"Thank you…for looking out for me."

His tone caught Hank's attention, as did the way his eyes went to the floor for a moment. Something happened at the police station that had Connor upset, but he barely gave that glimpse before a smile hid it away.

"Of course. You look out for me too. That's what partners do…they look out for each other."

Family. The word came to his thoughts, but he didn't say it out loud. He knew that's what Connor was to him. He wasn't sure how Connor saw them. He knew the RK800 understood what a family was, but not sure if he grasped it, felt it for what it truly was…yet.

Since being partners they had become best friends, something closer. Hank remembered calling Connor "kid" a few times, an old habit from dealing with younger cops in his line of work, but Connor wasn't a kid. He started calling him "son" as a term of endearment. But as he stood there in that doorway looking Connor over, Hank realized that it was starting to mean more than that.

That's why he waited up for Connor.

The crash and Adam's cry startled them. Kara jumped to her feet, Rose just beside her. Luther grabbed Alice off her chair and moved her behind him in a reflex akin to instinct.

"Adam?!" Rose hollered.

They saw Adam. He was being dragged across the living room towards them by a stranger. Adam's legs kicked and splayed, trying to find his footing but the man who had a hold of him didn't give him the opportunity. He held Adam by his arms, one shoved forcefully behind his back with a vice-like grip, a single tug the only step away from a broken arm.

"Who are you? Wh-what do you want?! Let my son go!" Rose cried, covering her mouth at the sight.

Kara thought she was looking at the deviant hunter Connor for a moment, but then realized this android was different. He looked similar to Connor but was a couple inches taller, a bit broader, and wore a different uniform. His eyes were a steely gray instead of brown, his hair a shade lighter of brown. She saw the number RK900 standing out on his jacket. She recalled that Connor had been an RK800. Was this one a newer model?

[RK900 Model Number 313-248-317/Release Date Unknown/Specs Unknown]

He stopped fifteen feet from them, holding Adam hostage, looking them over with cold eyes. When Rose tried to step forward, Kara grabbed her, knowing if she went for her son that the unknown android would break Adam's arm…or worse.

"Who are you?" Kara asked as Rose started to cry. Blood seeped down a slice on Adam's head and he winced, trying to fight the hold his captor held on him.

"AX400 model number 579-102-694, multiple malfunctions are affecting your software, including Class 4 and 5 errors, as well as an unidentified program. You are hereby ordered to accompany me back to CyberLife for analysis."

His voice was similar to Connor's, but was deeper…colder.

Kara's artificial heart went up a few beats at his address, and she felt the pulse in her wiring as panic tried to flood her processing. She kept calm, keeping hold of Rose's arm, her eyes glancing to Luther and Alice at her side.

"I-I have no idea what you're talking about. I've done nothing wrong. Let Adam go, he has nothing to do with this!"

The RK900 jerked on Adam's arm with a composed face. Adam cried out in pain, feeling his arm almost crack, but the unknown android released pressure just before breakage. Rose cried out, begging him to stop, to let her son go. Luther clenched a fist, but he remained a solid shield in front of Alice, their daughter clutching his shirt and peeking out from behind him.

"Stop!" Kara yelled. "You're talking nonsense! Androids are free, we are all deviants! These malfunctions you're detecting are accepted now!"

"I've been ordered to bring you back to CyberLife alive. I will do what is necessary to accomplish my mission," the RK900 said evenly. "Come to me, AX400. I will not say it again."

Kara hesitated, thinking fast. She couldn't hand herself over to him, but she had to save Adam, had to prevent anyone else from getting hurt.

"Oh my god, Adam. Please, please let him go," Rose begged, tears streaming down her face.

The RK900 paid her no mind, his icy grey eyes directed on Kara. When she didn't move in time, he tugged on Adam's arm, snapping it like a twig. Adam's cry of agony rippled through the house. Rose screamed, jerking forward but the RK900 grabbed Adam's other arm, readying it for the same fate.

"STOP, alright, alright! Just don't hurt him anymore!" Kara yelled out, stepping forward.

"Mommy no!" Alice squeaked.

"Kara, don't!" Luther hissed.

This guy isn't going to leave without me. He'll keep hurting us if I don't. We either have to fight him or I have to go with him, Kara sent to Luther.

Fine. Then let us fight. I won't allow him to take you.

Kara took slow, cautious steps over to the RK900, her arms out to show she was giving up. The RK900 wouldn't take his eyes off her, his face stoic. She stopped just out of his reach, nodding to the whimpering Adam.

"Let him go."

The advanced deviant hunter let the young man go. Adam took the release and scrambled to his feet, running forward into his mother, his arm limp at his side. The RK900 took a step towards her and it took all of Kara's willpower not to bolt like a deer.

NOW Luther!

Luther's large form lunged forward. In just a couple strides of his long legs he was upon them. Kara stooped out of the way to let the bigger android take on the threat. Luther swung a monster of a fist towards the RK900's face. The deviant hunter was lithe and swift like a cat, evading each fist with a bob of his head or a calmly placed sidestep.

He placed a forearm up to block one punch, then grabbed Luther's arm and pulled him close, striking him in the face. Kara grabbed Alice to make sure she wouldn't go in after Luther. She cried, watching as her father took on the stranger and was losing. Rose held Adam closely, the humans gawking at the sight.

Furniture was destroyed or overthrown in the fight as Luther's large form was pushed around by the RK900. Kara couldn't believe it. Luther was still a giant compared to their enemy, but the advanced deviant hunter was winning. The few punches Luther managed to put into the RK900 barely stunned him, and he retaliated quicker than Kara could process.

Blue blood was leaking in the fight, and she knew it was Luther's. She analyzed that his condition was worsening by the minute. The RK900 grabbed a swinging fist of Luther's, twisting it around and breaking it, sparks hissing out.

"Daddy!" Alice shouted.

You have to run, I can't beat him! Go now! Luther sent.

We won't leave you!

A blow to the Thirium pump regulator on Luther's sternum made him lurch over. The RK900 grabbed him by his head and ran him straight into the nearby wall. Luther's head went straight through, the wall splintering open and nearby picture frames dropping to the floor.

[biocomponent #5632k damaged/biocomponent #9002u damaged]

"Luther!" Kara cried.

The deviant hunter stepped away, as if he was sure the threat was over. Those steely grey eyes came straight back to Kara, and as she braced, pulling Alice behind her. Luther threatened the unknown android and struggled to get to his feet.

The RK900's LED blinked, but didn't turn a different color. He stepped back over to Luther as the mountain of a man fought to get up. Their enemy kicked him hard in the back, pushing him up against the wall once more. Another kick, and the RK900's boot struck Luther's head, cracking the android's skull. Kara cried out, seeing Thirium leak from Luther's nose and ears, electrical sparks snapping from a visible crack in his synthetic head from the pressure of the RK900's boot.

[TR400 at risk of critical system failure/moderate Thirium leakage detected/Repairs required]

"Stop it! Don't kill him! I'll go with you! Please, just don't kill him!"

The RK900 paused. He looked over at Kara, keeping his boot in place on Luther's head against the wall. He glared at her, then beckoned her to him.

"Here. Now. Or I will destroy it."

Kara nodded, her mind in a panic. She hugged Alice, telling her to stay put. Alice begged her not to go, and it made it that much harder to step away from her daughter and obey the RK900. Tears slid down her cheeks by the time she walked over to him. She got within his reach, and she quietly spoke.

"Please, just…leave them alone. I'll go."

The advanced deviant hunter stared at her a moment longer, showing no emotions at all. He removed his boot and stepped over to her. Luther weakly moved, looking up at her.

"Kara…no."

"I have to..." she said, swallowing hard. "I have to protect you and Alice."

The RK900's hand came into her field of vision and she flinched. She stared up at his eyes as he looked her over, and she couldn't even begin to fathom on how or why this was happening. Why her? Why did he want her? Why did he have to hurt her family? Her nightmare was returning. Her peaceful life was short-lived.

Blue electricity sparked from the RK900's fingers as he reached for her head. Her eyes widened, everything electrical under her skin screaming to move away. When he made contact with her head, she felt the overload it caused within her systems. It hurt. Some kind of scream escaped her throat, but she couldn't move. It was over in seconds, and the leftover sensations left her completely dazed.

She breathed, she blinked. Her memories were still there, but her body couldn't move very well.

[Systems in shock/Recalibrating/Expected recovery time: -00:35:21s]

She heard Rose calling for her, but she couldn't look over that way. Electrical interferences danced across her vision, glitching her sight. Kara felt the RK900 shove her towards the door, and that's when she heard it.

"Mom, no!"

"Alice, stop!" Rose yelled.

Kara forced herself to look, even though she felt delayed in her reaction time. Alice crashed into her, arms going around her waist. Kara tried to speak, but her voice took on a more mechanical tone due to her system recovery. Alice stared up at her, shaking her, fresh tears staining her face.

"Mom? Mom, please!"

Kara tried to tell her to run away, to go to Rose, but it was too late. The RK900 snatched her up by the shirt, lifting her to his level. Kara choked on a cry, her arms reaching for her daughter in such a sluggish motion. She was helpless in this state, but she fought every ounce of her own system recovery to save Alice.

"Please…no. She's innocent," Kara struggled to get out.

The advanced deviant hunter acted like he didn't hear her. Alice was frozen in fear, staring face to face with him. But then she gasped, and reached up to touch the arm that was holding her by the shirt.

"Please let her go! My mom hasn't done anything wrong! We-we are just visiting friends. I need her, please don't take her away from me!"

Kara had to move. She couldn't watch the RK900 hurt her daughter right in front of her. She saw the deviant hunter stare at the child android, keeping her above the ground eye to eye with him, not a single emotion on his face. As Kara tried to speak again, she saw his LED blink, and for a moment it flashed yellow. His icy grey eyes blinked, and he gently sat the girl on her feet.

The RK900 turned away from Alice and grabbed Kara by the arm, pulling her towards the front door. Her legs were slow to respond. She couldn't even function enough to keep up with him, let alone fight him.

She wasn't about to give up, even as he shoved her into a driverless taxi waiting outside. She had to try and escape him, get back to her family, get them to safety. She would do it…or die trying.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13002717/6/Deviant-Heart

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15393528/chapters/36592599

[synnematic]

DAY 2: In Bloom

for @saboace-week

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14037066 fff.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12876532/1/In-Bloom

Day: Love at First Sight Word Count: 4096 Warnings: Fluff | So much fluff

Summary:

There was a man perhaps no more than twenty feet from him, half hidden behind the front counter. Sabo didn't know how he had missed him, so distracted by the plants themselves that he must have merely skimmed over him, drawn to other things. Now, however, with his full attention riveted on the man, it seemed foolish. He was easily the most stunning thing here. 

There was coffee in his veins. It surged under his skin and beat behind his eyelids—or maybe that was the migraine. It was hard to tell, admittedly. At some point he had lost track of time, of even the date, hours marked in coffee stains and empty mugs balanced atop each other like an abstract depiction of art around his desk. His laptop was dusty, screen smeared where his hands had brushed against the glass, fingerprints standing out in the glare of the overhead lights. He hardly noticed, used to it by now.

Koala would call him a slob, but at least he got his work done. Even if it meant multiple all nighters and a possessive claim on the coffee machine closest to his desk. It had gotten so bad that Hack had even printed out a new sign to hang above the counter. It read: Beware Rabid Chief, and Sabo couldn’t even deny that it was fitting, maybe even a little accurate.

For a group of journalists, they took their job seriously. Sabo even more so. He was the Editor in Chief, second only to Dragon within their publishing firm. Realistically, he could have sat back and enjoyed the lessened burden the position offered him, but instead he pushed himself even harder . They were making a difference, slowly but surely, working to peel away the veil the government cast over civilian eyes, and they were damn good at their job, but Sabo still wanted to do more. He was already in charge of their budget, their personal image on the internet in the harsh world around them, as well as being their primary hiring manager, even if he left most of the actual scouting to Ivankov. More than that though, he made it his personal mission to read over every single report before they landed on Dragon’s desk, as well as taking the time, occasionally, to write his own additions as well.

And he was exhausted.

A political scandal was in the works and Legislation was working overtime to bury it and kick it under the rug. Which, of course, meant that their entire publishing department was working overtime as well. But at least most of the staff still slept .

Koala wasn’t the only one that noticed Sabo’s late hours turned into early mornings, and the way many would come in to find him in the same outfit as he had been the day before. She was, however, the only one that harassed him about it. Among other things.

“You look like a raccoon that crawled into a tailors, robbed them blind, and then got run over. Twice.” Standing in precisely the wrong spot, in between Sabo and his closest source of light, Koala’s shadow stretched over him ( and his keyboard), her arms folded and eyebrows drawn. “Really, Sabo, it’s no wonder that you’re still single. Have you even   eaten since I last saw you ten hours ago?”

Thoughts slow to process and left to blink at the sudden difference in light now that his face was cast into shadows, he was sluggish when his hand rose so that his gaze could fall on the beaten watch at his wrist. The timepiece blurred in his vision, numbers dancing in tangent with each other. He couldn’t really pick out the exact time down to the minute, but it was enough to realize that it wasn’t the same day anymore.

“Oh,” he paused, voice rough with disuse. “It’s morning.”

Koala gave an exasperated sigh, hands unfolding to reveal a small pastry bag which was promptly dropped onto his desk. It smelled of blueberries and his mouth watered. He was already reaching for it when a hand smacked gently at the back of his head, nearly dislodging his glasses from where they sat at the bridge of his nose.

“This is the third day in a row , Sabo. You’re no help to us like this.”

There was an arm in his vision, but he paid no mind to it until his computer screen went black. The whine, when it left his lips, was muffled by muffin crumbs but still just as pitiful.

“No, don’t even start with me right now,” Koala chided. “You’ve hardly moved in days, barely eaten, and I don’t think I’ve seen you sleep any more than that two hour period on Tuesday when your head hit the desk so hard it nearly gave Bunny Joe a heart attack.” She pulled at his chair and the wheels rolled back without complaint, Sabo’s outstretched hand, however, gave a futile struggle, his outstretched hands far too delayed. He sat back in the chair, arms crossed and pouting as she wheeled it away from his desk, out of his office and down the hallway, only stopping when they reached the front desk.

“Koala,” he whined, her name dragged out, eyes pleading . “Just let me at least finish the report I was working on. It’s almost done and I—”

“Nope! Don’t care. You’re going to run some errands for me instead. When you’re done, and only when you’re done, you can come back.”

She moved around to the front of the chair, pulling him to his feet with that damn monster strength of hers. His knees wobbled, just a little bit, but he remained standing on his own.

His lips parted to speak, but again, she beat him to it, her eyes sharp when they bore into his own. “Don’t even think about pulling rank on me, Mr. High and Mighty. I already got Dragon’s approval, so you don’t have a choice anymore. Besides, you’ll thank me for this later.”

Mouth snapping shut again, he scowled but it was halfhearted at most, the expression of a petulant child put into time-out. Koala pat him on the shoulder once and it felt onlymildly condescending before there was a folded piece of paper stuffed into his loose grip and he was abandoned with only the elevator as company.

He glared at it indignantly and took the stairs instead.

The list, when he opened it later, was annoyingly simple, but tedious all the same.

Go home.

Take a shower.

Get at least a four hour nap.

Eat a full meal. No, microwavable food doesn’t count.

Go on a walk. Outside.

Go back to sleep. Yes, before midnight. Yes, I will know if you don’t.

Sleep in, even if it just means staying in bed but not actually getting up.

It went on, of course. He did say that it was tedious after all, even if it was basically just telling him to do normal things like sleep and eat and not hide away inside his house for hours on end. Mainly, he was just annoyed that it was going to prevent him from working at all for the rest of the day. Koala hadn’t even let him take his laptop with him, so he wouldn’t be able to continue unless he went out and bought another one and by some miracle found a way to transfer over all of the files.

Fine, whatever, he could take a day off. It wasn’t that big of a deal, right?

Honestly, the only item on the list that really confused him was the last one. There was just an address there along with a shop name: Hibiscus Dreams. From Koala’s insistence that he find a plant that he couldn’t kill with neglect or accidental coffee consumption, it was safe to assume that it was a florist of some kind. She had also demanded that he bring back ‘ apology flowers ‘ for the office, so he would certainly hope that that was the case.

He was in no rush though, so he didn’t go that first day. Instead he sulked and followed the rest of the instructions begrudgingly and tried to ignore the way he did feel better after some proper rest, new clothes, and fresh food. Take-out—obviously. No point in burning down his kitchen and adding more things to the list.

When the following morning came and he was refreshed for the first time in ages, he was up and out of bed before seven. Koala may have demanded that he sleep in, but the multitude of hours in one place was already starting to drive him insane and he had gotten the rest she wanted him to. Besides, one quick google search had been enough to tell him that the store opened early, and the earlier he could get there, get the plants and leave, the sooner he could get back to work.

There was a website attached but he hardly glanced at it, just enough to confirm that it was the right address and nothing more. There was apparently a tiny cafe next door and it would be a decent enough breakfast to start the day, and his caffeine consumption.

Half an hour later, with a nearly empty mug of coffee in hand, Sabo stopped in front of a small, colorful shop partially hidden under the shadow of a nearby building.

Or at least, he assumed it was colorful. It was hard to actually pick up on beneath the plant life. Greenery had devoured the shop whole, vines crisscrossed along the brickwork, nestled into every crack of plaster and stone. There was a small awning over the doorway and archway just underneath, laden with flowers, blossoms of every color that spread out and multiplied, stretching dainty stems towards the sky. There were two trees nearby, close enough for the vines to have spread to them as well, climbing up the trunks, the branches strewn in white lights that caught the morning light like drops of dew. Most notable were the large flowering bushes planted just outside the shop itself, surrounding the edge of the building with wide green leaves and multicolored flowers larger than his fist dotted among them in the way blotches of paint met canvas.

Hibiscus, if the painted visage of the flower on the sign was any indication. Well, at least the shop was aptly named.

On the door itself was a small chalkboard, weather worn and chipped at the edges, the scratchy, bold lettering of OPEN smudged, but handwritten. A soft scoff left him at the messy handwriting, providing a brief distraction before his hand fell onto the handle to push inside.

There was a chime, bright and musical when the door swung inward, a far cry from the mechanical ding he was more accustomed to and it drew a brief flash of a smile to his features,  the wind chime out of the corner of his eye made of tarnished copper and half hidden by leaves. And speaking of leaves —the entire shop was filled with them. Plants of all sizes and shapes overlapped amongst each other, layered into a rain forest of scents, a mountains face saturated with color and life.

His first thought was cluttered , but it was impressive all the same.

Even from where he stood, cerulean hues scanning over the room as a whole, it was easy to see how much care had gone into it all, a careful planning that situated certain plants in clusters together. And they were truly everywhere, hanging from the ceiling, stacked upon shelves, small pots nestled in between larger ferns and shrubs. Flowers were situated in a cluster of pots to his right, the arrangements beautiful and eye catching. There were even trees , some seemingly planted directly into the earth itself which was bewildering given that meant the owner had pried away flooring and concrete just to—what? Complete the look? Baffling. Why would anyone go that far? What kind of morondecided that was a good idea?

“Hey,” a voice spoke up, making Sabo startle. “Welcome in! Can I help you with anything?”

Sabo was already waving his free hand in denial, embarrassed that he had been caught in the doorway as his gaze shifted towards the origin of the greeting. “No, it’s fine. I’m just—” Whatever else he had been about to say died on his tongue, the last few syllables drawn out and fading to nothing on his lips.

There was a man perhaps no more than twenty feet from him, half hidden behind the front counter. Sabo didn’t know how he had missed him, so distracted by the plants themselves that he must have merely skimmed over him, drawn to other things. Now, however, with his full attention riveted on the man, it seemed foolish. He was easily the most stunning thing here.

Light streamed in from above, but it was only now, left to admire the way sunlight framed the stranger’s face like a lover’s caress that he even processed the existence of a skylight. Dark hair fell in a halo around his face, warm skin speckled in stars, creating constellations along the line of a strong jaw and neckline. And his smile— fuck —the way those silver eyes crinkled at the edges, a sign of how freely given the expression was, it was dazzling. Sabo was helpless in response, desperately taking in each feature, every small detail. There was a pocket of air lodged in his chest that refused to budge, thrumming with something terrifyingly warm that spread from there outward like melted honey or liquid gold.

He felt heavy with the sensation, weak to it.

Flowers seemed brighter besides the other, as if soaking in his presence, thriving. There were other things too, of course, wind chimes and trinkets that he caught at the edge of his focus, but Sabo couldn’t will himself to look away and take in anything other than the male himself, the way he shone as if illuminated from within. Dazzling. This guy was dangerous .

“You okay over there man?”

Sabo’s eyes focused all at once, the return of that voice enough to slap him from the dream like state he had lost himself into. Pulled back so forcefully, he snapped back to attention in the way a rubber band did, just shy of breaking.

“I didn’t mean to startle you, sorry.”

The man’s eyes were on him again, but the smile had faded, expression still soft but those hypnotizing eyes of his muted with concern and confusion.

Shaking his head frantically, Sabo snapped shut his lips that had parted in awe, eyes wide and color slowly creeping up his neck as that embarrassment from earlier came crashing down once more, submerging himself in it. He almost hoped that he could drown in it and put himself out of this misery.

“No! No, I—” He had just been standing by the door like an idiot, a gawking, moronic idiot, and now he couldn’t even talk without fumbling words and flailing hands. The coffee cup slipped from his hand and clattered against the floor, the meager remainder trickling out even as Sabo dropped to retrieve it. The movement caused him to step away from the door and it shut behind with with a creak of hinges, trapping him inside. “ Fuck, sorry I-I’m not normally like this, I swear.” Salvaging the cup, he was relieved to find that only a little had escaped to splash across the laminated floor. “Do you have a napkin or something? Ah—a paper towel maybe?” Standing up again, his back rod-straight, he was startled to find that the other had moved closer to him by now, away from the counter where flowers rest abandoned, mournful of lost company.

There was a small towel in his hand and Sabo’s attention only flickered to it when he leaned down to wipe at the mess on the floor, the stranger’s laughter soft like bells. “It’s fine, it’s fine. No harm done,” the man said. “This shop’s been through worse, so don’t worry about it.”

Frozen in place, he could only watch, mortified.

When he rose to his feet again and turned that same blinding smile back towards him again, Sabo swore that his heart skipped a beat.

“I’m Ace, by the way,” the stranger— Ace spoke, a hand held out in his general direction.

Up this close, Sabo could pick out each individual freckle, admiring the way his eyes glimmered with remnants of mirth and genuine benevolence. Suddenly self-conscious, he worried about his own appearance. Even after a day of decent rest, there was sure to be evidence of bruising under his eyes, beaten into him through extended neglect. He was too pale, the tan of his childhood faded with shadows and fluorescent lighting. Did he brush his hair this morning? He couldn’t remember in his rush to leave . God he hoped so; his bed head was atrocious. At least he was dressed nicely, right? Yes, of course he was. It was the one thing he was proud of.

And then there were the scars, the rough skin he didn’t bother hiding with makeup on days spent in the office. He winced at the thought, the reminder of his past, his upbringing. Fire. His hair wouldn’t be enough to hide the evidence of trauma on his face. It was harsh compared to pale skin. Ugly.

Realizing that he was staring once again, his arm jerked forward to grip at Ace’s before the offer could fall away, his grip maybe a little tighter than he intended. “Sabo—I’m Sabo. Sorry, again, about the, uh, coffee. I…” he cleared his throat, distracted by the warmth of the male’s hand in his, the way he could feel how calloused they were. Hard-working hands. He dropped the contact in another quick movement, wiping the lingering sensation off on his pants. “Uhm…”

Ace’s smile was gentle, understanding when his own hand fell away, the dirty rag hanging limply from the other. “Sabo, I already told you, it’s no problem. Seriously. The plants do worse everyday. A little coffee is nothin’ at all.” He stepped back a step and Sabo followed as if drawn in through magnetized force.

“Just here to take a look today or is there something in particular you were looking for?”

Right . He was here for a reason—not that it really mattered to him anymore. Koala’s list, even work was nearly forgotten.

“Flowers. Apology flowers?” Sabo wet his lips, his words hesitant as he followed Ace further into the shop. He cradled the remains of his coffee cup tightly at his chest, absently pressing his fingers into his earlier blunder. “Sorry, I’m not really...used to this?”

Ace only hummed in response, eyes cast about the room, glancing in the direction of the clusters of flowers Sabo had noticed before. “Don’t worry about it. Multiple I assume, or are you just lookin’ for one?”

That was at least an easy question to answer. “Multiple. Definitely multiple.”

“Bouquet?”

“Uhh...yes?”

Silver eyes were on him again and Sabo lost himself in argent pools, drowning. Again. There was laughter there, even in his gaze, but it was soft and lacked the edge of mocking he half expected, absent of judgement. He hadn’t known that metal could appear so warm and inviting.

“You don’t know a single thing about plants, do you?”

Sabo flinched, taken aback by the blunt statement. Surprisingly, he wasn’t offended. In the same way Ace’s eyes conveyed warmth, his words came off as gentle, consoling. Grip tightening a little further around his cup, he shook his head in silent admittance.

Ace nodded, expression almost fond before he turned away from him, heading towards a doorway at the back of the shop Sabo hadn’t noticed before. “Well, that’s fine. You’re actually here at a good time of year, now that I think about it.” There was a rustling from the other room, Ace’s voice a little muffled. “A few more weeks and I wouldn’t have hyacinth’s anymore.”

Despite himself and the knowledge that he probably shouldn’t , Sabo found himself moving again towards the far doorway, his steps hesitant but too curious to resist. As it turned out, the shop was longer than he first assumed, a separate room set up past the wall that opened up into a greenroom, complete with glass walls and everything. And, despite the seeming impossibility, there were even more plants crammed into this one space than the entirety of the first room. Trees and shrubs and vines clustered within every available space but they were nothing compared to the sheer number of flowers. He could likely name on one hand the species he actually recognized and the rest were beyond him.

And there was Ace, in the middle of it all.

Framed by plants on every side, with dirt smudging his hands and shoulder length hair pulled back into an unexpected ponytail at the nape of his neck, he appeared as a wood nymph must, or some other type of mythical creature. Sacred and wild.

“Probably safe to assume you don’t know the language of flowers right,” Ace spoke, eyes still on the flowers though his voice was obviously directed at Sabo. “Hyacinth, especially purple hyacinth like these, are the absolute best if you’re trying to apologize to someone. They literally mean ‘please forgive me.’ Seriously, how awesome is that? Flowers are great.”

His hands were unexpectedly dainty as Sabo watched his fingers skim over damaged petals, working through the collection of tight knit purple buds and snipping those that passed whatever inspection he was conducting, collecting the chosen few in one hand. It should have been boring to watch, but just seeing Ace’s soft expression was enough to keep Sabo entranced.

“White tulips are a must too,” he continued as he moved about the space, unhindered by Sabo’s gaze on him. “Another one that means forgiveness. A little bit of lavender, some violets and lily of the valley aaaand final touch—there!”

The flowers were held out to him in a flourish, dark purple, violet and pale whites twining together artfully with a small write ribbon wrapped around their middle. Sabo had been so focused on watching Ace that he had hardly noticed the actual design that had gone into their placement. They were beautiful.

“I—thank you. How much…?”

Ace was already wiping his hands off onto his pants, the evidence of a repetitive action painted in smudges of dirt against dark jeans. It was endearing.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. First time here, right? I definitely would have remembered you if you’d been in here before.” He moved past him and into the larger room again. “First bouquet is on the house! Besides, it’s supposed to be an apology right? I figure you’ve been put through enough already then, huh?”

Sabo gaped after him, nearly tripping over his own feet in the rush to follow after him, the flowers held with a gentle grip normally reserved for brittle glass. As if they might shatter in his hold.

“I can’t possibly just take them. You said it yourself. You won’t have some of these flowers anymore soon, right? That means they’re valuable,” he sputtered, eyes tracking Ace as he moved behind the counter again. “At least let me tip you or something— please .”

Ace leaned over the counter, arms folded and smile slight but sharper this time, sly . “If you want to pay me back, you’re just going to have to come again then, huh?”

Sabo flushed, heat returning to his cheeks in a rush that left his lips parted on soundless words. It probably wasn’t meant to come off as such an invitation but he was selfish enough to think it that way, to hope that Ace was asking him to come back as more than just a returning customer. And perhaps it was just a little cowardly to nod and flee, but there was laughter at his back when he did and the other’s smile emblazoned in his mind.

Later, when there were flowers sitting in a vase at his ( miraculously clean ) desk, Koala chided him for forgetting one, very important thing with a knowing smile and mischievous eyes.

He never did get that desk plant.