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moorheadthanyoucanhandle · 2 years ago

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GONE FISSION

Opening in theaters this weekend:

Oppenheimer--This biopic splits time the way its hero splits the atom. Narrative is fissionable to writer-director Christopher Nolan; he skips back and forth between episodes of Oppenheimer (Cillian Murphy) as a bumbling student, then as a philandering rising star in the new field of quantum physics, then as the determined yet haunted lord of Los Alamos, then as a post-bomb martyr to '50s era red-baiting. It glides along smoothly through its fractured scheme, beautifully shot by Hoyt van Hoytema in black and white and varyingly muted shades of color depending on period and point of view, and pushed along by a solemn Philip Glass-esque score by Ludwig Göransson.

Often crowned by a horizontal wide-brimmed preacher-style hat that makes him look like Brad Dourif in Wise Blood, Murphy uncannily captures the bursting, wide-eyed, near-ecstatic face that we see in photos of Oppenheimer. But he manages to give the performance a human dimension, with everyday foibles and touches of humor. He's not a pageant figure.

Murphy carries a star presence. But he's very ably supported by a huge, colorful gallery of star character players: Robert Downey Jr. as AEC Chairmen Lewis Strauss and Josh Hartnett as Ernest Lawrence and Benny Safdie as Edward Teller and Tom Conti as Albert Einstein and David Krumholtz as Isidore Rabi, Oppenheimer's menschy colleague who makes sure he eats and nudges his conscience, and Matthew Modine and Casey Affleck and Kenneth Branagh and Rami Malek and Alden Ehrenreich, to name only a few.

They're all entertaining, but two in particular jolt the movie to life: Florence Pugh as Oppenheimer's joyless lover Jean Tatlock and Matt Damon as the practical-minded, professionally unimpressed Leslie Groves, representing us laypeople in his deadpan, flummoxed scenes with Murphy. For a while it seems like Emily Blunt is underserved as Kitty Oppenheimer, but near the end she gets a juicy, angry scene opposite AEC lawyer Roger Robb (Jason Clarke), who has underestimated her.

Other than maybe a few too many scenes of the young "Oppie" having visions that look like the psychedelic mindtrip at the end of 2001, there was no point where I found Oppenheimer less than absorbing. Few would suggest that this ambitious, superbly acted, superbly crafted film isn't a major, compelling work, a vast expansion on Roland Joffé's watchable but modest Fat Man and Little Boy from 1989. If Nolan's film isn't quite completely satisfying, there could be two reasons.

One is that trying to arrive at a moral conclusion about this movie's hero seems impossible. Put (too) simply: on the one hand, Oppenheimer won World War II for the good guys and checked fascism (not checkmated it, alas) for more than half a century. On the other hand, his invention has the potential to ruin the world for everybody. Both can be true, and the ambiguity is unresolvable.

Another problem with the film, however, is a matter of simple showmanship. Back in 1994, James Cameron brought his silly action picture True Lies to a point where Arnold Schwarzenegger and Jamie Lee Curtis kiss while, far in the distance, we see a mushroom cloud erupt on the horizon. Triumphant, but then Cameron pushed his luck, piling on one last struggle with the villain in a Harrier jet. I remember thinking (and writing) at the time that when your hero and heroine kiss in front of a mushroom cloud, the movie is over.

Oppenheimer, obviously a very different movie, is uneasily structured in the same way. The scenes leading up to the Trinity Test at White Sands in 1945 are riveting, pulse pounding. The explosion and the immediate aftermath, ending the war in Japan, is a stunning dramatic climax.

But then the movie keeps going, for another hour or so, detailing the war of spite and will between Strauss and Oppenheimer, and the revocation of Oppenheimer's security clearance. It's interesting, provocative material in itself, but it seems a little petty and trivial after the "I am become death; destroyer of worlds" stuff. Given Nolan's supposed consummate skill at scrambling sequence, couldn't he have somehow structured the movie to end with a bang and not a whimper?

Barbie--Something is rotten in the state of Barbieland. As this, her first live-action feature begins, our titular heroine finds herself haunted, right in the middle of raging dance parties at her Dreamhouse, by thoughts of death. Still more alarming, when she steps out of her pumps, her feet go flat to the ground.

To be clear, the Barbie in question, played by Margot Robbie, is "Stereotypical Barbie," the blond, inhumanly thin and leggy iconic version of the Mattel doll. She shares the relentlessly cheery pink-plastic realm of Barbieland with countless other Barbies of every race and body shape and profession, all happy and accomplished and untroubled and mutually supportive. They're dimly aware of us in the "Real World"; they believe that their own harmony has created an example that has led to female empowerment and civil rights over here.

The Barbies also share Barbieland with Ken (Ryan Gosling) and countless variant Kens, as well as Ken's featureless friend Allan (a perfectly cast Michael Cera). But the guys exist entirely as accessories to the relatively uninterested Barbies. Ken's unrequited fascination with Barbie makes him subject, unlike the Barbies, to dissatisfaction.

Barbie goes for advice to "Weird Barbie" (Kate McKinnon), whose hair is frizzy and patchy and who's stuck in a permanent split. She's told that her troubles come from the dark feelings of somebody who's playing with her in our reality, so she sets out on a quest to the Real World, emerging in Venice Beach. Barbie connects with a mom and teenage daughter (America Ferrera and Ariana Greenblatt) whose relationship is strained; she's also pursued by the all-male board of Mattel, led by Will Ferrell. Ken, meanwhile, learns about our patriarchy, likes what he hears, and heads back to Barbieland alone to institute it, with himself at the top.

Mattel was founded in 1945, the same year as the Trinity Test, and there are probably feminist social critics who would argue that Barbie, invented in 1959 by Mattel co-founder Ruth Handler (well played by Rhea Perlman in the film), has wreaked only a little less havoc on the modern psyche than Oppenheimer's gadget. Even though I'm in exactly the right generational wheelhouse (I was born in 1962), my own childhood experience with Barbie was very limited, and thus so were my nostalgic associations with her.

Even so, this nutty fantasy, directed by Greta Gerwig from a brilliant script she wrote with Noah Baumbach, made me laugh from its inspired first scene to its Wings of Desire finish. Narrated in the droll, arch tones of Helen Mirren, it manages to come across as both an ingenious pop-culture lampoon/celebration and an unpretentious but surprisingly heartfelt deep dive into the implications of the Barbie archetype. I wasn't a big fan of Gerwig's 2019 version of Little Women, but here she builds her world with the freedom of, well, a kid playing with dolls, but also with the confidence and adult perspective of an artist.

Not everything in the movie works; in the second half the narrative gets a little lost at times in some very strange musical numbers/battle scenes, and the whole thing comes close to going on a bit too long. And it's hard to say just who this movie is for. It hardly seems intended for little girls; however smart, they're too young for the commentary about female identity to mean much to them yet. It seems more like it's meant for adult women with both a fondness for and an ambivalence toward Barbie.

No doubt there are those who would also complain that, however witty and self-effacing, the movie amounts to a feature-length commercial for the brand. But in the age of Marvel and other such franchises, it seems a little late to object to this.

The revelation in the film is Margot Robbie. It seems ridiculous that she's able, in the role of freaking Barbie, to give a performance of such subtlety and nuance and shading and quiet, unforced wistfulness, but she does. And she gets to deliver the best last line of the year.

Theater Camp--Joan, the founder of "AndirondACTS," a slightly gone-to-seed theater camp in upstate New York, has fallen into a coma. The job of keeping the struggling camp afloat falls to her decidedly non-theatrical "crypto bro" son Troy. Meanwhile the devoted instructors work with the exuberantly happy campers to mount the shows, including an original musical about the life of poor comatose Joan (Amy Sedaris). Needless to say, all does not go smoothly.

The creators of this Waiting for Guffman-esque "mockumentary" comedy, Molly Gordon, Nick Lieberman, Ben Platt and Noah Galvin, know the world they're depicting well; all of them have been doing theater since they were small children. Gordon and Lieberman co-directed, from a script by all four; Platt and Gordon play Amos and Rebecca-Diane, the utterly enmeshed, co-dependent acting instructors and Galvin plays the low-profile tech director.

They capture the camaraderie and the sense of belonging that theater can give kids, and their affection for that world is unmistakable, but they're careful not to get too sentimental. The envies and resentments and passive-aggressive denigrations among theater folk, especially at this often professionally frustrated level, are vividly represented.

Getting laughs from the self-important vanities of theater people is pretty low-hanging fruit, I suppose, but Theater Camp is nonetheless often hilarious. The film also manages to get a little deeper at times, touching on the irony that while theater can create a haven and a community for misfit kids, this can generate its own clannishness and exclusionary snobbery, as in Amos and Rebecca-Diane's coldness toward the imbecilic but well-intentioned Troy, charmingly played by a sort of poor-man's Channing Tatum named Jimmy Tatro.

The real joy in Theater Camp, of course, is the acting: Platt, Gordon, Tatro, plus a few vets like Sedaris, Caroline Aaron and David Rasche bring the material to life. But as Glenn, the long-suffering backstage drudge who really ought to be onstage, Noah Galvin, who replaced Platt on Broadway in Dear Evan Hansen, is the revelation among the adults in the cast. He's a knockout.

The revelation among the kids playing the campers is, well, pretty much all of the kids playing the campers. There are some real singing, dancing and acting prodigies in this company. If there was a real theater camp somewhere with this kind of talent, their shows would sell out.

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mannekenpressprints · 2 years ago

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Manneken Press at EXPO Chicago 2023

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marvelbrackets · 2 years ago

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#marvel #mcu #marvel poll #mcu poll #marvel polls #marvel tv #poll #polls #marvel shows #frank castle #david lieberman #the punisher #jessica jones #matt murdock #marvels defenders

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missizzy · 11 months ago

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Habeas for Superheroes, Part 12: Saving the Liebermans(Daredevil, Matt/Foggy)

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It was late in the evening when Foggy headed out to Queens for the second time that day. Sarah, as she'd told Foggy to call her, was waiting outside. "I managed to get my father to look after the kids," she said, "but they're all three of them wondering what's going on. My son got aggressive about it." She sighed at that. "I don't know what we're going to tell them."

"We'll figure it out," said Foggy. "Situations like this, you always have to figure out things like that as you go along. You can try preparing things beforehand, but whatever you're planning, it won't work out. Trust me."

She, for instance, didn't yet know exactly what she was going to say to Matt when he met them in Manhattan to lead them to where David Lieberman was hiding. They had only communicated by email since her first visit to Queens that morning. She was determined not to apologize, because she wasn't sorry. But she was aware that just telling him why she'd done it would probably lead to the kind of argument they did not want to have in front of a stranger.

Maybe Matt himself realized, that, though. When Foggy and Sarah emerged onto the street to find him waiting there, as soon as Foggy had called out his name he was stepping forward and offering his hand, saying, "Good evening, Mrs. Lieberman. My name is Matt Murdock. I'm Ms. Nelson's husband. Your husband is staying near the river. This way." Then he just turned and walked off, making a show of using the cane, but not taking Foggy's arm. Or getting anywhere near her, even though she'd worn shoes more than loud enough to avert any suspicions.

Sarah threw Foggy a concerned look at this. Foggy looked away, just saying, "Come on, let's get this over with."

They kept close to him as they reached the river, walking through the dark corners of New York that they'd both avoided before now, even as those they loved had plunged into them. It wasn't a cold night, but Sarah was shivering anyway, and at least looked distracted enough she might have not noticed the ease with which Matt made his way, even though there wasn't much to mark the route for a blind man. Not much for even a seeing one, honestly. The buildings all looked the same in the dark, at least until they saw the one with a light in its entrance.

David Lieberman was waiting for them there. He was a fairly tall man with dirty blonde hair and beard, extremely disheveled at the moment, and his clothes were in worse shape. The minute his wife laid eyes on him, she strode up to him and shoved him into the door. Which wasn't very stable; it gave way behind him and sent him stumbling further back. Sarah didn't even seem to notice. She just moved forward into the broken doorframe and shoved him again, and again.

Foggy couldn't make out all of her words. There was "What did you do?" and "We saw you die!" (that one was loud and she yelled it multiple times) and something about months.

As Matt moved forward to intervene, Foggy quietly said, "I think you should let her have it out with him, Matt. In fact, I think we should move out of earshot. Or at least far enough away. Unless you think there's anyone dangerous around."

"We're the only people in the immediate area," said Matt. "Back to the river and I won't even catch their voices without concentrating." They didn't have to worry about being overheard by the Liebermans; they could hear enough from inside the building to know that.

They walked back to the river in silence. Foggy could feel the tension rising, but she also felt their surroundings, despite Matt's belief they were safe for the moment. She might refrain from yelling at him just for that, lucky him.

When they got there, and Foggy was staring out at water barely visibly in the darkness, Matt spoke first, his voice very cool as he asked, "You are aware you may have just gotten all four of them killed?"

A harsh cut, but one Foggy had anticipated. "I admit I didn't anticipate her taking matters into her own hands like that. I made it pretty clear I wasn't planning for anyone to do anything in response to my telling her."

"I think her husband did. I think he had a pretty damn good reason for keeping her in the dark, that being he knew her and he knew she might react like this."

Probably neither of them anticipated the nerve that one touched. "So you're just assuming men like you two know what's best for your wives? I thought I told you what I thought of that nonsense back in college!" It was very hard not to yell. "We wives are not just pets to be protected from our own foolish impulses."

Matt looked a little hangdog and like he wanted to protest that whole thing, but a moment later he instead said, "But you're not like Mrs. Lieberman. You're not incapable of taking care of yourself, and you actually have some idea of what you're up against, and anyway, the people who would go after you can't so long as they don't know I'm Daredevil, so we've never quite been in their current situation."

"And if we were?" Foggy asked, because that was an important question, and this might be her best chance to get it answered.

Matt fell silent. After half a minute or so, Foggy gave up on an immediate answer, and continued, "While you're chewing on that, let me also point out that if David had slipped up-and do remember he had no experience with anything even remotely like this-Sarah would've had no way to know they were coming for her or their children."

"I'm pretty sure he could've called her very fast, if it came to that. The kids, too, even if they'd been at school or otherwise out of the house. I couldn't tell everything about the set-up he's got in there-and I don't think anyone who wasn't an IT professional could've either-but I know enough about his activities that it would shock me if he couldn't."

Maybe that was true. But Foggy still went on, "She's told me a bit more about what the past months have been like for her, too. She's been very alone, you know. Most of the friends she and her husband had snubbed her after he was condemned as a traitor. And the kids have suffered similar in school, and the son, Zach, has basically become a problem kid in response. And she truly was devastated to lose him. I don't usually believe traditional claptrap about women and men, but I am becoming convinced that a woman absolutely can get herself so invested in her husband that losing him can break her."

"Foggy," Matt's stricken response to this wasn't a surprise. She was a little more caught off guard by just how hard seeing him that way still got to her. It took her time to pull her thoughts or feelings together enough to say anything more.

Too much time. First, Matt said, "Everything he did in there was for them, you know. What he did to get them in this predicament might not have been, but he's no noble crusader wanting to dedicate even half of his life to this. His main goal now is finding a way home he can live with."

There was a romanticism to that, Foggy acknowledged. But if there was one thing she had learned over the past year and a half, it was that romance didn't really get you anything in the end, not even emotional comfort.

But the pause in the argument had made her realize she was tired, and didn't want to get off onto that tangent with Matt. She seemed to get tired more easily than she had even a year ago.

She found herself asking, "So, what are we doing anyway? Do we want to get the Avengers involved in this?"

"Perhaps," said Matt. "They could even conceivably get the entire Lieberman family out of the country if they're willing to go, and even if we shouldn't involve Stark right now, they could get the incriminating documents leaked probably within days. And that's if they even bother trying to not be connected to it. It would probably be a stronger case if they weren't, but I'm not sure Rogers has ever cared about such things."

"Either way, that probably would solve the current dilemma, if Lieberman didn't know anything the world hadn't heard about, too, and his getting killed again would only make them look worse." As Foggy said this, she observed her husband's reaction. She would've liked him to be a lot more pleased by this.

He only said, "We don't know how much he knows, not really, especially when he's had half a year to do nothing but hack into all the government's systems. It would be safer for him and his family if we handled this more quietly. Romanov could probably think of some way to do it."

"I can guess the real reason you don't want to go public, you know," Foggy snapped, because she already had. "You just don't want to feel responsible when Frank finds out and of course he's probably going to want to kill everyone involved, and ultimately, he's only likely to hold back for the sake of our cases for so long. But I don't know if he'd even succeed, Matt. He's never gone after anyone truly powerful."

"That's not my only reason," Matt sighed, which probably was true enough. "But I think he probably would succeed, at least for one of them. Possibly get himself killed in the process, which of course he doesn't care about, but Karen would."

"And she wouldn't be the only one, would she?" Foggy asked, because Karen was the one more obviously emotionally entangled with Frank, but she had already thought Matt was, too, in a weird way. Though really, if she was being extremely honest, she wasn't indifferent to his fate herself.

Matt might have even looked embarrassed for a second. Then he said, "Either way, we still need to get the Liebermans out. Do you think they'll refuse to be evacuated?"

"I hope not," said Foggy. "Though maybe we'd better go check in on them, make sure Sarah hasn't stormed off alone in the dark part of town in the middle of the night."

She hadn't; when Matt and Foggy returned to the building, they found both Liebermans standing together in front of the entrance. "So," Foggy asked them, "do you two have any idea what you want to do now?"

"Only that we want to be fully reunited as a family," said Sarah, "in any way that's relatively safe for us."

"So you would be willing to leave the country?" Matt asked.

The two of them looked at each other. "Is the situation really that hopeless?" David Lieberman asked.

Foggy saw Matt consider it, as she did the same. "Anything we attempt to do that's legal will inevitably take time," she said, "and we'd definitely have to hide you somewhere to keep you from getting killed, I'm afraid."

"And probably you and your children as well," said Matt, "because as soon as the people responsible for this realize you're still working against them, well, if they can't get to you, they'll get to anyone you care about that they can reach. In fact, do you two have anyone else who might need protecting?"

"My father," said Sarah. Looking at her husband, she added, "Maybe your sister, too? Even if I'm not sure anyone's heard from her since the sit shiva. I sure haven't."

"It might not have to be forever, though," Foggy offered. "You might be able to come back when everything is resolved."

"I think we both know enough to know that's going to take a long time," said David. "Thanks for offering the hope of us returning eventually, though."

"Very well, then," said Matt. "There are people who can help you, and I expect to be in contact with them next week. Until then, Mrs. Lieberman, we have to decide where you and your children will stay. We have other friends who can take you in, or can even watch over them if you choose to stay in your own house, though I would advise against that."

"We'll have to go back there, though," said Sarah. "The kids and my father are there." Foggy heard the terror when it first came into her voice, when it at last hit her just how much danger her entire family was now in.

"I've seen no signs of them paying any more attention to the three of you at the moment," said David. "Even if we did anything today that might change that, surely there'll be at least a few hours' lag."

"Probably," Matt agreed. "Foggy and I should both take you home. I'll call one of my friends to try to meet us there."

The friend he had in mind turned out to be Danny Rand. That made sense; Luke Cage was far too high profile to work for this, and Jessica Jones might refuse to help. Foggy was happy to leave Matt to deal with him and keep nearer to Sarah.

She spent a few minutes debating with herself whether to ask it, but when they were almost out of the deserted area, she did: "Should I not have told you?"

"Absolutely you should have," said Sarah. "I mean, I suppose you really should ask me that in a few more days...but I think my answer will be the same. Whatever happens to the four of us now...at least provided we all survive it, we'll probably all four be better off."

"Wow," said Foggy, because while Sarah had told her about her various woes, she hadn't realized it was *that* bad.

Matt finished his phone call with the news that Danny hoped to reach Queens in one or two hours. "Maybe longer, if what he's dealing with right now takes more time than he's expecting."

They couldn't talk as much on the train, but when they emerged into the Liebermans' neighborhood, Matt said, "I think you'll like Danny. He'd a good guy, very nice."

She, Foggy thought, probably would. On the other hand, she wasn't looking forward to how her son was likely to deal with him.

Very early the next morning

After it was decided they should stagger their departures from the Liebermans' house, Foggy left first. Not caring to travel too far alone in the dark, she called a cab to pick up her from a few blocks away, arriving back in Hell's Kitchen as the sun was just starting to peek out from between the buildings.

She headed up the stairs, trying to figure out, in her exhausted state, exactly how late to work she could get away with being that day. When she took as glance at her email as she walked into the apartment, she did so with the thought that hopefully there wouldn't be anything important.

Instead, she found herself reading an email from Jessica, asking her to call as soon as she could, regardless of the late/early hour. Foggy spent a good two minutes trying to mentally stretch the definition of the word "could," before sighing and calling.

The third ring had come and gone, and Foggy was a split second from sighing in relief and disconnecting, when she heard Jessica's, "Oh, now you're answering, Ms. Nelson?"

"I only saw your email now. It's been a very busy night. What have you got?"

"Some real dirt on our friend Carson Wolf. Turns out along with everything else, he's been dealing in heroin. Not only that, he's been smuggling it out of Afghanistan with the bodies of military personnel killed in action. I haven't found how he's been selling it yet, or what he's then doing with the money, since it doesn't look like he's been keeping most of it-which in itself probably means more dirt, and I can think of one possibility."

Foggy, too, had a pretty good idea of just what that money had been spent on, and a guess on who'd sold the heroin as well. Her first impulse was to tell Jessica that, but not only was it way too dangerous to do that over the phone, but Matt had mentioned he'd left out Lieberman's still being alive in what he told her, and she thought perhaps it would be better if they moved him and his family to safety first.

Still, if the government had tried to murder at least two people who had both only known part of what was going on, she couldn't keep silent completely. "Listen," she said, after thinking over her words for a few moments. "I'd like you to actually sit on this information for possibly a few days, and just leave everything be; suspend the investigation. I hope I'll be able to explain why eventually, but I don't think I can yet."

"Really?" Jessica did not sound at all impressed. "If Wolf or any of his friends determines for sure that they've been snooped on-and they are almost certainly prepared for that possibility already-it's going to get way harder to find out anything else."

"I trust you to handle all that," said Foggy. "I'll get back to you later, I promise."

"Have it you way, then. But don't say I didn't warn you."

"I won't. Good..." she glanced at the clock, and just sighed, "Goodbye, then."

There was nothing else important in her emails. Foggy stayed awake just long enough to send a few of her own, notifying everyone she would probably be in late that day. Then she crawled between the sheets with her blouse still on and was asleep within seconds.

She didn't think it was long after that when she was woken by a second body collapsing onto the bed. She might have made some vague, bleary noises in response to this, before she felt a familiar hand stroke her head, and her husband's voice murmur, "Go back to sleep, Foggy."

When she woke again, late in the morning, she found Matt asleep on top of the bed, still in most of his clothes, though he had at least taken his shoes off. She pulled his socks off as well; the smell was already going to linger on his feet and pester him for probably a day or so as it was.

He stirred slightly when Foggy was in the shower; she came out to find he'd spread himself out, his head moved to where hers had been, before falling back asleep. He'd probably been drawn to her scent. Even now, she couldn't help but smile.

It was late enough she was definitely taking a cab to the office. For most of the walk down the stairs, she contemplated exactly what she was going to tell Karen and when, but, she then realized, there were probably only reasons not to tell her at the moment. She could cite them to her friend if she ever had to defend herself to her over it. And she absolutely, positively, should not feel like she was letting her down, not telling her.

She would, on the other hand, have to tell Marci and Jennifer everything that both Jessica and David had found out about Wolf. Although she couldn't tell Jennifer until she came back to New York again, and Foggy wasn't even sure when she was going to do so. Hell, even when she did, it might be Matt who ended up talking with her.

Marci, on the other hand, she could tell today. And then she would have to tell her, too, to sit on it without explaining why. She wasn't looking forward to that. Especially since she would also want to leave Frank's still being alive out of it, too, and that might be a little tricky.

It filled her with enough dread that when her phone rang just after she got into the cab, she nearly jumped. But it wasn't Marci, or Karen. It was Cheryl. Foggy would probably have to tell her a few things, too, but at the moment she had no idea how much.

When she answered the phone, Cheryl said to her, "Hey, Foggy, I think you picked the wrong morning to sleep in. Stark announced something like twenty minutes ago he's holding a press conference, in which, the announcement says, 'he will address general recent unfortunate events related to the Avengers,' although he also said he's going to talk about Colonel Rhodes' condition."

Rhodes still hadn't been seen publicly since he'd been shot down during the fight in Germany. All else aside, she was genuinely very curious to see how he was doing. The way things were going, it might just prove relevant to their activities.

She wanted to believe the rest at least wouldn't prove too bad for them. Were he a sensible person, he might have realized by now he couldn't just trust Ross's latest claims that they'd be doing everything legally and properly from there in. But of course, it was well known he was not, and Foggy did not quite trust him to not hide behind the government's current front.

"So how long do I have to get there?" Foggy asked, trying to gauge the current traffic. She was late enough the worst of it might have passed, at least.

"Officially it starts in about half an hour. You can always hope he'll be late."

Foggy wasn't going to rely on that. She went through the news websites after ending the call. Several had already started up their liveblogs, none of which yet had much to tell. There were also a lot of reports of people claiming they'd spotted Rogers or another one of his rogue Avengers near where they lived, none of which Foggy believed, but too many newly published news articles were reiterating them all.

Perhaps a little more interesting were a couple of them also listing a couple of reports of Hank Pym possibly being spotted in a bus station in Oakland. Ross and the government's other representatives hadn't ever mentioned their names when talking to the press. Even Lang's indictment hadn't mentioned them too much, and none of the other indictments had. Presumably they'd been worried about the populace's reaction to noticing that someone who had reportedly denounced the Avengers was getting charged just because they'd used his technology. That was a dangerous step to take, after all.

If the mainstream media was, at last, noticing the existence of these two people, that was probably good for their cause. Even if none of them were yet asking if they should've been charged, instead treating them as more normal fugitives from actual justice who needed to be found.

They were maybe about ten minutes away from the office, with the press conference scheduled to start in five, when she got the text from Karen. I'd say sorry in advance, but... She actually didn't groan. She was too resigned for that.

#marvel cinematic universe #daredevil #matt x foggy #the punisher #matt murdock #foggy nelson #david lieberman #sarah lieberman

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mariacallous · 7 months ago

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Some prominent conservative lawmakers and commentators are advocating for ending no-fault divorce, laws that exist in all 50 US states and allow a person to end a marriage without having to prove a spouse did something wrong, like commit adultery or domestic violence.

The socially conservative, and often religious, rightwing opponents of such divorce laws are arguing that the practice deprives people – mostly men – of due process and hurt families, and by extension, society. Republican lawmakers in Louisiana, Oklahoma, Nebraska and Texas have discussed eliminating or increasing restrictions on no-fault marriage laws.

Defenders of the laws, which states started passing a half-century ago, see legislation and arguments to repeal them as the latest effort to restrict women’s rights – following the overturning of Roe v Wade and passage of abortion bans around the country – and say that without such protections, the country would return to an earlier era when women were often trapped in abusive marriages.

“No-fault divorce is critical to the ability, particularly the ability of women, to be able to exercise autonomy in their own relationships, in their own lives,” said Denise Lieberman, an adjunct professor at the Washington University School of Law in St Louis, who has a specialty in policies concerning gender, sexuality and sexual violence.

Before 1969, when then California Republican governor Ronald Reagan, who had been divorced, approved the country’s first no-fault divorce law, women, who are more likely to experience violence from an intimate partner, were often forced to stay in marriages. If they could not prove that their husband had been abusive or persuade him to grant a divorce, they would not be able to take any assets from the marriage or remarry, according to a study in the Quarterly Journal of Economics.

States around America gradually followed suit and passed similar laws allowing unilateral divorce until 2010, when New York became the last state to approve the practice.

Between 1976 and 1985, states that passed the laws saw their domestic violence rates against men and women fall by about 30%; the number of women murdered by an intimate partner declined by 10%; and female suicide rates declined by 8 to 16%.

Without such laws, “it’s hard to prove anything in court relating to a family because you don’t have any witnesses”, said Kimberly Wehle, professor at the University of Baltimore School of Law. “It’s very difficult to get evidence to show abuse of children. How do you do it? Do you put your kids on the stand?”

Conservative commentators such as Matt Walsh, Steven Crowder and lawmakers such as the Republican senator JD Vance of Ohio have argued that the laws are unfair to men and hurt society because they lead to more divorces.

The divorce rate in the United States increased significantly from 1960, when it was 9.2 per 1,000 married women, to 22.6 in 1980. But by 2022, the rate had fallen to 14.5.

On the increase in divorces, Vance said in 2021: “One of the great tricks that I think the sexual revolution pulled on the American populace” is the idea that “these marriages were fundamentally, you know, they were maybe even violent, but certainly they were unhappy, and so getting rid of them and making it easier for people to shift spouses like they change their underwear, that’s going to make people happier in the long term”.

Beverly Willett, a writer and attorney, argues that unilateral no-fault divorce is also unconstitutional because it violates a person’s 14th amendment right to due process.

The defendant “has absolutely no recourse to say, ‘Wait a minute. I don’t want to be divorced, and I don’t think that there are grounds for divorce. I would like to be heard. I would like to call witnesses,’” said Willett, who experienced a divorce she didn’t want because she thought her marriage could be saved. “I believed in my vows” and “didn’t want to give up”.

But Willett’s argument relies on the idea that “women are either property or that somehow men’s liberty is restrained by not allowing them to stay in a marriage with someone who does not want to be married”, said Wehle, who also wrote about it in the Atlantic. “I disagree with the idea that women are somehow property interests of their husbands. That is an arcane relic of law that has no place in modern society.”

Willett responded to Wehle’s critique by writing that “nobody has suggested a return to antiquated laws of the 18th and 19th century. Considerable reform that protects women and ensures their equality in family court has been enacted since then.”

On the argument that no-fault divorce reduces domestic violence, Willett points to data that most domestic violence occurs between unmarried couples and says regardless, with “any contract, any lawsuit, you still have to follow the constitution”.

But without such laws, victims of domestic violence would then have to navigate a court system that can be time-consuming, “very adversarial and very costly” because the plaintiff often must then pay for child care and transportation, said Marium Durrani, vice-president of policy for the National Domestic Violence Hotline.

“Any sort of additional barrier that we add to the ease of legal proceeding is, frankly, a nightmare and an enormous burden for survivors,” said Durrani. “I’m not trying to be an alarmist, but it can increase death [if] a survivor of domestic violence has to prove that they are being abused in a divorce proceeding.”

Still, Lieberman does not think Republicans will succeed in their efforts to make it more difficult for people to get divorced.

“I do believe that that train has left the station. I mean, we have had no-fault divorce now for 50 years,” Lieberman said. But “I didn’t think the supreme court would overturn Roe v Wade, which we had for 50 years, so I suppose we will see.”

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feelmyskinonyourskin · 11 days ago

Text

April 15th

Character: Frank Castle (a little Frank x Matt Murdock if you squint)

My Masterlist

Summary: Based on my calculations, this spring will be the canonical 10 year anniversary of the death of Frank's family. So I wrote an angsty thing about it. This is also a lil Fratt coded.

WC: 2,692

Ten Years

Those two words rung in his ears on repeat over and over again.

Very few people were in the park this early, still cozy in bed as the city began to wake. But sleep was never something he found easily, especially this time of year. A few early morning joggers passed by, barely noticing the tired looking man as he sat on the bench, staring ahead. It was off-leash time in the park as well and he gave the sweet black lab that sat beside him a few pats before it ran off to rejoin it’s owner.

He stared at the green tarp in front of him, blank expression on his face as the sun rose and painted the park in golden light. The air was crisp and the dew clung to the growing grass on the hill in the distance. It was free of the crimson stains that haunted his sleep, long since washed away with the passage of time.

Ten Years

The click-clack of heels against the pavement, louder with each step as they approached him, almost tore his gaze away from the covered structure in front of him and the hill in the distance.

Almost.

The source of the percussive walking sat down beside him. She tucked a loose wisp of her blonde hair behind her ear before reaching out, offering him a to-go cup from the bakery down the street. He took it without a word and without turning his gaze to her.

“Brought you coffee.” she said softly

How did she know where to find him? There were a number of places he could be - the cemetery was obvious, or in an alleyway bloodying some poor lowlife, or drinking his sorrows away in whatever apartment he was squatting in for the time being. Was she looking for him long? Or just got lucky and picked the right spot? Was she just stopping by on her way to work or planning on staying beside his pitiful ass all day?

“Thanks, Karen.” he finally replied, quietly

They sat in silence together for a while, staring as the city and the park came more to life. Eventually, she reached out and took his free hand in hers with a squeeze.

“You have my number, Frank. I know you’ll act like you don’t need anything, but please call or text me if you do. You know I don’t mind.”

He replied with a nod.

“I gotta get to work.”

He nodded again.

She let her hand fall away from his and stood. With care, she leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead and the tapping of her heels faded away.

Ten Years

Just as the school groups seemed to be arriving in the park for their springtime field trips and the tourists filed in with their cameras pointed towards the blooming trees, two more people arrived.

Two Central Park employees, dressed head to toe in forest green uniforms, began removing the tarp he had spent all morning staring at and opening the carousel for business for the day.

They had repainted it in the years since he had lost his family. Probably after he stained it with Billy’s face. The colorful animals shone with fresh lacquer against the spring sunshine. A line had already begun to form with families eager to ride. The employees finished their rounds then the music started up. The same music the nauseatingly played over and over in his mind.

“You know it’s creepy for an old dude to just sit and stare at a kiddy ride all day.” the voice from beside him said, sitting down on the park bench

“Pft. Don’t wanna hear it from you about being ‘creepy,’ Lieberman,” Frank replied, still watching as the carousel began to spin around and around for the first riders of the day.

“Honestly, wouldn’t have remembered what day it was if Sarah hadn’t reminded me.”

“How is Sarah? And the kids?”

“Good. Zach is officially committed to NYU in the Fall and Leo is already packing for an internship she has in Italy this summer.”

“That’s great David. Really.”

“How are you, Frank?”

Frank replied with only a shrug before taking a sip of the last of the coffee from Karen.

The two men sat side by side for a while, watching the carousel get busier and busier. David slapped two hands on his knees and rose to his feet.

“Welp. I gotta get going. You know where to find us Frank.”

Ten Years

As the day wore on, families came and went. People laid blankets on the hill, enjoyed picnics on the cool April day. He saw so many kids that reminded him of Lisa and Frankie, running around joyfully without a care in the world. So many mothers that passed by he swore he saw a glimmer of Maria for a moment.

He didn’t notice how the sun now beat down, heating the skin under his thick jacket. He didn’t notice hunger growing inside his stomach or the discomfort of how he’d been sitting in the same position for a little too long.

“Keep staring like that Frank and the park is gonna paint you bronze. Make you a permanent statue here.”

“Hey Curt.”

“You’d make a helluva ugly statue, Frank.”

“Yes I would.”

The man sat beside him in the same spot where David and Karen had before, placing a brown paper bag between them. He let out a sigh as he watched his friend continue to be lost in the memories.

“You eat anything yet today?”

Frank shook his head.

“Ain’t hungry.”

“C’mon Frank, you gotta eat something” He said, shaking the bag in the air “I brought sandwiches. From that shitty deli you like.”

“You come to just lecture me –”

“No, I came to be a friend,” Curtis cut him off “And get your sorry ass out of your own damn head.”

“Preciate it Curt, I really do, but I ain’t looking for anything today. Just let me be.”

“Fine. But only if you eat.”

Frank gave a half nod as Curtis opened the bag and handed Frank a sandwich. The men sat in silence and ate for a while, continuing to watch the families come and go.

When the last bite of his sandwich was gone, Curtis stood and gave his friend a clap on the back.

“I’ll see you at group on Thursday?” he asked

“Yeah.”

“Promise you’ll be there and not sulking in some alleyway somewhere bashing some guy’s head in?”

“Ain’t makin’ no guarantees.”

Ten Years

As the sun began to get low, many of the families cleared out, anxious to get home to dinner and an evening of relaxing. The post 9-5 runners now passed by in droves as the air began to cool back down.

Once again the clack clack clack of heeled shoes echoed somewhere in the background of Frank’s thoughts.

“Well Castle, you look like shit.”

“Good to see you too, Madani.”

The woman, with her curly hair blowing gently in the breeze and polished briefcase tucked under her arm, sat on the bench beside him with a sigh.

“Curtis said you were in rough shape, so I stopped by.”

“You talk to Curtis?”

“You’re not the only one who needs someone to talk through all the shit we’ve seen.”

“That’s good – yeah real good” Frank said with a nod, wringing his hands “Say, you ever come back here?”

“To where I got shot in the head? No.” she replied with a snort

After a moment of pause, she cleared her throat. Her eyes remained cast toward the pavement as her feet shuffled against it anxiously.

“Why do you come back?” she asked with a certain quietness to her voice

“To remember. Them. Him. Why I do what I do. Cause some sick twisted part of me thinks if I just stare at that damn carousel long enough or look at the stupid field hard enough, I’ll just see em’ coming over the hill, smiling at me like they were on that day. That if aliens can invade this damn city or make half of us disappear for five years then maybe somethin’ll happen and it’ll all have just been a bad dream and…”

Frank could feel tears welling in his eyes for the first time that day.

“... and maybe I could have ‘em back.”

Dinah pretended not to notice the way Frank wiped at his eyes as he continued to stare ahead at the carousel. She had avoided gazing at it at all since she’d arrived and had no intention of starting now.

“You know Frank, you ever need a distraction from…” she gestured vaguely “... all this. CIA could still use a guy like you.”

“Told you Madani, I ain’t coming to work for you. ‘Preciate the offer though.”

“Offer will still be there, if you ever change your mind.”

She sat for another moment, before gathering her bag and tightening the belt on her crisp trench coat.

“Take care, Frank.”

“You too, Dinah.”

Ten Years

The sun was now long gone as the carousel took it’s last spin of the night. The late hour meant very few children were even still there to ride; most of the families and tourists and runners had gone home.

The two evening shift employees came out from their hut minutes later, sweeping the area of debris and re-covering the carousel in the green tarp. They finished up their duties and also headed out, leaving Frank alone in the yellowy glow of the park lamps.

But still, he sat, not sure what he was waiting for anymore or how much longer he planned to stay. Any other person would have felt alone in the quiet of the night, but his head was still buzzing as loudly as when he arrived this morning. He nearly gasped at the air filling his lungs, so overwhelmed in his grief, he’d forgotten to breathe for a moment.

Only when the clang of metal scraping concrete rang out from just below his feet did he startle out of his trance.

Nervously, he reached down to inspect what had landed just beneath where he sat, flashbacks to enemies coming for him with a pipebomb or grenade running through his brain.

The maroon baton shone under the lamplight as Frank held it up, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips.

“Jesus, Red. The hell you tryin’ to do?!”

“Warn you that I’m here so you don’t accidentally shoot me,” a voice replied from the darkness behind him

“Still considerin’ it…”

The Devil of Hell's Kitchen made his way around the bench, hands held up in surrender.

“Ya know most people just say ‘hello’ or walk real loud if they don’t wanna startle someone.”

Matt shrugged, with a glimmer of mischief to the smirk poking out from under his mask. Frank rolled his eyes.

“Karen mentioned…” the man in crimson changed the subject

“Course she did…”

“I just wanted to come by. Make sure –”

Frank cut him off.

“Make sure I wasn’t spillin’ some criminal’s blood too close to your turf? Came by to try and convert me to your shitty code —”

Matt now took his turn to cut Frank off.

“No. I came by to make sure you were okay.”

“Ain’t exactly peg you as the sentimental type, Red.”

“Well, I mean, I am Catholic…”

Frank let out a scoff and shook his head, leaning back. Matt took the vague gesture as an invitation and sat beside him, removing his horned helmet.

“You know every year —on the day my dad died, I usually go to church.”

He felt the way Frank shifted rigidly beside him; unsure if it was the topic of death, or his personal past, or religion that made the large Marine beside him uncomfortable.

“It’s the one where he took me when I was a kid and where I grew up after he was gone,” he continued “But I do this too. Just sit and think and miss him.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And for the longest time, I did it alone. I turned away everyone who came to help me; the other kids, the nuns, eventually Karen and Foggy.”

Frank shook his head at Matt’s story, always annoyed at his ramblings on a normal night but extra irritated on this particular evening.

“There a point to this?” Frank asked.

“Getting there. I spent so many years isolating myself, dividing myself from the people that cared. I thought I could do it all alone.”

Frank parted his lips, tempted to make another snarky comment, but he decided against it, letting Matt get out whatever he needed to in those hopes it’d make him go away faster.

“I lied to myself for a long time that the people who got close to me were better off without me and the danger I bring. That I was God’s perfect soldier, meant to suffer alone for my great purpose.” Matt continued

“So what changed?”

“Time. And people who were more stubborn than me and refused to give up on me. They helped me realize I needed them. And that I was only pushing them away to avoid getting hurt myself.”

“So that it, huh? You refusin’ to give up on me?” Frank scoffed

“Something like that.”

Frank shook his head.

“So what do you do now?”

“Hm?”

“The day your dad died, Red. What do you do?”

Matt smiled at Frank’s question and stretched his head upwards, glassy eyes shifting side to side as if trying to see his father in the sky above.

“I still go to the church. But Karen and Foggy come with me. Sometimes my mom walks over from the abbey and brings food.”

Frank’s eyebrows shot up at the statement, more surprised to find out that Matt’s mother was a nun and wondering the story of how that all worked. But he stayed silent and let Matt continue.

“And you know what? I don’t feel angry anymore; at him or the man that killed him or God. And little by little, every year since it gets a little–” He paused, trying to find the right word. “Lighter.”

“Look Red, I appreciate the sermon but I ain’t you.”

“No, but you’re one good day away from being me.”

Frank fully rolled his eyes this time and muttered a “Christ” under his breath, agitated that Matt could use his words from years ago when they first met and flip them around on him.

“You wanna know what else I do?”

“What?”

“After I let myself be with the people who care, I go home to my apartment. Alone. A few years ago Karen found videos of some of his old fights on the internet. My dad was a boxer. I listen to them and I drink.”

“That sounds more my speed, Red.”

“What do you say Frank, wanna go watch some old boxing matches and drink?”

Frank pondered the offer for a moment.

“No. I got some other places I gotta be.”

“Right.”

Matt removed the helmet from his lap and brought it down on his head, wiggling it a few times to get it in place and stood.

“Take care, Frank.” Matt said with a nod

“You too, Red.”

Frank watched as Matt disappeared into the shadows of the park. With a sigh, he finally stood, taking one last look at the carousel before heading down the path out of the park. He walked for blocks, still mulling over Matt’s words as he made his way down the empty sidewalks.

By the time he reached Hell’s Kitchen, he finally felt cold, zipping up his jacket to protect from the chilly night.

When he finally reached his destination, he hesitated for a moment. Taking in the large red doors in front of him, he wasn’t sure why he had come or what he was hoping to find. But if it helped Red, maybe it could help him.

Frank reached forward and pushed open the door, stepping into the chapel at Clinton Church.

Ten Years

#frank castle #the punisher #jon bernthal #matt murdock #daredevil #nmcu #fratt #frank x matt #frank castle x matt murdock #angst

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petertingle-yipyip · 25 days ago

Text

WORLD CLASS SINNER - FRANK CASTLE

finale - devil is a woman

seven // masterlist // MAG Masterlist

Pairing: frank x livia, billy x livia

Word Count: 8,919

Summary: It’s finally done.

The ride in the ambulance was hectic. Brett was ranting about how what he was doing wasn’t normal for him. He was weaving and gliding through traffic and Frank, the bastard, was as calm as ever.

You sat quietly, running your thumb over the bit of your pin sticking out the cuff. You knew it just needed a little nudge and the cuffs would pop open, but freeing yourself now did no good. You weren’t going to knock out Mahoney while he was going full-speed down a busy highway, so you waited.

“Hey.” Frank nudged your shin with his foot while Brett yelled on a phone call to Dinah. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Just wondering if I can convince Matt to take your case again.” You shrugged and he broke into a grin.

“What about you?”

“I can sweet talk Mahoney into letting me go. You, however, are always a different story.”

“That regret I hear?”

“Never that.” You smiled.

The impact to the ambulance jarred you, causing your rigged cuffs to pop open from the sudden movement you recognized as a car collision. You were thrown into Frank while Brett yelled something about not letting Frank go. He used his free hand to help you back to your feet and you saw Brett’s head whip around to see you free. You shook the cuff off your wrist and offered an apologetic smile. He simply glared at you before turning back to the road. You held a hand to Frank, the other slipping to the gun at the back of your belt.

“Do you got me?” You asked quickly.

“What?”

“Do you got me?” You emphasized and shoved your hand towards him.

“Yeah, yeah, I got you.” He nodded and grabbed your wrist tightly.

You offered a small nod before throwing your weight back into the seam of the ambulance doors, busting them open and balancing precariously on your heels as Frank countered your backwards lean. You lifted your other hand and fired three shots at the window.

The bullets sent spider-web-like cracks through the glass but didn’t penetrate. You quickly realized it was a cop car, meaning bulletproof glass. You sighed and scanned the car quickly. You needed a new target and your first thought was the gas tank, but that was probably under the rear bumper. You aimed your gun again and fired two shots into the back tire.

The car swerved before flailing wildly out of control before you could get a good look at the driver. You were pulling yourself back into the ambulance when the car slammed into the side again, causing your footing to slip and you to fall from Frank’s grasp.

You heard him scream your name as you bounced off the asphalt, the terror he yelled it with was so real you wished it was enough to catch you. For a split second, you wondered if he was thinking of that run for guns when Lieberman crashed into Dinah and you went dragging across the road in a similar fashion.

You closed your eyes as you rolled across the road, feeling the searingly hot road tear through your clothes and leave burning scrapes across your skin as your permanently unstable rib seemed to snap yet again. You’d never wished for that protective long sleeve more.

You climbed to your hands and knees, shaking the vertigo and blinking hard to clear the small rocks from your eyes. The muffled sound of a car horn and skidding tires drew your attention up, which hardly gave you time to get out of the way. You tried to turn away but the front fender knocked into your shoulder.

The collision sent you rolling across the road again and you nearly fell over the now broken edge. You managed to crawl to the ledge and look over. Seeing the ambulance completely tipped, you felt something shatter in your chest.

“Frank!” You cried out and the desperation you said the single syllable of his name with scraped your throat like sandpaper.

Instinctively, you went for the wire from your Bites, but you didn’t have them. You slammed a fist against the ground and tried to calculate the distance to the street below, if you could survive a fall from that height. It was unlikely the landing would be pretty, but how the hell else were you supposed to get to Frank?

You hurried to your feet and reached into the window of the nearest car. They asked quickly if you were okay but you flashed your badge before breaking off their passenger seatbelt. Their eyes went to something behind you but didn’t dare look. You just hoped Matt’s God was looking out for you.

You rigged one end to an exposed piece of rebar and wrapped the other end around your hand before you stepped off, hearing the hollow thud of another car collision. When you ran out of slack, the sudden stop yanked on your shoulder and you felt the deep pop and your arm went limp. You bit your cheek to keep in your cry as you had to cut yourself free and your knees buckled once your feet hit the ground.

You vaguely heard Dinah’s voice from above and you said quiet thanks to her appearance. You staggered across the distance and knocked on the ambulance’s side. You heard heavy thuds on the other side and the relief you were flooded with could’ve swept away New York if it was a real tide. You didn’t care to stop the tears as you hurried, and nearly fell, as you got to the back of the ambulance.

You pried the doors open and reached in to help Frank out. He wrapped one arm around you and you did the same. After a moment, he pulled away and put that hand on the side of your head. He scanned you for injuries but found only the array of small, surface level scrapes. You put a hand to your dislocated shoulder and Frank nodded towards his other arm, which you realized was hanging limply at his side.

“Just had to copy em, huh?” You tried to joke and he gave you a weak smile.

“Shit, I’m just glad you’re alive, Princess.”

He guided you to the side of the ambulance and slammed his arm back into the socket. You braced against it and he forced yours back in the same way, at which you cried out loudly. You looked around and saw the dripping gas, the lapping flames of the engine.

“Brett.” You whispered, putting a hand on Frank’s shoulder as you passed him.

You climbed back into the ambulance and drew your knife. Your footing faltered when you saw Brett’s limp form but you had to keep pushing. You forced yourself deeper into the ambulance and sawed through the seatbelt. Frank was at your side and helped you haul Mahoney out while the man mumbled about locking you both up.

The explosion went off only seconds later.

Then you and Frank parted ways. He was going after David Shultz and you were going home. You kept thinking about the man in the cop car but as you held on to the memory, forced it to replay, you could just make out who it was. The man from Ohio.

You decided to go home, not to hide, but to arm yourself. You were done hiding or running from that man, so you would be prepared to fight. To end it all. Him, Billy, anyone else who dared stand in your path. With the way you were feeling, you thought you might even cut down Matt if he tried to intervene.

You showered away the incident on the bridge, letting the water take away the small bits of gravel still stuck to your skin. It burned the fresh wounds but you let the pain sit there until your skin closed itself. You could’ve sworn you felt your rib shifting under your skin to try and right itself. There was a distinct scraping feeling just below the surface, like something was burrowing between your muscles and your lungs. It was a terrible pain, enough to make you nauseous as tears stung your eyes, but you forced yourself through it. The bones would never fully mend but it would be enough. You’d continue to put yourself back together until that ability failed you, which you knew it inevitably would. It had once, but luckily you had people who cared to bring you back. You may not always have that.

You debated your suit. You packed your staffs, belt, gun, Bites, mask, and shock disks into a bag while you thought. You wanted to wear your suit and feel it all come together, but you couldn’t fully bring yourself to it. This wasn’t something Exodus started. Livia did, and Livia would stay to see the hard work done.

So you wore fitted pants with your vigilante boots, a dark compression shirt, your usual gloves, and your long sleeve. You thought if you should go after them directly, track them by their fear or arrogance, but your mind kept wandering to Amy.

Had she gotten out of the hospital? Did she make it to the trailer? Or had she looked into Matt Murdock and gone to him? To her, he was just a name but you knew she understood what he meant to you, just how much you trusted him. Would she trust him the same?

You were reaching for your door handle when you were slammed by fear. It beat against the inside of your chest like a battering ram against a steel door, reverberating through your ribcage to a point where your breath stuttered. You backed away to your kitchen and spit in your sink. You hit the tap and tried to rinse the taste off your tongue but it wouldn’t leave.

It wasn’t your fear. It was from somewhere distant, from someone familiar. Your first thought was Frank but that man didn’t know fear, only anger. Revenge. It wouldn’t be Billy. You hadn’t felt his emotions in over a year. It couldn’t be Matt. He wasn’t involved in any of it, charged with keeping June out of trouble while you were away. That only left…

Amy.

You hurried to your door and threw it open, sprinting down your hall and down the stairs. You thought about your car but by the time you found your keys, got into your car, started the car, and pulled off, she could’ve been long gone or even dead. So you gripped your bag’s strap and ran.

You ran as fast your legs could take you, shouldering past people in front of you and mumbling apologies. Some threw curses at you, a few pushed back, but no one tried to stop you.

Night had fallen by the time you got to the trailer. As you were running up the dirt path, Frank pulled in beside you and you nearly ran into the front fender. You squinted through the headlights and saw Frank throwing his hands towards you and complaining. You scoffed and turned back to the trailer. Your eyes caught on the light coming from underneath.

Frank came up beside you and began to lecture you about running in front of moving cars, but he silenced when you reached out for him. You hand closed around the fabric of his sleeve and he reached for your elbow. He gently pulled you forward and you followed him inside.

Frank tended to Curtis, who was lying on the floor in pain, and you hurried to the back room. You checked the bedroom and bathroom, but both were empty. Your own panic began to close your throat but you had to force it down. You could feel Frank on the edge of a breakdown so you cleared your thoughts. You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and used both hands to force your power through the room.

You saw the wisps move like fog, breezing through the small trailer and then fading out. Frank was calmer, though still frazzled, and Curtis was basically the same.

You heard Curtis explain that she ran and you felt some of the tension loosen in your chest. Frank used Curtis’ phone to call Amy but the phone was ringing from outside. Without thinking, you threw yourself through the door, a naive sense of hope flooding your veins. It ran icy when you found her cell abandoned on the ground.

You wanted to scream, but kicked the taillight out of the nearest vehicle instead. Frank went and dragged his hostage out the car and into the RV. You leaned quietly against the sink while Frank did what Frank did.

Your fingers drummed against your crossed arms as your brain flipped through questions like a rolodex.

Where could she be? Where would that man take her? How did he find her? What would you use to kill him? Why didn’t you give her the tracker like you did Lieberman’s daughter? Was she okay?

You dreaded the thought that maybe she was dead. Logic told you she wasn’t. She was leverage, bait even. Ohio Man wouldn’t waste that, not unless he had something better. But truthfully, nothing would be better to get you and Frank in the same place as the possibility of Amy being in danger.

“He’s truly scared of you.” You commented when the silence grew thick. “I can see it.”

“Good.” Frank said flatly.

“Listen, David.” You pushed off and crossed the room, leaning your hip against Frank’s shoulder. “Russians paid for these photos and then someone else found out. Suddenly… Everyone involved gets killed. Now you don’t seem the person to do that…” You looked him up and down and smiled slightly as his fear climbed and the yellow fog rumbled with new fear. “No, you don’t have the stomach for it, but I’m thinking that you know who does.”

Recognition crossed his features, quickly shifting to despair.

“No… No they- They wouldn’t.” He tried quietly but it was clear he was trying to convince himself.

“Who?” You urged, plucking at his restraint. “Tell us who it was and this ends so much sooner.” You coated your voice in fake sympathy. “I know you’re hurting, David. I know you’re scared, but just give us what we need and it can all end.”

“I swear to you I’m not part of this. I would never do this.” The man was near tears. You shoved off and patted Frank’s shoulder before going back across the room. You dropped into a chair near the table and leaned against the wall.

You were tired. You missed your friends. You wanted your kid back. You closed your eyes for a moment when you got a text from Dinah.

- need backup at dumonts. meet me? -

You raised a quiet brow and glanced at Frank. He was so enthralled in whatever he was doing that he didn’t notice. You stepped around Curtis and out the door. You headed to meet Dinah, quick strides but not quite a run. There was an urgency in her text you didn’t miss, but you were still so distracted with wherever Amy was. Your head might be for helping Dinah but your heart wanted to tear through New York till Amy was with you again.

But you knew Frank would get what you both needed. He’d get a location or a name. By the time you got back, he’d have everything ready to go. You had your gun out of your bag and a knife at your back. It wasn’t much, but to back up Dinah against a psychiatrist, it should be enough.

You could hear the fight as you approached the apartment. You loaded a comment about starting the fun without you and kicked the door open. You had less than a minute to learn the layout of the apartment. Rooms to your left, living room and kitchen to your right.

The fight was in the kitchen.

You got inside and saw Krista had Dinah’s head nearing the flame of the kettle. You reached for the kettle and knob simultaneously. Her head snapped up and you smiled in greeting before swinging the kettle at her. She screeched in panic and ducked, dropping her hold on Dinah.

You didn’t make contact but the hot water came out the spout and hit her arm, making her cry out again. From her position on the floor, she lunged for your legs. You sidestepped quickly and dropped to press your knee against her spine. You placed your hand firmly at the back of her head and forced her against the ground.

Dinah scrambled to the next room.

Krista thrashed beneath you and began elbowing the ankle you had on the ground. You rolled your eyes and leaned into the knee on her back to lift and slam your foot down on her hand. You pulled your blade and shifted your foot, only to drive it down and through her hand.

She cried out. You didn’t care.

You looked up to find Dinah and Krista threw the entirety of her weight to the side and you were thrown off. You hit the cabinets hard and she was able to get to her feet. You heard the squelch of her flesh as the knife was removed. Her hands scrambled over the countertop and she came back brandishing a steak knife in her bloodied hand. She looked down at you and the murderous intent was clear, but you didn’t miss the underlying motive. Protection.

It wasn’t hard to figure out that she was trying to protect Billy, and she was clearly willing to do whatever she had to. She wouldn’t stop until you and Dinah were dead. You expected a fight, but Krista had turned it into a death match.

She let out a loud cry and she fell to her knees in front of you before jabbing the knife forward. You caught her wrist and shoved her aside, forcing the knife’s tip into the cabinet door. You slammed your elbow against her jaw repeatedly until you heard the crack of splitting wood which told you she had freed the blade. Your head whipped towards it, which was a mistake, and as she pulled the knife back, the serrated edge skirted your cheek. You cried out and shoved her away.

You got to Dinah quickly, but before you could say anything, Krista slammed into you both. The three of you hit the ground hard and your shoulder smacked the edge of her coffee table.

At least she abandoned the knife.

You looked around and caught Dinah’s eye. She nodded to the window and then looked pointedly at Krista, who was groaning as she climbed to her feet. You nodded and moved to the other end of the couch while Dinah went for the other woman.

They struggled, shoving back and forth and reaching for throats. Dinah finally broke Krista’s hold and kicked at her chest, throwing her into your grip. You smiled as you latched onto her arms. With a small swing, you slammed her face first against the window.

Immediately, her fear was visible. You kept a hand at the back of her head, face squished against the glass, and she squirmed under your hold. With your free hand, you pulled your gun. You shoved off her, hearing a whimper as a response, and aimed. You fired four shots, two on either side.

Krista flinched at the sound and shakily turned to face you. You saw her bloody handprint on the glass before you slammed your shoulder against her chest.

The glass shattered with an echoing sound. Her scream filled any gaps for silence and you watched her limbs flail as she went down. You put your gun away as you did. Her body smacked the concrete hard, with enough force for her to bounce and hit again. The crowd gathered almost immediately.

You backed away from the window and grabbed Dinah’s arms. You spun her and tried to push her to the door but she seemed frozen.

Shock, you realized. Dinah was in shock.

You made a noise to yourself before checking the window. The crowd grew but no lights. No sirens.

You still had time. At least, you thought you did.

Your eyes locked with a hooded figure and the despair slammed you like a punch in the jaw. However, it quickly melted into rage, pure hatred. You backed away in a hurry and grabbed Dinah’s hand.

You yanked her with you, paused only to shove her jacket into her hands and tuck your bloodied knife away. You realized the fire was still on, and while you considered leaving it, you didn’t want to burn the entire building down. You hustled to twist the knob and looked back to Dinah.

There was no more time. You could feel Billy coming down the hall.

“Dinah.” You grabbed both her arms and shook her. “Come back. Come on!” You urged.

He was only a few doors down.

“Billy’s coming.” You shook her again. “I can’t fight him and look out for you.”

No response.

You groaned and quickly looked around, spotting the tip of Dinah’s gun under the table. You scrambled for it quickly and shoved it into her hands. She looked at the gun, then you, then it seemed to sink in what you had said. She nodded vigorously and you breathed out in relief.

It didn’t last long.

Billy slammed through the door, firing blindly and screaming. You dropped to the ground and slid around the corner, brandishing your bloodied knife, while Dinah spun to take cover in a room off to the side. Once he stepped into the living room, you acted.

You kicked out his knee and he buckled. His rage turned on you and you swiped the blade, catching his stomach. and he growled. You caught a glimpse of Dinah coming back into the living room.

You planted a hand on the ground and leaned into it, allowing you enough balance to swing your foot and kick at the slice. Your foot hit hard and he crumpled a little more. You dropped the blade and dove forward, tackling Billy to his back.

You had a comment loaded about a familiar view and different circumstances, but you ignored the opportunity. Instead, you made sure the gun slid away before you started slamming your fist against his face. His head jerked to the side with the impact and you watched the blood splatter out of his mouth and onto Krista’s hardwood floors.

He caught your next punch and twisted your wrist outward, his thumb purposefully digging into the bullet scar. You whined before he yanked down and pulled you off him. You hit your elbow on the ground first and before you knew it, Billy had you pinned. Both his hands closed around your throat and you grasped one of his wrists, fighting to get your other hand behind your back for your gun.

“You had to make it about her.” He said angrily, venom lacing his words as the hatred in them burned against your skin.

“I should’ve-“ You choked out. “Killed you at- At that ap- Apartment.”

The shot firing broke the silence and you flinched slightly. Billy crumpled against you for a moment and you took the chance to throw him off you. You scooted away quickly and freed your gun, quickly firing into his leg before he could get to his feet.

You felt Dinah’s hands under your arms and you let her help you to your feet. Your eyes scanned the area and you couldn’t find your blade. That made your stomach pitch, even briefly considering Billy using it, but you forced the thought away. Just because you didn’t see it didn’t mean Billy had it. Maybe it was just under the furniture.

Immediately after you had the thought, he proved you wrong. Your blade came through the side of your leg, angled down towards your knee, and you fell back to the ground. You scooted yourself away as Billy tackled Dinah to the ground. Every movement of the joint sent a jolt of pain and you bit your lip hard trying to keep your noises down.

You yanked your blade out roughly and used it to slice a strip of the curtain off. You tied it around your wound as tight as you could and gripped your knife’s handle. You leaned on the couch and you came around and found Billy on top of Dinah, both of them gripping the other’s throat. You rocked back a bit and threw yourself against Billy’s side.

He fell away and your instinct was to look at Dinah, just to see if she’s alive, but you couldn’t risk it. Instead, you slid on the side of your leg and got to Billy’s side. His eyes met yours and you turned your head to spit on the floor. Then you looked back and drove your blade into his stomach.

Once, twice, thrice.

He sputtered, blood trickling out his mouth, but you quickly slammed a fist against the side of his head and he fell limp. You dropped to a seat and heaved a sigh. As soon as you stopped moving, your adrenaline died and the pain flared.

Your knee felt on fire. Your cheek stung. Your elbow throbbed. Your throat burned. You leaned against the arm of the couch and gave in to the pain. You whined to yourself as you felt it grow, felt it sit under your skin while your body tried to mend itself. You could feel the edges of the slice on your cheek and the gash on your knee reaching for the other side, the tissues in your throat reforming after the swelling, the bruise on your elbow breaking apart. It was familiar, the pain of healing, but it was too much at the same time. You closed your eyes, only intended for a moment, and you felt yourself fall into unconsciousness.

It wasn’t long until you came to. The pains across your body were dull aches and you could see the lights of police cars on the street. You didn’t know where they were so you had to run. You ignored Dinah laying beside you but you couldn’t ignore the pool of blood. It wasn’t yours, but it had grown far enough to reach your pant leg.

You pushed to your feet and saw Billy was missing. You looked up and cursed God again for taking that victory away from you. Your knife was gone with him and you hoped that if he dared to pull it out, it’d take the last bit of strength he had. You ran a hand down your face and came to sudden realization that there was no mask to hide behind.

Your stomach pitched at the potential danger you were in. Billy Russo gone, Krista Dumont on the sidewalk in a pile of glass, Dinah Madani unconscious at your feet. It was a massacre and you were at the center of it. Your head was ringing, like someone was aggressively shaking a bell in your skull, when you realized it was your implant. Someone calling.

You snuck into the hallway, hearing the officers coming up the stairs. You went the other way down the hall until you found another stairwell. You inched the door open, heard no one, and darted inside. With a new and temporary limp, you made your way down the stairs and to the back alley.

You reached up to call back but no one answered. You shook your head, crept closer to the street to get your bearings, and made your way back to the trailer.

You’d reconvene with Frank, take a few hours to finish recovery, gear up fully, and go after your kid. You still had to find Amy.

You didn’t know how long it took you to get back. With the limp, seemingly having grown worse as you went, and the only moving via alleys, it felt like you took hours to get back. It could’ve been less than one. The moon was still out, that was all you knew.

You came through the door and Curtis stood immediately. He practically ran to your side when he saw you limp, taking on most of your weight until he got you to the closest chair. He examined the healing wound on your knee then promptly went off for a kit to clean and stitch it. You were grateful for it and the stinging of the needle was a welcome distraction from the vaguely familiar man staring at you with a pathetic plea in his eyes.

You looked at Curtis with a raised brow but he simply shook his head. You glanced back at the senator and found it wasn’t necessarily fear anymore. More apologetic, ashamed even. You said nothing.

The silence dragged on for what felt like an eternity until finally the stitches were done. Curtis patted your leg and you smiled in thanks. Quietly, he got up and left, taking Frank’s captive with him.

You rubbed the joint gently and winced as the blossoming bruise protested your touch. You limped to the bathroom and found a long wrap. You worked it around your knee and fastened it tightly, both enjoying and hating the compression it offered. It was a little while longer until Frank came back.

“Where is she?” You managed, though your voice came out raspy.

“He has her. She followed him, called us for help, and he took her.” Frank said.

He was angry and it unfortunately was pointed at you as well. It didn’t take a genius to know that the call you had gotten earlier was Amy. You missed a chance to get her, a chance to end that battle, because you were fighting Billy. All of that and you didn’t even know if Billy was dead. He was also angry at himself, for not being able to keep her. And he was angry at her for getting herself caught.

“And where the hell were you, huh?” Frank asked and the accusation was hard to miss.

You glared at him slightly, wondering what he thought you were doing that was enough for you to miss Amy’s call and come back with a bloody leg, but you kept your thoughts to yourself. You didn’t have it in you to argue.

“Took a shot at Billy.” You admitted. “Don’t know if it’s done but he left about half his blood on the floor… I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

“Yeah…” Frank sighed, coming over to your side. He dropped a hand to your shoulder and gave a small squeeze. Your head fell against his forearm and you reached up to pat his hand. “You gonna be alright?”

“Always am, Frank.”

Frank stepped away to take a call. He was gone less than a minute but came back with that look you’d come to expect from him. A fight was coming and it was coming fast. You gestured for Frank to give you his hand and he helped you out of the chair.

You made your way to your bag, which you had left on the small kitchen table, and began fitting equipment into place. Your belt clipped easily around your hips and you filled its sheaths with the appropriate weapons. You slung your pack over your shoulders and you decided to leave your mask behind. Your Bites fit securely to your wrists and the blue light from them loosened a knot in your chest.

When you were ready, you and Frank decided to wait outside. He sat on the little step leading into the trailer and you positioned yourself along the junk cars. You were kneeling in the dirt, drawing figures on the ground out of boredom when the car finally pulled up.

Frank and the Man had their exchange with Amy in the middle. When she finally caught your eyes, you saw the shock make her pupils go wide. You held a finger to your lips to keep her quiet and she gave you a small nod.

You crept around the cars until you were behind their exchange. You stood and revealed yourself, flexing your hands to wake your Bites. You heard Frank tell the man - who’s name you finally learned to be John - to point the gun at him because he’d do anything for Amy.

Frank’s eyes met yours for a second but you didn’t need words for his intent.

Not yet.

You recognized that John’s gun was too close to Amy’s head, his finger too close to the trigger. So you waited, tense and ready to fight. To protect Amy and Frank, whatever the cost. You knew Frank wasn’t bulletproof, even if he believed he was, but your shirt at least was. You’d put yourself in front of whatever bullet was intended for them, because they were your family.

You’d do anything for them.

“Where’s your friend?” John asked and your head tilted.

You backed away slowly, though your weapons remained ready. You kept moving until you were able to crouch behind the car.

“Let the girl go.” You called finally. “Come on, John. You just said you have kids. Let her go, I’ll come out, and we’ll settle this.”

You didn’t look up but you felt the relief from Frank and Amy. You smiled to yourself, blinking away the tears of your own relief, before you stood. Your hands were raised and John’s gun found aim at your chest almost immediately. You kept his gaze and he frowned at your outfit. You wondered if he recognized the top, but you also couldn’t remember if that was the one you wore when you fought him last time.

You were pulled from the thought when Amy’s arms wrapped around you. Immediately, you hugged back and allowed yourself to forget John’s presence.

“I’m sorry.” She mumbled against you. “I’m sorry, Livia. I tried to call but-“

“Hey.” You stepped back enough to look her in the eyes. “It’s not your fault, okay? Listen, I’m gonna give you an address. You drive straight there and knock on his door. Don’t stop knocking until he answers.”

“But Frank said-“

“I’m not worried about that.” You cut in. “You tell him that I sent you. He’ll look out for you till I come get you, alright?”

“Who is it?” She sniffled.

“You finally get to meet Red.” You smiled slightly and guided her into the car. You leaned across her to put in Matt’s address in the GPS. You scribbled his apartment number on her hand with a pen you found on the center console. “June should be with him. Tell them I’ll see you all soon.”

“Don’t die.” She whined and your heart broke. You were painfully reminded of how young she really was.

“We won’t.”

You shut the door and walked to Frank’ side with your hands raised again. You felt John’s gun following you, but it was the least of your concerns. When you heard the horn, likely part of Frank’s orders, you felt like you could breathe again.

“Where’d you send her?” Frank asked quietly.

“Red.” You replied in the same low tone. “He’ll watch out for her.”

“He still looking out for your mini?”

“Yeah.” You smiled slightly. “She’s in good hands.”

“I know.” He nodded.

Frank and John had a quick exchange about David. Both men took dangerous steps towards each other and your whole body tensed. Once John was close enough, you acted.

You dropped a knee and shot a wire around his ankles. As you yanked his feet out, Frank was there to make sure he hit the ground. Frank pounded away at the man so you ditched the wire and hurried to kick the gun away from John’s reach. However, that didn’t stop John from hurting Frank with an old car part.

You reached behind and pulled both staffs, twisting them together quickly as John collected a new weapon of his own. Frank was regaining his bearings when you stood in front of your shared opponent.

He swung it at your head and just got your staff up in time to block it. You twisted around to force the weapon, what looked like a shovel, to the ground. Your foot slammed on top of it and you jerked the edge of your weapon to hit his jaw. He staggered and you jammed your knee up into his stomach.

His hold on the shovel fell. You kicked out at his chest to force him back against the closest car. Without hesitation, you moved in and pressed your staff against his throat.

You wanted him to die. You watched to watch the light fade from his eyes, to feel him struggle for his last breath. You wanted to kill him for everything he had done to you, to Amy, to Frank.

The thought brought out something long buried, something you didn’t want to fight against. You let that floodgate open, let the rage and pain and anger spill out.

The red haze across your thoughts and your vision served as enough of a distraction for John to use against you. One of his hands grabbed your arm and the other landed on the side of your head. He jerked you to the side and slammed your head against the car’s windshield twice. He kept you pinned, leaning his weight against your skull, and you had to squeeze one eye shut. The glass spidered beneath you and he twisted your head, slicing razor thin lines open across half your face.

Vaguely, you wondered if that was only a small fraction of the pain Frank inflicted on Billy back at the carousel with the mirror.

The pressure suddenly disappeared and you slid down the car. You dropped into the dirt, fresh blood seeping from the thin wounds. You blinked it away but you couldn’t quite tell if it was out of your eye, given the red tint the scene had taken on.

Frank had stepped in while you tried to regain control. You weren’t trying to fight the manic rage in your head or the burning sensation through your muscles. You were willing to use it, but you needed to direct it. You needed focus.

With a flex of your hands, both Bites ignited while you scanned the scene in front of you. The bright blue shifted to red and you could all but feel the electricity in your blood. It was the only thing that seemed to ground you into the present moment. That and the stinging pain down half your face.

John had just thrown Frank to the ground and was reaching for a length of chain. You twisted the long staff apart and threw one piece, ricocheting it off the ground to smack John in the throat. He stumbled away and you ran at him again.

You slipped the other staff into the pack before you shouldered into his side with enough force to head a crack. He hit the ground and rolled a few feet away. You heard the clink of the chain behind you, John coughing and wheezing in front you, while you patted your belt for a quick inventory.

Shock disks. Bites. Staff. Gun.

Your knife had disappeared when Billy did. Your retractable was long since gone. That was a weapon you didn’t think you’d miss.

You slipped two shock disks between your fingers and tightened your hands into fists. John stood unsteadily but still came at you. He landed a few heavy hits to your jaw, knocking you off balance slightly. He grabbed your chin, forced you to look at him as he raised his fist for what he intended to be a finishing blow. You took the opportunity to slam your fist into his stomach.

His entire body tensed with the electricity, gripping tighter to your face. You pried his fingers off with your other hands and shoved him away. Frank was at your side within moments, kicking at John’s head before helping you get some distance.

“You alright?” You asked before moving your jaw around. You felt the familiar throb of pain but it was still in place.

“Yeah.” He mumbled, pretending like he wasn’t covered in blood. Whose blood it was, you couldn’t say. “You?”

“Never better.” You smiled.

Frank threw himself back into the fight before you could. Fighting with Frank was starkly different than fighting with Matt. You and Matt fought in tandem, alternating punches with complimentary styles. You two moved like a pair of dancers or figure skaters, lifelong partners that could anticipate each other’s moves.

You and Frank fight in waves. His ambush would come, then while he took a retreat, you attacked. You two would alternate, creating a never ending barrage of offense. Neither of you stayed down too long because the other one always found a gap to haul the other up. You two fought like the soldiers you were.

It came to be your turn when John tackled Frank to the ground.

You took a short running start to slide on your knees around the fallen man, firing both Bites as you went. He convulsed with the sudden shock as your momentum stopped. Bracing your hands flat against the dirt, you slammed both feet forward to send John to his back.

Your previously discarded staff was close by so you scooped it up, swiped the rotating mechanism, and heard the distinct sound of the blade releasing. You jammed it forward but John managed to avoid the impalement, suffering a gash along his side instead. You shifted to a kneel and slashed upwards, cutting across the fronts of his legs as he tried to stand, then you threw the weapon like a javelin. It buried itself in his shoulder and he cried out.

You got to your feet before searching for Frank. Losing focus was your mistake. John had yanked out and discarded your weapon before he tackled you. His bloodied shoulder slammed your rib cage and the disconnected bones shifted suddenly. You screamed at the pain but John didn’t ease up. He kept pushing until your back hit a car and he could yank you over the hood.

You tried to push yourself up and get some distance, but the sharp pain made you collapse, your back flush on the hood and your head hanging off the other end. John took the opportunity to slam his elbow against the center of your chest, hard enough that you practically flipped over yourself.

Air was knocked out of your lungs. You were dizzy from the pain. Your head hurt. Your leg still hurt, even more now. The bruise was already forming across your sternum. You could barely hear the thunks, thuds, and grunts as Frank and John continued the brawl.

You wanted it over. You were just so damned tired.

You pushed yourself up and forced your feet to move. You limped over, practically dragging the useless leg behind you. Frank had gotten John to his knees by then. You stood behind John, gripping a suspender in either hand. Hard yanks allowed you to cross them over opposite shoulders and you pinned your knee between his shoulder blades while you pulled the strips of material back.

“When you- kill them-“ John choked out. Frank hesitated to listen and you rolled your eyes. “Don’t hurt- my boys.”

Frank looked at you, a silent request for you to wait. You considered it, put yourself in John’s shoes. If it was the other way around and John was going to kill you, you wouldn’t want him to go after your girls. If your last words were asking for June and Amy’s safety, you’d be okay dying.

You let go of the suspenders and John greedily gasped for air. Frank offered you a hand and you limped around to stand beside him.

“I know who you are.” John looked between you both. “You are Death.”

“What if…” Your voice was a rasp so you cleared your throat. “You mentioned your boys. What about their mother?”

“God called her home while I was here.” He confessed, nearing tears.

The red haze broke apart and you blinked at the clarity. You also understood you couldn’t orphan those boys.

“They did that on purpose.” You knelt in front of John. Frank’s hand landed on your shoulder. “They took you from your boys and your wife when they needed you so even if you failed, they had what they wanted. They’ll turn your boys into what they’ve made you. If I can keep my girls from becoming like me, I’d do anything… What if there’s a way to bring you back to your boys and end this?”

“You fight with the Devil in your eyes.” John said calmly. “But you have a good heart.”

“What do you say, John?” Frank asked. “Let’s go get your boys, eh?”

John sniffled then nodded. He looked at you both with tears shining in his eyes.

You knew you made the right choice.

The next morning, your body was stiff as you climbed out of bed. The deep purple bruise took over your chest. The stitched wound at your knee was red and swollen, making bending the joint hard. The white of your eye was red but the thin slices had healed. Your rib was less painful but you could feel it shift with each breath.

When your phone rang with the unknown number, you hesitated to answer it. Curiosity took over.

It was Billy. He confessed he was bleeding out, said he didn’t want to die alone. He didn’t expect you to forgive him. He just wanted company.

Something long since buried made you go to him. You did, however, have enough sense to text Frank to meet you there just in case.

You walked into the building and immediately knew you two were alone. Your gun was a comfortable pressure against your hip as you found the room he was in. You made a point to sit on the floor well out of his reach.

“How the mighty have fallen.” You commented.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come.” He smiled weakly. “It’s good to see you, Livs.”

“Was it worth it?” You asked instead of acknowledging his sentiment. The worst part was that you could feel he actually meant it. “Abandoning the people who cared about you?”

He scoffed slightly, which turned to a cough and more blood spilled out his mouth. “We both know you didn’t- didn’t actually care.”

“I did.” You nodded. You figured it was about time to confess it all, especially if he wasn’t going to live much longer. “Bill, I would’ve… I thought you were going to be the one to bring me back after I lost Matt. I was scared of admitting I loved you because everyone I love gets hurt. I had just lost someone that meant everything to me. I wasn’t going to risk anyone else like that.”

“Do you remember when I said we could get married?” Another small smile.

“Yeah, we were both drunk off our asses.” You chuckled slightly. “You said there was a chapel not too far from Anvil and it’d be fun.”

“You didn’t say no.”

“Because I was trying to decide if it was worth the risk.”

“Livs-“

“Don’t call me that.”

“Livia.” He corrected. “Everything I’ve done to hurt you, I don’t expect you to forgive me.” He spoke with an unexpected genuineness that threw you for a moment. l

A deathbed apology was usually just to clear a guilty conscious in your experience. But Billy said those words knowing you’d be unlikely to forgive him. You felt compelled to hear him out.

“I’m not sorry for what’s happened to you.” You said plainly. “I did love you, Billy Russo, but I mourned that man a long time ago.”

You reached into your pocket and withdrew the watch he had given you. You flipped it over, ran your thumb along his etched initials, then tossed it to him. It landed atop one of many blood stains on his shirt.

“That was one of the last things you gave me.” You explained.

“Why’d you keep it?” He asked, pupils blown wide as he fought to stay. “If you hated me so bad.”

You sighed slightly, your thumb running over the bullet scar. “I guess I used to hope that when I saw you again, you’d look the same. Like you did before everything… I thought I’d see my Billy, not whatever Rawlins made you. But honestly, I’m not even sure what you became.”

Frank came in before Billy could respond. He stood behind you like a guardian taking post. Billy tried to say he was happy Frank was there and apologize, but Frank didn’t let him get the words out. You flinched at the gunshots but said nothing. You felt nothing.

You had already mourned Billy Russo, so seeing his dead body stirred nothing. Just a faint sense of relief at the thought of a threat eliminated.

“You alright?” Frank asked as you two left.

“Yeah.” You nodded slightly.

The night came sooner than you expected and it was time to put an end to the Schultzs’ plans. You didn’t know their son David enough to care about his career or his life falling apart over the pictures. You didn’t even care about the pictures themselves. It was about going after the people who sent someone for you and your family.

So long as they lived, your family’s fate was unknown. You wouldn’t stand for that.

Amy went in first but you refused to let her in alone. You ignored the mask, wanting them to look clearly into the eyes of the woman who’d end them. Frank was beside you while Amy did her talking. You two took post in the next room. angling yourselves for a clear sightline.

When you saw the wife make a move for Amy, you fired your weapon. Your bullet went through her hand and the knife clattered free. Frank’s gunshot came next, blowing a hole through her head.

The husband screamed in terror while you two marched in.

You stood quietly one protective step in front of Amy while Frank made his threats. Amy warned of going to the Bulletin with her evidence. You knew that Karen wouldn’t hesitate to run the story with or without her editor’s approval, and you’d be by her side throughout whatever backlash came from it.

“It’s your choice.” You said flatly, tossing an empty gun to the table. You pulled out a single bullet, examining it thoughtfully as you continued. “You take that gun, put it in your mouth, and blow out the back of your head. Be with your wife.” You looked at the man. Yellow fog surrounded him like a blanket and you smiled. “Or you live. Live with the truth of what you’ve done.”

You carefully placed the bullet on the table before leaving. Amy was right behind you and Frank followed after, a neat line as you left the Schultz estate.

You weren’t even out the driveway when the gun went off.

The last exchange with John was silent, understanding nods before he loaded his sons and left.

The next day, you and Frank were at the bus depot with Amy. She tried to convince Frank to go with her but he refused, saying he didn’t need her on his conscious.

“Does that means he cares?” Amy teased, looking at you with faux shock.

“Even the Grinch’s heart can grow.” You laughed and it got a chuckle out of Frank. “You’re young, Amy. Go have fun, be a kid.”

“I care about you guys, too.” She said genuinely. “I owe you pretty much everything.”

“And you’ll repay me by living your life, okay?” You squeezed her hand.

“Yeah.” She nodded with a forced smile before looking to Frank. “Why did you come after me in the bar that night?”

“The tougher you acted, the more scared you looked.” He shrugged.

“And you?” She focused back on you. “Why’d you stay?”

“You reminded me of someone.” You smiled slightly. “I couldn’t save her, but I could save you…”

You glanced around while Amy and Frank shared a hushed conversation. You caught sight of a familiar figure standing a few benches away. She met your eyes and offered an understanding smile. You nodded and she came closer.

Suddenly, you were pulled into an embrace. One of Amy’s arms was around your neck and the other around Frank. You felt Frank grab onto your arm tightly as Amy was sandwiched between you two. There was a cold chill throughout the embrace and you could hear her sniffles.

“You’ll be okay.” You told her quietly when you pulled away. Gently, you wiped a tear from her cheek.

“She’s lucky to have you.” Amy said sadly. Your brows furrowed and she gave a weak laugh. “June.”

“Take care of yourself.” You smiled sadly.

Frank reached for your hand as Amy went to climb onto the bus. You slid over to sit beside him and a new presence filled your old seat.

“What are you doing here?” You asked her.

“Thought you two would want some company.” June said softly. “Hey, Frank.”

“Hey, Junebug.” He smiled slightly.

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