#my spidery brain: u cannot check fr until u finish the hacker post

[writedayandnight]

u know what’s not a good idea?????? ?? ?? ???? 

deciding that you aren’t cut out for the pressure and anxiety of watching people post in the shifters rp while you’re writing the next post and decide not even to check FR or talk to anyone until you’re done (this decision was made sometime last week i think?) 

and so far the huge ass post introducing the hacker posse mission team is 5k words long, has six different pov changes and needs two more before it’s finished

fav pov written so far under the cut (warnings for choppiness and pre editing)

G sat on the van’s floor near the back, tuning out K’s music and Q’s excited chatter from where the two sat up front, his computer balanced on his knees and was skimming files. He wasn’t sorting through the map of the facility like he was supposed to. He did that until they got into the van and were on their way, since he knew Q could handle the memorization. Besides, they had a long ride ahead of them.

G was flicking through the shifter reports, a scowl twisting his face. What was going on in that facility… it was sick. Torture cleverly disguised as experiments, clinical trials hiding the truth, carefully hidden from the outside world for a reason. It made him glad he brought his bat case with him- doubtful he’d be able to use it, but if he could there was several employees he’d be happy to cave their disgusting heads in. The fact that they were springing an eight year old- a fucking child!- made his vision go red..  G wrapped his rosary around his wrist, tightening it until it dug into his flesh, and breathed.

Lawrence. Achingly human, too much fire and justice blazing in his heart. Not divine justice, no, and not the revenge that kept you warm at night, but the simple belief in the law and the humanity those laws stood for. G has had many arguments with Lawrence, enough to know that the kid was a stubborn son of a bitch, and had a strong conviction and trust in the law that most of the populace lacked. He wondered if the kid was okay. Probably. Lawrence was human, why wouldn’t he be? G couldn’t shake off the uneasiness over the situation, though.

What was the worst that could happen? G remembered the vivid imagery from the Human Centipede and other medical gore movies B’s dragged him to see and frowned, trying to focus on more… realistic outcomes. Namely, Lawrence pissing off some scientist with a screw loose by arguing over ethics, pulling up laws and little codes with enough confidence and drive that made you want to punch him in the face. And then the scientist actually punching him in the face, because Lawrence being disappeared by the fucking government meant that they could get away with damn near anything. He could picture it clear as day- Lawrence outraged, ranting about physical assault charges, abuse of power, kidnapping. “Maybe he didn’t learn his lesson. Hit him again.” Passion, the justice system. “Again.” A shield of laws he crafts around himself like it could actually protect him against the brutality of man. “Again.” Mockery, playful teasing with a sharp bite lurking underneath. “Again.”  Lawrence with a gleam in his eye, never could let the other person have the last word, wiping the blood off his face and saying-

“What’s with the long face, G?” Q was suddenly in front of him, jolting G out of his thoughts. His rosary slipped out of grasp, beads clattering loudly against the van’s metal floor as he straightened reflexively. G glared up into warm brown eyes and shrugged, shoving his rosary into his pocket, not wanting to let on how startled he was.

“Thinking about Lawrence.” He said gruffly, moving his fingers across his keypad to wake up his laptop. The rosary left marks around the back of his hands, but he shoved away the urge to trace them. Q nodded, a thoughtful expression crossing over his face before he crawled closer, settling in next to G’s side, half leaning on the van’s back wall and the other on G’s arm.

“I’m sure he’ll be alright,” Q offered, nudging G’s shoulder with his own. “We have inside sources, remember? They would’ve told us if Lawrence was hurt.” G scowled at Q’s blind optimism, his eyes darting towards the files still opened on his screen.

“Wouldn’t be so sure about that, Q. Seems like some pretty shady shit is going down in there- for all we know, Lawrence has become some (insert max terminology) because he couldn’t keep his trap shut and they decided making him into a punching bag would be better than listening to his True Justice rants all day.” G tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice but didn’t quite succeed. Q shook his head stubbornly anyways, his long hair flying all over the place.

“Becoming a punching bag would only give him more ammunition- man, now I’m kind of feeling sorry for those guys,” Q joked, and G huffed out a laugh, more out of habit than anything. That must have been what Q was looking for because he beamed and opened up his own tablet, burrowing deeper into G’s side.

G reopens the file folders, lingering over the names and faces. Wonders if maybe, after this mission, if when the howling monster inside of him isn’t satisfied, still out for blood (have you ever felt the need for revenge, Lawrence? For vengeance? Has the rage ever kept you warm at night, burning and burning and burning your heart and lungs and throat until all you see is red and old ghosts, close your eyes but you can still hear their screams and there’s only one way to satisfy it, God’s divine justice, Old Testament style baby-)

Wonders if maybe he and his bats could go on a little trip. Wonders how many he could- knock out of the park, heh- in one night. He digs deeper through the files, finding those with minor infractions, notes of violent tendencies and reprimands, those who seem to go a little too far in an already… precarious environment. Those whose experiments were overtly cruel, reporting pain with unfeeling medical terminology. Those without immediate families- kids and spouse, but really he only goes easy on those with kids- get saved into a special folder. Those who were recently let go, paid off, whatever. If they’re still in the area, they’re the highest priority.

Thought you could get away, huh? G grimaced, feeling cold satisfaction rising in him. Thought you could just leave and everything would be fine? That no one would find out about the skeletons in your closet, the people you killed? The people you tortured, you sick fucks? Guess again. I’ll be the one bringing the wrath of God to you. Give you a little taste of exactly where you’ll be going.

Colin Burgess gets placed at the top of his list.

The rosary in his pocket pulses with approval.