#like the boss was just like “we need to wear sunglasses to maintain some evil symmetry”

[pibbextra]

I love it in games where people just have really bad aim. Like some guy is just shooting at you with a automatic rifle at point blank and just misses every shot. Like they let you do your entire monologue or some cool ninja combo shit while they can't hit you from like 10 feet away.

It just feels so comical like the hand of god just really wants a character to seem like a complete badass but it makes every grunt look completely useless and pathetic failcore. Where did they get these bodyguard/assassins/criminals ? Did they fail out of goon school ? Did everyone just skip gun training ? Are they not getting paid enough ? Is their heart not in it ? What's goon dental look like ?

[dontshootmespence]

As I Watched In Sorrow

Summary: After experiencing an unimaginable loss, Y/N floats through life, living for...she doesn’t know anymore. When it all becomes too much, she’s greeted by a woman in black with a deal so sweet, she can’t bear to let her grief and her morals get in the way.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 6,864

Warnings: Probably one of, if not the saddest thing I’ve ever written. Please heed the warnings! Suicidal thoughts and near actions, death of a child, betrayal, a crisis of faith/hatred for Chuck/God, brief mentions of sex, knives, self-hatred. Lots of shit.

A/N: This fulfills my entries to @stusbunker Lie to Me in Melody Challenge - a prompt from a Carole King song, “As I watched in sorrow, there suddenly appeared, A figure gray and ghostly beneath a flowing beard, In times of deepest darkness, I’ve seen him dressed in black, Now my tapestry’s unraveling - he’s come to take me back” and @covered-byroses​ 3k celebration with the prompt “shadow.” Shadow here is definitely more of an abstract than physical thing. Hopefully it works. Sorry to both of you that this took approximately 8,000 years. This takes place around season 8/9 solely for the fact that I needed the antagonist to have years of pent up rage toward the Winchesters.

Closed blinds did little to shield the slivers of morning light from burning her skin. As she tossed the blankets aside, she inhaled the stagnant air and closed her eyes against the sun. Though little, it was still too much. Turning off the lone lamp she’d forgotten the night before, she slowly ambled into the bathroom, popping open the familiar bottle and downing the necessary pills dry.

A glimpse in the mirror made her shiver. Her skin pallid and pitted, eyes sunken and dark despite the fact that she hadn’t worn makeup in weeks. Wetting her toothbrush, she propped the mirror open, unable to bear the reminder. Lazily, she pulled the brush across her teeth, more a societal necessity than a want or a need. She needed to grab food and it just wasn't okay to walk out of the front door without her teeth brushed.

Clothes didn’t matter though. The gray sweat-suit she wore to bed would do just fine. She dragged her gaze over the entirety of her bedroom, searching for her purse so she could go and get this over with. When the cursory glance didn’t lead to her bag, she began go through the other rooms - the kitchen, piled high with unwashed dishes and half-eaten tv dinners, the living room, where scattered dolls and a teddy dressed in a little pink tutu sat dutifully waiting for the return of their owner, the dining room, where she could practically still see her sitting, excitedly waiting for dinner. It wasn’t anywhere to be seen. 

Shuffling toward the front door, she looked in the coat closet, finding her hobo bag dangling limply next to the small, lavender windbreaker studded with unicorns. Had she not been in such a state after coming home the night before, she would’ve noticed it here, and put her bag somewhere else. She reached into the bag and opened the glasses case, slipping the oversized sunglasses over her eyes. Just because she needed to go out didn’t mean she needed or wanted to be assaulted by the sun. Why couldn’t it just leave her alone? Steady darkness had been her comfortable umbrella for weeks. Couldn’t the light just leave her be? Darkness was an old friend.

She stepped outside and locked the door behind her before heading toward her car. As a neighbor pulled out of their driveway, she glanced at a bumper sticker that hadn’t been there before.

When life gives you more than you can stand, kneel.

“I did,” she whispered.

----

Later that night, another half-eaten tv dinner was tossed on top of the already packed garbage can. Why was she even doing this? Continuing? Was there even a point?

She went through the motions, turning on the television to watch a TV show before she pulled the covers over her body once again. But it was useless. With more purpose than she’d had in weeks, she walked into the living room and reverently picked up the tutu-wearing bear, propping it underneath her arm as she gathered the remainder of her pills from the bathroom. She’d just refilled the prescription; it would be enough. 

Slipping back under the covers, she placed the bear next to where her head would lay on the pillow and reached for the pill bottle slowly, but with no hesitation. 

A faint whisper emanated from the behind her, where the overwhelming shadow of her apartment fought against the moonlight coming through the once-again closed blinds. 

“I can help you.” A whispery voice said, clearer than before.

“Great, I’ve lost my mind.” She heaved a heavy sigh and twisted the bottle cap open.

With a quick flap of what could only be described of as wings, a woman appeared behind her, emerging from the shadows. “I’m not here to hurt you,” she said softly, holding up her hands as a show of her promise. “I want to help you.”

“Who the hell are you?” She asked, getting up from the bed and backing toward the corner of the room. “Why are you in my house? Get the hell out.” To her disbelief, the other woman walked toward her, through the mattress, as if she wasn’t real. “I’ve gone insane,” she said, shaking, trembling fingers combing through her hair. “I’ve lost my mind.”

“You haven’t,” she countered.

“What the hell are you then?”

“I’m a Reaper. You can call me Tessa.”

A tear rolled down her cheek. “What? Like the Grim Reaper?”

The brunette, wearing an unassuming combination of a leather jacket, black tank and ripped jeans, seemingly floated toward her, smiling. Softness radiated from her, welcoming, despite the situation. “That’s what you tend to call us,” she chuckled. “But we aren’t cold, hooded, evil figures. We’re only here to help you cross.”

Cowering in the corner, a realization began to come over her. “When we die. Is that why you’re here? For me?”

“No,” she replied, moving toward the bed and grasping hold of the teddy bear. “Truthfully, you aren’t supposed to die for a long time. I’m here because I think we can help each other.”

She shook with anger. “How could you possibly help me?”

Tessa lovingly stroked the teddy bear’s head. “I can give you back what you want most.”

Her heart skipped a beat, eyes glancing quickly at the worn stuffed animal. “That’s not possible. Why would you bring her back to me if your job is to ferry people to the other side?”

“Astute,” she replied. “Strictly speaking, it’s not something we’re supposed to do. Make deals with the living that is. As Reapers, we maintain the natural order, taking souls to where they remain for eternity because if they remain on this plane, many times, most times, they turn bad, shadows of their former selves. Order is what’s important.” Tessa paused, as if carefully considering her next words. “There are two men - brothers - that over and over and over again, defy the natural order.” The reaper’s voice became louder and louder as she spoke. “They cheat death. Time and time again. Those above me, my bosses so to speak, they don’t believe I can do my job anymore. And I’m at risk of losing it. You see, this is what I am. Without it, I’m lost.”

For the first time since this strange woman entered her home, for the first time in weeks, actually, she laughed. “So you’re about to lose your job and you want revenge on the people you can’t reap? Am I supposed to feel bad for you?” She ripped the teddy bear from Tessa’s hands and clutched it to her chest. “You take innocent five-year-olds from their mothers - to give to a God that strikes down someone so small and I’m-I’m-I’m supposed to care?!” She screamed, sliding down the wall toward the floor. “You and your God can burn.” Sobbing, she buried her head into the teddy bear, ignoring the looming darkness overhead. If she was to die right now, then so be it.

“Reapers have no allegiance to God. Frankly, I think he’s a heartless bastard.” She continued matter-of-factly. “But he is who he is and our job is simply to make sure these soul’s stay pure. Some we take to heaven, some to hell. Wherever it is they belong.”

“My baby?” She asked, chancing a glance at this creature disguised as a human.

“Heaven. I promise you.” Tessa crouched down to meet the woman’s eye. “Everyone has their own personal heaven. In hers, you’re there. Playing with dolls, snuggling in bed together, reading books. She’s happy.”

She clapped her hand to her mouth to stifle another sob. “Why her? She was just a baby. Why did I have to watch her wither away? Why?”

Tessa caressed her cheek with the pad of her thumb. “I don’t know. I can’t begin to understand His logic. But I can bring her back to you, just as she was, free of sickness. You can live a happy life together.”

“But you need me to kill someone.” The prospect hung heavily in the air. What did these men really do besides cheat death? Was that really such a bad thing? Wasn’t in human nature? Did they deserve to die? Her heart raced with possibilities. “How do I know you’re telling the truth? That you’ll keep your end of the bargain?”

Tessa held her hand out. “I’ll bring you to where her soul rests.”

Instantly, she was transported, at Tessa’s side, from her dim apartment, to a never-ending expanse filled with light. Doors came into focus. “You’re kidding,” she said. “Heaven is full of doors?” Tessa quickly walked her around corner after corner, ensuring they weren’t seen by anyone else, until they came to her door. “My baby.” Her fingers slid over the name on the door. And dates. 2008-2013.

“She’s in here,” Tessa whispered. 

Beyond the blinding light, a park came into focus - one she recognized. One she’d taken her baby to time and time again. From behind the playground, she ran, screeching with delight as her mother chased after her. She barely recognized herself. “This is her heaven,” Tessa said softly, her arm link with yours, almost like a friend. “She plays with you.”

“Can she seem m-?”

“No. Not the you standing here. That one is her projection of you.”

Filled with a resolve she hadn’t know since the moment her baby was placed in her arms at the hospital five years ago, she turned to Tessa. “What do I have to do?”

Tessa smiled, a small sigh of relief escaping her. She pulled a piece of paper from her jacket pocket. “This man will come into your life. I need you to let him in. He’s a strong man, but he’ll let his guard down with those he trusts. You need to be one of those people. Once you are, I need you to kill him. He disrupts the natural order, and we...have a history. He doesn’t trust me.”

“Why do I need to get him to trust me first?”

“That’s for me,” she admitted. “This history...he’s the reason I am where I am. It’s purely revenge on my part.” She loathed to admit it. 

“But I-”

Exasperatedly, Tessa held the woman’s face in her hands. “He has cheated death over and over again. And your daughter couldn’t. How is that fair?”

“It’s not,” she seethed, taking the paper from Tessa’s hands. “How long do I have? I’m assuming I’m on some kind of a timeline.” 

“One year,” Tessa replied. “If you can’t do it, the deal is void and I’ll find someone else who can help me.”

“I’ll do it. I promise,” she whispered. Before she knew it, she was back home and Tessa was gone. Unfolding the paper, she read the seemingly innocuous name.

Dean Winchester.

----

The following morning, she woke in her apartment, the teddy bear still firmly in her grasp. “Worst dream ever,” she whispered, sitting up in bed. She glanced toward the nightstand, where a piece of paper sat. Dean Winchester. 

“It wasn’t a dream?”

This man will come into your life.

So he’d just cross her path? She had to sit here and wait? 

Tired and dumbfounded, she pulled the laptop toward her lap and typed in his name, searching for some record of the man she was supposed to let into her life. A few Dean Winchesters came up, a character in a book series, a teacher out of the Midwest, an escaped convict accused of killing a number of women. Wonderful. None but the convict made an impression. Could this man, doing his best impersonation of Blue Steel after being accused of murder, truly be the one who crossed a Reaper? Cheated death?

Closing the laptop, she sighed, dropping her head into her hands. What the hell was she doing? How was she supposed to kill a man? A man she didn’t even know? “No, I can’t. I can’t,” she said emphatically. “This is insane.” It wasn’t real? Right? As if to prove her wrong, she felt a darkness at her back, heavy and insistent, but leading her toward the light nonetheless.

----

For the first time in weeks, she shrugged her army green coat on and headed out to the nearest bar instead of taking a bottle home from the supermarket and falling asleep after downing near all of it. Warm light bathed her as she walked through the door and sat at the far end of the bar. Her usual bartender, Zach, seemed surprised at her presence. “Haven’t seen you around in a while. What brings you back?”

“The quality booze,” she replied dryly. Some people wanted to pour their hearts out to their bartender, not her though. “Sick of supermarket wine.”

Thankfully, he didn’t push, instead bringing over her usual. Maker’s Mark neat. Sipping, she quietly hissed the burn, its warmth feeling different now, teasing. Maybe it was the fires of hell licking at her insides for what she was contemplating, the lengths she would go to in order to see her little girl again. 

The familiar, high-pitched bell chime alerted her to the presence of yet another patron of the bar. He came to sit a few seats away, ordering a whiskey on the rocks. When she looked up, she saw him. The Dean she saw in the mug shot - Mr. Blue Steel. 

Tipping the rest of her drink back, she swallowed her morals down along with the booze and eyed Zach for a refill. When Blue Steel caught her eye, she smiled and gave him a soft wave. He was cute. She could do this. She had to do this. Without her baby, there was nothing. He walked over, taking a seat on the stool next to her. “Hey. I’m Dean. Dean Winchester.”

“Hi, Dean,” she said softly, taking the refill from Zach’s hand. “I’m Y/N.” She frowned into her drink before she continued. “My friends and family call me Sunshine.”

----

Dean was easy to talk to; smooth, like the bourbon she’d been sipping on for near an hour. He was open yet guarded. Secrets lay behind his eyes, just as they did hers. Though they hadn't spoken for more than an hour, she could tell he’d gone through more in life than others did in 10. Behind his mega-watt, ladies man smile sat years upon years of pain. “So Dean,” she started, swirling the amber liquid around in the glass. “What brings you to a bar in the middle of nowhere at 11:00 at night?”

“Bad day on the job...” He replied, gulping down a hefty swig of his own drink. “Really bad day. Just need to forget, you know?”

She nodded, understanding settling into the marrow of her bones. “More than you know, Dean. If you want to get anything off your chest, I’m all ears. Think of me as a sponge.”

“Thanks, Sunshine.” The nickname sounded foreign on his lips; she hadn’t heard it in so long. But from his pouty pink lips the name sounded comforting. She wanted to lean into it. “I’m not sure it’s something you would understand. I don’t mean that in bad way. Just...I don’t think you’d believe me.”

If the previous night’s happenings hadn’t occurred, she might have been shocked, but she wasn’t sure if she could be shocked now. This Tessa wanted Dean dead, so presumably Dean was involved in all manner of shit that she would’ve never imagined. “I’ve seen some shit,” she replied, tipping the last of her drink into her mouth.

Dean’s eyes scanned her quickly, as if assessing how much she’d actually seen and whether or not she could be trusted. “D’ya wanna go for a drive? There’s a lake about 10 minutes from here.”

This was stupid. Following a man she didn’t know, having seen his mugshot before, but there was an aura about Dean and it drew her in. Plus, she had to do this - for her baby. When she nodded, he held out his hand to her and smiled. Maybe he wouldn’t be a good man. Maybe she would be doing the world a favor. Something told her she wouldn’t be so lucky. As they walked to his car, she felt the darkness, the guilt, the shame, clawing at her back. 

----

Outside the bar, the moon hung near full in the sky. “This is my Baby,” he said proudly, running his hand along an old Impala. “Through everything, she’s been my constant.”

Dean opened the passenger side door for her and slammed it closed before sliding into the driver’s side like a hand into a glove. She could see he was made for this car. 

As the engine roared to life and they pulled out of the parking lot, Dean asked the one question she didn’t want to answer. But if she was going to get her back, she had to. “So, what brought you to a bar in the middle of nowhere at 11:00 at night?”

Taking a deep breath, she said her name. For the first time in almost two weeks. “My daughter.” She spoke so softly Dean almost couldn’t hear her over the rumble of the Impala’s engine. “I lost her 43 days ago. Cancer. She’d just turned five.”

“Fuck.” Dean smacked the wheel of the car. “I’m so sorry. No one should have to watch their kid go through that.”

A tear fell from her eye but she quickly wiped it away. “No, they shouldn’t. I hope you’re not a religious man, but...if God’s up there. He’s a dickhead.”

“I’m not a religious man,” he laughed dryly. “I have faith in humanity, most of the time, but God’s a vindictive asshole.”

She laughed and let her head hit the headrest just as they pulled up to the lake. The moon seemed closer here, silhouetting them as they walked toward the pier. “D’ya wanna talk about her?” He asked. “I’m all ears too.”

Sitting on a bench near the lake, she told him all about her baby girl. Her father hit it and quit it, leaving as soon as she found out she was pregnant. “I was petrified to raise her myself, but I wanted to be a mom,” she said, voice catching in her throat. “I brought her into this world by myself. I raised her myself. Worked two jobs to make sure I could give her the life she deserved. She was diagnosed with leukemia just after her 4th birthday.”

At first, she’d tried not to cry, but it was no use. “Sorry, I’m just-”

“Raw still?”

“Yea.”

“I get it,” he replied, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. 

She leaned into it, a warmth she hadn’t felt since her daughter insisted on a goodnight kiss the night God took her away. He wrapped his arm around her like this is exactly where they were supposed to be. “Anyway, she knew what was happening, even though she was so young. She was the one that kept me sane. Somehow. You wanna know what she said to me the night she died? Her last words?”

“What’d she say?”

“She’s the one who called me sunshine. She said my smile reminded her of sunshine. Before she fell asleep, she took my hand in hers and said ‘when I go to sleep, look at the sun and think of me. Then I’ll be with you every day.’”

She heard Dean sniffle and turned her head to see a tear fall from his eye. “It sounds like she was wise beyond her years.”

“She was.” Shaking her head, she pulled herself together and changed the subject. “What about you? What happened on the job that brought you to a random bar in the middle of the night?”

He was hesitant at first, asking if she believed in things that others thought impossible - ghosts, vampires, demons. Before Tessa, she would’ve said no, but now it seemed plausible. “I do.”

“I hunt them. The things that go bump in the night that no one believes in. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid.”

Her heart ached for him. Only a tragedy could get a young boy into such a horrific line of work.  

“Tonight, my brother and I lost a father and son because we couldn’t move fast enough.”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” she said softly. She felt this innate desire to comfort him, to tell him he’d probably done all he could, but something in her told her Dean wasn’t the kind of man to rid himself of guilt with so few words. He carried it with him. “I really am.”

“Thanks, Sunshine.”

----

For the first time in weeks, she awoke the next morning to the burn of the sun, but her instinct wasn’t to shield her gaze. Instead, she craned her neck backward, hair slipping against the cool leather of Dean’s jacket. They’d fallen asleep on the bench. “Morning, Sunshine,” he mumbled. “Didn’t mean for us to fall asleep on a park bench.”

“Me either,” she replied honestly. “But honestly it’s been the best sleep I’ve had in months.”

Dean grumbled in agreement. Apparently, he wasn’t much of a morning person. “Wanna grab breakfast?”

She hesitated a moment before her stomach entered the conversation. “I’d like that.”

At the diner, she ordered bacon and eggs and toast to Dean’s pancakes and bacon. Then they ordered an extra side of bacon to split because neither could get enough bacon. They didn’t speak another word of her daughter or his job. “Favorite color?” He asked. “Mine’s red.”

“Green. Three favorite foods? Obviously bacon is one.”

“Pizza and a big fat juicy burger.”

“Pizza and bacon, and then probably really good sushi.”

Dean made a face and they laughed. He liked grade-B horror movies and Disney movies, though he wouldn’t admit to the latter to many. She loved psychological thrillers and gross out comedies. “The really stupid ones that make you question your intelligence,” she laughed. “I like turning my brain off.”

As they paid, Dean pulled her close. “Maybe one day, we can watch one of those together. Order a pizza.”

“Meat lover’s?” She offered, handing him her phone so he could give her his number.

His smile shone brighter than the morning’s sunrise. “Is there any other kind?”

With ease, they strode out of the diner and back into the worn leather seats of the Impala. She still didn’t know this man, not really. He was a monster-hunting, leather jacket-wearing lover of bacon, pizza, crappy horror and Disney, but she didn’t know him. Yet, she gave him her address without a thought and allowed him to walk her to her front door. “Sunshine, with my job, my brother and I are kinda all over the place, but I’d like to see you again. If that’s okay with you.”

“That’s more than okay with me.” 

Dean returned her soft smile and slipped his fingers between hers, tugging her gently until her lips were mere millimeters from his. She glanced at them, inviting him to kiss her. Whatever she imagined him doing, he took her by surprise, pressing the most of chaste of kisses to her lips before pulling away. “I’ll talk to you soon, Sunshine. Okay?” He squeezed her hands in his, a further affirmation of his promise.

When he began to walk away, she called after him. “Thanks, Dean.”

“Anytime.”

----

It was nearly two and a half weeks before they saw each other again, but in the time apart, they texted and called nearly every day, each time letting the other in on a little more of who they truly were outside of their first meeting. “What do you miss most about being a kid?” He asked, voice low and whispery.

“Sam sleeping?”

“Yea,” he replied with a yawn. “I’m not tired yet.”

“You sound it,” she said. “Would it be too cliche to say not having to pay bills?”

Dean chuckled. “Yes, I mean something that tells me something about you.”

“There was a lake nearby my house when I was a kid. Well, not nearby, more like a couple hours away. But my parents would take me there a couple times a year. We’d build sand castles and look for seashells. I miss that. What about you?”

“I didn’t really have much a childhood. I was learning how to hunt before I turned 10. When we were young though, I read to Sammy a lot. Help him get to sleep, you know? I miss that.”

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

“Don’t be. It’s in the past.” This time he yawned so hard he could no longer deny that he needed to pass out for the night. “We’ll be passing through in a couple of days. Can I take you on an actual date?”

Smiling sadly to herself, she rested her hand over her tightening chest. “Looking forward to it.”

----

As promised, Dean showed up at her door two days later with a bouquet of flowers in hand. “How did you know these are my favorite?” She asked, inhaling the sweet scent. 

“Educated guess. Now, we’re gonna go to one of my favorite burger joints-bar-tavern things in the area. They have this killer bacon cheeseburger with an egg grilled into the middle of it that you have to try. They also have pool, so I can teach you how to play.”

During one of their nightly phone calls, she asked them how they made a living doing what they did. Hustling pool, the occasional credit card fraud. You know, the usual, he’d laughed. 

You’ll have to teach me.

“Sounds amazing.”

Reaching into the closet for her jacket, she glanced at the small purple coat, still hanging there, and felt her heart skip a beat. How was she able to go out and smile and have fun barely two months after losing a piece of her heart? It felt so wrong. And yet being with Dean felt so right, so natural. 

He’s a strong man, but he’ll let his guard down with those he trusts.

She swallowed back bile and quickly pulled her jacket out, closing the door against realizations and realities she couldn’t indulge. Plastering a fake smile across her face, she slipped the jacket over her shoulders and allowed herself to believe for one moment that life wasn’t as cruel as it seemed to be. 

----

“Sunshine, I think you might be the perfect woman,” Dean laughed.

At that moment, she was acutely aware of the grease running down her chin. “What this whole, chipmunk look with food in my mouth, guzzling beer is a turn on for you?”

Dean licked his lips and took another bite of his own burger. “Yup.”

“I can’t help it, this might be the best burger I’ve ever had. And that’s saying something.” 

“I told you,” he laughed. It didn’t take long for them to finish their food. “Burger is filling, but they have killer pie too. Wanna split a piece?”

She nodded and watched as Dean easily flagged down the waitress and asked for slice of “good ol’ apple.” “The best one they have, followed closely by cherry.”

Dean looked horrified when she grimaced. “Not a big cherry fan. Blueberry, peach, apple. That’s about it on the fruit pies.”

Less than two minutes after the pie came to the table, it was gone. “We should probably go,” Dean said, craning his head back to the door where a line of hungry dinner guests were waiting. “I think our waitress might kill us if we stay any longer.”

Chuckling, you stood up and reached for your wallet before Dean insisted he pay. “First date, remember?”

“Thanks, Dean.” 

Hand in hand, they walked out the diner and toward the Impala. It was so easy to be with him and more often than not he found herself smiling when he was nearby. But she didn’t have the luxury of falling in love, not if it meant she never got to see her daughter again. 

Tessa said he needed to trust her before...before she did it. “Up for a surprise?” She asked.

Dean raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback. “Sure, I never get surprises anymore. Where to?”

Without telling Dean what she was up to, she directed him where to go. Less than five minutes later, she approached a park - the same one she used to take her daughter to. “I used to take my daughter here,” she said, zoning off as a vibrant picture played before her eyes. A little girl in a yellow dress ran across the grass and toward her favorite slide. “Sorry. Got lost in a memory.”

Dean’s easy-going smile from earlier faded away when he saw the sadness in her eyes. “We don’t have to be here,” he offered, looking back toward the car. 

“No, it’s okay.” It really wasn’t. But it was a reminder of why she was here, why she was doing exactly what she was doing despite the darkness eating at her from the inside out. “I wanted to share. There’s no one here at night.”

Dean chuckled and pulled her in to kiss her before running onto the playground set like a giant child. He ran up the metal slide and stuck his head out through a tube. “Come on! Let’s play!”

Allowing herself the opportunity to let go, if only for a moment, she ran up to meet him and chased him around the small area before she tripped and fell, bringing her down with him. “Been a while since I’ve been a kid,” he said, helping her up. They sat on the wood mulch of the playground underneath the slide and he pulled her close. “Thanks.”

“It’s no problem.” For a moment, she hesitated. “You said you used to read to Sam right?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Did anyone ever read to you?” When she looked back, she saw sadness in his eyes. “No?”

“Not that I can remember.”

“Close your eyes.”

Without hesitation, his eyelids fluttered closed. She reached into her pocket for her phone, hand shaking at the intimacy of the moment and the pain she felt. As she read - Vonnegut, considering he’d mentioned it in passing during one of their phone calls - he relaxed into her. Eventually, his head lay in her lap, her fingers twirling his messy brown locks. Hours passed. The only reason either noticed was due to the placement of the moon, now bouncing off the slide and onto the metal of a nearby bench. 

Dean sat up, sleep pulling at his eyes as he kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Sunshine. I can’t remember the last time I felt that relaxed.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she replied, softly. “Me either.”

----

Two months passed before they saw one another again, but not a day went by with at least a text. Sometimes it was just “I’m okay. Still alive,” other days they were able to actually talk, asking each other the most random questions in an attempt to know one another inside and out. “Hey, Sunshine,” Dean said as she opened the door.

Smiling, she allowed herself to be pulled into his embrace, his lips finding hers. “Hello to you to, Dean. I’ve missed you.” In the months since they’d seen each other, she’d made an attempt to clean her home. TV dinners were no longer piled up in the kitchen. Garbage was taken out when it needed to be. Occasionally, she would even open the blinds. Still, her daughter’s bear sat on the windowsill as a reminder of what she needed to do. 

Dean was unlike any other man she’d ever met and with him, she found herself content, even happy. But what did that say, if she allowed herself the happiness her little girl never got to experience? 

“Now, I know I said a couple days ago that we’d go get a bite to eat, maybe take a drive, but then I got an idea. Trust me?” There was a boyish glint in his eyes she couldn’t deny. 

Her mouth dropped open when she saw him remove a blindfold from his back pocket. “Kinky!”

“Not like that...not yet,” he replied, eyes full of hope. 

Dean wrapped the blindfold around her eyes and led her to the car. He would entertain a single question about where they were headed until shortly later, he stopped, picked her up out of the passenger seat and placed her on the ground before removing the material covering her eyes. “We’re at the beach,” she whispered in disbelief. “You remembered.” Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, emotion running wild. Despite the beautiful weather, the shadows nipped at her feet.

“Of course.” He crouched down to kiss her and wiped the tears away with the pads of his thumbs. “I made macaroni salad, pie, and I brought all the fixings for the perfect burger, which I can make on this.” He pulled out a small grill. “My George Foreman! This is the best thing in the world.”

As promised, Dean made delicious bacon cheeseburgers with a runny egg in the middle, just as they’d had at the diner months before. After every ounce of red meat was gone, they walked along the beach, toes in the sand and looked for seashells. Given that the nearest real beach was hundreds of miles away, seashells were a rarity, but it was perfect nonetheless.

The sun began to set, blue giving way to purples and pinks as they swayed together on the beach. “My place,” Dean started, “The place I share with my brother between cases, it’s about a half hour from here, do you want to-?”

“Really?” She asked. Her stomach dropped. He trusted her. Enough to bring her home, to the place he shared with his brother, the only other person in world he cared for. “You sure?”

“I am.”

If only she was too.

----

Despite how much Dean talked about him, Sam wasn’t what she expected him to be. She grasped his outstretched hand and feigned shyness, unable to look him in the eye knowing what she would eventually do. “Dean talks about you all the time,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I knew you had to be some kind of woman.”

“Dean’s told me a lot about you. Mostly good,” she replied with a smile. “It’s great to finally meet you, Sam.” 

After she said goodnight, Dean led her down the wide hallways of what they called “the bunker,” his hand heavy and insistent on the small of her back. Inside, he backed her up against the wall, against the shadows, and captured her lips in a kiss so delicate and sincere she would’ve collapsed were it not for him. 

In spite of herself, she sunk into his embrace and wrapped her arms around his neck as he carried her to bed. He trusted her. She knew it in the way he touched her, moaned her name, drank her in. But mostly she knew it in the way he fell asleep peacefully at her side that night.

----

On the morning after their night together, Dean had practically begged her to move into the bunker. “When you leave, I miss you. I hate...being without you.”

She’d been hesitant, but with each excuse he’d countered it. “You make me happy, Sunshine.”

Everything in her had screamed to run, but the earnestness in his gaze pulled her in and she’d complied. While they were away on cases, she would walk around the bunker, gaining more and more insight into the man she’d fallen in love with. Tessa had to be wrong. Dean was a good man - the best she’d ever met.

Screaming into the cold concrete walls of the bunker, she called for Tessa. “I know you’re watching me, you bitch! Answer me!” She slammed her fists against the wall, but no amount of pain could make her feel. “Where the fuck are you?!”

Barreling through the halls like a storm, she gasped when she turned the corner to see her there - the same determination emanating from her as the night they’d met. “Having second thoughts?”

“I can’t do this,” she sobbed, falling to her knees in front of the reaper. “Dean is not the man you think he is. He doesn’t deserve this.”

Disdain radiated from each word. “You only know the man he claims to be.”

“No! I know him. He’s kind. He’s gentle. He does what he does for love. And if he crossed you it’s because you deserved it.” Tears streamed down her face.

Tessa’s gaze melted from soft and endearing into furious and frightening in a matter of seconds. Picking her up by the throat, Tessa tossed her back against the wall. “You’ll follow through on our deal or I will alter it. Get rid of him and you will get your daughter back. She’ll be just as she was and the two of you will live a happy life together. Go back on your promise to me and I will make sure your daughter’s spirit rots in hell for the rest of eternity!”

Sobbing, she clawed at Tessa’s hands. “My daughter did nothing to deserve this! You-”

“BUT DEAN HAS!” She bellowed so loudly it felt as if the walls shook. “And I will use whoever and whatever I need to make him pay.”

“You can’t. You said yourself your bosses don’t trust you anymore!”

“True.” She spoke coolly, her fury gone and replaced with something along the razor’s edge of composure. “But they want Dean dead as badly as I do, if not for the same reasons. Get rid of him, Sunshine,” she said mockingly. “Or I will find someone who will and your daughter will burn.” Without another word, she left her trembling on the floor of the bunker, shadows closing in from every angle.

----

As the weeks passed into months, she awoke each night, screaming, picturing her daughter calling out for her from the fires of hell, begging for her to save her. Dean would lull her back to sleep with made-up stories he used to tell Sam and fervent kisses that said what he couldn’t. 

With the deadline looming large, she tried to think of any way to get the job done. At first, she thought of drugging him with pills. An entire bottle would do the trick and he would fall asleep not knowing the monster that shared his bed, but Tessa wouldn’t allow it, appearing to her again. “I can’t get near him, but you can.”

She was in over her head. Her choices were slim. Either tell Dean, bear the brunt of his hatred and never see her daughter again, or do as Tessa commanded, hate herself and save her daughter’s damned soul. Self-hatred streamed through her veins, but she had no choice.

What started as “kill him in whatever way you can” had morphed into Tessa brandishing a knife she was to use. Every time she tried, pulled the knife from her pocket and attempted to do the unthinkable, she saw his green eyes fade away into darkness. For weeks, she made herself ill, throwing up every day and shivering to sleep in Dean’s embrace at night.

Dean thought she’d been cursed as a way to hurt him, but they couldn’t find any evidence. They’d taken her to the hospital, but unsurprisingly she’d had a clean bill of health. Only she knew the cause of her pain.

“Come on, Sunshine” he said excitedly, “I have a surprise for you.” 

Taking his hand, she followed him out of the bunker to a clearing in a forest just a short way away, where he had another picnic, like the one so many months before, set up underneath the stars. “It’s been 11 months since the first night we met. I probably should’ve waited for a full year, but I couldn’t help myself.”

Awash in darkness, she began to cry. He pulled her close and they began to sway, a clumsy dance that brought a smile to his face. There was no time left. Reaching into her pocket, she grasped the handle of the knife. “I’m sorry, Dean.” Before she could stop herself, she plunged the blade into his chest. 

He grabbed the blade, hissing in pain as she pulled herself away. “Why?” He choked, hands shaking around the knife’s handle. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she sobbed, backing away. “I had no choice.”

A moment years in the making, Tessa made herself known, kicking his phone away before he could call for help. “How does it feel, Dean? Knowing the woman you love betrayed you?”

With a self-satisfied smile, she disappeared momentarily, only to reappear with her baby girl at her side. Dean made the connection. “I could’ve helped you. I would’ve...I-”

Tessa ushered her away, demanding she run as Dean fell to the ground. “I’m sorry,” she breathed, holding her daughter tight to her chest. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Mama. I’m okay.” She remembered nothing.

Through the tear-stained forest, Sunshine ran from the light - the memories of Dean’s touch, his soothing voice, his gentle kiss - and into the darkness, her constant.

[howtohero]

#286 Secret Agents

There are people who live lives of danger, and to everybody they meet, they remain a stranger. They lay down no roots, they can vanish without a trace, and they’d much rather make contacts than friends. If they don’t want to be seen, they usually aren’t. If they don’t want to share, they definitely won’t. They’re secret agents, and they hate that they keep running into you.

The truth is, superheroes run into secret agents quite frequently. And usually, it’s the same ones. Secret agencies can only spare so many agents to infiltrate supervillain organizations or to liaison with superhero organizations on behalf of their governments. So you should get used to running into the same secret agent ever so often. And hey, if you’re gonna keep bumping into somebody, even if its in a professional capacity, I say you may as well just be friends with them. (We’ve had a bunch of mutant alligators living in our basement for years and you’ve never shown any desire to befriend them so I don’t know where this philosophy is all of a sudden coming from.) Unfortunately, they’re not going to have any desire to be friends with you. Secret agents and superheroes are very much of two different worlds. Secret agents are used to espionage, sabotage and décolletage. They’re used to drinking martinis and wearing tuxedos and driving souped up sports cars. It’s all very glamorous and exciting. You, on the other hand, fought a 70 foot tall poop monster yesterday and posted a picture of it on Snaphat (the superhero social networking site developed and funded by Hatman) with the caption “$#!+ Happens LOL 😂💩” so I don’t think its an understatement to say that you come from two very different worlds. 

You may be wondering at this point: Why would you run into the same secret agent multiple times while fighting different villains? How could the same covert operative infiltrate different supervillain organizations without any of the bad guys getting suspicious? Thanks for asking, that’s a great question. You see, secret agents can get away with this for two very simple reasons: 1. Supervillains do not talk to one another. 2. Supervillains don’t pay attention to their henchmen. Ever. They have no idea who works in their organization. So it’s not at all difficult for the various secret agencies of the world to place agents in these evil organizations to glean intelligence or cripple criminal operations around the world.

It’s important for you to know who these agents are though, because you don’t want to accidentally beat up a government agent while fighting bad guys. That’s going to sour your already fraught relationship with the government. Already they’re side-eyeing you, half-expecting you to snap and level a city one day. So you really don’t want to give them any further reason to distrust you or keep tabs on you. So you need to look for the telltale signs that a henchman is actually a super cool secret agent:

They’re constantly muttering into their cufflinks or watches. Honestly, the fact that they’re even wearing cufflinks should have been a giveaway. Henchmen jumpsuits don’t generally need those. Ditto for the watch. Most supervillains don’t let their henchmen use any timepiece they didn’t invent. And supervillain manufactured timepieces tend to not right. (For evil reasons, I shouldn’t need to spell everything out for you.)

They’re very clearly just an animal wearing a fedora. Most supervillains could only dream of getting a neat fedora wearing animal on their staff. Odds are they’re a secret agent.

They’re only pretending to feed incriminating files into the shredder when you burst through the doors.

They keep shouting about “needing an extraction”. Henchmen don’t have outside contacts waiting to extract them when things go south. Their only professional contact is a little busy monologuing and engaging in a pool-noodle joust with you.

They introduce themselves as “Man. Hench, Man”.

Once you’ve identified a probable secret agent find some way to, very gently and discretely, introduce yourself. Make it clear that you have no intention of blowing their cover and that you just want to establish open lines of communication with them. Most likely they’ll pretend they have no idea what you’re talking about. If they’re especially good at their job they’ll take the opportunity to knee you in the groin so they look good in front of the bad guy they’re spying on. Don’t be discouraged. This is the start of a beautiful friendship. (You should no that any time somebody rebuffs your attempts at friendship it’s most likely because they’re trying to maintain some sort of top secret cover. It’s nothing personal. It has nothing to do with the weird banana musk you have. Don’t even worry about it.)

While courting a secret agent, don’t be alarmed if they get increasingly frustrated with you. Remember, they’d much rather pretend you and your ilk didn’t exist. (Your ilk including but not limited to: The foulmouthed armoire they had to run surveillance on for seven months, the giant lizard that ran roughshod across Philadelphia while they were visiting their parents, the space-zebra that haunts their dreams, and the assorted brightly clad superheroes that keep almost BLOWING THEIR COVER!) So it may take a while for them to warm up to you. This can be frustrating but still, don’t lost hope, and certainly don’t attempt to speed the process up and gain their trust by initiating some kind of information exchange where you tell them some secret stuff about you in the hopes that they open up to you. They’ll never tell you any of their secrets. That’s their entire thing. Conversely, they will tell all of your secrets to their bosses. That is also their entire thing. Plus, they definitely already know your secret identity already, so don’t bother wasting their time by trying to trade with that information. Also, do not touch their sunglasses. They really hate it when you do that. Like for real they might shoot you. (Yes, we know you’re bulletproof, but the bullet might bounce off your chest into them {and then off of their bulletproof vest and then off of your bulletproof chest and then off of their bulletproof vest and off of your bulletproof chest until eventually their vest gives way} killing them instantly. And that’s no way to make a lifelong friend.)

Instead make it clear to them that you’re on the same side, and that you could help each other out. They can feed you information about the villains they’re spying on. Information that could help you save lives (or win online auctions the villain really wanted to win just to spite them) and make the world a better place. And you in turn can reinforce their cover by pretending to beat them up when you raid the bad guy’s base. I mean come on, if you’re deep undercover in a (sometimes literal) hive of villainy (Imagine a super gruff secret agent wearing a silly bee costume with their sunglasses. Hilarious) it could be useful to have a superpowered paragon of good out there who knows who you and where you are in case your cover gets blown.

Superheros and superspies might come from completely different worlds, but that doesn’t mean they don’t have to what to offer one another. At the end of the day you both want to protect your country from crime and villainy, so you may as well get along! But seriously, don’t touch their sunglasses. 

[apocryphist]

@vault11overseer​ asked me to rank all of Palpatine’s looks, which was probably at least 40% a joke. Joke’s on them, I’m doing it anyways, starting with the absolutely most wretched of them: 

The classic throne room look

Yeah, I know -- this is The Palpatine Look, the one that defined our mental image of withered old bastards forever in Return of the Jedi. It’s a classic. But looking at it with the nostalgia goggles off, first doesn’t always mean best. There’s nothing regal about this look, nothing that screams Emperor, just a decrepit old man in his comfy clothes. 

Sure, it’s real menacing when the fabric kind of blends into the shadows, but when he’s just walking around?  It looks like he’s wearing evil cotton bathrobe. Even Dooku knew that if you were going to take a nap, you’d better be doing it in black silk pajamas. Next to Palpatine’s other looks, this one’s clear that he’s not trying too hard. 

Which, of course, is the point -- Luke Skywalker sure didn’t expect the bathrobe man reclining in his Death Star Lay-z-boy to summon fucking lightning from his fingertips. That, and Palps just doesn’t have anyone to impress at this point. Who the fuck does he need to dress himself up for? Nobody, that’s who. 

That said, this outfit has an unsung hero -- the cut of that hood. The way it’s draped like that, basically putting his head inside of a triangle, is way more evil than some round hood would be. Seriously, that hood is the reason we remember this look so well. 

Final Verdict: 6/10, a respectable showing in many ways, but his other outfits often take what’s good about this one and do it better. 

Next up...

Pantene-patine

Yeah, that’s not a great pun, but this guy clearly loves having hair a little too much for his own good. It’s like he saw male pattern baldness coming for his colleagues in the Senate, and thought “oh man, they’re all gonna be so jealous when they realize I can still style my hair like Nicholas Cage.” 

But it also gives him kind of the air of a doddering politician. Between the taditional Naboo clothing, unflattering haircut, and the particular brand of politeness he employs, this Sheev Palpatine can blend into the background until it’s time to let his actual personality shine through and steal the space presidency out of nowhere.  

Still not going to save it from a mediocre score, though. 2/10.

Space President, President of Space

Ol’ Palpy’s moving up in the world, so he can trim the weird wings off the sides of his haircut and stop wearing medium blues and purples to look nonthreatening. He doesn’t want to come on too strong, so there’s no hood or whatever, but he takes advantage of the opportunity to wear black and runs with it, only offsetting it with a brown top and sash. Palpatine can afford to look a little evil now; he’s space president. If he wasn’t at least a little evil, what would he be doing in politics?

But the ruffled brown-gold...sweater...? That’s not doing him any favors. 5/10.

Revenge of the Sleeves 

This one’s pushing it, Pal. This outfit might not quite scream evil, but it's at the very least stage-whispering it. All-red color scheme? Shoulder pads like an evil wizard? Sleeves wide enough to hold entire folders in the upper arm?? Also, now that he’s in animation, it’s a little hard to hide the fact that he looks like an evil puppet, but what the hell. The Senate voted him enough war powers that shit shouldn’t matter. 

All of that evil looks good, but those sleeves really do lose this outfit a lot of style points. Still, I guess he just had to do it to em. 4/10 

The murder machine

We all have days where we want to cut lose and just be ourselves, right? Well, this is what Palpatine wears on rare occasions when he can put aside the busy schedule of leading both factions in a galaxy-spanning war, and just be what he is in his heart: a goddamn Sith Lord. 

This doesn’t just scream evil, it screams evil and loving it! He spends his time in this outfit doing two things: cackling, and styling on absolutely everyone he encounters. It’s got that same classic comfy cut as his original Return of the Jedi look, but with a little more class. The texturing is great, the balance of black and red is on point, and it’s got a nifty sith clasp thing. Also, accessorizing with two lightsabers is a risky choice, but it really works out here. 

Honestly, this look is hard to beat, a great combination of old and new.   9/10.

Leather car upholstery from the 90s 

You know, this has a lot going for it. The cut of it is great, with angles seamlessly transitioning into round forms in a way that kind of suggests a business suit. This really says Space President in a way most of his looks don’t. That said -- this texture is just too much. Space leather is nice, but this is just distracting.

Also, I just noticed this, but -- are those loafers? Fucking evil loafers? Sheev, come on. 

 It looks good in darker lighting, though, so I’m gonna give it 7/10.

The Coronation Gown

Motherfucker shows up like “okay, the Jedi tried to kill me, gave me some weird scars, but i’m good. Don’t even pay attention to those scars, I’ve got this sick red robe aND A NEW EMPIRE, SEE YA DEMOCRACY WE’RE GREAT.” 

Also? This is a fucking sith robe. Dude’s just wearing it in public because he knows he’s eliminated the only people who would know what he’s doing. What a fucking power move. 

Is this a little too regal? Maybe for day to day wear, but come on, let Sheevy have his day to wear crushed velvet and unholy symbols of the dark side. 8/10

Classic 2: The Sequel: Redux: Fresh New Emperor Edition

What’s old is new again. right? Mostly. While this is a good look, it’s not as striking as the look he sported in the Clone Wars, and it’s not as creepy as his original look, either. Also: he gets flipped over a chair by Yoda. 

Surprisingly underwhelming, 6/10. 

Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain 

Is it cheating to count two looks as one? Probably. But the juxtaposition of his original Space Satan look with Kindly Old Grandpappy Palpatine was fucking incredible. 

You never forget that he’s a bad guy, but you understand the Empire a little better just looking at Hologram Palpatine -- this is the face he presents to the public, a charming and diplomatic wartime leader turned the greatest champion of peace in the galaxy. It’s a hell of a trick. 

Plus, the animated version of the costume is a little more put together than the 1983 version, while still maintaining everything that made the original great. 10/10.

Space Ghost Coast to Coast

Is this our old pal Sheev? No, technically not, it’s a recording of him being projected by a droid after his death. 

Still, I like to think he picked this look out for the Sentinel Droids. Red leather, poofy sleeves, classic Sheev Palpatine material. Also, the faces on top of droids? Very spooky, very necessary, and very Palpatine. A post-mortem message isn’t quite the same with your dead boss staring you in the face. 

However, I’m sorry to say, these sentinel droids look cooler without Palpatine’s face being projected in them. 

They have a really neat look all of their own, and a dead dictator in a fishbowl doesn’t really add much. 7/10

So classic you don’t even know it’s classic

This is how Palpatine appeared in the original release of The Empire Strikes Back, before Ian McDarmid was even cast in the role. And, if I may say so, this is clearly Sheev’s best appearance. Big spooky hologram, lighting so dark you can’t tell where the shadows end and the black clothing begins, eyes that are probably sunglasses with putty on them -- need I go on?

No. No I don’t. Sheev was facetiming Vader from the fucking Coruscant runway where he was showing of his Sheevy Collection. Everyone else in the galaxy, eat your heart out, you’re never gonna look this good. 1,980/10.

...That applies to everyone except Lando. I can’t even joke about that, the man wears capes as fashion statements, and can turn the most painfully 1970s look into something acceptable. Sorry, I don’t make the rules; that’s just how it is.

[l0uk45]

What if... Dr. Anthony Edward Stark

“So I should explain that this AU wasn’t originally my idea, the concept belongs to @tonystarktogo. Basically, in this universe, Tony Stark never really believed in Superheroes and Supervillains. Only people with powers that fight for good, evil, or survival. They still have lapses of judgement, they still make mistakes, and most importantly, they still get hurt. And what do you do in a world where no one can help these supers off the ground when they get hurt? Why build your own place that helps these supers that got hurt (for quite possibly stupid reasons).

This is that story, where Tony Stark brings in his first patient, only to have SHIELD knocking at his door in the next 24 hours.

---

Tony groaned: “JARVIS (Just A Rather Very Intelligent System, that part is canon), please tell me there’s something interesting going on.”

The voice of his robotic partner said: “I’m sorry, sir, but there appears to be no-” He was interrupted by a ping, and soon continued: “Oh, nevermind, there seems to be a potential super with grave injuries out in the streets of Manhattan.”

Tony asked: “Aren’t we in New York City?” JARVIS added: “Manhattan in a portion of New York, sir. I thought you would have at least studied the rough geographical regions of the city, given your new establishment here.”

Tony waved him off and put on his blazer: “Eh, whatever.” He grabbed a pair of sunglasses, the lenses glowing blue as he said: “EDITH (Even Drunk, I’m The Host, in this au she was designed as an assistant for Tony whenever he got drunk outside his premises, she is connected to his suits and lets him safely do things through NTENS (Nanoscale Transcutaneous Electrical Nerve Stimulation) intergrated in all his suits), get me a cab. We have a first customer.”

In the back alleys of Manhattan, a lone man struggled. He had a knife in his abdomen, one of his arms was metal for some reason, and he had no idea how the fuck he got thrown out of a moving taxi from a highway bridge, with a massive assault rifle in his arms and an uzi on his back. He just knew he was then jumped by like ten people wearing full-black with blue-silver badges showing an eagle on their belts, and he was forced to fight, when he then fell onto a knife after the fight was done. Literally, one of the people he either KO’d or killed (what exactly does turning the neck so much it cracks do again?) held a knife just in the right spot in their hand for him to trip and fall right onto the exposed blade.

He brushed his hair out of his face: “I need a haircut...” He limped out deeper into the alley, trying to get as far away from people. He needed to survive. He needed to run.

So seeing a man with sleek black hair and a perfectly maintained black goatee-beard combo, wearing blue-tinted glowing glasses and a black Armani suit with a red tie, walk up to him calmly when he turned the corner... Yeah, not a welcome sight.

He swung his metal arm at the Suit, who easily sidestepped. He was caught by fairly sturdy arms as he fell forward, and the Suit said: “Woah, easy there, pal, let’s not get too hasty.”

He helped prop him up: “You need a ride? Yeah, you need a ride, you look like shit. Come on, let’s go get you patched up.”

The metal-armed mad grunted: “No... Hospital...”

The Suit smirked: “Dude, I’m crazy, not stupid. I’ll take you somewhere where no one’s gonna search for you.”

A few hours later, back at Stark Aid, Tony looked over the schematics for the mechanical arm: “This is some ancient but inovative tech right here...” JARVIS asked: “Would you like me to run a diagnostics, sir?” He shook his head: “Nah, I can already see the problem parts. You can assemble a new schematic for the upgrade though.” JARVIS answered: “Intergrate the NAR (neoelemental Arc Reactor), sir?” He shrugged: “Why not. And while you’re at it, give him an internal nanoskeleton to help with the weight issues.” “Understood. I will report to HASHE (Helping And Super-Healing Embrace) immediately.”

Tony sighed, looking over the operation room, his first patient on the bed, being operated by state-of-the-art androids and surgery robots all lead by HASHE, the best surgery and medicine program in the history. He should know. He built all of it. Well, not by himself, but he did all of the conceptualization and design and supervised the development of the technology.

He soon walked off and said: “FRIDAY (Female Replacement Intelligent Digital Assistant Youth, also canon), schedule a meeting with the press for next week. Oh, and take a day off, you deserve it.”

A feminine android-like body soon joined him, wearing a stereotypical assistant’s outfit of a pencil skirt and a blazer, holding a tablet and a stylus: “Would you prefer Saturday at 10 am or Sunday at noon?”

Before he could respond, an alarm blared through the fascility. Tony groane dand started running: “JARVIS, secure the sector with the patient, and don’t let HASHE stop!”

JARVIS responded with a simple ‘understood’ as Tony and FRIDAY ran to the front door. Tony said: “FRIDAY, take the side exit, I can deal with this.” FRIDAY nodded and separated: “I will try and enjoy my time off, sir.” Her clothes altered as she ran off, changed to regular relaxed wear as she turned the corner.

Soon enough, he arrived at the front entrance, seeing a team of what looked like high-tech SWAT agents trying to break down his door. He stopped them and exclaimed: “Stop trying to break down my door, we have a doorbell for that!”

He then noticed something about their uniforms: navy blue with a grey crest of an eagle over the chest, with the initials SHIELD written on the back. He straightened out his suit: “What do you want?”

A man in a black suit, a blue tie and completely no hair came up to him and said in a plain voice: “Mr. Stark, I am Agent Phil Coulson from the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division. I have been tasked with retreating a war criminal called the Winter Soldier, and it is in my knowledge that you are currently housing him in these fascilities. I would request-”

“Nope.”

Coulson asked, slightly startled by this: “Excuse me?”

Tony said: “Whatever you were about to say, the answer is no.”

Coulson smiled and said: “I’m afraid you don’t understand the severity of the situation.”

Tony said: “What, you mean an unconscious man with all sorts of amnesia and a rickety prosthetic from the Colc War era with a stab wound and half his blood missing is a threat?”

Phil nodded: “Yes, once he recovers.”

Tony said: “Your agents jumped a disoriented man with an uzi that was just dumped out of a car on a free way, and one of them managed to stab him in the gut. He was very close to dying in that street when I found him.”

“That is none of your concern-”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I am just taking physical care of a fucking mental patient with a metal arm and less memories than a newborn infant, fixing up all his old scarring and physical trauma his body has endured, but sure, let me go back in, I’ll bring him over here in ten minutes when his body is open for medical procedures to improve his quality of life!”

Coulson said: “Aren’t you an engineer?” Tony said: “Yes, an engineer that designed medical systems, machinery and aids. So?”

Phil said: “Surrender him.”

“I don’t wanna.”

“This is not a debate.”

“Sounds like a debate to me.”

“This is a serious matter.”

“I know, and I’m serious in refusing giving you help unless one of your supers is hurt and needs medical attention.”

Phil said: “I can have you arrested.”

Tony shrugged: “Won’t be the first time.”

“For treason.”

“I sold military-grade missiles to terrorists without my knowledge, brought to my attention in court.”

Phil sighed: “Well, I guess we have no choice but to take him by force.”

Tony smirked: “I figured you’d say that.” Ten humanoid drones ran up behind him, getting in position around their boss, Tony. They held up energy rifles, the barrels glowing with charge: “The guns are set to stun. A great non-lethat deterrent.”

The SHIELD agents readied their weapons as well, the two men wearing suits standing still in a calm manner between the stand-off.

Tony said: “I’m not here to do business, okay, I’m just here because people get hurt and they can’t go to a regular hospital without risk of their identities being revealed, that’s it.”

Coulson asked, kind of in disbelief: “Wait, you think supers are just regular people?”

Tony said: “Well, yeah. Laser eyes don’t make you better at deciding what’s best for people. Neither does super strength, super speed, a healing factor, or turning into ice cream. Well, the last one makes you popular with kids, but I don’t think being eaten alive by an army of five-year-olds is beneficial to one’s career as a hero or villain.”

Coulson nodded before turning back to his men: “Okay, stand down. Our business is done here.” He turned back to Tony: “This isn’t the last time you’ll be hearing from us. We’ll be back for Barnes in about a week, along with, I suspect, plans for a certain arrangement.”

Tony simply smirked as the androids behind him walked off: “Inter-company contracts will cost money.”