#only difference between a cop and a criminal is one gets a badge to murder innocent people

[cobra-creampuff]

trophy is probably most likely, yeah! and i always love stealing being a courtship ritual between thieves. if you're going to propose to a proud and fulfilled career criminal, a stolen diamond is much more romantic than one bought and paid for. well that, and also just the fact that mickey is SO fucking cute when he's excited. we love to see it.

i absolutely do think his hatred of cops extends to pretending to be one. as in, he would do it - to make them look bad lmfao. or, even better, to incriminate them somehow.

as for impersonating for practical reasons, he wouldn't necessarily need to say he's undercover (if he planned ahead of time or happened to be dressed in his Nice Outfit) because detectives wear plain clothes! i mean it's possible uniforms and detectives have different kinds of badges, but if they do i don't know for sure much less how so, so i doubt many people who don't regularly deal with cops would either (and even if that's common knowledge that i happen to be oblivious to, in the magic of fiction land we can simply say: no it isn't).

for example, if he wants access to a restricted area he could flash the badge and say he's after evidence or a suspect or whatever and hopefully be let in, provided of course the doorman doesn't know cops need a warrant for that even though it's not someone's home (actually, i'm kind of trying to remember if he did exactly this to jump the line and/or get in without paying a cover at the club... i can picture it perfectly, but it's unclear if it's a memory or just me putting my little guy into situations).

or he could be trying to get into someone's home! a lot of people don't know or don't remember in the moment to ask for a warrant (though if he did this and, say, used his access to rob them, and he was confident they weren't immediately dangerous to him, i think mickey would tell on himself on his way out - in part to brag about pulling one over on them, but in part to tell them to ask for a fucking warrant next time lmfaoooo).

or he could be at the scene of a crime and say he's there to investigate it, maybe because his getaway got fucked/he didn't do it but he and his priors are stuck in the wrong place at the wrong time and he happened to have the badge on him, or perhaps in order to plant or remove evidence before csi shows up.

but also... i share mick's level of hatred of cops, if not his exact reason(s). cops are arrogant, lazy, incompetent, careless, amoral bullies who never grew out of a middle schooler's self-centered fantasies of grandeur, huge overly sensitive ego, and temper tantrums. every single one has committed egregious judicial misconduct and hate crime with no exception, and if they aren't already a domestic abuser and cold-blooded murderer they almost certainly will be soon - being only a knowing, active accomplice to these is as "good" as a cop can get. and on top of all that they're trained to have a distinct and hugely exaggerated Us vs Them mentality, where Us is all cops who are brave and heroic soldiers fighting for their lives side by side in the trenches, and Them is the wicked and villainous army of Criminals (read: any civilian that, for whatever arbitrary reason the cop so chooses, cannot be classified as a Victim) who have them under ruthless siege 24/7.

like sure, officer carlos'shusband probably did let mickey go as an act of genuine gay solidarity, but realistically it was ALSO because he decided terry was the Criminal (villain) and mickey was the Victim (damsel) AND because he truly cannot be fucked to do any part of his job that doesn't make him feel like rambo. if he ever sees mickey - and actually remembers him - he WILL expect mickey to express gratitude and idolatry for him, with a 50/50 shot of getting aggressive when mickey doesn't. (if this character canonically recurs, i didn't see it and would have thought it was trash garbage.)

so, accounting for the fact that mickey is a relatively gender conforming white man and an experienced liar who improvises well, i actually think he wouldn't have much trouble fooling a real cop with nothing but a fake/stolen badge, a business casual outfit, a light covering of mandy's concealer over his knuckles, and an Us attitude. the only provision is that the cop not recognize mickey personally. beyond that, it's mickey and not the pig who has the odds in his favor.

just rewatched the "MY soap doesn't have pubes on it" scene for clothing reference (i've given up). why does mickey have a police badge in his gun drawer lmfao. is it a fake for impersonation purposes, or is it a fucking trophy ghheigj. anyway i love him.,

[martyrbat]

the man who falls – secret origins (1989)

[ID: a twenty year old Bruce Wayne while on his journey to becoming Batman. In the first picture, Bruce is shaking hands with a recruiting officer for the FBI. Bruce is wearing a pink suit and red striped tie. He's smiling politely and is shown in a lower angle than the older man that's smiling eagerly at him. The narration box says, ‘Bruce entered FBI training.’ In the second photo, Bruce is frowning as he walks down a set of stairs. Behind him is several people in business wear as Bruce is in a brown suit with a green tie. The narration boxes say, ‘He stayed in it for exactly six weeks. During that time, he'd learned much about writing reports, obeying regulations, analyzing statistics, and dressing neatly... And nothing else.’ The last photo is outside of a flying airplane. The narration continues, ‘The experience confirmed a suspicion he'd long had: he could not operate within a system. People who caused other people to fail did not recognize systems. He left for Korea that night.’ END ID]

[fandom-necromancer]

Criminal Romance

This was prompted by an amazing anon! I hope evil!Reed900 and criminal!Reed900 are overlapping enough for this to be what you wanted! Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 (Warnings: Author blatantly brushes over morals and ethics for the sake of the AU, Gavin and Nines are criminals, murder)

‘Damn, you are phcking sexy when you are angry, you know that?’ That made a smile appear on that beautiful face, as Nines was standing hunched over the sink to wash away the blood from his knuckles. ‘I believe you are the only one who reacts to danger by proposing to it.’ ‘Aw, so you finally have decided on an answer?’ Gavin couldn’t hide his excitement and knowing he needed something to do if he didn’t want to bounce around the place, he took the disinfectant wipes and took Nines’ hands. ‘Here, let me.’ He started wiping over the android’s knuckles, careful to get into the ridges between hull plates too as soon as Nines let his skin retract. ‘There, all done’, Gavin murmured, not letting Nines’ hands leave his as he continued caressing them gently. ‘I think I have decided’, the android answered finally. ‘Not that I ever had any doubts, but you know, I had planned to confess my love to you at a perfect moment. Like, right after a chase with the police, when the adrenaline is rushing in your veins and your heart is beating like crazy.’ He grasped Gavin’s hands and pulled the man close. ‘Or during a shootout when we made it just within an inch of our lives.’ He kissed him. ‘Or maybe when we are both tied up in the back of a police car, just moments before breaking our chains and making our escape.’ His thirium pump worked overtime as he saw Gavin’s eyes flutter shut while leaning in for the next kiss, his breathing caught against the android’s lips.

‘You damn romantic’, Gavin whispered and pressed himself flush with Nines’ body. It was when he lifted a leg to hook behind him, that the android chuckled and pressed it down gently. ‘Darling, we still have a body to dispose of.’ ‘Don’t care’, Gavin panted. ‘Police isn’t even searching for him yet. Isn’t even reported missing yet.’ ‘Still, we have to-‘ He was interrupted by another kiss and Nines was just about as annoyed as he was amused. He laughed the moment his mouth was free again and shook his head. ‘Gavin. Come on. Let’s wait until we are home. I’ll dispose of the body, you clean. Then we can continue this. How about that?’ Gavin whined, but stepped back from him, holding him by his coat-tails. ‘Hurry’, He ordered in stern tone and Nines nodded.

They walked back into the room and Nines got to work untying the lifeless body that slumped in his grip. Damn low-life trying to rat them out to the police for a reduced sentence… In Nines’ opinion you either were smart enough to plan your actions so you didn’t get caught, or you owed up to your crimes. Was there no honour in the criminal world? No, Nines had never betrayed someone in his life. He had killed, threatened and robbed, but he had never betrayed his partners. Neither had Gavin, Nines thought, remembering how they had met. Nines, out for revenge for what Cyberlife had done to him, what they had done to other androids, killing off everyone who was responsible for the decisions made. And then Gavin, who had been thrown out of the police for anti-android behaviour and started a small little red-ice business. Nines remembered all too fondly how they had started off as enemies, Gavin accepting Thirium drained from captured androids. He had planned to kill the man for the longest time, but as he had looked death personified into the eyes and just smiled, flirting with him of all things, it had been the first time Nines had changed his mind and offered Gavin to be partners. Since then, Gavin found Nines his victims. Gavin lured in those who were willing to let androids suffer and Nines ended their existence on this planet. It was perfect and no one was able to stop them.

Not even former partners of his human that had suddenly decided that creating drugs from the blood of the dead to make humans addicted to it until it killed them eventually was fine, but they drew the line at taking the shortcut of killing some assholes directly. Nines would have to pay Gavin’s labs a visit after this, reminding them not to dare say a word against his love else they would end just like the body Nines currently carried on his shoulder effortlessly. He smiled to himself thinking of their scared faces and nodded. But first he had to take care of their latest victim.

As he came back, the body neatly cut up and buried deep in several neighbouring fields with enough distance they wouldn’t be able to connect the single pieces if they ever found them, he froze. His eyes were fixed on the police car parked just in front of the building, the officers nowhere in sight. It hadn’t been here before. It had just arrived, the hood still appearing slightly warm in his infra-red vision. And Gavin was still inside, cleaning away the mess they had made. Gavin.

Nines started running. Out of the two of them, Gavin wasn’t the one who was good with careful words. Gavin was the one to manipulate, to be the textbook asshole who threw punches and curses around. Gavin was the one to hide their intentions behind blunt bravado and gather attention. Nines? Nines was the one who made sure all that attention came from the right kind of people and that in the event the wrong people appeared – like they had decided to do now – they had no evidence to go off of. Said simpler, they were a really good team and Nines had left Gavin alone in one of the worst situations he could have. But maybe he wasn’t too late yet.

He slowed down as he heard distant voices and made a point of strolling in as relaxed and calm as possible, even if his systems were running overtime already. He pretended to flinch as if only now realising they weren’t alone. It would help the play, whatever Gavin had already said. ‘Hey, what happened?’, he asked, quickly moving to Gavin’s side. ‘Stop! Don’t move. Put your hands where I can see them!’, one of the two officers ordered sternly, weapon raised. ‘I’m not armed’, Nines said, otherwise complied. He was near enough to Gavin to jump in front of him or grab him to pull him away. He was safe. Gavin turned his head around to him, his arms still risen. ‘They found us.’ Nines remembered their codes. “Found” was something different to “caught” or “got”. “Found” was good. It meant they didn’t have a clue, just caught them somewhere they weren’t supposed to be. “Caught” would mean they had seen something and “they got us” would be the signal for Nines to come up with an escape plan that left no witnesses.

So, he relaxed a bit. ‘Are you from the police?’, Nines asked innocently. ‘Yes, DPD! And who are you?’ ‘May I see your badges?’, the android tried. Both officers showed them without taking the gun down. ‘There. Now answer the question.’ ‘I’m a RK900 unit. My name is Nines.’ The android had looked up their IDs and badge number. They were real cops and were currently stationed at the precinct Gavin had formerly worked at. It was safer to use their real names in case someone recognised them or they had to follow them to the station. Nines’ scan from the room returned him nothing, Gavin had done his job well. Maybe this time playing innocent and just relaying on the laziness of others might be the safest bet. ‘My name is Gavin Reed’, Gavin followed his example. ‘Gavin Reed? Like the Detective?’ Gavin sighed. He was still salty about having lost his job. Nines was quite glad about it as the human would have without doubt long caught up with his doings. ‘Yeah. Got kicked out because of anti-android bullshit.’

‘Sir, has he done anything to you?’, the officer that had kept in the background until now asked. ‘Excuse me?’ Nines would have laughed hadn’t he been deeply offended by the assumption. ‘No’, he answered, looking down on the humans. ‘And considering I plan to propose in the near future, I doubt it will be very likely.’ ‘Alright, why were you here? As a former Detective, you do know, this is breaking and entering, right?’ ‘Is it really breaking and entering, if we didn’t break in?’, Nines asked and Gavin backed him up: ‘Yeah, we drive by this place almost every day and wanted to know what’s inside. We checked, this building doesn’t belong to anyone anymore.’ ‘So you are just exploring?’ ‘That’s right.’ ‘Then where’s your third man?’ ‘Third man?’ ‘Yes, you were going inside with someone else, now you are only two.’

Nines alarm went off. They had been watching. They had seen the person that was now dead. Gavin likely hadn’t had a chance to dispose of the bloodied tarp and his cleaning supplies yet. A thoroughly search would without doubt lead them onto their trail. And although the police would never be able to prove they had committed all their murders, at least this last one they would be punished for. Outwardly he only smiled and shrugged. ��We were alone. I don’t know if someone followed us, but it was just us two.’ ‘Yeah, right’, the officer said, little convinced. ‘I would like to take you two with us to the station for further questioning. We have a few cases where the suspects’ descriptions fit well enough with you.’

Gavin and Nines stared at each other and Nines shrugged. He couldn’t think of any reason why they could be suspicious to the police, but that was what made it all the more important to go with them to the station. Nines was sure they would have to let them go for lack of evidence anyways, so it was best to comply and play their part instead of making a scene. Might as well find out how much the authorities knew of them. ‘Alright’, Nines took the lead and hoped Gavin wouldn’t make a fuss. ‘But we have to be home before eight o’clock, else his cat will start dismantling the flat.’ ‘That’s entirely up to you.’

~

‘Where were you on the third October 2039?’ They were sitting in different interrogation rooms and while Nines was waiting for someone to ask him questions, Gavin was already prodded. Nines had allowed himself into the room’s systems and could hear every word from the intercom and see through the cameras mounted on the walls. Other than Nines Gavin really had to think back and try to remember what had happened that day. But even then, Nines saw recognition on his face far earlier than he showed it to the officer in front of him. ‘Pffff, I don’t really remember. That’s how many years ago? Five? Six? I had been kicked out of the DPD and looked for a job at that time. Didn’t find one right away, apparently being fired by the police isn’t the best way to find a new job quickly.’ ‘Which you haven’t until this very day, although you have regular income.’ ‘I’m a freelancer. Private security, one day here the next over there, you know? I’m still looking for a real job.’ ‘So, the sudden rise in Red Ice trade and cases of missing androids are not in any way connected to you?’ The officer sitting opposite to Gavin had leaned back in the chair and let the files fall on the table with an audible slap. Nines listened very intently. That was from before they had met, before they had had each other’s backs. How on earth had the police been diligent enough to do follow ups on something this long ago?

Gavin just laughed; his obviously heightened stress levels well hidden. ‘Hey, don’t complain about that if you throw out one of the best detectives you had, especially one that worked his ass off to get these cases closed. Hell, likely some new gang that uses the thirium from these units to skip a lot of the production costs. Really, that sounds like an easy case. And you haven’t solved that one yet?’ Nines relaxed. He didn’t know whether leading someone on their trail was a good idea, but he trusted Gavin to choose the right action and angering the officer might just work. ‘Okay, I’ll ring up a few contacts and see if they can recognise you’, the officer grumbled. ‘For now, that’s it, my colleague will lead you out.’

~

When the door opened, Nines made a show of looking completely unperturbed. ‘Letting me wait? Let me tell you that tactic isn’t as effective as it is with humans.’ The officer threw him a look. ‘Well, we are just understaffed, that’s all.’ ‘Shouldn’t have fired my partner then’, Nines hit into the same spot Gavin had just minutes before. It worked wonders. ‘Listen, this is about you and whether or not you will be arrested. We have a bunch of dead Cyberlife personnel that where involved with the development of your series.’ ‘Really?’, Nines asked. ‘That’s too bad. I never really liked them, I mean I guess no deviant likes the people that thought of them as objects. But I am perfectly content with creating a brighter future. I don’t like looking back on what happened.’ Not really a lie. He was indeed creating a better future by making sure these monsters would never be able to lay hands on an android again. ‘Sure. That’s why people disappear that worked in complete secrecy on your line? Not even their families knew what they were working on.’ ‘Maybe whoever is killing these people got their hands on a Cyberlife pay-check? I am no cop, but I’d say you should look into the higher ups of Cyberlife itself.’ ‘That we already did and there is no motive. One, two, maybe. Not forty-three.’

Nines would have swallowed hadn’t he been observed. How had they managed to find all his kills and managed to connect them back to him? ‘Well, that is no evidence. Why should I kill them? I wasn’t a deviant back then. You have no reason to believe I did this.’ ‘We have, actually. One of the persons the killer missed had fled the country seeing what happened to his colleagues. He informed us and pointed us your way, telling us how you swore to kill every last one of the people who held you at that lab.’ So the fucker had fled the country. That’s the reason Nines never managed to find him. Good to know. ‘I have sworn that’, Nines admitted. What else could he do? ‘Multiple times even. But that doesn’t mean I would do that. If you knew what they did to me, you would understand what drove me to say that. But now the situation is different. One careless word delivered by someone who fled the country isn’t enough to arrest me.’ ‘No, but enough to keep you here for further questioning. I will lead you back to the cell until the officers responsible for this case have arrived.’

~

Nines joined Gavin on the bench, watching how the door was locked and the officer walked away, likely to make some phone calls. Both of them knew they hadn’t been as invulnerable as they had thought, and the lasting expectant silence was weighing down on them. >It doesn’t look too good. Nines eventually displayed on his palm for the other to see. Gavin leaned against him and whispered in his ear: ‘Yeah, it really doesn’t.’ >We need to get out of here. Gavin nodded and shrugged, enough for Nines to understand he agreed but had his doubts it would work. The android smiled. >Thanks to the police I have located my last target. The only loose end. ‘Really? Where?’ As an answer, Nines pulled up a tourist brochure of Indonesia. >How about a vacation until things have settled? Gavin smiled at him, taking Nines’ hand and stood up after him. Just before Nines laid his hand at the door and started hacking, Gavin leaned in tiptoeing, so he could press a kiss on his neck. ‘Seems you do get your romantic moment after all’, Gavin whispered amusedly, and Nines answered by opening the door. Shortly after an alarm blared and they found themselves surrounded by chaos, sudden gunshots and screams. That would be indeed make for the perfect moment.

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #19- Ambulon and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

We got a major reveal at the end of last issue, and now it’s time to put the rest of the pieces together so we can finally understand the mystery that is the Ultra Magnus situation.

So back when Magnus’ seemingly lifeless body stole a shuttle, fucked off into space and landed on the moon, Tyrest was there to greet him.

And by “greet him”, I mean punch through the windshield and carry him bridal style, as if he weighed no more than a baby bird, into his moon base.

Pharma did his thing with his crazy new hands, Magnus was saved, and he woke up shortly after his lifesaving operation. Then Tyrest punched Magnus in the face, because fuck the healing process. He’s an engineer, not a doctor, he doesn’t deal with the SOUL and FEELINGS or anything like that.

In the here and now, Rodimus is still trying to comprehend the fact that his SIC isn’t dead, and is also actually another, much smaller guy with a mustache. Minimus Ambus attempts to explain just what the hell is going on, and we get back to our flashback.

After some good old-fashioned face violence, Tyrest showed Magnus around the place, specifically the terminal he’d set up for his on-the-fly, real-time law amending. With how many war crimes the Cybertronian race has committed in the last several million years, I’m sure it was needed.

Dang, wonder who pissed off Big Brother.

Magnus is more concerned about how it is exactly he isn’t dead right now, and also why his boss looks like a swiss cheese party platter.

Turns out that Tyrest isn’t actually mad at Magnus, just disappointed. He went and read his diary while the operation was happening, and in the 18 months that the Knight Quest has been running, Tyrest has deemed the work done to be unsatisfactory. Instead of arresting criminals, Magnus had been handling infractions so minor, most people wouldn’t have even noticed them. Tyrest doesn’t know where he went wrong.

Well, Tyrest, it was probably the anxiety that manifested itself as OCD, because you picked someone without factoring what the end of the war might do to them. Magnus needs structure to flourish, and if he cannot find it, he will make it himself. I mean, look at all this:

No wonder he was struggling on the chaos engine that is the Lost Light.

Still, Tyrest wants nothing to do with someone who’s cracked under the pressure (lack of pressure?) and the deal was that Magnus only got to be Magnus if he did what Tyrest wanted. Tyrest divests him with the literal push of a button.

Good grief, he’s naked!

As Minimus Ambus mourns over the loss of his stature, both literal and position-wise, we get back to the present, in a double-page spread no less, as Minimus tells everyone about the storied history of the Magnus Armor. Ultra Magnus was originally an actual person, but then he died, and Tyrest was kind of bummed out about that, so he decided to make up a lie (lying, while perhaps morally dubious is not illegal, so he’s allowed to do that) that Magnus faked his death, and then built the armor. There were at least a few wearers of the armor prior to Minimus, some of who were even known by the other crew members. Whenever someone got offed, their hand would spasm and press a recall button in their palm, which would bring the Magnus Armor, and the dead body inside, back to Tyrest.

You can tell he’s still real shaken up about losing the Magnus Armor, because he’s truncating his words. Poor guy.

Minimus asks what exactly happened after he got stabbed, seeing as he was too busy dying to really pay attention to the Overlord plot. Rodimus tells him it’s been handled. Brainstorm jumps in, wanting to know about the other things on Minimus’ resume, which leads into Minimus revealing the fact that he is a Point One Percenter, and something known as a Load Bearer. Load Bearers circumvent that niggling little issue that we saw presented in the “Shadowplay” arc, where spark strain due to not being able to handle a different frame type would outright kill you. Minimus doesn’t have that problem.

Tailgate wants to know how exactly it is that Minimus isn’t dead, seeing as he was clearly on his way out prior to his grand theft auto. Tailgate may have a personal interest in that sort of information, what with still being terminal and all.

Everyone’s real handsy this issue.

Minimus lets Tailgate know that Tyrest’s medical equipment is off the hook, and we get a reminder that Tailgate’s got basically a day left to live. Harsh, Roberts.

Back in Minimus’ flashback, Tyrest sort-of apologizes for punching him in the face, and laments on the loss of one of his greatest Enforcers of the Tyrest Accord.

Oh, so you DID know that this was a possibility, and instead of ordering your subordinate to go make that follow-up appointment with the only therapist on Cybertron- which, while being borderline sectioning, would have at least kept Minimus from sending emails to Rodimus about how he was spiraling- you just let it happen. The Vector Sigma pulse wave went all over the galaxy, there’s zero possibility you didn’t hear about the end of the war before Magnus loaded up on the Lost Light and didn’t call for a year and a half.

Anyway, so Tyrest’s got a new Enforcer lined up, seeing as he’s going to retire the Magnus Armor after all the shenanigans Minimus got dragged through while wearing it. Let’s see what we’re working with.

I thought we were supposed to have separation of church and state, what the hell?

In the present, Rodimus has questions, mainly about why there are so many people in this prison cell. Minimus admits that he asked to be put in here, to try and prove Rodimus and friends’ innocence on the charge of harboring a criminal, by recording their conversation and proving that they had no idea what SKIDS deal was.

Yep, Skids did a bad, and Tyrest wants him in jail.

Minimus also drops the bomb that everyone else in this cell is going to get he death penalty for that whole “crimes against creation” thing. I mean, all Tyrest has to do is wait for a little while and Tailgate will be dealt with, no sweat.

Minimus pulls a device out of his hip compartment, uses it to disrupt the electro-bars of the cell (it’s cool, he was an undercover cop for this whole thing and can therefore break out of prison without it being a crime), and goes to have a chat with his boss about all the weird new stuff he’s shoved into the Autobot Code in the last year and a half. Rodimus doesn’t really want him to leave, but there’s no time for that, because the cell just got a little more full.

Uh oh, Swerve’s badge has gone missing again. Rung, why don’t you slap yours on his crotch, that way Minimus won’t try to murder him when he gets back?

While this is happening, Whirl and Cyclonus are standing on the rim of a smelting pool, absolutely not having a dick measuring contest.

Luna 1 said Bi Rights.

There’s a structure built over the pool that looks an awful lot like living quarters, but is probably actually a prison that violates the Geneva convention. Whirl suggests they find some weapons and go hog-wild, but Cyclonus is more concerned about finding something. When Whirl asks what in the hell he could possibly be looking for in this sort of crisis, Cyclonus turns into a moody teenager.

Well, at least he’s respecting Tailgate’s wish to keep his looming demise under wraps. Not that Cyclonus tells anyone anything anyway.

Over in the Luna 1 medibay, Ratchet is being subjected to having his very fucking soul threatened with a paring knife. Pharma’s having what probably an inappropriate amount of fun, especially since he’s realized that Ratchet took his goddamn hands after the shitshow that was Delphi.

It turns out that every single piece of tech that Ultra Magnus ever repossessed is floating around on Luna 1, even the stuff that really ought to have been destroyed. This is why they were able to save Magnus from certain death at the start of the issue. Somehow I’m not surprised that Tyrest kept all those toys for himself. Corruption of an authority figure? In my Cybertronian Justice System? It’s more likely than you think.

Some of the little art quirks in MTMTE are added in by Milne- see Brainstorm holding any handgun ever if you’d like an example- but I know for a FACT that Pharma humping Ratchet’s headless body was specified by Roberts.

Ratchet, unimpressed and likely mildly queasy by the display going on before him, proposes that Pharma’s afraid of failure, which is why he hasn’t taken his hands back. Pharma disagrees, and a wager is set to see who the better doctor is- winner gets to keep the hands.

Over with the fly boys, alarms are going off in a deserted building, as Whirl struggles to open a door with his claws. Cyclonus takes over on door duty, and asks why Whirl hasn’t gotten his shit fixed yet.

Whirl’s worried that if he gets help for his trauma, he’s going to lose a huge part of himself as a person, and then where will he be? Of course, he says it in a much more Whirly fashion, full of vitriolic self-blame, but reading between the lines is fun. Whirl fires the “let’s get into each other’s personal issues even though both of us hate talking about ourselves and also each other” missile right back at Cyclonus. He wants to know about Cyclonus’ facial situation.

Cyclonus doesn’t like this question.

Then he gets stabbed with a sword.

Back with the docs, it’s apparently much later, as Ratchet’s just woken up from surgery and has a body again. He gets up from the operating table and finds that Pharma’s gone ahead with setting up their gentleman’s wager.

First Aid seems less than pleased with the current situation. Ambulon’s arms are long as hell in this panel, and he doesn’t seem entirely present in the moment. Maybe he’s practicing Rungian Re-Experience Therapy.

Pharma wants to cut both of the boys in half to see who can put the pieces together back the fastest. Ratchet tries to deescalate the situation, because he’s usually pretty good at it, but Pharma’s set on using his chainsaw attachment on someone today.

Ratchet attempts to console his coworkers, saying that their Springer-on-Pova treatment be over soon, and they’ll get a nice lollipop at the end for being such brave little robots.

Then Pharma cuts Ambulon in half, in a way that Ratchet hadn’t accounted for.

We’re gonna need a little more than some bandaids and a kiss to make it feel better for this one. It’s amazing what censorship laws will let you get away with when the blood isn’t red.

Speaking of blood, Cyclonus is more or less okay with being stabbed, because Whirl did him a solid and chopped his assailant in half- lengthways- with a super sweet sword he found in the armory they just opened up. Cyclonus pulls the blade out of his midriff and we finally find out what happened to the Circle of Light.

Back in the prison cell, Perceptor’s been given the job of doctor, even though Rung, Swerve, and Chromedome are all here and at least somewhat closer to being general practice doctors than our science sniper.

Seems like Swerve filled everyone in on the situation on the Lost Light off-panel, which is good, because they’ve been in the dark up to this point.

Chromedome hypothesizes that the reason Skids is a wanted man has to do with that mysterious gun he was holding when he fell out of the sky all the way back in issue #2. This is the point where Skids wakes up from his stabbing and admits that this is probably what happened, even though he still has no recollection of ever stealing the gun or even it existing up until he entered the story, but he apologizes for the trouble anyway.

Shh.  Someone’s coming down the corridor. It’s Star Saber, and he’s brought yet another prisoner to stuff in this cell.

And there’s something else. Can you hear it?

Is… is that music?

Are those the beginning synth riffs of “Tainted Love" by Soft Cell?

Over with Minimus, we’re treated to a taste of Tyrest’s personal brand of disinterest, then get a quick run-down of the birds and the bees. The forging process is a little more convoluted than originally implied, needing Primus to send out a pulse wave through Vector Sigma in order for the Hot Spots to be ignited.

Then the pulse waves started to slow down, Nova Prime had a little freak out, and cold construction was invented to prevent the Cybertronian race from becoming an endangered species.

Minimus of course knows all of this, because he, like basically half of the cast of MTMTE, is old as shit. What he DOESN’T know is that cold construction isn’t managed the way that anyone thought that it was, because there was a government coverup going on about the whole thing. You don’t splice sparks to make a new one, you use the Matrix to create new life.

I know, it’s crazy.

Tyrest was on the team that fiddled around with the Matrix until it started spitting out robot zygotes, and he’s now convinced that they bled the Matrix dry. Nobody tell him what happened to the thing after the war ended.

Wait. If the pulse waves have stopped, and the Matrix is busted beyond repair, doesn’t that mean they can’t make any more Transformers? Once they finish up on their stockpile of sparks, that’s it. No more. The Transformers are a protected species now, we’ve got to treat them like giant pandas.

One of his team members stole the Matrix and hid it in the black market, so its strange, mystical baby powers could never be used again. Except someone obviously found it later on, because we have half of it on the Lost Light. Minimus isn’t sure why any of this is actually relevant to the current situation, or why Tyrest feels guilty about pulling a Eugenesis Fulcrum and finding out where babies come from.

Tyrest is convinced that by draining the Matrix, his team somehow corrupted it, and all the sparks made by this corrupted Matrix are straying further and further from Primus. This is why Rodimus and friends have been charged with crimes against creation- some of their party were created in a way that predisposes them to crime. Or so Tyrest thinks.

I thought we were supposed to have separation of church and state, what the hell? This is still the same guy who was appointed as Chief Justice by the space pope because of his levelheadedness, right?

Yes, actually, but this sudden flip in priorities and personality has been induced by the guilt he felt during the Aequitas trials. Tyrest turned to self harm to deal with the weight of it all, and one day tried to go for what in most species would have been a suicide, by drilling with his drill fingers into the spot between his eyes. Instead, he most likely gave himself a lobotomy and became a religious zealot, fully believing that the gods are real, and he can go visit them by using his super-cool space portal.

Outside the moon base, Whirl and Cyclonus have freed the Circle of Light, and everyone’s ready to kick some ass. Both the fly boys have found themselves a Great Sword to play with, further cementing Cyclonus as our replacement Drift. Rodimus will be so thrilled.

Dai Atlas, the leader of the Circle of Light, tells our boys that there used to be a lot more of his group, but a lot of folks ended up being used to build Legislators.

Hm. I’m sure that’ll never be brought up again, and won’t paint future events in a much darker light. Nope. Absolutely not.

Cyclonus thinks that they need to get a move on, because if that sort of horrific shit can happen to the Circle of Light, it can also happen to Tailgate and the others. He does specifically name Tailgate in his dialogue, but it’s not like he actually cares about the guy, right? Feelings are for nerds.

Then the Legislators show up and it’s party time.

Wonder how that’s going to work out for you, Whirl.

Back with Tyrest, it’s revealed that Tyrest’s plan has a small snag- only people completely absolved of their guilt can go to Cyberutopia to hang out with Primus and the gang, and Tyrest is feeling awful guilty. Not about his weird space-eugenics thing, but about inventing cold construction. Now, how in the world is he going to handle this?

By committing a genocide.

Minimus is, understandably, not a fan of this plan. Tyrest had anticipated that the Universal Killswitch wouldn’t be universally appreciated, and has some of the new law come into play.

And that’s a series wrap on Minimus Ambus! Let’s give him a hand, folks!

[martyrbat]

[ID: a collection of Jason Todd being against the police:

IMAGE ONE: Batman and Jason's first meeting. Jason got caught stealing the tires from the Batmobile and Batman chased him into an alleyway. He's holding twelve year old Jason up by his red hoodie as Jason tells him, "You want to beat up on a kid, go enlist in the G.C.P.D like every other bully in this city."

IMAGE TWO: Batman and Jason returning said tires. Jason is rolling one and has his head slightly down. Batman carries another and is looking at him with concern, having just learnt that Jason is homeless. Jason asks, "You're gonna fink to the cops, huh? Figures." Batman responds, "Not the cops. I think we do have to tell juvenile authorities about you..."

IMAGE THREE: Batman and Jason talking after Jason just saved Batman's life and helped stopped a heist. Batman is tying up the criminals they stopped and asks him, "What are you doing here, son?" Jason replies, "I didn't think you believed me about the museum heist - somebody had to stop it." Batman points out he could of called the cops which Jason argues, "I'm no stoolie - besides, where's the fun in that?" He asks Jason how'd he got in as he opens the door to leave. Jason trails along behind him and answers, "Same as you - skylight. Saw your Bat Buggy parked out back." Batman jokes, "I see my wheels are intact-" as police sirens are getting closer. Jason asks, "Hey, can I split before the cops show?"

IMAGE FOUR: Seventeen year old Jason defusing a bomb on the Westminster bridge. A cop is approaching him from behind and orders, "Get that bike off the walk now." Jason tells him to be quiet, spurring the cop to threaten, "'ey, yank. I'm not tellin' you twice. Get the bike off the pavement before I-" He cuts himself short as Jason points a gun at him without looking. He says, "Hush up, constable. Daddy's busy." The off panel cop says bloody hell and Jason mocks, 'Yeah 'bloody hell', 'bollocks' and 'bob's yer uncle.' Back the hell up twenty feet. I need both hands to do this and I can't keep the gun trained on you."

IMAGE FIVE: Jason as Red Hood jumping down on a cop's car, smashing the light and windshield on impact. The narrative box reads, "Dax and Red Hood will cause a bit of fuss at G.C.P.D precinct 19, see what comes after them."

IMAGE SIX: Eighteen year old Jason looking over his shoulder with panic at hearing a cop's siren. He leans against a brick wall as nonchalantly as he can to blend in. It speeds past him and Jason breathes out a sigh of relief.

IMAGE SEVEN: a gif of lego Red Hood from the video game Lego DC Super Villains. He's holding a gun in each hand and hits a cop with the barrel of it.

IMAGE EIGHT: a gif of Jason from the animated movie A Death in the Family. He's fighting a cop after he just killed the Joker in a diner. The cop is on the ground and pulls his gun on Jason, causing the vigilante to simply kick it out of his hand. He springs up with a clenched fist, about to punch him before Jason pulls a gun nonchalantly on him. The cop freezes with his hands out as Jason's gaze shifts to the gun in his hand and then back at the cop's face. He suddenly decks the cop instead, causing him to collapse. We see two cops unconscious bodies and the Joker's corpse on the ground as Jason stands alone. END ID]

Jason Todd + cops

[aion-rsa]

Line of Duty: the Best Crime Thrillers to Watch Next

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Line of Duty is over, perhaps for good. It’s time to dismantle that evidence wall, file the exhibits away, and close the door on AC-12. With H unmasked, we can all rest our adrenal glands and get back to a healthy, Jimmy Nesbitt-free sleep pattern.

Once that’s achieved, if you start to feel the itch for more seismic shocks and sleights-of-hand, here are a few suggestions of what to watch next – eight TV thrillers that provide similar doses of double-dealing, truth-concealing, witness-squealing, case-breaking shenanigans. Add your own recommendations below!  

Bodyguard

Bodyguard proved that there was life after the Red Wedding for Richard Madden. His performance as  David Budd, a former combat soldier living a new – and equally dangerous – life as a Principal Protection Officer (PPO) in the London Met deservedly netted him a Golden Globe and a Scottish Bafta award.

Budd’s job protecting the abrasive yet vulnerable British Home Secretary Julia Montague (Keeley Hawes) is complicated by their conflicting ideologies, Budd’s fractured home-life and PTSD, and a wide-ranging conspiracy that brings together Islamic terrorism, organised crime, intra-governmental malfeasance and dodgy cops.  Be prepared to watch from behind half-closed eyes, wincing in anticipation of the oblivion that’s promised around almost every corner.

Bodyguard has the kinetic ferocity and explosive twists of 24; the grim and gritty characterisation of a Jimmy McGovern project; and the ‘Oh my God it was them along… or was it?’ twists of Line of Duty, which follows as it was also created by Jed Mercurio and World Productions.

Watch on: Netflix UK

The Americans

What if you were so deeply embedded with your enemies that you were indistinguishable from them, both inside and out, and even started to become increasingly disillusioned about what side you were supposed to be on? That’s the central conceit of FX’s slick and superlative spy drama The Americans, set in Washington DC during the height of the Cold War. Russian operatives Philip and Elizabeth Jennings have fake pasts and fake identities, but they also have very real American teenage children, who have been raised oblivious to the devastating secret thumping Poe-like in their parents’  hearts. Other shows trading in similar tropes may well deal in deception and corruption, but the cross that the Jennings have to bear in the name of ideology makes even the biggest conspiracies in Line of Duty and Bodyguard seem like a fib told by a child to avoid punishment for stealing freshly-baked muffins from their mother’s windowsill.

The heat on the Jennings is turned up even further when an FBI agent tasked with uncovering Russian agents moves next door with his family; further still when the two families become friends, further blurring the lines between truth, lies, identity and loyalty.

Whom do you trust when you can’t even trust yourself? 

Watch it on: Amazon Prime Video UK (available to purchase)

Edge of Darkness (1985)

Edge of Darkness is steeped in the same Thatcher-tainted, Reagan-ruled, greed-is-good, hyper-capitalist era as The Americans, but is a contemporaneous piece rather than a period piece, having debuted in 1985. 

The tragic tale follows tortured policeman Ronald Craven (Bob Peck) as he tries to unravel the truth behind his eco-activist daughter’s murder, while he himself starts to unravel in a sea of lies, half-truths, hard truths and shifting allegiances. Craven snakes his way through a colourful cast of misfits, agitators, loudmouths, snobs, yobs and psychopaths, as the battle for power – nuclear, economic, hegemonic – and perhaps the survival of the earth itself, swirls and dances and ricochets around him.

It’s a series that’s unafraid to immerse the viewer in complexity; leaving them to fathom the ever-morphing labyrinth of motivations and revelations on their own; leaning heavily into ambiguity whenever it serves the shape and tone of the story. Often, the viewer is left as bemused and perplexed as Craven himself in the face of this deadly puzzle, but they will still find themselves – also like Craven – unable and unwilling to rest until the pieces fit together.          

The late Bob Peck – whom many will only know as the game keeper from Jurassic Park, who utters his memorable final line, ‘Clever girl…’, seconds before becoming a velociraptor hors d’oeuvre – puts in a mesmerising, career-defining performance as Craven, effortlessly embodying the full gamut of the man’s grief, guilt, obsession, melancholy and mania. Craven seems at once mythical and otherworldly, and yet solidly, painfully, exquisitely human.

Watch on: Amazon Prime Video UK (available to purchase)

The Shield

“Good cop and bad cop left for the day. I’m a different kind of cop.”

So says LA Detective Vic Mackey (Michael Chiklis) seconds before demonstrating his no-holds-barred interrogation technique to an obfuscating paedophile. It’s not that Vic considers himself above the law, more that everybody else is below his. He often does the right things for the wrong reasons, or in the wrong way, or the wrong things for the right reasons. Or at least for reasons that he thinks are right. And he’s got a justification for everything, from bribing fellow officers, to partnering with organised criminals, to even murdering suspects.

Impossibly corrupt, relentlessly self-righteous, fearless to the point of psychopathy, Vic is the badge-wearing heir apparent to Tony Soprano, but burdened with little of the gabagool-guzzler’s guilt. Viewers are left under no illusions about the lengths Vic will go to protect himself and his kingdom, nor about the sort of show they’re watching, when at the close of the first episode he executes an officer who has been placed in his Strike Team to investigate his corruption, framing a similarly deceased drug kingpin for the crime.

So begins the toxic, spreading rot of secrets, lies and double-dealings, each action an effort to cover over and stay a step ahead of the misdeed before. Vic’s three-man Strike Team would follow him into Hell, which is just as well, because that’s exactly where he leads them, along with his family, and anyone who ever associated with or went toe-to-toe against him. The Shield begins as a punchy, kinetic pop-corn spectacle of a series, but slowly evolves into an almost Shakespearian tragedy, rich in sadness, sacrifice and betrayal. The final act – hell, the final few seasons – will leave you in no doubt as to The Shield‘s place in the pantheon of small-screen greats.    

Watch on: All4 (UK)

Read more

TV

Celebrating Jimmy McGovern’s Cracker

By Jamie Andrew

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Line of Duty Series 6 Episode 7 Review: H Unmasked At Last

By Louisa Mellor

Dexter

If Internal Affairs set up an office in the Miami Metro Police Department, the last person they’d suspect of foul play would be the handsome, unfailingly polite blood-spatter analyst Dexter Morgan, doyen of the Homicide bowling team and daily bringer of doughnuts. Whereas Vic Mackey flaunts his corruption in plain sight, Dexter has to stay in the shadows. Dexter’s corruption is a little more extreme than Vic’s: he’s a highly active serial killer. That he only kills according to a strict ethical code – only other murderers, and only those who’d escaped, or would escape, justice by more legitimate means – makes him a complex, compassionate and compelling figure, one with whom we sympathise easily: perhaps too easily. Dexter makes us complicit by proxy. We find ourselves rooting for a serial killer, hopelessly lost in the hedge-maze of his amorality.

Dexter’s relationships with his sister, Deborah (Jennifer Carter) – a detective at his precinct – and Rita (Julie Benz) – first his girlfriend, then his wife and eventually mother of his son – are his only toe-holds on humanity, which is why the show regularly has them dancing on the edge of his dark secret. No more so than when Dexter has to help the department investigate the crimes of a serial killer the media dubs The Bay Harbor Butcher, a serial killer who just happens to be… Dexter.

While it’s true that Dexter came to a perfect natural conclusion after four great seasons, it’s also true that it limped on for another four seasons after that, capped by a finale that is quite possibly one of the weakest and worst of any drama series ever made. Thankfully, it’s coming back for a ninth season later this year, hopefully to right past wrongs.   

Watch on: NOW (UK)

Cracker

If you only know the larger-than-life Robbie Coltrane as the much-larger-than-life Hagrid in the Harry Potter series, you’d do well to check out the mid-90s UK crime-series Cracker, and see Coltrane at his most searing, endearing, dangerous and iconic. Here he plays Eddie ‘Fitz’ Fitzgerald – quite simply the role he was born to play – a sharp-witted, full-blooded, foul-mouthed, fast-living psychologist who impresses (and largely imposes) his way into a consulting gig with the Manchester Police, helping them to solve their more grizzly and unusual crimes. The storyline that sees Fitz investigating one of ‘his’ own is perhaps its most harrowing and heart-breaking – a network of tragedies dovetailing into one other – with a denouement that casts a long, sad shadow over the rest of the series.

Warning: If you are a Harry Potter fan, and you decide to watch Cracker, do take the time to psychologically prepare yourself for the sight of Hagrid in bed with Harry Potter’s mum.  

Watch on: Britbox (UK)   

Luther

Detective John Luther (Idris Elba) has the presence of a bear, the heart of a lion, and the mind of Columbo. With his razor-sharp stare, long, lived-in coat and propensity to stick his neck precisely where it’s needed but never wanted, Luther’s ‘Oh, one more thing’ is just as likely to be a fist as it is a verbal death-blow.

Over the course of five seasons Luther is betrayed by those closest to him, mangled by loss, framed for murder and even strikes up an unusual but oddly touching relationship with a serial killer. It’s electric, captivating TV, and Idris Elba wears and lives Luther’s rage, sadness, regret and fuck-you-ness so intensely that you won’t be able to draw your eyes away from him. A barnstormer all round.

Watch on: BBC iPlayer (UK)      

State of Play

The cast-list alone is enough to commend this early 2000s conspiracy thriller: John Simm, Philip Glenister (prior to the duo teaming up in Life on Mars), David Morrissey, James McAvoy, Bill Nighy, Amelia Bullmore, and Line of Duty‘s own Kelly MacDonald. Thankfully, almost everything else about this mini-series also screams excellence, especially the crackling, incisive and deeply honest writing from Clocking Off, Cracker and Shameless-stalwart Paul Abbott.

State of Play follows a group of journalists as they stumble onto the greatest story of their lives – ministerial corruption, contract killings, corporate greed, industrial espionage, illicit affairs – that pits the police, the government, and even their own friends and loved ones against them. It’s a twisting, turning, shifting, shocker of a masterpiece: a true titan of the genre. 

Watch on: Amazon Prime Video UK (available to purchase)

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Line of Duty series one to six are available to stream now on BBC iPlayer.

The post Line of Duty: the Best Crime Thrillers to Watch Next appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[zoequeenz]

Compulsion (Part 1)

A/N: SO, a little bit of this chapter and all of the pilot is a bit different from how I have written some of the newer chapters. It is a bit funky but I like to say I have changed it and now have a better writing style. I would also like to mention there is a flashback at the beginning that is why the first part is a little odd. Enjoy :)

MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS CHAPTER 

(TRIGGER WARNING: mentions sexual assault)

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Previously on Criminal Minds…

‘Anyone recognize these faces?’

‘Victims of the footpath killer”

“That’s what Virginia newspapers are calling him.”

“We refer to him at the “unknown subject” or “Unsub.”

“I told Virginia P.D., they’re looking for a white male in his 20’s, who owns an american-made truck, works a menial job.”

“I told ‘em when you find him, don’t be surprised to hear him speak with a severe stutter.”

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(Jason Gideon’s POV) (Still in flashback)

I had just finished paying for my gas and I knew I had caught him.

“Have a n-i-nice day.” stuttered the Footpath Killer.

I then walk out, only to be followed.

“The gun.”

“T-ta-take out the gun.” he demands in a non-threatening voice. But I do.

“Th-throw it.” he says.

“Any particular direction?” I ask. He then hits the back of my knee sending me to the floor. He takes me inside then slams me up against a wall.

“Who-who are y-”

“Who are you?”

Who are you?” he asks over and over.

“FBI.” I admit.

“T-t-t”

“Take out your w- your w-wallet.” he demands and I do.

“Wh-what- what do you kn-.”

“What do you know?” he asked.

“About you?” I question.

“Or about the people you’ve murdered?”

“I know a lot about you. I know how you do it. I know you can’t stop. And I know something that no one’s ever been able to tell you… I know why you stutter.”

(Back in the Office)

“Weren’t you a little bit worried he might just shoot you?” a trainee asks.

“I was a lot worried.” I tell her.

“But how did you find him?” another asks.

“I was just stopping for gas.” I say.

“I walked into that store, and saw pieces of a profile that I’d given to Virginia P.D. almost a year ago. Truck in disrepair, a devilish young man, severe stutter.” I say.

“James Reese once said, “there are certain clues at a crime scene which, by their very nature, do not lend themselves to being collected or examined.” I tell them.

“How does one collect love, rage, hatred, fear?” I asks.

“These are things that we’re trained to look for.” I state.

“So anyone else would have just seen a guy who stutters, but you saw the footpath killer.” the third trainee says.

‘Right. But sometimes these guys are still found by just dumb luck.” I say.

“Berkowitz was caught because of a parking ticket.”

“Except the cop wasn’t staring down a shotgun like you were.” Elle says.

“This is true. This is also good time to stop.” I tell them.

“Thank you sir.” a trainee says.

“Thank you.” I say.

“Okay, I’m curious. Why did he stutter?” Elle asks.

“You’re on your way to becoming part of the behavior analysis team now, Elle. You tell me.” I tell her.

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Persephone Chase’s POV

“Spencer this is boring, chess is not a fun game.” I tell him as I watch from the desk across from the genius boy.

“Percy, it passes time quicker and builds my logic skill.” he replies.

“Like you need to build on that.” I say sassily.

“Check. Checkmate 3 moves.” Gideon says moving a piece off the board. I laugh.

“What…” Spencer says confused.

“You know you’ll beat him when you start learning.” Derek says making me laugh harder, which also leads Spencer to make this weird face.

“Learning what?” he asks.

“To think outside the box.” Derek tells him.

He looks at me and all I can do is give him a sympathetic look.

“Hey, you can still beat everyone else on the team.” I say.

“Yeah, except Gideon.” Spencer sighs in defeat.

“Question for you.” Elle says walking in.

“Shoot.” Derek says.

“The footpath killer, why did he stutter?” she asks.

“Come on Elle, we’ve all asked him, and he won’t say.” Derek tells the brunette.

“Yeah, even our favorite genius doesn’t know.” I say mocking Spencer.

“He wants us to figure it out.” I continue.

“Okay. I’m up for a challenge.” she speaks confidently.

“Good, because these go to you.” JJ says putting down a plethora of files.

“Special Agent Jennifer Jareau, JJ if you like.” JJ says introducing herself.

“Elle…”

“Greenaway-highest number of solved cases in Seattle 3 years running, specialty in sex offender cases.” JJ says.

“Not bad.” Elle comments in a surprised tone.

“Well, I’m the unit liaison. My specialty is untangling bureaucratic knots. You’ll probably be talking to me a lot. My door’s always open, mostly because I’m never in my office, so just call me on my cell, okay? We’ll talk.” JJ explained.

“Did you watch?” she asks Hotch how hastily replied “Yeah.”

“Think everybody should see it.”

“BAU team, can you meet me in the conference room, please? I need to show you something.” Hotch more like tells instead of asks.

We all walk to the conference room, of course like always I sit next to my best friend.

“This is from the Phoenix office, Bradshaw College in Tempe, 6 fires in 7 months.” Hotch tells us.

“Who recorded it?” Gideon asks.

“A student with a digital camcorder.He was watching a fire in the building across from their dorm. The other person you’ll see is his roommate, 20 year old Matthew Rowland.” JJ says.

(VIDEO)= Underlined

“This is crazy. Hey, Matt, get over here. You gotta see this. The buildings on fire.” one of the students said.

“Bro, you getting this?” Matt asked in amazement.

“Is that the kid?” Gideon asks. “Yeah, that’s him.” Hotch answers.

“Relax man. There’s always fires during rush week.” the unnamed student says.

“Yeah, but that’s pretty big.” another student says.

“Dude, over here. Check this out. What is it?” Matt asks.

“I don’t know, but it’s coming underneath the door.” the camera kid says.

“Is someone in the hallway?” Matthew asks.

“Hey, someone’s trying to get in.” Matthew continues.

“Hey, man, you should get away from there.” the cameraman says.

“Oh, my god! It smells like gas.” Matthew said,

“Oh, god! God! Oh, my god! Oh, my god!” both boys said as Matthew went up in flames.

“Put me out! Oh, my god! Oh, god! Help.” exclaimed Matthew.

“Einstein once said:”Imagination is more important than knowledge.Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world.”

“There are two common stressors for a serial arsonist.” Spencer says as he plays chess.

“Loss of job, loss of love.” I say engrossed in his game.

“When was the first fire set?” Derek asks.

“March, Uh, the next one was May, and the third one wasn’t ‘till September, then 2 weeks there were 3 in one night.” Hotch answers.

“He’s speeding up. Fire’s are closer together.” Gideon says.

“Hey, Reid, you got a statistic on arsonists?” Derek asks.

“Derek what do you think.” I say mocking him earning an eye roll from Derek.

“What do you got Reid?” Derek asks annoyed.

“82%, are white males between 17 and 27. Female arsonists are far less likely, their motive typically being revenge.” Spencer informs us, and I can’t help but fall for my partner even more. I guess scrawny genius nerds are my type.

“Sounds like our boy’s a student.” Derek concludes.

“Don’t be so sure.” Gideon says out of the blue.

He continues “You rely too much on precedent, you never allow for the unexpected...if he went from setting one fire to three in two weeks time…”

“Rapid escalation.” Hotch said for him.

“He’s gone from the power to damage a building to something far more satisfying...the power over life and death.” Gideon says.

Derek sits down to a pamphlet about about the school whilst Gideon and Hotch continue on.

“Who we talking to first?” Gideon asks.

“Dean of students, Helen Turner.” Hotch answers.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

We have landed and made it to the college. Everyone gets out but I hesitate, I hated college. I didn’t hate the learning no. I hated the people. Mostly my boyfriend and his stupid frat brothers. I of course being the dumb freshman fell in love with the most popular guy there. Wrong choice!! He ended up drugging me at a party, he and his friends ended up taking advantage of me whilst I was vulnerable. Even worse was that was my first time too. I was mortified when I found out but like most people I was too scared to bring him to court and never did, I ended up switching colleges. I have yet to tell anyone besides Derek who I know shares a similar past. That is why I am scared to get out of this car. It's like a safe haven at the moment.

“Hey, where is Chase?” Hotch asks.

“Still in the car.” Reid says.

“Well tell her to get out we have a case.” Hotch says annoyed.

“I’ll get her.” Morgan says.

“But I-” Reid begins.

“Trust me pretty boy, I need to handle this one.” Derek says walking to my car door.

“Hey little one, you need to come out.” he tries coaxing me out.

“Derek please, I can’t...you know what happened.” I plead.

“Hun I know but you’ve got to put on that facade and help with the case it’s your job.”

“Besides, no one is gonna hurt you anymore. You’ve got Reid and I to protect you.” He tells me.

“Fine.” I say and take a deep breath.

We walk over to the team.

“Sorry, I got side tracked.” I announce.

“Tell me later Chase.” Hotch says and I nod.

“No badges. I don’t want to satisfy the unsub’s need for attention by letting him know he got the FBI here. Try not to look official.” Gideon says while we walk into the school.

We stop at the steps and he turns then looks at us then says…

“Try to look less official.”

I giggle. Derek, Elle, and Hotch are in formal clothing and here is Spencer and I in what I would call casual clothing. He brings Ellen out and we being to speak with her while walking.

“Obviously, I’d rather be meeting you under different circumstances.” she says.

“This is fire inspector Zhang.”  she adds on leaning her head towards an asian man.

“This morning the chemistry department reported several bottles of highly flammable chemicals missing.” he informed us.

“I’m prepared to evacuate this campus.” she tells us adding on a “Thank you.” to Gideon and Hotch for opening the doors.

“That brings with it its own problems.” Hotch says.

“You might evacuate the arsonist as well.” Gideon adds.

“Then the case goes unsolved.” I say.

“The campus is reopened, but the fires start up again.” Elle finishes for me.

“Hotch, Gideon hold on a second.” Derek says.

“You said the chemicals went missing today.” he asked the fire inspector.

“Uh huh.” Zhang answered.

“It says here that one of the previous fires was set with diesel fuel that disappeared from the grounds keeping facility.” Derek stated.

“How long after it disappeared was the fire set?”

“One day.” Helen answered.

“If he’s holding to a pattern…”Gideon says walking away with Hotch.

“Who’s to says the next fire won’t be today?” Hotch finishes.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

We then get to the crime scene. It actually wasn’t that bad. Of course there are clear signs that a fire was here but it wasn’t burnt beyond recognition.

“Door was locked.” Hotch says.

“Matthew Rowland and his roommate watched as the door knob turned against the lock.” Spencer adds.

“But the unsub couldn’t get in.” I say.

“So he pours the accelerant into the room from the hallway.” Spencer adds.

“Which means he couldn’t see the fire.” Hotch says with a confused expression.

“ But he could hear Matthew Rowland screaming.” Spencer adds.

“Yeah, but not for long.” I say.

“He would have left quickly.” Hotch says.

“Yeah, to avoid being spotted.” Spencer states.

“It doesn’t make sense.” I say.

“Pyromania as a mental disorder may just be a simple myth, but we know from precedent that serial arsonists derive pleasure from pathological firesetting.” Spencer informs us.

It makes my knees grow weak for a second. This boy is gonna kill me before I am even close to death. I still have no idea why I like when he says random facts.

“Sex and power.” Hotch adds.

“But a serial arsonists wouldn’t just set a fire and walk away.” I state.

“He needs to experience it.” Hotch tells us.

“So why would he set a fire he couldn’t watch?” Spencer asks.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

“He turned the water off just before the fire.”  Zhang says while opening a box with a phone, a flashlight, and another item inside.

“The last three were set with these. Two devices, simultaneous ignition.”

“There was no device used on Matthew Rowland.” Gideon says.

“Unsub set that one manually?”

“He wanted to be there to enjoy the kid’s death.” Derek says.

“Not necessarily.” Hotch argues.

“Well, if the target was Matthew Rowland, then why set the other two fires?” Elle asks.

“The motives for arson are relatively simple.” Spencer says.

“There’s vandalism, crime concealment, political statement, profit…”

“And revenge.” Hotch says finishing Spencer’s sentence.

“We interviewed Matthew Rowland’s roommate. No reason for revenge.” Zhang tells us.

“What about vandalism?” Ellen asks.

“No. The fires are too sophisticated, and if he’s trying to make a political statement, he’s not being too clear about it.” Elle says.

“There’s an underlying strategy in this case.” I add.

“Matthew, firefighters, injured victims.” Gideon begins.

“To the unsub, they’re not people. They’re…”

“They’re objects.”  Hotch finishes.

“More like, uh…” Gideon beings only to be cut off by Spencer.

“Chess pieces.”

“Exactly.” Gideon says throwing a burnt MP3 player back on the table.  

NEXT CHAPTER 

[painted-cherries]

lingering

pairing: mark tuan x reader

warnings: mention of a gun and drugs, but no use and no death or shooting.

genre: fluff, slight angst but purely for the sake of plot I swear

words: 2.4k +

request: “ Can I have mark tuan soulmate au where he's a workaholic cop,and doesn't believe in soulmates, but then falls for her when he sees her? Please and thank you. Hope this makes sense :) “

a/n: yes! I am a fool for a good soulmate prompt, especially with Mark, he has the perfect image for this. I may or may not have projected my love for B99 in this fic as well... I am still accepting requests! You can drop one in my inbox if you click here.

March had passed, spitting out the few last cold fronts and mini snowfalls it could before April would take its place. Spring was on the verge of spilling to full bloom; what better time to find your soulmate than when the earth is renewing herself with luscious evergreen and flowers? The search for one;s soulmate is always random, but typically when someone would least expect it. There had been stories of people finding their respective partner in little moments like needing to borrow change in line at the cafe, or even sharing a seat on the bus. Every situation was very unique to each couple, and it was hard to anticipate when or where they’ll meet- sometimes in not very graceful situations. Spring time meant that there would be a plethora of new soulmates discovering each other; spring was a popular season, as well as that small period of time where fall slowly freezes into the coming winter. Many of these couples could be found around every corner and on every curb, hand-in-hand grateful to finally find comfort in someone’s arms. The soulmate system is a work of wonders for everyone right?

In the spring, Mark could be found working overtime at the station, catching up on potential hours he missed in the winter, when he had left to visit family for the holidays. He dreaded those visits, despite being able to see his family, the extended was always hounding him about not seeking out his soulmate more actively, He was well into his mid-twenties now, and was still without a girlfriend, let alone a wife. The truth was, Mark was already committed. He worked every day at the station, and not unwillingly. He practically begged other for the shifts that they didn’t want, and the chief himself had to limit him in his overtime that he worked so often. Mark Tuan was married to his job, and that’s how he preferred to live his life. His job gave him a type of natural high. Car chases, and drug busts exhilarated him. to no end. He was constantly working new cases and excelled so high that other detectives were practically begging him to assist them on their cases. 

He would go on and on for hours about a new murder or robbery that was filed to anyone who would listen- if he even had time in the first place- but love was not up for discussion. He had never trusted the link between soulmates- he thought it was madness that two people could be destined to be together for the rest of their lives without knowing or choosing to be with said person from the get go. He didn’t believe in predetermined destinies; he had grown up on his own accord with the ideology that we create our own fates, that we choose what we do and who we love- if we want to love at all.

The controversial animosity he felt for the soulmate idea was something he would never express to anyone- not his parents-who were happily put together by through their souls- or especially his friends, whom most of them had already fallen victim to the link. He had witnessed it everywhere and anywhere, yet he still refused to believe that there was another person out there who was destined to be his forever, before they were even old enough to know what love was. 

The day was young, and on this fine Monday, Mark Tuan was unsurprisingly working yet another shift at the Los Angeles Police Department. He walked with a spring in his step and clocked in. Mark’s daily routine never changed. Sometimes his hours shifted, but that was the most change he had seen since he became so invested in his work. Every day he would wake up and take a shower to wake himself up since he wasn’t naturally very upbeat in the morning. After that, he would eat exactly one bagel with as much cream cheese as he desired, and a banana as he walked out the door on his way to work. That was how he lived; he ate the same thing, combed his hair the same way, and worked the same shifts. It was monotonous, but Mark wouldn’t prefer it any other way. He didn’t need anything different because he obtained his thrill in car chases and drug busts, making arrests and receiving praise for his work.  

Today he was going to follow up on a lead that he had found the day before. Recently the department had finally discovered some lower level criminals that could bring them right to the door of their most wanted: a man who ran all of the drug deals throughout LA, a man that only referred to himself as The King... Not humble or subtle. His real name was Jackson Wang, and he wasn’t even on the down low. This man flaunted his success, but his ability to slip away from the LAPD is what kept him out of a cell to this day.

Mark sat at his desk skimming through files and prepping for the endeavor; he and his partner, Jinyoung, were planning to have an undercover meeting with one of The King’s best dealers, hoping that his arrest could help them locate where every single one of Wang’s hide outs were so that he could no longer slip through the department’s fingers, or more specifically Mark’s. He had been working the case tirelessly for the past three months, and he was tired of letting him get the best of him. Today was going to be a big day, he could feel it in his bones.

He was deep into the case file when Jinyoung walked up, and sat a chocolate muffin on his desk next the open manila folder. 

“Okay what time did you want to head out for the rendezvous spot?” 

Mark looked up from the paperwork and tore a piece of the muffin top off and popped it into his mouth.

“Well I was thinking,” he said with a mouth full of muffin. “that maybe we should go early and scout potential spots that he could escape in case he knows it’s a set up.”

“Okay, okay. Do you want me to see if Officer Kim and his partner could provide some back up?”

Mark rolled his eyes. “No ask Sarge if he’ll cover us. Those two aren’t bad cops but this bust could really lead to a big break in our careers.”

Jinyoung let out a sigh of relief and nodded his head in agreement. Yugyeom and Bam, as he liked to be called, always managed to get on Jinyoung’s nerves. They excelled at policing minor things like busting large college parties at night shift, or giving tickets to people who jay walk downtown. This was a large scale deal that Mark didn’t have time to play around with, and Sargent Lim Jaebum would be great for the job. He was refined, and took things seriously. He helped the captain keep things in order but was still a great friend to get a drink with. He was able to appropriately set a boundry between the workplace and friendship, and Mark knew that he was reliable no matter what the circumstances.

“Okay Tuan, you ready to head out?” Jinyoung called out. 

“Let’s go make an arrest fellas,” Mark replied as he excitedly stood from his chair, and walked out the door with his gun and badge in hand. 

The ride there consisted of a comfortable silence, and JB followed the two in his own car. After scouting for spots that the other two could maintain in case of a chase, Jinyoung dropped Mark off a block from the empty, blocked off parking garage that they were using as a meeting point, and drove off to remain inconspicuous. 

Mark took out his phone and started so scroll through meaningless social media so that he could remain undercover. He was always very hyper aware of his surroundings, as a detective should be. He thought about how warm the air was, just now realizing that the weather was finally changing. He thought about how it was practically yesterday when the weather would barely go above 50 degrees, and it hit him how quickly life was moving by. It literally hit him. Mark had the air knocked out of him when he felt himself collide with another person that was walking in the opposite direction. He landed hard on his back, and the person that caused it came tumbling down with him. 

“Oh shit I am so so sorry,” the person said in a hurry. He opened his eyes to see a young woman being to scramble off of him, and stand. She offered a hand to him, and the moment he took it, he felt a warm sensation spread throughout the cavity of his chest. He could barely get a good look at her before he realized that he was minutes from being late to meeting Wang’s dealer, and took off, muttering a ‘thanks’ under his breath. The girl stood there stunned, shocked by the sudden pull towards the strange man, and confused that he hadn’t stopped to acknowledge the obvious link between them. She wasn’t sure of the reason he ran off so quickly, but she decided that if that was her soulmate then she needed to know who he was, and proceeded to follow him.

Mark couldn’t stop seeing the small glimpses of her face after he ran off. He couldn’t stop thinking about the warmth that has taken over his better judgement, even as he comes face to face with what could be his big break in busting this underground drug ring. His mind was so preoccupied that he couldn’t help but flinch when the dealer slammed the grams of coke on the table between them. 

“Three grams of coke like discussed. Now where’s my payment, pretty boy?” the man spat at Mark.

“I-I have it right here just a moment,” and he pretended to fumble for his wallet. On cue he counted 5 seconds from when the man asked for money, and pulled out his PD badge exclaiming “LA PD”, just as Jinyoung busted into the building as they planned.

“Oh shit,” the guy grunted to himself, and not wanting to take an inventory loss, he grabbed the goods and started to run out what had appeared to be a blocked off exit, but opened for the man with ease.

“Jinyoung! Let JB know they’re taking the southwest exit now!” Mark said as he sprinted after the man. 

This dealer had obviously been trained to avoid being caught at all costs; he was using every resource available to keep Mark four steps behind him at all times. He dumped over crates, threw things carelessly behind him, and ran up the stairs from the lower levels nearly three steps at a time. Now more than ever, Mark cursed his short legs. Once the two reached ground level, the man narrowly slipped past Jinyoung after attempting to knock him to the ground. Mark ran past his partner and was so hyper focused on the perp in front of him, he didn’t notice the woman who was approaching him, oblivious to the chase happening before her. For the second time that day, Mark Tuan landed flat on the ground alongside a mystery woman with an unforgettable gaze.

Mark blinked and could hear the sarge yell from a distance, “LET’S GO TUAN, PICK IT UP.”

He began to recollect himself from the ground, this time he was up on his feet  before the girl in front of him. He offered his hand to her like she did the time before, almost like fate was trying to rewrite their meeting herself. The woman took his hand, and stood before him, brushing her disheveled hair from her face. This time around, Mark got a proper look at her face. He felt his pulse nearly pop from his veins, and his heart fell to his feet and remained there on the sidewalk, stunned. He knew in that moment that this was it, he was becoming what he would categorize as a victim to the soulmate link. But in this moment it didn’t feel like he was a victim. He felt light. There was sunshine pouring from his soul, shinning bright from the hollow behind his eyes and his rough touch on her small hand was weightless. 

‘Who are you?” was all he could ask.

She felt his aura engulf her. This time he lingered long enough for her to notice his more than handsome features. His jawline was strong, tense because she knew this wasn’t an experience he had ever anticipated, especially at this timing. His features were solid and defined, almost as if he had been a model in a past life. But that didn’t matter because he was meant to be hers in this lifetime, until the sun’s light burnt out and the tides stopped crashing for the moon. She placed a hand on his face and grazed it softly, dragging her thumb over his lip ever so slightly. The silence was broken when JB’s voice claiming that he and Jinyoung had caught the dealer, rang out loud over the earpiece he wore for undercover operations such as this one.

“My name is Mark. Ask for me at the LA PD,” he said to her quickly before taking off to help his friends with the arrest. 

As Mark ran, he couldn’t help but think about the woman now clearly identified as his soulmate. He was no longer worried about the countless days he would endure working to bring himself a peace of mind that he couldn’t obtain alone. He thought about the radiance in her eyes, and how even standing together made him feel something whole rather than apart and scattered. He felt her touch linger on his lip and cheek. He continued to feel her ghost touch as he handcuffed the man, and even after arriving back at the station, floating around on a high that wasn’t from booking a criminal for once. He no longer felt it lingering after he saw her waiting at the front door of the department, and walked straight up to her, pressing their lips together then and there before she could even utter a ‘hello’ to him. He pulled back and looked at her with a smile that he had never produced before.

“I’m y/n,” she said with a grin.

Mark no longer felt like a man with a blind fate, but a man who had a new blind faith in a love he didn’t know he was waiting for.

[bysombreseas]

The Dusk Patrol - Chapter One Excerpt

Authour’s Note: 

The first two thousand words or so of my WIP, a little scene where our protagonists are introduced and roles are established. Hope you all enjoy!

Taglist: @aurisadventure , @adayforducks , @danielleslayer , @wordsofpaintandsmoke , @smudged-glasses-writing

Episode 1 – Nightwalkers

It was only when the sun fell that Hope City lit up. Neon flames danced to the pounding chorus that spilled from club doorways and underground raves. The orderly suits of the business sector gave way to brightly dressed youths and drunken partygoers. Beer and blood and drugs beckoned from every doorway, while on the street a thousand honking taxis fought to push through endless gridlock.

There was a lot of crime in Hope City. Beyond the dazzling wealth of its tourist sector lay ramshackle neighborhoods and creeping decay. Hope was two cities, really; one was for the tourists, and the other, much poorer and far more violent, for its permanent residents.

It was in this second city that Dusk Patrol cadet Wren Nichang found herself, her police trainee badge flashing white every time she passed beneath a streetlight. The wind had started to pick up, ruffling her bob cut and sending a chill across her bare arms. It got cold quick at night, even in the summer.

Her mentor tonight was Brian Okave, six foot five and built like a steamroller. The Faith’s golden halo hung around his neck, though Wren couldn’t imagine him as the kind of man who prayed. Everything else about his uniform was standard Dusk Patrol; one Gaea L56 sidearm, one crackling walkie-talkie, a UV-capable flashlight and two clips of hollow-point bullets. Okave was one of the best mentors on the force and Wren was hoping she’d be assigned to shadow him for her training period. It was hard to tell if Okave reciprocated the feeling. There was a veneer of calm about him that rarely broke, even when he raised his voice.

“Nichang. Situational assessment.”

They were in a quieter part of town, the buildings ramshackle and the streetlights few and far between. It wasn’t a place that outsiders visited often, a hidden slum just blocks from one of the city’s biggest concert halls. “There are no cars in sight,” Wren said, squinting as she peered into the darkness. “Fence behind us isn’t short enough to jump. The houses across the street are too close together for there to be alleyways. There’s only one person in the immediate area, leaning against that streetlight. I assume that’s our contact.”

“Good eyes,” said Okave. “Professional assessment. Keep your guard up nonetheless. This is a bad part of town and some nightwalkers are very good at hiding.”

The wind picked up, a soft howling that competed with the distant city noises for attention. As they crossed the street, Wren folded her arms and wished she’d remembered to bring her jacket. “Sir?” she ventured. “Shouldn’t we be wearing plainclothes?”

“We should, yes.”

“Then why–”

“Department rules, Nichang. You’ll see when you meet her.”

“Oh.” Wren frowned. Suspense was never a good thing. “Have you known her for long?

“Several months. I met Anderson on a case. She was mugged on her way home, broke the poor bastard’s arm in three places. I brought up a murder I was working on and she gave me a name. Been my contact ever since.” There was a note of pride in Okave’s voice.

Wren nodded, unsure what to make of that. “With all due respect, sir, I didn’t realize the Dusk Patrol kept informants. None of my previous mentors had any.” Wren left out that her previous mentors hadn’t been too interested in casework. The mentors only got one night with each cadet before putting down names for permanent assignment, and most spent that time getting to know the trainees instead of doing actual policing. Wren–who couldn’t hold a conversation if it was glued to her hands–had spent the last two weeks red-faced and mumbling as each mentor’s initial enthusiasm faded into awkward silence.

“We don’t,” Okave replied to Wren’s query. “This is a special case.”

The figure waved at their approach. A girl, around a year younger than Wren, maybe eighteen. She wore an oversized sweater with the hood pulled up, torn jeans, and fingerless gloves. Her shoes were cheap knockoffs with a brand name like Noke or Jordens. Her face was drawn and pale, feral almost, her short brown hair so ragged and messy Wren was sure that she’d cut it herself with a dull knife and no mirror.

“Brian,” the girl said. Her voice was low. “Who’s the Asian chick?”

“Don’t call me that,” Wren scowled. She was an addict of some sort, that much was certain. Probably wearing the sweater to hide the marks in her arms–though from needles or teeth it was impossible to say. It wasn’t unheard of for people to give themselves up as blood banks, even if feeding was illegal outside of approved centres. Then again there’s the other possibility. She’s one of them.

“Sure thing cutie,” said the girl, with a smile. “I’m Anderson. Ann for short. Brian you didn’t answer my question.”

“Her name is Wren. She’s my shadow for the evening.”

“That’s cool, that’s cool. What am I here for? And I know you’re gonna say ‘the murder of course’ but which one? Cops gunned down three nightwalkers on Cinder Street–”

“Official statement is they drew first.”

“Cross that off. There’re some dead people in a hotel. I think it was a murder-suicide, but I don’t know much. Heard it was gruesome–blood and wax everywhere. Pretty spooky.”

“We want to know about this man.” Okave drew a rumpled photograph from his pants pocket and passed it to the girl. She looked it over, pursing her lips. “Try to remember, would you? I’m sure it can be worth your while.”

Wren watched the interaction from behind Okave. Dusk Patrol was weird in that way; for some things you had complete autonomy and others none. It was probably a rule somewhere you had to wear uniforms when talking to informants. Something about ‘maintaining a position of authority’. They were big on that stuff, pride before practicality.

The autonomy though. Only in the Dusk Patrol could you park your squad car two blocks away, walk to some crap-sack neighborhood and offer a lowlife a bribe without calling any of it in. Then again, when every case was an assault or murder, the criminals were monstrous nightwalkers and officer mortality rates were high enough that a sizeable part of the budget went to paying off life insurance, for most the perks weren’t worth the risk.

“I think I’ve seen him before.” The girl’s voice grew in confidence with each syllable. “Yeah, he was at Iris last Saturday. Bought a drink or two.”

“Iris?” Wren asked. “What’s that?”

“It’s a nightwalker club.” Anderson smiled, a big smile, large enough to show incisors. “I am a vampire.”

Wren stared and Okave sighed and Anderson’s wide smile grew wider.

“Let’s get back on topic here,” said Okave. “We know the guy was at Iris. I wouldn’t be here talking to you if we didn’t know that–”

“I work drinks,” Anderson explained to Wren.

“–so clearly I’m looking for more. Who was he? What did he do? Where did he go?”

“Why does it matter?”

Okave sighed again, running a dark hand over his forehead. “Because he’s been dead two days. We found his body in a dumpster on Queens. Throat slashed, drained dry. He had no wallet, no ID, and we’re waiting on forensics to match his prints. Autopsy came back yesterday; shows he wasn’t a nightwalker.”

“And then you started caring.” Anderson’s voice took on an edge. And that’s why we don’t have informants, Wren thought. To say the relationship between nightwalkers and the Dusk Patrol was poor would have been the understatement of the century. They hate us.

“I just do my job,” Okave said flatly. “The case came on my desk yesterday. A witness placed the guy somewhere in Iris’s vicinity, so I figured I’d talk to you.”

“Well I don’t know his name,” said Anderson. “But I know what he was.”

“That’s a start.”

Anderson scratched the back of her neck. If she felt threatened by the two officers she did not show it. My first vampire, Wren thought. Not entirely true, as she had seen other nightwalkers during training. Behind cells, though, or in interrogation rooms. Anderson was out in the wild. She was different than what Wren had expected. Cocky and rude, but not entirely unfriendly. How does it come so easily to her, that confidence? I wish I had that.

“He was a familiar,” Anderson was saying. “Your shadow know what I’m talking about?”

Okave looked to Wren, who was still staring. “Well?”

“Oh. Uh, they’re humans that want to be nightwalkers, right? Vampires usually.”

“It’s like a fetish,” Anderson chuckled. “He came up to the counter and asked for a beer. I think it was an excuse to make small talk; you should have seen his face when I told him my age. He asked my name, but I already knew where this was going. I told him I wasn’t interested in that sort of arrangement.”

“Blood for money?” Wren asked.

“Providence no, it’s blood for love. It’s blood so maybe a vampire might take you into their home, or even illegally turn you if you’re lucky.”

“I see.” Wren fought to keep her face blank. The thought of willingly letting a vampire drink her blood was a repulsive one, but she didn’t want to offend Anderson. “Does it happen often?”

This time it was Okave who answered. “Rarely, and rarer still the authorities don’t find out. There’s always the danger of ending up with an abusive vampire, or a pathological liar that just wants you for blood. That said, not that all vampires are manipulative, nor are nightwalkers in general–”

“Aw shut up,” Anderson interrupted. “Always with that PC bullshit. Anyways, I told the guy I wasn’t interested, and he left. To be honest I’m not too surprised he’s dead; dude was naïve, nervous. Probably his first time out.”

“Did you see him with anyone?” Okave asked, but the vampire just shrugged.

“Come on, Brian, it’s a busy place. It’s hard to make out faces in a crowd.”

Okave stuck a hand in his pants pocket and came out with a few bills. He let the glow from the streetlight catch on them. “How about these faces?”

Anderson snatched the money. She was almost a head smaller than Okave, her thin form dwarfed in his shadow. “Yeah, I recognize them. I remember your dead man too. Saw him leave with a woman, some ‘crat.”

“You have a name?”

Anderson shook her head. “No, she’s new, but I know the guy she was drinking with. His name is Tim Gossel.”

Gossel, she explained, had been turned legally at a government center when he was eighteen, one of the last before they got shut down. He was a college student and, Anderson added, a ‘hippy’. Wants to ban silver bullets and reopen turning centres. Thinks the Dusk Patrol and the Faith are evil. To Wren he sounded much worse than a hippy; he was a radical with dangerous views. No doubt he thought nightwalker criminals were all good people as well, victims of culture and circumstance and societal pressures.

At least she doesn’t think much of him either, Wren mused. The contempt in Anderson’s voice was palpable. “I didn’t think he was violent,” the vampire was saying. “Though I bet he’d take a swing at me if he knew I talk to you guys.”

It occurred to Wren just how risky Anderson’s actions were. People like Gossel were rife in Hope; no doubt they would consider speaking to the police some form of betrayal. “Does that worry you?” she asked, feeling a note of concern for the slouching girl.

“Fuck no I’d kick his scrawny ass,” Anderson laughed. “Kid’s three, I’m a hundred– Wren, are you alright? Your eyes just got real fuckin’ large again.”

“She’s fine,” Okave said. “If you don’t have anything else, I think we’re done here.”

“Fine by me.” Anderson straightened, adjusting her hood. “Nice to meet you, Wren. See you around sometime.”

Wren managed a quiet ‘bye’ as the girl walked past them, out of the streetlight and into the shadows. She closed her eyes, trying to clear her thoughts. She’s a vampire. The Dusk Patrol is supposed to kill her kind, and werewolves, and demons, and ghouls, and any kind of nightwalker that makes trouble. But she doesn’t care, no, she’s our friend. And she’s a hundred, plus what, the seventeen, eighteen years she was human? Did she call me cute?

Providence, she did. That’s so cool.

[thegreenfairy13]

The Value of Love

Another Jim x Oswald drabble from my ongoing series. You can also read it on Ao3. NSFW.

Some truths can only be spoken in the dark. In the intermediate world of a bedroom, body covered by sheets, head hidden under pillows, and the mind floating between dream and reality, words spill easily from swollen lips.

These are the fickle truths, the ones that would crumble in the harsh light of day, would burn under the remorseless light of the sun. It is a brittle kind of sincerity, only possible in the twilight, in this border country separating night from day. These words are only genuine for a fleeting moment, already turning into lies when spoken.

Pale moonlight illuminates pale, sweat-slick skin. The body beneath James Gordon is trembling, practically dissipating beneath his calloused hands. A needy moan escapes the lithe creature writhing on layers of silk and cotton.

Oswald is always so greedy for more.

The detective chuckles mirthlessly before pressing another kiss to another scar telling another story. He can’t honestly say the King of the Underworld hasn’t paid for his sins - this beautiful body is destroyed beyond repair. And these scars littering the gorgeous skin only tell a tale of physical injuries, they are merely superficial. The true price he has paid for becoming the Penguin, the King of Gotham, are hidden, invisible to the eye but still known to the detective.

His fingers slide over delicate ribs, counting the brittle bones as they make their way down and the murderer moans with delight. Meaningless words spill from his lips, incoherent prayers for a non-existing deity echo through the room as he surrenders himself willingly to the cop. The tip of his tongue encircles the other man’s cock, teases it until the criminal dissolves into helpless cries for relief.

Who is Jim Gordon to deny Oswald Cobblepot anything?

Steadying the mobster’s hips, he starts sucking earnestly, leaving marks on the prominent bones in the process until he tastes salt on his tongue. He doesn’t stop here, not until he hasn’t savored every last drop and the heavy weight in his mouth becomes as pliant as the rest of the trembling body.

They lie entangled under the sheets, Jim content to feel a rapidly beating heart under his palm. The confession comes easily in the dark.

“I love you,” he murmurs and the beat falters.

“What is this love worth?” Oswald whispers in return.

Jim doesn’t answer, doesn’t have an answer. Some people would say he and the gangster are different sides of the same coin but that isn’t true. They are the exact same side of the exact same coin.

They are two men driven by desire, pride, arrogance, and hunger. Jim, who had been raised to be a hero, a man to protect the weak and the poor turned into Gotham’s white knight in his quest to cleanse the city from all evil.

“I always get what I want,” Oswald had told him victoriously the first time he and Jim had gotten together. “But I always pay a price,” he added, barely audible.

But Jim has paid a price too. He sacrificed friends and lovers, the ties connecting him to his family, his freedom and integrity only to wear his badge.

And Oswald? How much did he pay to rise from servant to king and would he have paid the price if he had known how high it would be? It is the childhood that defines us, shapes us. And Oswald, raised in bitter poverty, yet surrounded by a perverted impression of wealth had no other choice but to strive for real power.

How could they have become anything else than the men they are?  

“Would you give up being the Penguin?” Jim asks in lieu of an answer, waiting for the silence to clench his heart. He already knows, though. Knows how he would answer if Oswald asked him to give up his badge.

They could both do it: deny what they are. But it would only last for a while. Despite all the love, you can’t betray your true nature. Jim knows without a doubt on his mind that he’d die for his gangster in heartbeat. With the same certainty, he knows that he would never live for his gangster.

“Probably nothing,” Jim says at last. “This love is worth nothing.”

[sevenpabosandabunchoffans]

Criminal minds {Min Yoongi}

After Namjoon realizes he doesn’t exactly like working as a detective at the local police department, he leaves, determined to finish a case by himself. After months of nothing, a new development comes to light, motivating him to enlist the help of someone else. The two of them build a team from the ground up that’s independent from any government or police force, solving cases purely for the benefit of helping others and doing what’s right.One day, a newcomer enters their lives, begging them to let him join, too.

:: characters: namjoon, yoongi

:: genre: angst, thriller, Criminal Minds!au

:: warnings: mentions of death, someone gets shot

:: word count: 2893

Kim Namjoon

The door opened not even thirty seconds after Namjoon had knocked. “Well, if it isn’t Detective Kim Namjoon.” Yoongi leaned against the door frame crossing his arms. “What brings you here?”

“Hi, Yoongi.” Namjoon greeted him. “How’s the shoulder?”

Yoongi subconsciously brought his hand up to massage it. “Better. You know the doctor cleared me to be back on the field months ago, but the chief forced me to retire.”

“I knew there had to be something that was keeping you from coming back.”

Yoongi sucked air through his teeth. “Yeah, you get shot on the job, and all you get is a retirement package, so you can ‘live comfortably’.” He rolled his eyes.

Namjoon chuckled lowly. “What would you say if you had the chance to get back in the field?” Yoongi cocked his head at Namjoon’s inquiry.

They soon found themselves standing around Yoongi’s kitchen table, case files spread out. “So, the only reason this guy is still out there is because Chief Son was in a rush to pin it on someone?” Namjoon nodded. “Definitely sounds like him.” Yoongi grumbled under his breath.

“Yeah, I took everything with me, since I’m technically still the detective on the case, but I haven’t been able to work on it.”

Yoongi shook his head. “Well three months between the murders…” Yoongi picked up the picture of the newest victim that Namjoon had printed out before coming over to his place. “It’s gonna be hard to find a connection between them, especially when we don’t know their identities.”

“Actually, that was the last thing I worked on before I quit.” Namjoon rustled through the papers until he found the list of addresses. “These are all the addresses of single males that had either disappeared or hadn’t paid rent around the time our original John Doe was found in the believed area of residence. I haven’t been able to go check them out yet, though.”

Yoongi pointed to the third address listed. “I know someone who works at this complex, let’s go there first.”

Namjoon picked up a picture of the John Doe. “You still got your gun and badge?”

Yoongi scoffed, walking towards his bedroom. “It’s like you don’t even know me!”

The two of them entered the apartment complex, approaching the young woman at the front desk. Yoongi knocked lightly on the wood to get her attention. He shot her a smile as soon as she looked up, which was met with a hard glare. “Hi, Suran, we-“

“You never called me back.” She cut him off, crossing her arms.

Namjoon failed at holding back laughter. “There’s actually a really funny story about that.”

“Oh really?” She asked, obviously not believing him.

“I’m serious!” Yoongi insisted. “You know how I told you I was a cop?” She nodded. “Well, now I’m not kidding about this, the day after you gave me your number, I got shot on the job, and then I had to recover, and by the time that was over, I couldn’t find the paper you’d written your number on.”

“Uh huh.” She said, still not believing him.

“Oh, he actually was shot.” Namjoon chimed in.

“Yeah,” Yoongi smirked. “I can even show you my scar sometime.” Suran’s cheeks turned a light shade of pink as Namjoon smacked Yoongi on the back of the head. “Ow!”

“We’re not here to flirt.” Namjoon placed the man’s picture on the desk in front of Suran. “Have you ever seen this man?”

Suran looked at the photo, her eyes widening in recognition. “That’s Junghoon!” She looked up at the two detectives in front of her. “Is he okay?”

“I’m afraid not.” Namjoon said. “What can you tell us about Junghoon?”

“Uh,” Suran looked around, trying to recall anything she could about the man. “He was a nice guy, he always brought me a cup of ramen from the convenience store down the street when he came home at night. I haven’t seen him in about three and a half months, though.”

“He was found dead a little over three months ago.” Namjoon explained.

“Do you know who did it?” Suran asked after a few seconds of silence, obviously trying to keep herself calm.

“Until today we had no idea who he was.” Yoongi said. “Can we see his rent payment records, and look at his apartment?”

“Well, Junghoon always paid in cash, but I’ll take you up to his apartment now.” Suran stood up and moved around the desk.

After leading them up to the third floor, Suran left Yoongi and Namjoon alone in the apartment to look around. “Not very many reasons for someone to be paying their rent in cash.”

Yoongi continued Namjoon’s observation. “And almost all of them involve trying to stay off the grid.”

Yoongi moved to look in the man’s bedroom while Namjoon stayed behind in the living room. He paused as he noticed the pairs of shoes by the door. Upon closer inspection, Namjoon realized that there were two different sizes. Moving further into the apartment, Namjoon inspected the kitchen, noticing that there seemed to be fairly fresh fruits and vegetables, along with recently used dishes in the sink. Namjoon made his way to the man’s bedroom, where Yoongi was standing at the desk, sporting gloves as he held two pieces of paper in his hands. “Someone has been here recently, like, within the past week or two.” Yoongi turned to face him. “I think someone was living here.”

“I think I have an idea of who.” Yoongi holds out one of the papers to Namjoon. “These are letters of correspondence to what seems to be a friend. It looks like they used codewords and phrases, as if they were worried someone would read them and find something out.”

As Yoongi was talking, Namjoon had pulled on his own pair of gloves and taken the letter from Yoongi. “What were they trying to hide?”

Yoongi shrugged and picked up an unsealed envelope on the desk, pulling out the contents. After skimming through it, he spoke up. “I think we might have found this guy’s family.” Namjoon looked up in surprise as Yoongi started reading off. “’My dearest wife, I am so sorry for my sudden disappearance. I had to leave for the safety of our family. Do not try to look for me, I will be home as soon as I am sure it is safe.’” He looked up from the letter. “He never sent it.”

“He was probably killed before he got the chance to. Is there an address on that envelope?”

Yoongi flipped it over in his hand. “Looks like Junghoon is from Busan.” He looked up at Namjoon. “You up for a mini road trip?”

After asking Suran if there was a possibility of someone else living in Junghoon’s apartment (“No, I haven’t seen anyone new around here, and no one’s been near Junghoon’s apartment.”) and a four-hour drive, Namjoon and Yoongi were knocking on the door of a fairly nice house. A middle-aged woman answered the door, looking confused as to why two unfamiliar men were standing on her porch. “We’re very sorry to bother you, ma’am,” Namjoon held up the picture of Junghoon, “but is this man your husband?”

The woman covered her mouth as she gasped. “Sungho!” She started crying at the image of her dead husband.

Around a half hour later, the two detectives found themselves sitting across from the shocked woman, her son now there to comfort her after he had been contacted. “My father abandoned my mother. He packed up and left in the middle of the night with no form of contact for three months.” The son obviously had a lot of anger towards his father.

“Your father was murdered three months ago.” Yoongi said, sliding the letter they had found across the table towards him. “We found this letter at his apartment. He never got the chance to send it.”

The college-aged boy swallowed back tears. “Have you found the reason why he left?”

A sob escaped the woman’s mouth. “That’s why we’re here.” Namjoon explained. “We’re trying to understand your father so that we can find the man who killed him.”

Before anyone else could say a word, the front door was thrown open and another middle-aged woman ran in. “Have you seen my husband?” The woman directed towards Namjoon and Yoongi.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, who-“

The boy cut Yoongi off. “This is Auntie Jiyoung. Her husband and my father were good friends.” The boy stood up to wrap his arms around the distressed woman. “Her husband, Sungjin, disappeared two weeks ago, much like my father did.”

Yoongi looked over at Namjoon before pulling out the picture of the new victim. “Is this your husband?”

The woman burst into tears as she took the picture from Yoongi, sinking into a chair at the table. “We are very sorry for your losses.” Namjoon sincerely told the women. “We can’t even begin to understand how you feel at this moment…but we do need to ask you some questions so that we can catch the man who did this.”

The boy rejoined his mother and the other lady at the table. “I can answer any questions you have.”

“How did your father and Sungjin know each other? Were they childhood friends?”

The boy shook his head. “They met six months ago at a support group for people with a gambling addiction. Apparently, they used to frequent the same places, and decided they could hold each other accountable to make sure they never returned.”

After a few more questions and getting the name of the support group from Sungho’s son, Namjoon and Yoongi found themselves interrogating the leader of the group. “Yeah, I remember them.” He handed the pictures back to Namjoon. “I was sorely disappointed when they both stopped attending meetings, but now that I know the reason…”

“Did either of them still have debts to pay off?” Yoongi inquired.

The man chuckled. “All of the people in our support group are people who still have enormous debts to repay. They join this group to keep themselves from gambling away the money they could be using to pay off those debts.”

It was nearing midnight, and the two of them were still working diligently on the case, neither of them wanting to give up. Namjoon was busy adding their new findings to the file while also checking into the news occasionally to see if there were any updates on the other end. Yoongi had his laptop on his lap, trying to search for more information on their victims. “Have you found anything yet?” Namjoon asked.

Yoongi scoffed. “You know I’m not some tech person. I don’t have fancy equipment. I’m having to rely on Naver, so I’m not exactly having the best of luck.” Just a few minutes later, Yoongi sat up excitedly. “I think I found something!”

“What?” Namjoon asked as Yoongi turned his laptop towards him.

“An underground gambling ring was busted six months ago. Everyone involved was arrested except for those that agreed to join support groups along with performing community service. Including our two victims.”

“Does it say who was in charge?”

Yoongi scrolled through the article. “One Lee Youngsoo.” Yoongi quickly searched the internet for this guy before finding another article on him from four months earlier. “He was apparently held and investigated until four months ago when all the charges were dropped. People think he paid people off.”

“And that coincides with when Sungho went into hiding.” Namjoon concluded before standing up. “Come on, we’re paying the station a visit.”

Officers all over the station were shocked to see both Kim Namjoon and Min Yoongi stalking through the building towards the Chief’s office. Namjoon threw open the door, revealing not only Chief Son, but some NIS agents that were in the room. “What is the meaning of this?” Chief Son stood up from his chair, about to yell out Namjoon, but he was cut off.

“Lee Youngsoo.”

“What?” The chief looked at him, confused.

“Who are you and why are you busting in here in the middle of an investigation spouting out the name of one of the richest men in Busan?”

“I’m Detective Kim Namjoon and this is Officer Min Yoongi.”

“EX detective and officer.” The chief jumped in.

“We still have our badges.” Namjoon retorted before turning his attention back to the agents. “I was placed as head of this case back when the first body was found and chose to pursue it on my own when I realized Chief Son here did not care to actually look into it.”

“I made a mistake-“

“I told you that you had the wrong guy. That you had nothing on him. And you still refused to release him, stating that you just wanted the case closed.” Namjoon exposed, refusing to back down or submit to the man.

“Anyway,” Yoongi chimed in. “While you were here, sitting on your ass, as you do best, we were over in Busan, finding out what we could about the victims.”

Namjoon placed the file he had compiled on the desk in front of the agents. “The victims’ names are Ahn Sungho and Im Sungjin. They were both gamblers, specifically members of the ring run by our very own Lee Youngsoo. The police in Busan let them go with the agreement that they would perform community service and join a support group.”

Yoongi picked up. “Four months ago, two weeks before the first victim made his way here to Seoul, the charges were dropped against Lee Youngsoo, and we believe he’s out to find all the people who still owe him money.”

One of the agents sighed. “I hope you’re right.” He turned to the chief. “We’re gonna need to find out where this guy is and get a warrant.” He turned back to Yoongi and Namjoon. “And you two, I want you with us when we find the bastard.”

After discovering which hotel Lee Youngsoo was staying at, Yoongi and Namjoon found themselves following behind officers and NIS agents as they kicked down the door to the hotel room. The group spread themselves around the penthouse, Yoongi and Namjoon heading towards the bedroom. No sooner had Yoongi opened the door than he fell back against the wall as pain spread through his arm. Namjoon quickly shot the leg of the bodyguard who had shot Yoongi, kicking the gun out of his grasp as he kept his gun trained on the man standing on the balcony, still not moving an inch. “You okay?” Namjoon asked Yoongi.

Yoongi nodded through the pain, keeping his hand on the wound on his arm. “First day back and I’ve been shot again. At least it’s not my shoulder this time.”

Namjoon slowly approached the man on the balcony, sensing other officers filing into the room. “Lee Youngsoo!”

“You’ll never keep me in there.” The man stated calmly, only turning his head so Namjoon could see his profile. “I have connections.”

“Seoul doesn’t take too kindly to bribes.” Namjoon only lowered his gun as an officer came forward and placed cuffs on the man.

By the time they made it downstairs and outside, the sun had risen. Lee Youngsoo was placed in the back of a cop car as Namjoon went over to the ambulance where Yoongi was being checked over. “Are you seriously okay?”

Yoongi nodded. “It was just a graze this time.” He smiled up at Namjoon. “Thanks for bringing me into this. It was nice to be back out there.”

“We do make a pretty good team.” Yoongi nodded. “What do you say we stay a team?” Yoongi cocked his head in confusion as Namjoon explained further. “Too many cases like this one pass through the station, leaving questions unanswered and families and friends of victims unsatisfied. We can be the ones to change that.”

Before Yoongi could answer, an NIS agent approached them. “Gentlemen, we’d like to thank you for your work on this case. We have an opening over at the NIS if you two are interested.”

The two shared a look before Yoongi responded. “Nah, I think we’re good, just the two of us.”

The chief overheard and walked up. “They can’t do that. Can they?”

“Well,” the Nis agent stroked his chin thoughtfully, “as long as they don’t break any laws, which they haven’t yet, we can’t stop them.” He held his hand out to shake Namjoon and Yoongi’s. “Should you need it, any resources the NIS can provide will be open for your use.”

The agent walked away, and the chief crossed his arms, staring them down. “How exactly do you expect to fund…whatever you call this?”

Yoongi stood up from the back of the ambulance. “Well, since I’m technically still retired from the force….and you’re required to provide a retirement check every month…I guess…you’re the one funding us.” The chief’s jaw dropped in shock. “Thanks a lot, Chief.” Yoongi mockingly pat his shoulder as he and Namjoon walked away.

“So, what should we call ourselves?” Namjoon asked.

“Well, since I’ve been shot twice now and am still alive…how about Bangtan?”

Namjoon rolled his eyes and laughed with Yoongi, throwing his arm over his shoulder as the area slowly cleared out.

Jung Hoseok

[kathleen-kitty-blog]

Showing The Change Part 3

Summary: Making a quick decision, Sam throws herself into the front line of danger. But that turns out to be her biggest mistake...

Author’s Note: *cries* I FINISHED IT! Thank you all for your patience. I know this took me way too long to finish. I ended up taking this story in a completely different direction than what I had originally planned, but I think I'm liking where it’s headed. 

Part 1 here, Part 2 here

Enjoy!

-

“All you rich, lazy, spoiled brats. You think you’re so special and privileged. Always got the upper hand on everything. Well, now you’re not so up there, huh? Now you’re just-!”

CH-NK!

Dave stepped onto the movie set, pistol in hand and a cool but stern look on his face. “I’d lower the gun if I were you, mister.”

The armed man whipped around, a furious look on his face. He glared at the detective. “Hah! You think you can take me alone?”

From across the room, Ryan Summers and Cassandra Leigh stood behind some camera stands, hiding with a few of the other actors and set crew.

Ryan winced at the scene before them. “Ooh. Not a good move, Dave.”

Cassandra elbowed him harshly. “Shh! We should be grateful that he showed up!” She whispered.

The movie star held his hands up in defense. “I’m just saying he shouldn’t have come in alone.”

Back on the other side of the room, Dave held the criminal’s gaze firmly. “Well, you’re making it pretty easy for me with all this talking. I have to admit I do prefer it over a shootout.”

“You want a shootout?” The criminal asked, taking a few steps closer to Dave. His expression was dark, dangerous, and dirty. A typical sight when dealing with people of his nature. He glared at the detective, completely turning his back on the movie crew now. All focus was centered on Dave. “I’ll give you a shootout, cop.”

Dave held his gaze calmly, knowing what needed to be done. He had this all planned out. While the man fired in his direction, he’d duck and roll to the side. If things worked out like they should, then he’d have a clear shot in tasering the criminal and bringing him down. Step number one, rile him up, was completed. Now it was time for step two. “Hit me with your best shot. You know, if you even know how to fire that thing. I think you might just be doing all of this for show.”

Eyes widening angrily, the man immediately aimed his pistol towards Dave’s head. “I’ll show you-!”

But before he could finish, a figure from behind leaped out and tackled the man to the ground. Together they went down in a tussling heap. That is, until the attacker swiftly threw her fist into the man’s face and knocked him out.

Dave watched in shock as his partner rose to her feet. What was she doing? This wasn’t in their plan! Their plan was that he’d go in and smooth talk the creep until he had a clear shot. Sam was supposed to wait outside and call for backup in case something went wrong.

But wait... why was the supposed to wait outside again?

Oh, that’s right.

Because she was pregnant.

Dave’s eyes hardened furiously as he began to realize exactly what risk Sam had just pulled. But just as he started to stalk towards her, the movie crew beat her too it.

“Sam!” Cassandra exclaimed as she rushed over and pulled the Marshal into a warm embrace. “You’re a life saver, yet again.”

The blonde officer shrugged it off. “Just another day on the job. But please tell me this was the only intruder involved.”

It was Ryan who replied this time. “The one and only.” He gave Sam that swaying celebrity smile. “I guess I owe you, Miss Marshal.”

Sam smirked smugly. “I guess you do.”

“Ahem.”

All three eyes turned to see Dave standing not too far away. His arms were crossed over his chest and he wore a very irritated look.

“Dave,” Cassandra greeted with the same smile. “Thank you for distracting that man like you did. I was certain he was about to kill someone before you showed up.”

The detective’s eyes were still glistening in anger directed purely at Sam Massey. “You’re welcome, Cass. Although, things might’ve gone smoother if we’d actually stuck to our original plan.”

If looks could kill, Sam would’ve murdered Dave right then and there. Her cold eyes fixed an icy glare on the detective. “I guess you just don’t know how to appreciate a partner lending a hand.”

Dave held her stare angrily. “Oh, I appreciate it when I actually need the hand. I had everything under control before you showed up.”

“Really?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow. “Is that why there was a gun pointed at you?” Her expression hardened. “At least I was around to shorten the experience.”

“Right,” her husband said in that smooth, chilling voice he could pull off so easily. “Because putting yourself in danger is so smart right now.”

Ryan suddenly coughed, interrupting their fuming conversation and gaining their attention at the same time. He glanced between the two of them. “Alright, the tension’s getting a little too strong here. What’s with all the silent anger, huh?”

“Mhm,” Cassandra agreed with a nod. “I feel like there’s something more to this than just Sam’s move back there.”

Sam shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

“Yes. Nothing.” Dave’s face hadn’t softened a shade. “It’s nothing. That’s why Massey doesn’t feel fazed by putting herself in a position like that.”

Sam sucked in a sharp breath. “Are we really talking about this here?”

Dave glanced at her icily. “Why not? Or do you want to keep pretending like it doesn’t exist?”

“What doesn’t exist?” Ryan asked in confusion, his expression very perplexed.

Cassandra fixed her eyes on Sam. She studied her closely. “Sam, is everything okay?”

The deputy marshal was staring at the ground, almost as if her attention was elsewhere. “... Yeah. Yeah, of course...”

“You don’t look well,” Cassandra pressed. She took a step closer and gazed at her friend in concern. She blinked when Sam ended up wincing a little. “Sam-“

“Agh...” Massey breathed suddenly, flinching and leaning forward. She quickly pressed a hand to her abdomen. “Damn...”

Dave turned to her. “What is it?”

“I... I don’t know...” she admitted in a slightly nervous voice. “When I took down that guy, I think he hit me pretty hard...” She winced again and her eyes glistened worriedly. “... Something’s wrong...”

Dave stared at her. His expression was glazed over in a distant, almost numb fear. “Oh, God...”

“What’s going on?” Ryan demanded in worry. “Dave, seriously, what’s all this about? What’s wrong with her?”

“Dave...” Sam whispered shakily, reaching for him without looking. She still had a hand resting on her stomach as her eyes flickered over to meet his. All she could think to do was silently mouth ‘the baby’.

But what she didn’t realize was that Cassandra happened to be an expert on reading lips. “Oh my God,” the actress exclaimed, bringing a hand to her mouth.

Ryan stared at her, still confused. “How do you suddenly know what’s going on? Would somebody please tell me what’s happening!”

“Sam’s pregnant,” Dave finally stated as he reached over to clutch his partner’s hand. He looked into her fearful eyes. “... I’m taking you to the hospital.”

She nodded, still pressing a hand to her stomach protectively. “I... I’m too scared to move. I feel like I might make things worse...”

Dave frowned nervously before swallowing his inner worries. “Then I’ll carry you,” he answered, gently scooping her into his arms and carrying her bridal style towards the doors. He felt her rest her head against his strong chest.

“Dave!” Ryan called after them, looking just as concerned now that he knew what was really going on. “We’ll meet you at the hospital as soon as we get out of here.”

The detective nodded but didn’t turn around. The world suddenly seemed like it was traveling in slow motion. Nothing mattered except getting to the hospital.

They ended up exiting the movie studio just as Officer McKenzie entered with a team of backup. She quickly spotted them. “Reyes, Massey, I-“ Her eyes widened when she noticed their solemn expressions. “Is... Is everything okay?” She glanced at Sam worriedly. “Massey?”

Dave answered for her. “McKenzie, the shooter’s passed out inside. Get him in cuffs and take him away. You know the drill.”

The brown haired officer nodded, watching as the partners walked over to Dave’s cruiser and got inside. She wanted to go after them and find out what was really wrong, but she also knew she had a job to do. They would explain when the right time came along. Probably.

-

The ride to the hospital was one of the longest Dave had ever experienced. Neither he nor Sam said a word the whole time. They just drove in dead silence, drowning in their own fears and inner nightmares. None of them wanted to break the tension.

When they finally arrived at the hospital, Dave offered to carry Sam inside. She quietly refused, but still accepted his arm to lean on as they slowly made their way up the steps.

There’s something about hospitals and emergency rooms that really brings out the sadness in people. Sometimes they just look so dreary and pained. All the colors are the same. And they always smell similar from the inside.

Dave wasn’t even sure what he said as he approached the lady sitting at the front desk. It was something along the lines of, “My wife needs to see a doctor right now” or “Please, get us a doctor”.

“What’s the problem?” The lady had asked, eyeing their golden badges.

“She’s pregnant,” Dave responded shakily, wondering why his normally calm voice was acting so strange. “Something’s not right.”

The woman typed some things into her computer. “And her name please?”

“Samantha Reyes,” Dave replied, squeezing Sam’s hand as tightly as he possibly could. She barely squeezed back.

-

The next thing they knew was heading down a purely white hallway. Sam in a wheelchair and Dave trailing close behind. One of the nurses led them into a small room and instructed Massey to lay down on the bed. An ultrasound machine stood next to it.

The nurse fiddled around with some things before leaving without another word. They were left in a deep silence once again.

But Dave couldn’t bare to stand it anymore. He sat down in a chair next to the bed, gazing at his wife intently. “... Sam-“

“Please don’t talk to me,” she whispered, keeping her eyes locked on the ceiling.

He hesitated before trying again. “Look... Whatever happens-“

“Nothing’s going to happen,” she snapped in reply, a glare on her face. “Everything’s... going to be fine...”

Dave stared at her quietly, not knowing what else to say. He wanted to believe her firm statement, but deep down he knew she didn’t believe it either. They were both trying to convince themselves that everything was fine.

That nothing was wrong.

Finally, the door opened and an older, male doctor stepped inside. He was the one who had been checking up on Sam for the past few weeks. He walked inside with a clipboard in hand and gently shut the door behind him. Mumbling softly under his breath, he walked over to the bedside and glanced at Sam. His expression was emotionless. “So, Samantha, want to tell me what’s wrong?”

She blinked as if she suddenly forgot how to speak. This was very unusual for Sam. The only times she didn’t speak was when something was really bothering her. “... I took down an armed shooter-“

“You what?” The doctor asked in disbelief, eyes widening. “In your condition? Samantha, I’ve told you what you can and can’t do for the next few months. Attacking criminals is definitely not on the ‘ok’ list!”

Sam nodded and sucked in a small, quick breath of air. “I’m not here to listen to your opinions on what I did,” she snapped angrily, eyes sharp. “I’m here to find out if something’s wrong. So either give me answers or find me someone who can.”

Despite the heaviness of the situation, Dave found himself gazing at his wife fondly. That was the Sam he knew.

The doctor eyed her carefully for a long moment, taken back by her strong tone of voice. But then, he sighed and complied to her orders. “Let’s just take a look then.” He instructed Sam to pull her shirt up. Once she did, he squirted the cold gel on her bare skin and spread it around. Using the proper tool, he began to press it along the very slight bulge of her stomach, eyes locked on the ultrasound screen.

Dave stood up and walked over to the doctor so he could see as well. It was still strange to watch these things. That little grey blob was his child. A person he and Massey had somehow created together. Normally the ultrasounds looked the same. There never was much to see because the baby hadn’t started moving yet. But this time... something was definitely off.

“Hm,” the doctor mumbled thoughtfully, nodding to himself. He glanced at Dave and pointed to the heart monitor. “See that?”

Dave nodded. “It’s... so fast.”

The doctor continued to mumble little things to himself. “That’s because the baby’s in distress.” He turned to Sam curiously. “Did you take a hit to the abdomen when you were fighting?”

Looking almost ashamed, she softly nodded. “Yes...”

“What does that mean? For the baby?” Dave asked worriedly, frowning in concern.

Narrowing his eyes at the ultrasound screen, the doctor eventually came up with a conclusion. “Well... it’s not good, I can tell you that. But I can’t tell what’s going to happen yet. All I can say for sure is... there’s a very high risk of a miscarriage at this point.”

Sam closed her eyes and brought a hand to her forehead, pinching her nose in an attempt to prevent any tears from escaping. She let out a shaky sigh.

Dave was honestly in some type of shock. Feeling numb, he turned back to the doctor. “How high of a risk? Isn’t there something you can do to prevent it?”

The doctor shook his head. “There’s nothing I can do at this point, detective. You’ll just have to wait out the night and see what happens.” His gaze softened a shade after seeing their distraught expressions. “... Look, we’ll be monitoring the baby very carefully. I’ll let you know immediately if anything changes. There’s always a chance, you know.”

Dave nodded weakly, lost in a trance of sorts. “Right...”

Glancing between the two officers, the doctor sighed and turned the ultrasound machine off. He handed Sam a towel to wipe the gel from her stomach. “I’ll give you two some alone time,” he said, heading for the door. “If you need anything throughout the night, please let me know. I’m sorry.” With that, he left the room and gently closed the door.

Another silence. This one much worse than the others that came before. Much, much worse.

Dave looked at his wife, watching as she slowly sat up and wiped the gel off with the towel. Her eyes were glazed over in tears and guilt. He felt his heart clench. “... Sam...”

Her eyes flickered up to meet his. That’s when her shield broke down. She dropped the towel and began to cry, the sobs shaking her shoulders. Never had she looked so shattered inside.

Without hesitating, Dave rushed over to her and crawled in the bed. He wrapped his arms around her and held her body close to his, trying to steady her cries. He didn’t say anything. What could he say that would make the situation better?

“This is my fault...” Sam whispered, trembling under his embrace. “It’s all... my fault...” She glared at herself, angry at the mistakes she had made. “I should’ve listened to you... I should’ve listened!”

Dave shook his head as a few tears of his own fell down. “Sam, don’t say that...”

“Don’t try to shift the blame, Reyes!” She snapped, angry tears streaming down her face. “I did this! I put myself in danger and now... now...” Her voice cracked. “Now we could lose the baby... because of me...” Shakily, she glanced up to meet his eyes, a horrified gleam in hers. “... I guess I’m the murderer this time...”

To be continued

[selphplusplus]

Forgotten

This time last year still sick form COvID

I can remember the fever dreams vividly.

We were microorganisms, defending our puddle from invaders. It was very dynastic-conquest-esque.

As we fought survival wars, there as a class of shaman that could manipulate genetic matter and cause our people to evolve, a mix between Ender’s Game and Spore, the evolution and civilization emulation.

I was very baby leftist at the time and had no theoretical understanding of what an epidemic could do to a society. I still thought Bernie could change things, that we could just vote all this away. We had yet to see how utterly abandoned America was going to leave the poor.

But the dream did trigger a curiosity. I was frustrated often in that dream, my people were at war with an Other we didn’t understand. I was like a leader of a batallion, not one of the higher ups that had us fighting. And being there felt very much like real life. It reminded me of high school football. As cliche as that sounds, the close bonds I formed with teammates battling it out against a far superior team. Only it wasn’t touchdowns we were giving up. It was our lives. Watching someone you’ve grew up with die right beside you and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Hell, you don’t even know why you’re fighting.

Even though it was “just a dream” it wasn’t unusual to wake up with tears, or utterly dejected.

Why were we fighting anyway. Later this would become a metaphor for class war. But last March I didn’t understand those dynamics.

It lasted 3 days. Recurrent I wasn’t even keeping track of time and I slept most of those 72 hours only waking up to use the bathroom and get some fluids. The dream world was the only thing my subconscious kept returning to. And it was a weird but profound experience. I’d never dreamt consecutively of the same thing like that, and never so lucid and impactful that I could remember it when I woke up.

So I was stuck on the question of protecting society from a biological threat. How apropos that it coincided with the COVID-19 pandemic.

A few months later I reread the Communist Manifesto. It hit different that time.

Having just come out of 7 year disconnect from society proper, living as a lumpenprole (though I didn’t have that concept yet), having just got out of my first real stint of jail time that was thankfully cut short with a COViD inspired plea deal (do 1/3 of your time, plead guilty, no fees, no probation, just go—and seeing the judge just a day before that agreed release, it was an easy “here’s my signature, I’m not guilty of these trumped up bullshit charges, I was having a drug induced psychosis and needed a hospital not a jail cell, but OK I’d rather be not in jail...Fine, I’ll plea out.”) bit I digress—

In the coming months I went from liberal “left”

progressive by American standards to guillotine Bezos, but unironically, today, unapologetic communist. A tankie, and a badge I wear proudly. When I say COVID-19 radicalized me, I mean literally. It was the combination of the futility of individualism that was instilled by the successive failures of my Avatar in the dreamworld to save my people. For a fantasy land, the emotions of rage and sadness and loss left a lasting imprint.

And then i got to see it play out in real time. To my actual people, the poor and marginalized in the US. The forgotten—or intentionally ignored—the most vulnerable told to fuck right off.

Told to go die for to keep making the bosses rich.

Told what they already felt about themselves, that their lives didn’t matter.

And we heard that loud and clear. The George Floyd cold blooded murder by a sociopathic pig (daily “Fuck the police” mantra by the way). That was a catalyst. That they tried to excuse it by painting the man as a fentanyl abuser, as an addict and a criminal, enraged us even more.

How the fuck do you think we survive in a system that demonizes us, shuns us because we fell into the spiral of addiction!?

Of course we fucking do crime. No one will hire us. Medical help only exists for a select few who win the lottery of the bare bones funding for social work.

And not just that, but you gotta get an addict in for help immediately. When they ask for it, they’re at that rock bottom place, probably suicidal, and the intake process is “wait three weeks” and by then, if they’re still alive they probably don’t wanna do to rehab. And that’s the reality of the cycle. (Unless you have money of course and you can pay your way in same day. But let’s keep acting like class doesn’t exist.)

Then it’s to the revolving door of the recovery industry, enriching the parasites that have found a way to profit off of misery. They deserve a special place in hell in Dante’s fourth circle: greed. Ain’t late stage capitalism grand?

So a black man who happens to be caught in this terrible maelstrom of tragedy and somehow deserves a cop standing on his neck, wailing in agony in his final moments, because he may have been a drug addict!?

Fuck you.

Fuck you entirely.

If this what you think, that an addict’s life is some how lesser or less than, I hope you kids die of an overdose; I hope someone trying to get their fix snatches your purse, steals your car, robs your house. I want you to understand the real gravity of the situation. We’re not abstractions. And we deserve a dignified life and a society that gives us a chance.

But instead, when things weren’t so dire, and you could just forget about us, and we could scrape out a meager existence funding out habit to escape a society that’s already written us off, we just thought as long as we stayed invisible your opinion about us was indifference.

When we saw a pig murder a man, on repeat. Replayed over and over on national fucking media outlets and social media—

When the state sanctioned a killing and we saw people debating a man’s life as he begged for mercy—

After he had done noting wrong, it’s quite audacious that you’re upset about a few burned buildings.

We heard you loud and fucking clear. You don’t see us as forgotten. You see us as unwanted.

And here we are a year later. $1800 dollar puttiance. (Be happy with what you have, peasants) yet we saw other countries, even capitalist countries, shut down, lockdown, pay people’s salary, protect their workers.

Vaccines that favor the rich. (Yet a the socialist nations developed their own, even exported them with no strings attached because that’s the right thing to do.) and here’s American companies like Pfizer, trying to manipulate South America for USA imperialist conquest. promising vaccines for trade, just a no-fault contract “so we’re [Pfizer] is indemnified if we fuck you over, oh and a military base. Or your people can just for from COVID, no pressure.”

Business owners bailed out. And the poor having to go literally risk their lives to make some money rich fuck with a yacht richer. Nah. The answer to my dream-prompted questions, it turns out we’re already answered by a German philosopher and the thoughts and societies built by his predecessors. Socialism has given us a real life

example on how to take care of my people. And that together, with revolutionary love. That’s why we do this.

“When it’s our time, we will not apologize for the terror.” You wrought this on yourself.

[aion-rsa]

Why Evil is the Only TV Procedural Worth Watching

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

This Evil article contains spoilers. You can read a spoiler-free review of the show here.

Who knows what evils lie at the heart of CBS’s Evil? Shadows know. We consulted a book of shadows (not the one Leland Townsend (Michael Emerson) skims, too many spoilers there) to cut into the left ventricle of the darkness feeding the network’s supernatural series, now in production for season 2. The blood of the police procedural pumps through the veins of the paranormal investigation show, but Evil transcends the statutes of those limitations. Occasionally by papal decree. The series is intelligent, filled with symbolism, and its main character, who is training to be a priest, drops acid on a semi-regular basis. And he’s not microdosing. Look at those baggies.

Evil doesn’t debunk demonic possession, which is the main thrust of the team’s investigations. It never treats it as campy. The series believes demons are real, even giving the audience a breakdown of the six different forms possession take. But it deliciously stops short of giving full commitment. The show also explores how to parse out personal responsibility when there’s a supernatural being to blame. In episode 7, “Vatican 3,” we learn “the court does not acknowledge demonic possession” in determining guilt or innocence. The series further muddies the waters when the crew has to take a hard look at a murder committed by someone who wasn’t possessed, such as when the parents of what they believed is a demonically possessed child kill him. The series further turns the screw because the kid they killed to save their other children was born evil. It was literally in his genes.

Evil shares DNA with The X-Files, and David Acosta, played with charisma and empathy by Mike Colter (Luke Cage), is the new show’s Fox “Spooky” Mulder. He is looking for answers beyond the veil, which has the same letters as evil, and he is putting the pieces together like a hidden map of old Manhattan. There’s a truth out there and he’s willing to do whatever it takes to understand it. He’s not in it to solve any crimes against venal sins. He is looking for deeper meaning, and this alone puts the series above most procedurals. David’s got a bit of the scientist Dodge from original The Planet of the Apes film in his cinematic character. One of the first astronauts to delve so deep into the outer reaches of space, “He’d walk naked into a live volcano if he thought he could learn something no other man knew.” David is the same. He was a foreign correspondent in war-ravaged Afghanistan who got to know the soldiers whose stories he reported. Truth and knowledge are the most noble of callings, and ultimately come before his religious calling.

While the basic premise of a spiritual believer teamed with a dissenting psychologist is procedural trope, Evil is out to debunk the law of its diminishing returns. First, the show teams David with not just one skeptical voice, but two. Katja Herbers’ Dr. Kristen Bouchard plays the same role Agent Dana Scully played to Mulder, and with a similar arsenal. She comes from a different perspective, though. Bouchard does indeed believe in miracles, but thinks they all have scientific explanations. She is confident the only reason something might defy natural principles is because science hasn’t been applied properly yet. Scully, who wore a cross and took her faith seriously, accepted miracles on faith. David and Kristen rarely come to the same conclusion.

Ben Shakir, played by Aasif Mandvi, brings common knowledge, and shades his skepticism with cynicism. The former Daily Show correspondent takes on the weight of all three Lone Gunmen but with more constructive skills. Before joining the paranormal team, he was a carpenter, just like Jesus. Ben knows how things work, and when everyday mechanisms like sinks or faulty wiring are the root cause of supernatural phenomena, he can turn the screws, and spot the mold. Ben, “the Magnificent,” as Kristen’s children call him, is also tech savvy, and quite capable of hacking hackers.

Evil also throws things at Ben which he can’t easily spackle over with even the best of tests. Try as he may, and he tries, he can’t explain the light of an angel in the frame of a surveillance video. There is no evidence of doctoring, even at the most expert levels. “The world is weird,” David passes off as dating advice when Ben asks about potential girlfriend Vanessa (Nicole Shalhoub), who wants to know she if she should detach from her dead sister before committing to a new relationship. Vanessa thinks she is “tethered” to her phantom sister by the right arm.

Supernatural science is bizarre, creators Robert and Michelle King (The Good Wife, Braindead) believe. They push the show to diagnose causes the external evidence of exorcisms and stigmata, the bleeding wounds which correspond to the wounds on Christ’s hands when he was nailed to the cross. Because stigmatics display their wounds as they are portrayed artistically, rather than how the Romans historically would have done the crucifixion, it proves it comes from a psychological source. Internal belief causes the phenomena, not external spiritual forces. Evil explains that, allowing ample room for skepticism, belief, and even poetic reasons for spiritual incursions. David quotes Shakespeare to enunciate his faith. The concept of free will doesn’t come up in most procedurals. Neither does the way sociopolitical issues are turned into supernatural questions and tied to the origins of evil.

Evil is almost a character in Evil, and has relatable entry points. Real demons first get to Kristen’s four young daughters through an augmented reality videogame. A little girl who never takes off her Halloween mask almost gets the sisters to bury one alive. We don’t know how much of the characters’ perceptions is the result of a demon character’s influence on them. Each character is slowly being tempted by the dark side.

Kristen joined the team as a rational thinker but has had to accommodate uncomfortable ideas and adjust her comfort zone accordingly. In her usual line of work, she’s analyzed the criminally insane, but the show has pushed her into close contact with people who are evil in the Biblical sense. She is being pushed incrementally by forces in and out of her control. Her own mother Sheryl (Christine Lahti) sides with a manipulative competitor, Leland, over her daughter, and he’s made direct threats. The first season can be seen as Kristen’s slow corruption. The second season may see Kirsten apply her skills to her own situation, which will delve further into the dichotomy between the spiritual and pragmatic.

This is because Kristen may have already fallen. The final episode includes a telltale blood stain, which she wills Ben to unsee. On any procedural this is considered a clue, but here on Evil, the evidence actually points further than a mere homicide. It is the first sign that a main character has gone to the dark side. It is confirmed when the touch of a crucifix blisters her hand. There’s no such thing as an original sin and Kristen has been flirting with temptation long before this.

Kristen is a married nonpracticing Catholic who lost her faith. She’s sexually attracted to David, a man on his way to becoming a priest. When this subject was broached on the classic 1970s cop comedy Barney Miller, a prostitute who was supposed to be a young priest’s last fling before he entered a monastery said “I break laws, not commandments.” It feels like Kristen reminds herself of this every time the two of them are on screen alone together. Their sexual chemistry is that palpable. Yes, this is very similar to the long-gesticulating romance between Mulder and Scully, but he was no priest and she wasn’t married. Not only is Kristen married, but she’s got half a brood of daughters. Annoying things, really, but at least one of them has an excuse. Another reason Evil is the only procedural worth watching is because everyone on it just might be cursed. That’s not found in the manuals.

Evil towers over contemporary procedurals in how it’s going dark. Most procedurals chase a morally compromised arc, but Evil treats it like an encroaching corruption. Kristen, who is sworn to uphold the law, may have gone more than rogue vigilante. Besides the crucifix-burning season closing, David has visions of a goat demon waiting for Kristen with a scythe. She’d been tormented by her own personal demon throughout the season but when the George, the demon-like creature who visits Kristen during sleep paralysis, falls on the knife, it changes nothing. He is just one of many demons. One of them set up practice and is taking office hours with Leland.

The Demon Therapist is an all-male Goat of Mendes, or Baphomet. The show gets into how different biblical angels look from how they’re perceived artistically and by the contemporary faithful, but won’t present a faithful representation of Baphomet. It’s as patriarchal as Chilling Adventures of Sabrina. Evil keeps it vague whether the goat demon is real or in Leland’s head. The Demon therapist appears in Kristen’s dreams as well. Lexis (Maddy Crocco) disabled the house alarm for the visiting devil therapist when he invites her to “the next level,” making it seem she is at least susceptible to underworldly influence. The kids are irritating, but they are a bargaining chip and their father, Adam, put them up for grabs when they chanted together offering an exchange of souls. Kristen was co-opted into evil through protective motherly instinct. She doesn’t see the mark of the devil as a badge of honor. When Kristen puts the cross in her palm, she doesn’t look like she expected it as much as feared it.

While the network show will never have the freedoms afforded cable series, the acting is top notch all around. Series like HBO’s Perry Mason or even Showtime’s reimagined second incarnation of Penny Dreadful: City of Angels, provide a wider range of emotion and carnality. But Evil gives us muted, for the most part believable performances, very often underplayed. As are the special effects and use of technology as a narrative device. Too many procedurals treat high tech surveillance and other investigative tools like they are all-seeing eyes which can count nostril hairs.  It has become normalized. Evil doesn’t waste intellectual space with unreasonable gadgets. The tools Ben or Leland use to their computerized ends are believable. At one point, Kristen asks Ben to record a cell phone conversation which is already halfway over. She is surprised he can’t with all his special skills.

The series incorporates real world horrors into mundane life. Even some of the most normal looking settings carry a sense of unease, to underscore the show’s thesis that the supernatural is natural but never quite normalized. Many of the scenes are shot vertically, drawing the viewers’ eyes upward and inferring something is always going on above. The series’ many wide-angle shots put a distance between characters even in close-ups.

The show isn’t afraid to wear its influences on its sleeves, and on several occasions has a lot of fun with it. For Dr. Kurt Boggs’ (Kurt Fuller) arrival at an exorcism, they recreated Father Merrin’s introductory scene in the horror classic The Exorcist, shot for shot, even getting an exact replica of the light post and the same make car, though different year, from the film. They gave nods to Rosemary’s Baby, Misery, Cabin in the Woods, and Children of the Corn.  The climbing ax which Kirsten grabs on her way out to do damage on the serial killer Orson looks like it has teeth. As did the walking stick Lon Chaney’s Larry Talbot carried in The Wolfman. The demon George looks like Freddy Krueger’s good-looking cousin. The tonality of the show is reminiscent of Charles Laughton’s immeasurably influential Night of the Hunter.

The main reason Evil shines above most procedurals is because it is scary, and those scares have been building slowly and deliberately. Commonplace settings feel off, and the world around is filled with conspiracies and coverup. The Vatican asks the team to determine whether a woman who knows the hidden history of the church is a false prophet. The fertility clinic Kristen and her husband Andy used when conceiving Lexis corrupts fetuses with satanic insemination. A witty but innocuous internet meme, Puddy’s Christmas song, is a hummably foreboding earworm. Anything can go evil on Evil.

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Evil season 2 is currently in production. Read more about that here.

The post Why Evil is the Only TV Procedural Worth Watching appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[mikeymagee]

Luke Cage: Hope and Fear

Luke Cage is a man of many contradictions. With his bulletproof skin, nothing can harm him, and yet throughout he wrestles with fear. He is both an ex-cop and an ex-con. Despite his great strength, yet he is willing to be emotional and allow others (even those who wish to do him harm) compassion. 

It is quite fitting that Luke’s  thematic color is yellow. Yellow has always been a color of contradiction. Yellow represents optimism, positivity, and most of all hope. But it’s contradiction is in the fact that yellow also represents fear. 

(Long post under the cut)

The Harlem Community

As a bulletproof Black man, Luke Cage is a person who “doesn’t need a badge to get things done.” He is impervious to most bullets (Judas bullets notwithstanding). Through his presence, he brings a sense of hope to the citizens of Harlem who live underneath Cottonmouth and Mariah’s thumbs. He brings hope to Connie and her husband after he defends them from Cottonmouth’s goons. Stories of his miraculous survival after the bombing of Ghengis Connie’s spread throughout the Harlem streets, and people are given something they’ve never had before: A Hero. He brings hope of justice to the citizens of Harlem after their businesses were robbed by Mr. Stokes, and in a city where the cops under the payroll of a gangster, that hope was sorely needed.  

But even with this great strength, Luke Cage’s abilities also inspired fear. Many Harlem citizens, despite appreciating what Luke has done, and still has the ability to do, had concerns about the likelihood of him abusing his power and causing more harm than good (something Mariah Dillard used later on the show to turn some of Harlem against Luke). This was even touched upon in episode 6 on Trish Walker’s show:

As Trish Walker even noted:

It is the fear that the police, and Harlem feel for Luke Cage that force them to shake down anyone in Harlem who may have had contact with Luke. When Diamondback told Mariah to “sell the fear” as a means of getting the government to okay Judas bullets as a means of hunting down Luke Cage, he knew how well it would work, because America’s history is filled with politicians and citizens using and buying guns to curtail their own fear (fear that is often times due to the presence of Black people). 

The fear of Luke’s presence began to take more root once the police began to fear him. After Diamondback killed a cop, and framed Luke for it, the police started to allow their fear to control them.

Lonnie, a young man who knew Luke Cage was beaten by a cop who was afraid of Luke’s abilities (and Luke’s alleged murder spree). And that sent Harlem (a community that already did not trust the police) into a frenzy of fear. Which Mariah directed towards Luke Cage.

But there were still those who remembered the hope Luke inspired in them. Method Man, for instance, and all of the other men who donned bulletproof hoodies to keep the police off of Luke’s trail,

As Method Man even says:

“There’s something powerful about seeing a  black man that’s bulletproof and unafraid.”

And that was an image many Black men in Harlem rose up to protect.

 They placed their fear the police and their brutality aside to protect an image that brought them hope.  

In fact, the Harlem Police Department and the media was far more interested in criminalizing Luke Cage (much like the judicial system criminalizes black bodies) instead of finding out what was really going on. Which many people commented on.

It’s not until the end of the season, when Luke Cage defeats Diamondback that the communities fear of him gives way to hope. 

Seagate Prison

Seagate is a sea of utter hopelessness. Prisoners are exploited by guards, therapists, and medical personnel, and even other prisoners will turn on fellow inmates if it means better treatment.  Rackham runs are secret fight ring in the prison, and there were rumors, as Carl Lucas began to hear, about strange happenings to the inmates. Prisoners disappearing, and shady dealings between the guards. 

But even then Luke, as Carl Lucas, still brought hope to both its prisoners and its guards. When Rackham discovered Lucas’ physical prowess, he had found himself a new gladiator for the illegal fight ring, and thus hope for a bigger pay out. 

Burstein, the man who gave Luke his powers, was not aware that the process was even successful. But after Luke and Claire return to Georgia, and Burstein sees the success of his work, Burstein is infused with the hope of what this breakthrough could mean for humanity. And it is through Luke Cage that this can experiment can be done (after all, it was Luke’s DNA that allowed it to be successful as Burstein notes.)

During his stay at Seagate, Carl manages to take Rackham’s fight ring down, and during the latter half of the season, Luke Cage (upon learning of Burstein’s exploitation) destroys Burstein’s barn and vows that the doctor will never exploit anyone with his experiments ever again and many, if not all, of Burstein’s victims were prisoners who died during the process, 

Whether intentionally (like with Rackham) or unintentionally (like with Burstein) Luke Cage brought hope to a hopeless place (He gave Seagate prisoners protection from exploitation, just as he had for the people of Harlem). Luke Cage (or Carl Lucas) brought hope to a world of fear, and brought it to those who needed it most. 

And it stands to reason that many Seagate prisoners would know, or at least come to learn, about how Carl took down Rackham’s fight ring, and protected them from further exploitation, and mistreatment.  Which would explain Luke’s warm reception upon being released from Seagate Prison in The Defenders:

Luke Cage Himself:

Luke Cage, throughout his journey as a hero, battles deals with both of these aspects of himself. He fights against fear and distrust while doing his best to hold onto hope. It’s important to look at how this duality has shaped his communities, but it’s imperative to see how he himself embodies these themes. 

Luke’s entire storyline revolves around his reluctance to get involved, and despite his durability and his strength, his fear of being discovered as an ex-convict keeps him from acting. Something Henry “Pop” Hunter, Luke’s late mentor, even brings to light. Pop is the man who gave Luke a job, allowed him to survive in Harlem and actively gave him hope. 

Pop’s mantra “Forward Always” is one of understanding, and hope. Luke is a man who’s concerns for his past keep him from acting in the present. And Henry Hunter, a former gangster, is a kindred spirit in which, despite his violent past, was still able to be a force for good for the Harlem community.

Despite Luke Cage’s respectability politics (which is a point of topic in the black community) he is still an ex-convict. And no amount of Bible quoting,  well placed speeches, or controlled temperament is going to erase the stigma that convicts are dangerous to the community.  And this has a double impact on black men who are already criminalized by the judicial system and the media. Luke Cage’s convict past, unfortunately, confirms the narrow minded idea that black are men criminals, and that being suspicious of them is the right call. Luke Cage is considered the most righteous member of The Defenders, and yet he’s the one with the most deplorable past (even though he was framed). 

And Luke Cage is aware of that. And when Cottonmouth discovers Luke’s past as Carl Lucas, he not only plans on blackmailing him, but even calls out Luke’s actions as hypocrisy. After all, how can Luke claim to be a good person when he himself has been to prison? How can anyone respect a man who’s past brands him as the ultimate danger?

And Luke himself is aware, that regardless of the great things he’s done for Harlem, his past as a convict will render all of that irrelevant. Think of how the media frames any mistake a black man or black woman does as an unforgivable offense. Luke may not have said this outright, but his actions show that he is aware of the stigma attached to his past. 

To which Claire responds, that even though Luke Cage is an ex-convict that fact that he’s still out there in the community doing amazing things for people has the potential to give people (including other ex-convicts who live in Harlem) hope for a better tomorrow. 

Claire Temple stresses the fact that Luke Cage, thanks to his convict past, is more common to the every-man that he first believed. In this instance, it is Claire who is giving Luke hope that he, regardless of his past, can make a difference in the community. And ultimately, Luke endeavors to take Cottonmouth down, conquering fear and replacing hope (for himself and Harlem) in its stead.

While in Seagate prison, a place that is tinged with fear. Fear that Luke deals with constantly. There’s the fear of exploitation (which Rackham represents) the fear of bodily harm (which is represented by Shades and Comanche). 

But regardless of that, hope is given to Luke in the form of Reva Connors and Squabbles. Reva works as a therapist for the prisoners, and Squabbles the one person Luke was able to depend on while at Seagate. It is because of Reva that Luke finds the resolve to take Rackham down. Reva Connor, as quoted by Luke himself, gave Luke hope. 

But with hope comes fear. The fear that that hope can be taken away. The fear that that hope can be used for extortion, exploitation and blackmail. Something Rackham was aware of and used to force Carl/Luke into his gladiator fights. Through threatening Squabbles, Carl/Luke had his hope threatened. And later on, Rackham, upon learning of Carl’s feelings for Reva, did the same thing (or at least threatened to do the same thing) to Reva. 

Duality

What Luke Cage represents so beautifully is that hope and fear cannot exist without the other. What brings hope also has the potential to bring fear. After all, false hope can be considered worse than no hope at all. And many people fear what hope may bring to them, or what challenges hope may force them to take on. Luke was given hope by Reva, and Claire and Pop and in so doing, he did battle with fear. The fear of being outed as a convict, the fear of losing the people he cares about. 

And Harlem, when given the hope of a hero, did battle with fear. The fear of someone too strong. The fear of a new status quo in a changing world. 

But, Luke Cage and Harlem show that, despite hopeless circumstances, hope can always win out, in spite of fear 

[kootenaygoon]

So,

Chaos had come to Salmon Creek.

Shortly after the American authorities escorted Shuswap Joe out the front of the River Eel Saloon in handcuffs, after they drove him across town and deposited him in jail with a murder charge, that’s when everything caught fire. The black-clad cops were kicking down doors with their guns drawn, wheeling through town with fervid abandon, scaring up criminals wherever they went. Every barrel of Shu-Scotch they discovered was axed to pieces on the spot, the streams of sweet liquid running in rivulets into the street. Meanwhile Special Agent Gord Trapper remained at the bar, where he was getting cozy with Mistress Molly and the rest of the staff. He was sure one of them held the secret to finding Joe’s distillery; he just had to figure out which one. He situated himself at a table by the window, watching smoke billow into the sky from three different building fires, and felt a satisfying warmth in his gut. It was hungry work, doing J. Edgar Hoover’s bidding, but it was well worth it.

“You may be wearing a badge, but everybody in this town knows Shuswap Joe would never murder an innocent woman,” said Mistress Molly. “You’re selling a story nobody’s going to buy.”

“Somebody killed little Lucy Applewater over there. Shot her right in the head, poor thing. Who else would it be?”

“You’re a bastard.”

“You might be right about that, madam, but I’m a bastard for the cause of justice.”

“And what about truth?”

He chuckled. “The truth is whatever I say it is.”

By the next day, Gord had arranged for a local judge to put Joe on trial for murder. The deed was done on Canadian soil, so would be settled in Canadian court. Joe was subjected to a pithy half-day proceeding, with testimony coerced from other prisoners, and found guilty without saying a word in his own defence. All he could think about was poor Lucy. What if he had left her in that doorway, where she was cowering? Why had he involved her in this skirmish? Was this his fault? The image of Gord’s bullet blasting through her skull skittered across his consciousness all day long. He had been shocked into passivity, into silence. 

It only took two men to handcuff him, to lead him into this cell and take away his freedom. Normally he would’ve gone berserk, holy with rage, but instead he was full of guilt. Was he really the man he wanted to be? Had he failed himself? Why was this happening? He questioned everything, and even wondered if it was best they just execute him. He didn’t feel like living in this type of world anyway, where one man could die for another man’s crimes. Nothing made sense to him. In the dead of night he dreamt of the Adams River, slumbering on his cot. The river eels were with him there, navigating the current. He rolled on to his back and felt the water take ahold of him.

One of the eels slithered against his neck while he floated. It began to speak to him in a watery, electric hiss. “You weren’t born to die in a hangman’s noose, Shooooswap Joe.”

“It’s out of my control.”

The second eel approached, and coiled tightly on his belly. “These men are strangers to this place, Joooooe. This is your home. You have the river and the trees and everything in between. You have ussssss.”

“They have guns.”

“Can’t you see? The river has been guiding you ever since you were a baaaaaby. Listen to its voice now. Feel its power. Don’t be afraid of death. Death should be afraid of yoooooooou.”

Right at that moment Joe was jolted awake. Three broad-shouldered Mounties with rifles had entered his cell, and were standing at attention, as a fourth ducked through the doorway. Bald as an egg, his lower face almost entirely covered by a drooping white moustache, this man was clearly near the end of his career. His companions were in uniform, but he was dressed like a burglar and had an air of secrecy about him. He sat down on the bunk opposite Joe, his head hung in shame. For a moment it seemed like he was crying. Then he shook his head, cleared his throat, and introduced himself matter-of-factly as the Commissioner. 

While he spoke, he looked down at the cobblestones.

“I’ve been in law enforcement for over four decades now, Joe. I’ve given my life to the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, my life and my soul. It’s been the only real purpose of my measly existence. I never had a family, didn’t have hobbies. I simply had a nice little life keeping the peace here in the Shuswap,” he said, his voice quavering.

“Now I had many opportunities to take shortcuts, to look the other way here or take a bribe there. Once you become a police officer there’s so many different ways you can be corrupted. You have to stay vigilant, and you have to listen to that voice inside you that tells you when something’s right, and when something’s wrong. Now I’ve never been perfect, never claimed to be, but I’m still a man and I can recognize wrong when I see it.”

He looked up now, firelight smouldering in his glassy eyes. “What Special Agent Gord Trapper did to Lucy Applewater in the River Eel Saloon was wrong. Framing you for murder, that was wrong too. And me, letting my forces stand by while these Yanks stomp all over our sovereignty, well I think that’s the wrongest thing of all.”

Joe didn’t know what to say. He’d long had a distaste for cops, but this honest-talking old man seemed in a class all his own. 

The Commissioner stood suddenly. He was just barely five feet tall, but thickly muscled from his years of riding horses. “Now what you have to understand next is that I am not just a man, Joe. I am an institution. We have a reputation to uphold, and international diplomacy to keep in mind. Whatever happens next cannot reflect poorly on the RCMP in any way, is that clear?”

Joe nodded, feeling a wash of hope flush down his arms. This guy was about to set him free. The Commissioner strutted to the end of the cell with his hands interlocked behind his back, then marched back.

“I wouldn’t be surprised to learn J. Edgar Hoover had never heard of Salmon Creek before this investigation. To him we’re just some foreign backwater nobody’s heard of, we’re all acceptable collateral damage in his ill-fated quest to rid the world of alcohol,” he said.

“But this is Canada. We’re a baby country, Joe, still building our identity every day. The actions we take may very well have repercussions for generations to come. Blood will be shed, lives will be lost. I don’t want you to have any illusions about what’s at stake. You may be nothing more than some bum bootlegger from the Shuswap, but tonight you’re going to be a soldier.”

The Commissioner sat back down to discuss the details. Trapper’s men had some credible leads, and they were taking their RCMP escorts on a mission to work their way up Salmon Creek until they found the distillery. It was only a matter of time before they would be successful. There were multiple automobiles stuffed with machine gun-toting agents, and they were hauling a Gatling gun from the Great War. It was said to be capable of sawing a man in half with its bullets. If someone didn’t warn the workers at the distillery it would be absolute carnage.

“Unfortunately, I can’t offer you any of my men for this mission without raising suspicions. I’ve given my officers strict instructions to work cooperatively with the Americans, and to raise no suspicions. Meanwhile, I intend to come with you,” he said.

“Where?” Joe asked. “Come with me where?”

At this point the Commisioner nodded to one of his officers, who passed him a bottle of Shu-Scotch. He smiled appreciatively, then accepted a pair of shot glasses. He poured them each a mouthful of the amber liquid.

“I’ve got two horses saddled outside. I’ve got all the supplies we need. If we leave tonight, I believe we can beat them to the distillery. If we can do that, then perhaps we can save some lives,” he said.

Then he pulled a lengthy blade from a sheath on his hip, and brandished it between them. He had the look of a religious zealot, like he’d finally discovered his purpose in life. He must’ve been nearly 70 years old but suddenly he had the energy of a much younger man. They stared each other down before taking their shots, smacking their lips and wincing from the sting.

“What’s the knife for?” Joe asked.

The Commissioner watched transfixed as the light glinted off it’s freshly sharpened edge. 

“You’ll see.”

The Kootenay Goon