#or the man arrested for helping someone with a chemical attack

[thosesillylittlegayghosts]

Why the hell are 3/7 headlines about the king when they’re talking about him anyway

[pandorafallz]

Vampire AU | Chapter 24

Quaritch once again eyed the new report from the newest repaired dozer to…the new downed dozer and second AMP suit that had been recalled due to damage. Another failure that was chalked up to poor maintenance but Quaritch could feel something was amiss and it felt like it was good old sabotage.

This was not the work he had wanted to do the moment he returned for a full debrief from Frontier West and even then, his work there wasn’t yet complete. He had more important things to do than this. He had put in an inside man to help with the repairs; to ensure the repairs weren’t done to be faulty. He had swapped out the patrol teams and gone over reports and video logs of the shift and they already had scans of the area on the system so there shouldn’t be problems. If that failed to draw anything, he couldn’t call it sabotage on their end.

With the dozers without internal scanners anymore—Selfridge had ordered to remove them entirely as they would shut down dozers at every ‘interesting’ thing the scanners picked up—they had fewer ways to update the terrain unless it was hand-scanners. No one had time for that shit in Selfridge’s book and Quaritch was too busy to give a fuck about it too. They were dozing blind.

Selfridge seemingly looked to be reading his report but even Quaritch could see the guy’s eyes weren’t rolling across the text a lot.

“I’ve got Mansk currently acting as Head of the base until I decide who runs the base. Walker is his head of security until then as well. I’ve got a few men in places but… We’ll need a lot more to fill out the ranks.” He wasn’t thrilled given he wanted Mansk back with his team here but...he was making do.

Selfridge exhaled deeply, rolling his head back. “How many more?”

“A hundred or so more.”

“A hundred!” Selfridge exclaimed, “That…too many! And I’ve seen the number count, you don’t need that many people.”

“I will. Once arrests have been made.”

“Arrests?”

“Next page,” Quaritch nodded to the report Selfridge was slacking on. He waited a few moments, as the guy skim-read through, tapping to the next page then pulled a face.

“You gotta be kidding me…”

“All evidence that we could get shows that…Mercer created the TAP program about seventeen years ago with Cortez. It became actuality a year later. Kidnapping Na’vi children and committing full-out genocide of a Na’vi clan and chemically contaminating the area with toxins to destroy the bodies and evidence. They wiped the TAP-1 Facility so we couldn’t find the back-up saves; someone got to it hours before we did. Someone did leave us enough to work with. Now, I’m not here to preach to the Na’vi and you know that normally, I couldn’t care less given how far away from me they are” Quaritch started, “but…the Frontier West SecOps committed war crimes, an uncalled for genocide attack and poses a huge threat to the safety of those bases. I’ll round up anyone alive that was part of the slaughter. That’s twenty-seven men and women still alive out of the fifty that were listed, six returned back to earth over the last few years, and the rest were killed by animals, wildlife and stupidity.”

Quaritch was honest in his words. Originally, he couldn’t care less. They were heading down to force the Omatikaya out of their home for the human’s greater need. One clan was in the way of it and…well if he was a complete warmonger, he’d be gunning for failure if Sully had been a good boy in his mission and burn the people out if they refused to go. He used to have the same goal with Selfridge but… it was becoming more apparent the guy had no loyalty to anything that wasn’t green or with dollar signs on which had become a pressing concern given the oversight it put onto his department. Quaritch was trying to be patient here which was more than what he was used to giving.

Mercer was his own RDA leader and ran his resources collection with passion but…his oversight had got the man killed. He had taken too much from a lot of clans in the area and…Quaritch did not like the weight it put against the RDA in that sector. They needed more to keep it secure but they also needed more with less Na’vi blood on their hands to…seem less of a threat.

War crimes had their degrees and Quaritch was not innocent. He knew that. But…it crossed a line in his book when there was needless reason for it. This…saren-something clan had no cause; the RDA was not defending themselves or their technology, nor was the ground the clan on holding anything of use to the RDA. No build-up of an attack either. They killed the adults and the teenagers and took the ones small enough to be useful.

Sooner or later, the Na’vi clans were gonna find out…and he couldn’t imagine the base being safe with as much red on their crew as it was. Na’vi liked vengeance when it was called upon. They needed a fresh roster of SecOps that he could trust to run a base than these shitheads that Mercer liked to have around.

“Miles, look, the chances are they’re just doing what they were ordered to. Mercer’s dead and Cortez is dead. There’s no one to punish.”

“Everyone uses that excuse to justify themselves from crimes they’ve committed as a unit. It’s an old reason and I won’t stand for it in these circumstances. Their very presence puts a target on everyone’s back. We need a new roster and I won’t have anyone who was part of this remain on that soil. It’ll undermine RDA authority.”

“What about Colonel Harding?” Selfridge asked, setting the tablet aside tiredly and his hands coming to rub his face.

“Unfortunately, someone got to her records first before we arrived and wiped any involvement she had in the genocide and following years. As I said, I had Mansk running a team into the TAP Con-1 facility to sweep for intel but they’ve found squat. The team believes Harding also runs a black market of Pandoran animal parts which have been shipped off as Na’vi artefacts and put a good amount of money in her pocket and the RDA’s. We can’t remove her without evidence as we have with the others, so we’ll be trying to get witness statements from the SecOps guys to be enough to charge her with their crimes and get her shipped back to Earth for the same trial.”

“The RDA won’t make it a public sceptical.”

“I know. Don’t care.” Quaritch shrugged. “But my point stands; new people. I want SciOps to help back the SecOps up, Avatar Drivers and try to settle negotiations of truce with the near clans.”

“That’s a lot of money you’re gambling.”

“The only avatar driver they had was for the TAP purposes, nothing useful for science or research like Cortez was actually trained for. I checked her records. A new area of the world means more plants and shit that might be beneficial for humans. Pandoran samples are still sought after on Earth. I did my research into Madaki’s family on Earth when I was learning more about his defect possibilities. It seems the plants they have are actually helping Earth. We’re still making money and humans are still benefitting. It’s worth the cost.”

Selfridge seemed to glower but he had a point. They might as well be useful while they had a base there.

“Run it through with Augustine on the…most suitable people to go. No more than four drivers. She’ll be gone to Site 26 soon. I know she’s in the Avatar compound right now sorting shit out still.” Selfridge waved in the vague direction of the compound. “How’s the search going for those who defected at West Frontier?”

“Non-existent.”

“What?! Why?! They killed people to escape, Colonel.”

Quaritch gave the puny excuse of a human with a solid stare. “They have killed which is one of the reasons why I’m weary about bringing them in but the case and reason why I haven’t is because of the six Na’vi teenagers that they’re with and no doubt still looking after. I won’t bring the kids in with the same reasons why I won’t bring the assaulted deserters in. The chances are they’ll be getting the kids to a clan for safety but will no doubt ally themselves with a clan for their own protection if the kids vouch for them. Not worth my trouble or the lives of my men. Pandora is not kind and sooner or later their numbers will be cut down.”

-

Grace thumbed through the tablet Everdeen had handed to her as the fellow avatar checked through the sampling kits. Grace was ninety per cent sure in this body that Everdeen’s avatar wasn’t being controlled by Lilith Everdeen but rather and most likely, Grace Everdeen who Grace was familiar with the schedules and scientific tools to pose as her own sister.

It was known, more publically known due to Jake that identical twins were able to navigate their sibling’s avatar given the matching DNA and neuro links that were mirrored between bodies. That was a welcome surprise for the RDA who could no doubt invest more for one. Quadruplets, like the Everdeen four, were currently unheard of into connecting with a single avatar before now.

Only Grace and Maze knew as they had caught the subtle differences in their scent when one of them was already linked up. All four Everdeen’s had linked up at some time or another. Thea and Amanda Everdeen were SecOps. Lilith and Grace were SciOps. An even ground of skill range which made the Quad a very desired group and why they made it into the RDA as a complete set but the fact that they were an identical and tried to dress the same as much as possible made them…uneasy to be around for those that didn’t have a greater sense of smell to tell the difference.

Grace found she didn’t mind the SciOps two to switch, as they both had areas they studied in that differed but were still important to her department. Both had different views of their work and it was interesting to see how far one would try to stay in character to be ‘Lilith’ when out and about.

The Two SecOps Everdeen’s had returned from West Frontier after helping with Quaritch and had conversed heatedly at night, which had sprung up the topic that all four were gonna bounce given the…aftermath of the RDA’s actions in regards to the Sarentu Clan.

Grace knew a little from overhearing at night, and didn’t like the growing picture that had formed as the four discussed their experience from the other base and…well as much as she didn’t blame them for leaving on those accounts, it was still gonna fuck a lot up and she had already tried to plan forward but… she needed to get ahead of this more directly.

“Dr Everdeen,” Grace decided to bite the bullet on this one, going for opening with work first. Grace Everdeen was…the more nervous type out of the four and would be more susceptible to listening. “Have the Na’vi artefacts from the Sarentu clan been dropped off yet at the Compound?”

Everdeen looked up and then nodded after checking another tablet “About ten minutes ago, doc”

“Go get them and put them in the longhouse. I want us to look over them before we decide on our next course of action.” She knew the likes of Selfridge would certainly see to him attempting to sell these artefacts off so this gave her another opportunity to protect them from his greedy corporate hands.

With a nod, Everdeen peeled off from organising the samples and Grace assigned Louise to take over for their absence.

Grace would rather do her samples but she knew her priorities. There were other things to sort out in the next few days and this new load of RDA shit certainly was filling up her day more than she had planned. Upside of not sleeping, her evening was put to use in catching up on work and she certainly used those hours to keep them all on track before her departure so they weren’t too disorganised by this new wave of change. Current samples were a little more delayed and the preservation was harder to retain on them and yet…humans had to sleep.

Grace picked up a travel case as she headed to the longhouse, getting the case prepped onto the table and with the tablet ready for proper documentation and for scans for digital records and recreation should she find…a better home for the artefacts.

Everdeen appeared hauling two massive boxes on wheels with help but looked a little surprised herself and she finally got to the table. “I thought we were getting trinkets.” She muttered.

Grace raised her eyebrow at the box as well. “Me too. I wonder what they recovered.”

“Maybe they’re bigger than anticipated?” Everdeen wondered, her head tilting curiously. “We don’t know what the RDA recovered from the Sarentu Clan, could be a lot of it fit in these two?”

“Let’s open up and see. No point daydreaming about it, Everdeen.”

The first box was… comprised of weapons. Mostly. Grace counted 8 Sarentu blades, only four with covers. Two bows, four arrows, a small collection of arrow heads and three spearheads, there were also tools as well which looked to be a resin axe head; its handle long gone. Arm guards, Na’vi shoulder padding for their hunts. None were put away lightly.

There was a lot of detail and beauty to take in the craftsmanship of the tools. Everdeen seemed to coo most was the arm guards; inspecting them under the light as Grace took 3D modelling scans.

“Look at the detail. The guard was made from material tightly woven with…different patterns to the Omatikaya’s weavings despite similarities.” She touched lightly over the hardened side, “but…I think the material was soaked in resin and hardened.” Everdeen’s with her ears high in delight. She turned it in her hands.

“What’s your assessment?”

“Female’s arm guard, left-handed so most likely a companion piece for her bow.” Everdeen said, “Could be one we have here? That one with weaving looks like it could be part of it?”

“Unlikely,” Grace remarked but didn’t outright dismiss the notion as the guard was placed into the travel case along with the blades. “We can’t assume matching sets without evidence. This looks like a grab and stash so it’s most likely all mixed up.”

“I know.”

“We’re scientists. We can’t make up stories without hard evidence.”

“Sorry, Dr Augustine.”

Grace opened up the second box when the first was organised and fit well into the travel boxes, aside from the bows and arrows but she requested them to be wrapped and put into the Samson’s cargo supply ready in advance.

The second box contained…more clothes and personal belongings. Toruk Toys, loincloths that...looked small and probably for kids. A few necklaces, chokers, decorative pieces and some more body armour. There was a blanket that was a multitude of finely crafted coloured fibres and thick platted edges of what looked like an Ikran’s head guard. At least, a partial one. All were beautiful and certainly, the Sarentu were skilled in their craft despite their nomadic tendencies.

“Banshee?” Everdeen tilted her head at the head-piece still in her hands. “I had no idea they even had them for a nomad tribe. Nomadic tribes would tend to use Direhorse to aid in moving their tents and equipment.”

“Hunters or clan envoys use Ikran. The Olangi Clan are the clan in this region that only have one Ikran rider at a time as an envoys. I met Akwey, the clan’s leader once.” Grace said. “The other clans use them for hunting mostly.”

“The Olangi priories their Direhorses more than anything. It’s their speciality over the grassy plains.” Everdeen remarked, “but… I suppose it makes sense. Banshees are faster than Direhorses when emergencies arise and can cross difficult terrain. They don’t need many.”

“It’s most likely the Sarentu had one for an envoy if the Olangi is anything to go by,” Grace remarked, finally setting it down into its new case but her attention turned to see…one little thing that caught her attention the most. A cord of string and beads.

Her blue fingers gently lifted the cord from the bottom and laid it out on the wooden surface.

“A songcord?” Grace tilted her head in concern, “Why did the RDA take someone’s songcord? This isn’t…” She felt a spike of anger as she examined it. It was rows of blue beads, a few yellow and red but what stood out was the carved crystal that…was made to look like a symbol; it was curved in shape that looked like a small abstract, tidal wave, and four deep holes were carved into the bottom. No Na’vi would abandon their songcords nor hand them over. The cord here…she had to assume it was from one of the killed Sarentu in the conflict if Mercer wanted these things to be taken and sold. Disgusting, really.

“That’s a Sarentu symbol.” Everdeen gasped in wonder, “They… I read in an early report the Sarentu use ritual scarification; every Sarentu gets the marking after birth under their left eye or gets given one if they’re accepted into the clan in later life.”

Grace held a hand out to stop the woman from picking it up. “No. I’ll handle this one.”

It felt….disrespectful as she took the scans of the cord but by not doing it she’d come across as being emotional and non-objective. This was science; respect for artefacts was always going to be in the grey area. Once the scans were done, she set the cord into a little bag and tucked it into the last travel case.

“Dr Augustine.”

Her head turned in mild exasperation as Colonel Quaritch of all people seemed to appear at her waist with a displeased expression

“What do you want? I’m busy.” She let herself sound annoyed. “You’ve brought a lot of shit I need to organise before I’m bounced off to the mountains.”

“Someone has to and you can handle it.” Quaritch remarked, “I’m getting new people put into the West Base and flushing out the waste and I need SciOps. If you can spare some drivers, I’ll be happy.”

“You want my avatars?” That was new. Quaritch didn’t tend to give a fuck; she had heard enough he thought avatars were creepy and pointless.

“Yes. Four.” He said in a tone of ‘matter of fact’. “Pick whoever seems best fitting and the link technicians you can afford to lose.”

Grace stared at him for a moment. “You couldn’t have bothered with just…normal scientists? Those without Avatars?”

“Avatars are less likely to be shot on sight so….no.” Quaich shrugged, “It’s simply safer for science teams to have avatars so the natives don’t shoot first and questions later. They distrust humans but they will trust something that looks like them.”

“Not always the case.” Grace pointed out. “The Omatikaya know enough to be just as weary of avatars. Most clans are aware of Avatars, even if they’ve never met one. Clans are connected, so news travels.”

“Better chances than without.” Quaritch gave her a look. “I’m not here to sit about with discussions. I’ll get Selfridge to assign the four if you don’t and leave tomorrow.”

“Back the hell off, Miles.” Grace gave him a deep glare. “SciOps isn’t your department and it ain’t Selfridge’s either.”

“Hasn’t stopped him before, Grace, and won’t now.”

Grace tisked, shaking her head. Asshole. She had planned and got assignments ready in advance for all of the current avatars for when she was gone. Losing four avatars… she was going to have to freaking change all of it, especially when they’re gonna be down another avatar.

Sampling probably had to come tomorrow then. Fucking…

“Fine, but it’ll be a few days for they’re set to go. I have everything on a tight schedule without you messing it up for shits and giggles. Ugh.” She rubbed at the bridge of her nose, her tail swishing irritably. “This is the last thing I need night now.”

“I’ll wait for your report on who’ll be coming.” Quaritch gave a lazy salute.

Grace glowered at his back as the human left but her annoyance only grew as she realised that Everdeen had also vanished off elsewhere.

Damn.

-

Grace figured out a plan before they unlinked for ‘dinner’. She only made a vague appearance but didn’t stay for long as she pulled Jocelyn into her empty lab to help with her plan on who to choose to go to Frontier West besides their abandoned meal.

“Look, the Quad is gonna bounce regardless. If we move them to West Frontier, it delays them but it’s…probably better that they bounce from Frontier West than Hell’s Gate anyway and less heat on you for oversight. It’ll delay them enough for them to get a lay of the land and locations to link shacks and lab sites that Frontier West established and abandoned.” Jocelyn pointed out, going over her notes and it didn’t surprise Grace that the Technician knew about the Quad’s plan.

“I was going to talk to them but—”

“Don’t. That’ll put you in an awkward spot if they see you on camera if you go to any of their bunks about it.”

Ah, good old-fashioned plausible deniability. She had a point but… she wanted to reason with her team here; get some goddamn control established so that Selfridge wouldn’t get his panties in a twist and pull the plug. Sure, she could certainly motivate Selfridge into not closing the program but she, like the rest of the vampires, did not want to touch Selfridge with their gifts and it wasn’t due to his position in Hell’s Gate.

Kamath had said it was unwise to stick their minds in trash.

Grace concurred with that opinion. Subtle intimidation so far had worked without the need for hypnosis or compulsion.

“I’ll inform them last minute. They’re planning on bailing in a week and are already packed so it shouldn’t take them too long to leave. If we tell them too soon, then they’ll bail as soon as possible.” She considered.

“Maybe, maybe not. Hell’s Gate is much more secure and Amanda Everdeen has her own ship. Since Reza stole her own ship straight from the airfield, the security’s gone up. If they’re taking the avatar, they clearly have a plan to get it out with them. Frontier West is less secure and with a lot of open gaps in security given the downed manpower. They’ll have an easier time escaping there and be less likely to be caught. The terrain of the Kinglor forests around Frontier West isn’t as familiar to the RDA.” Jocelyn remarked after a moment.

“I’m not sure if it’s worth the risk. I don’t want to help them here, you know.”

There was a flutter of feet at the lab door, the faint scent of Kamath wafting through the gaps before it opened. Grace didn’t bother to look her away as she took the tablet from Maze’s hand.

“If you want, assign me to go to the other base,” Kamath said with enlightened enthusiasm.

Grace looked to her fellow vampire in surprise. Kamath had been very… passive about shit. Went with the flow and had very little care if shit that wasn’t her work. “You want to go to Frontier West?”

Kamath nodded, smiling a little with passion burning in her tone. “It’s a new location, new science and more forests to enjoy. I don’t mind Hell’s Gate but doing dozer patrols are boring as hell. I may be a SecOps AMP suit pilot but I am still a scientist. The Kinglor forest is named after the insect called Kinglor. I want to study that species and I can’t do that here.”

Grace considered her thoughtfully. Kamath would be an asset and she could see the usefulness of having her there. AMP suits were heavily used in that region anyway so she’d fit right in.

The only problem Grace saw was…the fact she was a vampire and that alone made it hard to see if it was worth the risk. Kamath gave her a look, sensing her train of thought with ease. “I know the risks.”

 “How many humans are stationed at Frontier West?”

“About three hundred but there’s going to be a small overhaul. Quaritch’s thoughts are harder to read but he’s going to do a mass extraction of bad seeds. Even if he has Mansk and Walker stay, there should be plenty of humans to feed from between us all.” Kamath said, “They have their own medical bunk and own blood supplies.”

“You don’t have Dr Solis to cover your ass.”

“But the doc there, Dr Malik can be persuaded. I can get him on our side with ease.” Kamath said confidently. “All I need is a face-to-face with him. Mansk can give that to me. As head of SciOps and the fact that I was contracted here as a scientist, you can put me on a ship. Put me on the Quad’s ship on the way there and I can keep them on base for at least two weeks before they pitch a tent into Eywa’s big bush.”

Jocelyn couldn’t contain the snigger at the last bit.

Grace thumbed the numbers briefly, the amount of people; the typical human recovery times between feeding between three vampires…  It wouldn’t be a huge strain, especially if they got a few humans as part of the blood donations. If the human Mess had a garlic incident again… that would be bad.

“I don’t see any garlic part of the food supplies. I can call Mansk and see if they have any there. We shouldn’t be starved out again.”

“Stop reading my mind” Grace gave her a look of annoyance.

“You barely use your gifts, what’s the point of having this ability if I don’t freaking use it. Plus… your mind is quite loud.” Kamath waved off causally. “Proximity.” She gestures around on that one.

“She’s not wrong, you really should use your gifts more.” Daniel of all people seemed to appear, full speed onto a stool…only the force and speed caused the stool to slide six meters down from his original spot like a running cat trying to stop on a glass table. The sound dug straight into their ears and they collectively a shared group wince. “Sorry.”

“I don’t need to.”

“Says the woman who wants your ‘being a meal’ memories back.” Kamath pointed out. “Telepathy is more than just reading minds and wiping memories. Vampires have Ancestral Memory, you might benefit from learning from our Foresires, you know.”

All vampire heads stared at the woman.

Kamath looked at them and then rolled her eyes. “How do you think Mansk knew to keep it all a secret from the human population after he turned? Or why we know turning kids is a big no-no? How we instinctively how to channel our shticks when we’ve never done weird shit like that to start with?”

Grace stared but…opted not to open that can of worms. Nope, not today. That was not a rabbit hole she needed to dip her head in and get suckered down when she had to focus on the here and now.

“Kamath…” Daniel stared but Kamath just gave him a look but turned her attention back to Grace.

“Just... please put me down for the West Base.”

Grace stared but…nodded after a moment. “Okay.”

She gave her a grateful look, “Thank you.” With a final, displeased look at whatever Daniel was thinking, Kamath left.

“Kamath! Ava!” he called after her. “I’ve been a vampire for almost five years! You can’t just drop all that and then bail!”

“She just did, Choi.” Jocelyn chuckled.

Daniel spun to face her with a mildly offended look then lent straight into Grace’s personal space as she tried to review her tablet. “Sign me up to the other base.”

“Just so you can bother Kamath?” Grace leant away with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes! And I can see wonderful new things. Mostly the second because I’m still a scientist and the West has a lot more new things that I wanna poke with a stick and see what happens.”

“Did you discuss this with your girlfriend?” Grace asked, “Because it’s a two and a half hour run back and forth because I am not adding another vampire to West Frontier by bringing her along.” In all honesty, her patience was wearing thin now. She wanted to get to work, not worry about all these details that no one else had to deal with.

Oh, the small things she didn’t have to deal with if she was still human. Ignorance was truly bliss…

Daniel paused, “I’ll…get back to you on that, Doc.” He rose to his feet and hurried at a human pace before Norm seemed to appear in the lab.

Norm blinked in surprise as Daniel passed him without a backward look then to them. Grace didn’t do anything but she was sure her expression of exasperation said it all.

“Bad time?” Norm asked.

“No, just…finishing some side projects. Gotta lot of things to move around now.”

“Need any help?”

Grace pondered her tablet for a moment then nodded, “Help me reschedule. I’ve gotta put four avatar drivers out and this opens slots and closes some.”

-

“How are the kids?”

The question was…loud in the vastness of the Refuge. Lots of people were asleep; hammocks and cheap futons were spread around as everyone still tried to make sense of the space now that the core building was complete. Including the secret compartment where Alma’s human body lay in cryo-sleep. Tucked away. Hiding. A few were awake, still trying to create or finish things off before bed.

Hajir didn’t know why but couldn’t bear himself to ask but he knew it was important if Alma had asked. Perhaps to spare them the sight of seeing her human…or perhaps sparing them seeing her dying. He didn’t know how close they were but he had a few of the Na’vi kids ask about her often.

“They’re…adapting. They’ve found a location for the Aranahe clan and want to make contact. They’re uncertain if they should.” Alex answered, barely looking up from his soldering.  “They… want Alma to weigh in since they know her and she briefly met the clan years ago.”

“Oh dear…” replied Anqa wincing.

“Now you see the problem. I think Nor will go ahead and do it anyway. He wants to…meet a real Na’vi anyway.”

“I don’t see why not. They’ve got to learn from their roots somewhere. Another clan will be what they need to learn to be Na’vi.” Anqa mused.

“How did the raid go?” Hajir asked after a moment.

“We got what we came for. The base was really creepy and very run down so we didn’t explore much. Also, we downloaded all the data we could from the bases black box but we’ll store it for now given how…corrupted it seems to be. The RDA wiped all the original servers but not the back-ups. I’ll ask Priya to get a program to reconstruct the data but that’ll take time to work.” Anqa shrugged, “It was fun.”

“How’s the tank?”

“Currently undergoing UV sterilisation. It’s… the best option we got. We did a solid wash when we got it but UVC’s working for when we pump the water in.” Alex said, “It’ll take time to treat all of the water to make it safe for Alma’s avatar but we have the time. Ri’nela’s been concerned about her getting bed sores and weight loss.”

“How long can we tank her Avatar?” Anqa asked curiously, “Like… I figured there’s some stock limit we have, right?

“Eight weeks, unless we can get our hands on more Avatar nutrient packs,” Alex answered for Hajir.

“If we all work to plan, the Cryo-link pod should be ready in good time,” Hajir said, hoping to get the group back to business. “I’ve gone over the scans but… the avatar needs its own implant while Alma’s in cryostasis. If she’s gotta stay in that big blue body, she can’t rely on auto schedule link and unlinks.”

“It’s not like there’s other options.”

“No, but I’ve been running a few scans of Alma’s avatar the last few days since I came up with an idea.” Hajir couldn’t help himself as he set his tools down, grabbed his tablet and moved close to Alex to show him his findings. “The Avatar’s brain picks up sounds and touches to their form but, as there is no controller, there’s nothing to be done about it. There’s a basic response, like turning the head away from the too-loud sound, or in gestation, thumb-sucking. Basic reflexes.”

Alex looked curiously at the data, “You want to tap into these simulated responses to activate the link time?”

“Yes, like… humans wake to loud sounds, a general body clock or to a stimulus in the environment. If we put an implant in the avatar, it’d be useful for her to relink when morning; it’d follow Alma’s human circadian clock if the crown you are making remains active constantly.” Nodding to Alex’s project where he was crafting a head-piece that.

Alex blinked in pleasant surprise. “So she’d effetely be…living inside her avatar day in, day out? Even when her avatar body goes dormant to rest; they’d still be linked?”

“Just…theory but yes. But to be linked like that, the avatar needs a connection to the human body otherwise there’s no…independence. Automating sleeping and waking and relying on us to do it… I’m not sure she’d like that.” Hajir didn’t know Alma that well but… he could imagine how frustrating it would be if it was him in her situation.

“I never considered that,” Alex looked genuinely impressed. “We could imbed the implant at the base of the queue and stimulate from there. That’ll save us a lot of surgical hassle. Bind it under the braid will protect it as well.”

“Will you need to modify the headpiece?” Anqa asked, looking a little lost but trying to be helpful.

“Probably but… it’ll be more of a software thing to deal with than a hardware.”

“I’ll draw up some sketches tomorrow on a few ideas of what the Avatar side should look like. Can someone get me a scan of Alma’s queue? I’ll be helpful to know the measurements and all.”

“I can.” Heads turned to see Priya coming in with a tray of coco from the open space of a doorway “Ri’nela knows more about queue maintenance than the rest so she’ll probably help me if I ask.”

“Alright.” Hajir nodded his approval. There was no mistake that the young Na’vi had a caring nature; even for something as Dormant as an avatar. But… a familiar face was all she knew that needed help. It took three humans to turn the avatar over due to their scale differences. Having a Na’vi assist was always a great relief.

Masterlist

[altfbynate]

Chapter 1, Part 2

Content Warnings: Mentions of homophobia, and all the nasty things that accompany this little thing called war.

It all started on a particularly chilly morning.

Ivo laid on his bed, reading a newspaper reporting on the war. The articles all said the exact same thing every morning. ‘We are beating back the red horde!’ ‘We triumph over the enemy’ blah blah blah. They were lying, he knew because the new patients were reporting that the situation on the front had actually grown quite dire. Whispers can be heard everywhere, from privates huddled around a fire on the frontline, or from the meeting rooms of officers. They whisper of a new Krasnovarian offensive, poised to cut off the Haasriek region from the rest of the country.

Ivo let out a deep sigh and handed off the paper to a man the next bed in the line. Good god did he want a smoke right now. But, much to his annoyance, the man in the bed parallel to him decided that he needed assistance from Ivo specifically.

“I apologize if I’m interrupting you, but would you mind giving me some assistance? I- I may need to be led to the rest-room.”

The man uttering those words was a victim of a chemical weapon attack that left him blinded. His chestnut hair was quite messy and unkempt, he seemed to stand three inches taller than Ivo. He was still wearing a pair of glasses even though they don’t actually do anything to help him with his blindness. Some remnants of chemical burn scarring remain on his face and hands, though it has somehow healed surprisingly well to the point that it isn’t every noticeable. Speaking of his face, Ivo found him to be… Handsome? Cute? Damn it! He mentally berated himself for those thoughts. All of this didn’t make sense. Why on earth was he continuing to try things out with other men? He did find members of the ‘fairer’ sex attractive too, so what’s the point of continuing his futile relationships? The last time he pulled this shit he nearly got arrested for the goddess’s sake!

But he couldn’t resist this chance to know this lad a bit better, for better or worse. Doesn’t stop him from being somewhat grumpy about it though. Despite Ivo’s haste, they only get to a comfort room just in time to avoid disaster. Ivo leans next to the wash room door, before pulling out a pack of cigarettes and his trusty old lighter. He proceeds to have a smoke. He isn’t even halfway done when the other man comes bumbling out the door.

Ivo sighs, before asking: “Would you mind if we stay here a bit? I gotta finish a smoke.”

The bespectacled man replies shakily.

“S-sure.”

Ivo takes a drag off his cig before asking the man a question.

“So, what’s your name?”

“Hm? Ah- Yes um. My name is Chvátal, Anton. Yours?”

“Souček, Ivo. So, Lieutenant Chvátal, what happened to you?”

Anton seems to swallow a lump before giving his answer. “I- I did something stupid. We were under fire from gas shells and… Instead of fitting my own first, I had to just had to give a helping hand to a man struggling with his mask. By the time I could put my mask on, it was too late.”

“Hey, at least you gave up a part of yourself to save someone else, I guess. For me, well, I was a tanker. Commie tank sent a shell straight through the front of my tank, killed my radio operator and ripped my leg off.”

Ivo took the last drag off his cig. “Alright, I’ll lead you back to your bed then.”

“O-okay.”

Things may have spiraled out of control after that point. Ivo, against the advice of all of his brain cells desperately yelling ‘no! this is a bad idea!’, decided that he would volunteer to be this blind man’s assistant for the time being. Maybe Ivo could sneak in a pass at him at some point. But maybe it’ll be wiser to lay low for now and get to know the lad better first. Currently he’s in the process of writing a letter for Anton. Ivo is currently sitting at Anton’s bedside, doing the writing while Anton does the dictating. The letter is for Anton’s mother, reassuring her that his injuries aren’t too severe and telling her that there’s no need for her to come all the way here for a visit, since he’s about to be sent home sooner or later.

“So, anything else to add in?”

Anton only responds with a disheartened sigh, prompting Ivo to ask:

“Anything wrong?”

Anton’s voice is weak and somewhat shaky in his response. “No, it’s just, I’m thinking about how I’ll probably never be able to pen my own letters again. Or write anything else for that matter.”

“You say that, but it really is blatantly untrue. Yes, you are going to have to deal with the world only being a hazy mess from now on. But this is a challenge to be overcome, you could probably figure something out.”

“I- I suppose. But some more… Complicated tasks are going to be quite a bit more finnicky.”

“Sure, but that’s why you don’t just try to do it all on your own. Find someone willing to help you out. Might be embarrassing that you couldn’t do everything yourself, but we’re officers, our job is to coordinate with other units to get the job done. You can coordinate with someone else to get the job done in your own life too.

Anton shrugs, seems he doesn’t have a retort to spill.

“So, this it? Nothing else to add?”

Anton nods in confirmation. Ivo’s pen strokes leave behind the last words of the letter; ‘Your loving son, Anton.’ (Not before also writing down that said letter had to be actually written down by someone other than her son of course)

“So, your mom lives in Letirovice? Do you live there as well or?”

“For my childhood, yes. But I’ve been living in a flat in Veliěsto my family owns ever since I went to university. We’re pretty well off, uncle has got a title that I can’t quite remember off the top of my head.”

“I see.”

“How about you, Souček?”

“Well, dunno, I was born to a barely middle-class family in Doten. Got an older brother and a younger sister. I’m probably not going to move anywhere so, there’s that. Do you have any siblings?”

“No. Just me.”

“My family couldn’t afford to get all of us a university education, so they gave it to my brother. Couldn’t blame em’ he was a smart cookie that one. I managed to snag a job at an auto-mechanic’s place though. Learned a thing or two there, that’s why I got picked out for motor-cavalry and not shuffled into an infantry unit.”

“So, you never got a university education? You got a field commission then?”

“M’hm. I was originally a loader, loaders are NCO’s usually, I was a junior sergeant at the time. During a sudden engagement, my TC took a hit from an anti-tank gun and I took over his station. I had to command the tank for a few more engagements because there wasn’t a replacement for my late TC. I apparently did well enough that they gave me a field commission, booted me up to 2nd Lieutenant and gave me my own tank to play with. Got another promotion later on too, so I’m a Lieutenant now.”

That incident had burned itself into Ivo’s mind. He could still clearly remember the globules of crimson blood that had coated the white interior of the tank. Some of it had gotten on his uniform too, there was never a time for a wash, so the blue-grey of his uniform was contrasted by the splatters of gore stuck to it for a week. It was terrifying, knowing just how fast you could turn into naught but pieces of meat and bone to show up in someone else’s nightmares. And oh, did he get so close to sharing his former commander’s fate.

Ivo repressed the shudder. Anton continued the conversation.

“You must have a fair bit of combat experience on your belt then. I never really got many opportunities to distinguish myself, but I kept as many of my men alive for as long as I could. That counts for something, right?”

“Of course it does, the lives of the men under your command are worth more than a piece of tin and a strip of colored ribbon after all.”

“I’m sure you did very well as a leader.” Anton said, completely sincerely.

Those words ring hollow in Ivo’s ears. Is he really though? Ivo asks himself. After all, if he did so well, then why was he here? If he were such a proficient leader, Jan wouldn’t be a pair of legs and a pelvis rotting away in an abandoned tank. ‘What do you mean that the slope of the ridge was too great for you to find a good hull-down position huh? No, Ivo. You just fucked up. And now a daughter won’t be seeing her father ever again. Despite this, Ivo attempts to blurt out something as nice and sincere as what Anton had just said.

“Thank you. I’m sure you did well too. Lieutenant Chvátal. I’m off to get these posted now.”

Ivo had written his own letters earlier, one for his parents, and the other for his sister. They both said the same things really; ‘oh I’m fine, need not worry about me! (ps. Tell me more about that bakery Anna works at now)’

But before Ivo could hobble off to someone who could get these letters to the post office, Anton asks him a question. “D- do you have spare time later?”

“Hm? Yes, of course. Why?”

“No, it’s just, I can’t recognize coins by weight and feel alone. If you have some with you, I humbly ask that you help me practice identifying them later. I hope you don’t mind.”

Ivo represses a smile. “I don’t mind, Lieutenant.”

Ivo does end up flashing quite a grin once out of sight though. Everything’s working out just as planned.

~0--0~

Anton studied the feeling of the coin in his palm. This one is quite smaller and lighter in comparison to the 5 korun coin he had handled earlier.

“A… 50 haleru coin?”

“Sorry, nope. It’s a 1 korun.”

“Ah, alright.” Anton lets out those words with the air of twinging disappointment.

“It’s alright Lieutenant, we’ve just started after all. Everything takes time.”

Anton’s world right now is nothing but a blurry haze of abstract colors and shapes, so of course, the only way for him to visualize the world around him is through the power of imagination. He imagines the corridor where his bed is situated, and he doesn’t conjure the image of the manor that this place is in. Instead, he imagines a drab and dreary place. Most of the things he imagines now are drab and dreary anyway, after all, the last thing he ever remembers seeing is the bottom of a trench. But there is one exception to this world of browns and greys.

For some reason, when thinking of the man currently handing him coins to identify, he doesn’t form the picture of just some officer in a dull uniform. No, for some reason, the face that appears is one of vibrancy, something bathing the world around it with contrasting colors. The face he pictures is… Beautiful, yes that’s the word. Beautiful. Kind of odd to say that about a brother officer, kind of odd to say that about anything other than a lass. But that is what he ‘sees’, and frankly, he doesn’t seem to mind.

Another coin in placed in Anton’s grasp. This one is heavier than all the others he had held thus far.

“25 koruna?”

“Correct. Good work there, Lieutenant.”

Anton smiles, both out of a sense of self-satisfaction, and something else, something that he couldn’t really explain.

~0--0~

The last thing Lieutenant Ivo Souček thought he would ever experience is going out on a picnic with one of the cutest guys he had ever met. As it turns out the grounds of the manor were free to access to all the convalescent home patients, and thus, this opportunity was immediately exploited. Acquiring food was a bit of a pickle because of all the shortages, subsequently, the snacks brought were a few slices of bread and some beet. Really though, why is there so much beet lying around? You would think bread would be the most common source of sustenance around, but no, shortages of bread, and pretty much everything else really, run rampant.

That said though, the Krasnovarian Revolutionary Navy had just been dealt quite a blow. The KRN Krasnoyets Putozhnist, one of Krasnovaria’s two battleships was severely damaged in an attack by the Royal Flying Service. This, coinciding with other KRN casualties are loosening the iron grip of Krasnovaria’s naval blockade. Because of this, imports of goods in shortage could continue once more.

But let’s get back to the matter at hand: The picnic. Ivo had picked out a spot that was conveniently out of sight and earshot. It was nice experiencing clean air for once, Ivo had grown too familiar with the stench of motor oil and other filth after being crammed into what was essentially a metal coffin for days on end. Anton sat to his left, currently munching on a bread loaf. They had just been conversing about a myriad of topics ranging from the war to which pie tasted the best. (Ivo insists meat pies are better than all other forms of pie, there is no method of persuasion on this celestial body capable of convincing him otherwise) They had now moved past the heated pie conversation. And once Anton sets down the half-eaten loaf of bread, Ivo asks him a question that had been bugging him for a while.

“Why are you still wearing the glasses? Doesn’t seem to be helping you out very much.”

“I don’t really know to be honest. I suppose I am just used to wearing them. I have always had eyesight problems since I was a child, so I have been wearing these glasses for the vast majority of my life. And I… I feel like they look quite good on me.”

“They do.”

Ivo did NOT mean to say that. Anton develops a barely noticeable blush before throwing at Ivo a question of his own.

“T- thank you, Lieutenant. I- I do want to inquire about something else related to my sight if you wouldn’t mind. You know what gas does, it really is a horrendous thing. I remember -when I could still see, it’s effects on the skin. I feel like I don’t want to know what it did there, but I do want to know what happened to my eyes.”

“Let me see them, then.”

Anton takes off his glasses for a moment as Ivo clumsily shuffles towards him. Ivo gets nice and close as he gazes into the blind officer’s eyes. They look normal, there isn’t really much to indicate that this set of organs didn’t actually function. There is one thing Ivo could assuredly say though, they really were quite pretty. Anton’s irises were strikingly green, to the point that Ivo’s first and foremost correlation was to a set of jade buttons.

“So, Lieutenant Souček, what could you say about them?”

Anton’s cheeks are turning a darker shade of red as each second passes. Ivo has noticed that he hadn’t reacted negatively to the somewhat accidental flirting a few moments ago or Ivo moving his face uncomfortably close. He realizes that this, right here, is the opening that he needed. This is the moment to drop the hammer.

“Your eyes are… quite stunning, really. And if I have to be honest, the same could be said about the rest of you.”

There it is, Lieutenant Chvátal’s face goes cherry red. Seems Ivo’s constant fretting over Anton’s orientation was unfounded after all.

“Ivo, are you a-“

“An invert? Yes. Do you mind?”

“No. Not at all. D- do you have any experience with this sort of thing?”

“A bit. Do you?”

“No. I haven’t ever gotten to kissing anybody, much less- well, you know.”

“Tch, it isn’t all about perversions, you know. All the ‘normals’ out there fall in love all the time. Why can’t we?”

“S- so you’re in… In love?... With me?”

“Affirm.”

“I- I-…. Goodness. I might have had some reservations about this, but well, I have always imagined you to be somewhat good looking. I guess we just have to take this to the next logical step.”

“That being?”

Anton is supporting himself with his right hand, so he instead uses his left to reach out for Ivo. He takes a moment to actually make contact, his hand falls onto Ivo’s right shoulder. Then, in an instant, Anton’s face closes the gap between him and the former tank officer. Unfortunately, Anton misses his mark. Instead of what he’d hoped for, he ends up slamming his nose into Ivo’s chin. The sharp pain makes Anton recoil so hard he falls onto his back. Ivo chuckles weakly.

“The hell were you trying to do? Headbutt me?”

“What do you think I was trying to do? Because physically assaulting you is not something on my itinerary.”

“Nope, you were trying to bash my skull in with your own thick noggin, obviously.”

Ivo had now gotten on his hands and knee(s) in a position overlooking Anton. He lets out a chuckle.

“I know you were trying to kiss me. But there is kind of a reason people usually slow down when doing this.”

“J-just do it already.”

Ivo lowers himself onto Anton’s. Probably only a fraction of a second passes as their lips brush against each other, but it seems to last more than an eternity for this odd pair. They soon part, Ivo rolls over onto his back next to Anton. He takes the blind man’s hand into his.

“Well, that was nice.”

“I don’t think I have had enough of it though.” This time it is Anton who rolls onto his side. He uses a hand to tip Ivo’s face towards his once again.

“Up for more, eh?”

“Of course. Wait- Can anyone see us?”

“Nope, picked out this spot specifically because it was concealed.”

“Good.” Anton leans in for yet another kiss. Ivo obliges enthusiastically.

~0--0~

The days that pass were equal parts wonderful and somewhat awkward. Kind of hard to make eye contact with the man you kissed a day or two again while you are in a room filled with other people. No-one has yet to suspect them of anything, which is a good sign considering Anton was apparently unafraid of taking risks whenever he could. Like really, Ivo suspects that they were this close to being found out because Anton couldn’t keep his hands to himself, though he is thankfully beginning to rein that in to the point that it shouldn’t be much of a problem anymore. The moon hangs bright in the inky night darkness. And the new couple were conversing about their respective combat experiences. They both had noticed an odd pattern concerning Krasnovarian tactical performance.

“Back during the start of this mess, the commies were motivated and seemed to know what they were doing. But their show seems to have declining in quality ever since we first stopped ‘em back in the summer of ’37.”

“I have seen enemy infantry attack our fortified positions without any support. Maybe you could see artillery and mortars drop here and there without any substantial effect. Good point, what could be causing it?”

“My best guess is that the replacements for their battered units are massively undertrained, that or their experienced officer cadre has been replaced by fresh leadership for some reason? But I have no idea why on earth they’d do that.”

“Politics most likely, you know the Krasnovarians. Most of their actions have been influenced or outright caused by ideology. When they marched into our land, they thought our working class would rise up in arms and aid them in their conquest. That, did not come to fruition.”

Anton was mostly correct; some collaborationist militias had been formed in the occupied regions. Along with small bands of socialist partisans staging small scale attacks on military installations or committing banditry. That said though, anti-crown sentiment had been running rampant in the northern regions of the kingdom long before the war started. The north for most of its history had been a rural, agrarian land. But industrialization in the area had begun ever since the discovery of rich mineral deposits in the western quadrant of the place. Once formerly small cities such as Vemidjie were hit with a sudden boom of prosperity as mines, refineries, and factories grew to exploit this new mineral wealth. But the rest of the rural north, especially the tracts of land that had been seized from Krasnovaria during their civil war, felt neglected by the Veliěsto government. For all Ivo knew, many in the north could genuinely see the Krasnovarians as liberators freeing them from the yoke of a crown that only saw to seek profit from them. Yet equally he could picture loyal northerners resisting the occupation with words and bullets alike. As most things in life, the situation is a complicated one. It’s not something that you could paint in broad brush strokes of black and white.

“Yeah. No plan ever survives first contact with the foe after all. But on a slight detour, did you hear of that anti-communist Krasnovarian regiment that just saw combat recently?”

“I have heard of something similar, yes. Though I haven’t yet heard of them getting thrown into the fray yet, where have you heard?”

“Right yes, I forgot reading is a bit of a… issue, for you. I read it in the paper. They seem to have done well, though I still have reservations about some of the recruits being pulled from prisoner-of-war camps. A lot of Krasnovarian families fled here in the wake of their civil war, I trust those guys any day of the week. But from POW camps? I don’t feel too sure about that.”

“I’m sure the recruiting process is rigorous and thorough.”

“Doesn’t stop things from flowing through the cracks though.”

“I doubt it. But…. Err… Lieutenant? Mind leading me to the rest room?”

“Would have thought you’ve memorized the route to the nearest one already, but sure.”

“Tch, just come with me at least, would you?”

They made good speed to the nearest restroom. Ivo stood around next to the door as standard. It was somewhat late at night, so the place was quiet. Pale moonlight beamed through the windows. Anton finished relieving himself of nature’s call soon enough. But this time he asked for Ivo to join him in the rest-room instead of leaving by himself and having Ivo lead him back to his bed. Odd, but most of the other patients were already asleep and the man on watch is probably not going to check out the toilets right now after being informed that someone had to take a piss. So, privacy achieved, worry exterminated. Ivo walks through the door.

Anton grabs Ivo by the collar and pins him to the wall. They spend a few moments fumbling in the dark to find each other’s lips. But they find each other eventually. They spend the next one, two, three minutes just doing this. Unleashing all of their pent-up love and passion hidden from the rest of the world on to each other in whirlwind of kisses. The exchange ends with Anton withdrawing his hands from grasping Ivo’s face, he latches onto the other man’s shoulders.

“I- I- We need to talk, Ivo.”

“Why? Anything wrong?”

“I am due to be sent home the day after tomorrow. I- I need to spend my remaining time with you well.”

“Remaining time? No, no way is this just going to end tomorrow. We can still find a way, I’m sure of it.”

“I don’t want to leave you behind. B- but I don’t know how to keep in touch with you. I don’t want it to end. But-“

Ivo drags Anton into an embrace. He whispers into the blind man’s ear.

“You have been getting better with your writing you know. And you could get someone else to read my letters for you. We have been able to hide so well all this time, I’m sure it would be easier with letters, no?”

“Yes, but- It’s just that life has given me the bad end of a deal too many times for me to know that it won’t go our way. I- I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

He’s crying now. Fuck. No, both of them were crying.

“Look, or hear, whatever. It won’t end here. Just promise me that you’ll write back. Okay?”

“O- of course I promise you that. But-“

“Come on now. It’ll be alright.”

Ivo lightly kisses the side of the other man’s head. Both of their breaths were ragged. Tomorrow couldn’t be it? Right?

~0--0~

“The next day was, indeed, the last.”

“Fuck, dude. You nearly got it. I’m sorry man. But don’t get too caught up here y’know, I’m sure you could find another guy like that.”

Ivo doubts it. He came here to get plastered, to forget about everything with the help of Mrs. Booze. Yet, the tankard in his hand remained full, he’d already downed one, why not gulp down the next? And the next, and the next? It was because every time he drank himself into a stupor, he’d make a fool of himself. He’d wake up the next day with the worst hangover known to both men and gods and he’d still remember. He’ll still remember the light gleaming off a pair of round glasses, he’d still remember the softness of that light brown hair, he’d still remember the even softer kisses and embraces that they had shared. No matter if he drinks himself to death or not, he will remember. And he will realize that he’ll never experience anything like that ever again. He takes a look around him, there are a good few men here willing for some ‘fun time’, hell, maybe even some actual love. But they would never come close to that one, the one. Oh, may the goddess damn it, he could feel tears welling up in his eyes again.

“Oh shit, you alright there Ivo?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m fine. Just, be a mate and help me outta here would ya?”

Ruža raises an eyebrow in question, but he obliges Ivo up and out of there anyway. Ivo pulls a banknote out of his wallet once they get out of the front door and hands it to the blonde, It’s for the tab.

“You need help down the stairs?”

“Nope. I’ll be fine.”

“Sure then, see ya next time. Hope you get in better spirits by then.”

“Yeah. Bye man.”

Ruža retreats back through the bar door leaving Ivo with the doorman and the set of stairs.

“You need a hand there, boss?”

“No. I’m fine.” Ivo’s tone comes off as quite annoyed. So he adds: “Sorry, not in a good mood right now.”

“Ah, alright then. Be careful gettin’ down there, boss.”

“Sure.”

Ivo looked down as the descending steps before him. Right then, remember, going up? Good foot up. Down? Crutch first. He makes it down the flight(s) of stairs at a snail’s pace, not at all surprising. Soon enough he’s out the front door of the building. The moon hangs full in the night sky. It stands alone in the void, the stars obscured by light pollution. The city is bathed in a dim pale light, just like the officer’s convalescent home was two years prior. Ivo doesn’t know what to do now. Drinking is futile, finding sex with some other guy isn’t going to do him much good, going home and crying himself to sleep was miserable. What can he do now, other than observe the pale beauty of the cratered and scarred moon. There’s a sound off in the distance, some rhythmic clacking. The fuck is it coming from? A stick? Who on earth bats around a stick in the middle of the night? Wait- A cane. People use canes, dumbass. An old person then? Maybe. But old people tend to be slower than this, especially if they have to use a cane. Ivo takes his gaze off the white-yellow orb floating above him and onto the apparent source of the racket.

He's hallucinating. He has to be. Ivo has finally gone off the rocker and straight into the pit. He’s had bad dreams before, of course. But this? It’s the full audio-visual experience, and he’s not even sleeping (as far as he could tell.) He’s been thinking of him so much this night that Ivo is actually conjuring up images in his head and projecting them into reality.

For in the pale moonlight, Ivo could see the pale light illuminate a patch of light-brown hair, and dimly reflect off a pair of round-framed glasses.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once again, thank you for reading!

I have no idea what gas could have been used that would have resulted in anton going blind, yet staying pretty. mustard gas and lewisite FUCK people up, like it's horrific shit. I also couldn't figure out the visual effects of gas-scarred eyes, so i defaulted to Ivo saying they looked normal to him.

[laurellynnleake]

Support for Kenosha, WI protestors against police!

On 8/23/2020, police officers shot an unarmed Black man named Jacob Blake in the back, 7 times, in close range, and in front of his children. As of 5AM 8/24, Jacob Blake's relatives reported that he was alive, out of ICU and surgery, but still fighting for his life. Witnesses report Blake was breaking up a fight between two women when police tazed and shot him.

Kenosha Police have called a citywide curfew, and are reportedly attacking protestors with chemical weapons and using unmarked vehicles (thread with police scanner activity here). Gov Tony Evers deployed the National Guard against protestors while claiming to stand against excessive force and escalation against Black people in WI. The Milwaukee Freedom Fund made a statement on on FB around midnight, extending legal support to all Kenosha protestors.

Wisconsin Legal Aid:

Milwaukee Freedom Fund: Legal Support Request

Phone numbers for locating arrested people in Milwaukee County

Contact protest@aclu-wi.org if you receive a curfew ticket

Attorney Kimberley Motley http://www.motleylegal.com/about.html can help with municipal citations.  

Legal Action of Wisconsin can take municipal citation cases in Kenosha for folks who meet their income guidelines. Intake # is 855-947-2529.

If you believe someone has been detained over 24-hrs: Search for them as an inmate here or call the County Non-Emergency Number at (414) 278-4788

Latest MFF post (8/24)

ACLU: How to file report/evidence against specific cops

Donate to the Milwaukee Freedom Fund here!

Wisconsin numbers to call here! 

UPDATE 8/24: Donate to support Jacob & his family here!

Please protect the identities of protestors in news you share (especially in images/video), and, if you are not Black, do not further traumatize Black people by spreading video of the attack without adequate warnings.

[Image Description: A photo of a 29 year-old Black Man, Jacob Blake, with a goatee and shoulder-length braids, hugging his 4 children and smiling next to a fountain or monument at night. 2 screencaps of a Milwaukee Freedom Fund Facebook post made around midnight on 8/23/20. They read as follows:

We are saddened and angered to hear of the police once again shooting a young Black man, especially a young father that is reported to have stopped a fight from escalating before being gunned down. Milwaukee Freedom Fund wants to extend our support to protesters in Kenosha. Our request help form is here: https://bit.ly/MFFArrestHelp. We help with bail/tickets/connecting protesters to lawyers. Info for protesters:

Make sure there is someone outside of protesting that knows your legal name and birthday so we can look you up if we need to.

If you are arrested- DO NOT TALK about what happened while in jail unless you are talking to your lawyer. Phones and visiting rooms are recorded.

You have the right to remain silent and ask for a lawyer.

Most arrested protesters are ticketed and released that process can take hours. If someone is detained, their bail is set and charges are read usually the first time they see a judge. In Milwaukee, that’s been a few days. Once bail is set we can help pay it, if you’re given a ticket for protesting we can help pay that too, if you need a lawyer we can do our best to set you up with one. *We are not lawyers and we cannot go to precincts directly. We are volunteers who will help the best we can.

Edited to include: This post has gotten a lot of attention and some folks may be unfamiliar with MFF. Please know we do not reserve calls for justice for “perfect victims” and we see bringing out a person’s history as attempts to silence and minimize. If several police officers can’t arrest a person without shooting them several times then that is the issue we need to address. The police are not meant to be judge, jury and executioner. Keep focused. Info we have on what happened: The young man with his children is a 29 year old father named Jacob Blake. He was tasered and shot in the back 7 times today by police officers in Kenosha, Wisconsin. There is a video of the entire incident, but we will not be posting that footage here. There was no point and time that a firearm should have been pulled, let alone this man be shot 7 times, in the back, while trapped by his vehicle. His condition is unclear. Varying reports at this time. If there are additional actions to show up for or links to support his family please let us know. https://facebook.com/events/s/community-unity-accountability/710234002864196/?ti=icl]

[omegasamwilson]

I literally had a panic attack when I watched Ayo take off Bucky's arm. I was born without my left arm and see a lot of myself in Bucky. I have a prosthetic and had to stop the episode and watch it later. And it really hurt me to see your completely disregard that and say I have no right to be upset. It really pisses me off. I'm fully acknowledging that Bucky did a terrible thing, and he needed to be stopped. But she didn't have to remove his arm. He wouldn't have hurt her. To see you refer to his arm in the tags as a weapon further hurt me. It's not a fucking weapon, it's his fucking arm. You're trying to twist this into a race issue when it's about fucking ableism. I'm brown not black so I don't know if you'll accept my concerns with your post

Hi, one, I apologize for what is sure to be a very long and very frustrated statement. But I’m dealing with a lot of shit rn (actually related to race and ableism specifically) but I wanted to respond because my ADHD ass will forget otherwise.

Okay. One, you say “he wouldn’t have hurt her.”

We, the audience, knows that. Ayo did not. What she knows is that the man before her was an assassin and sniper, even before he was captured and forced to kill by HYDRA. He was a WWII sniper and seemed to be quite skilled (I’m going to assume that’s one of the reasons HYDRA tried to experiment on him and picked him to he the winter soldier.) In any case, this newly reformed (and at the time, just barely reformed. As in, he was healed a month, maybe two months before the events of infinity war. So he’s been healed for a whopping seven months.) This newly reformed assassin, who had been the victim of either chemical or otherwise mental subjugation freed a terrorist from prison.

Not only did he free a terrorist from prison, he freed a terrorist that was obsessed with HYDRA. If any terrorist knew a back door to unlock the winter soldier again, it would be Baron Zemo, who knew each and every one of HYDRA’s secrets.

While Shuri is definitely brilliant, it’s entirely possible that HYDRA buried a safety within their “asset” just in case he was able to break his programming. It’s entirely possible that it was so well buried amongst the labyrinth that is the brain that even Shuri couldn’t find it. After all, Shuri isn’t a neuroscientist, and the brain is largely regarded as the final frontier. So it’s entirely possible that she missed buried programming.

So, we have a person that got rid of HYDRA’s programming seven months ago that just freed one of the only people on the planet that could have the information that could potentially reactivate the winter soldier. And THEN, we have a video of this man “acting” as the winter soldier in madripoor. This was uploaded on the internet and I’m assuming that Ayo saw it.

What proof does Ayo have that he won’t hurt her? That she won’t weaponize his arm and hurt her? What proof does she have that he’s not under Zemo’s control, that Zemo can’t control him in a second. The only thing she knows are that Bucky Barnes freed a terrorist that had access to all of HYDRA’s information, the terrorist appeared to control the winter soldier in madripoor, and it is entirely possible that there is buried programming designed to deactivate the winter soldier.

She deactivates it, realizes he’s fully in control of himself and says, “bast damn you, James.” As in, “fuck you for freeing a terrorist and acting like it isn’t a big deal. You are clearly acting on your own accord in this.”

And yes, it’s different being Black vs. being Brown. It isn’t to say that racism and ableism don’t intersect with Brown folks because obviously it does.

But l specifically asked for Black opinions bc of the demonization of Black folks, especially the trope of “big scary Black women” or “big scary Black men.”

It’s ironic I see this today when I have a story that is so relevant and anger inducing.

I work with white parents of Black children, usually through adoption since I work primarily with lgbt parents, but I do have some cis het white parents raising Black biological kids. One of the parents and friends got into it today because her autistic Black child got into it with their sibling (also disabled). The sibling intentionally triggered their older sibling and punched them and it escalated to the point where the bigger sibling finally reacted and shoved the younger sibling. It broke the younger kid’s glasses. The youngest is legally blind and needs very expensive and specific prescription classes to even have 20/40 vision.

The mom called the police on her child and the kid was arrested and charged. She is 15. Mom described the kid as aggressive and awful and terrible and all sorts of names. A ww called the police on her Black 15 year old child having a meltdown. And she played into stereotypes that Black people, Black women, are aggressive/scary/angry. A ww could’ve gotten her child killed for having a meltdown because she broke a white child’s disability aid.)

A ww couldve gotten her child killed because she played into anti-Black stereotypes. That white people need protection from them. Even when the white child was initially the aggressor in the scenario.

Sure, it’s different, but it plays to the same stereotypes. Poor white disabled person needs protection from the aggressive scary Black person, and we’re just going to assume that the Black person was being unnecessarily aggressive because it plays into all of the stereotypes about Black people. No, there’s no way that this Black person was making a decision based on a series of evidence that could point to them genuinely being harmed.

(By the way, in the scenario of the two kids, I think they both needed help and support, and that the police shouldn’t have been called period.)

Nope, it’s just an aggressive Black person being ableist.

The same systems that have everyone seeing Bucky as a cute little uwu cinnamon roll in need of protection are what caused everyone to see Ayo as an aggressive ableist Black woman. White people usually get the benefit of the doubt. The best intentions are believed even when the evidence clearly says otherwise.

The evidence Ayo had indicated that she had no idea whether the winter soldier could’ve been reactivated and whether or not Bucky could’ve been under zemo’s control. She had no idea. None. She made a decision based off that information. And the fact that Bucky didn’t react strongly indicated that he was acting on his own accord.

Mayhaps, Ayo might even have been trying to trigger the winter soldier. I just thought of this but it makes sense. That the WS would react very defensively and even potentially deadly to that level of fighting, even if his previous orders were different.

In any case, this situation isn’t comparable to every day disabled people because our disability aids to not double as weapons. Most people can’t do more harm with a prosthetic limb than they can with a regular limb. Bucky can. Bucky’s arm is also a weapon and that fact complicates matters considerably. If bucky’s arm were simply a regular arm with typical strength, it’d be a no brainer situation. But it’s not. We don’t know the wakanda enhancements of his arms, but we know in the comics, he could kill with a single punch using his arm. He uses his arm tactically to map his surroundings. He uses his arm to send off EMPs that can disabled weaponry. It even has a retractable blade for close combat. It is a disability aid that it also a weapon. It was designed to be a weapon. The normal conversations around disability aids don’t fit it because no one today has a disability aid that could kill someone in seconds and even cause larger scale damage with a targeted EMP.

And finally, I want to say this, I am truly sorry that you had a panic attack while watching the episode. That is never fair and it’s never fun to be triggered by television shows.

I do hope this helped to better explain and clarify my perspective.

[a-student-out-of-time]

Juu Kinjo, you fought against Aum Shinrikyo, in fact you were one of the frontliners for their defeat. Out of everyone, you know best of all how doomsday cults work. And yet, despite this you fell under the sway of someone even worse then Asahana. Why? Did they 'teach' you the proper order of things? Is this to do with the death of your wife? Did SHE get you that way?

Yes, that’s how you got your position, isn’t it? Your work against Aum Shinrikyo.

Of course. That was when I first saw, really saw, how this world works. What needs to be fixed.

Hmph. Ridiculous.

What was that?

I know what you’re talking about, of course. I still remember the day it happened.

You were there too?

Of course. The government district was attacked.

__________________________________________________

“That day, there were people streaming out of the subway station, all collapsing, vomiting blood. Underground, the tunnels were flooded with sarin gas, and they brought it with them, the toxin clinging to their clothes. It spread among the crowd, blinding and paralyzing paramedics who’d come to help.”

“With all the police raids across Japan, the cult attacked even harder- attempted assassinations, more chemical attacks with cyanide and phosgene, bioweapons, a reign of kidnapping and torture, letter bombs...it went on for months.”

“And if it hadn’t been for a man named Kinjo Juu, there would’ve been another chemical attack that may have killed 100,000 people.”

__________________________________________________

And even after he was arrested, Asahara Shoko was certain a miracle would save him. A madman who blamed Americans, Jews, Dutch, the British Royal family, Freemasons, anyone who he saw as a threat to his grand vision of a new world order.

I was there at his trial. For four long years, all he ever did was make rambling speech after rambling speech, disrupting proceedings in the hope that it would save him.

I know. I saw it too. Can’t you see?

I’ve heard it all myself.

Repeating something over and over doesn’t make it true.

Kinjo-san...what about your wife?

...

My mother...?

What happened to her, Kinjo-san? Can you tell me?

She...She died in a mugging when I was still a kid. That’s what I always heard.

Is that what happened, Commissioner?

…Yes. Chisato didn’t come home one day, and I wasn’t sure what happened. It wasn’t until we got a call from the hospital that we learned.

And so you surrendered to madness and despair?

No. I embraced despair. I saw it for what it is: the key to ending all crime!

[scripttorture]

hi there, I hope my question is fitting with the blog theme. I am searching for resources about hand caning how it was used in schools, as a more or less harsh punishment for children (that's why I was not sure about asking here). I can't find if the punishment was delivered always on the palms or sometimes on the back of the hands too, and if there are serious risks of bone breaking or nerve damage since I guess it's a delicate area. I imagined my character being hit on the back of his hand with a wooden ruler, so I was wondering if that would be perceived as unusual + how his hands and fingers would feel after that - if there could be bleeding, swelling or similar. We're talking about a young man in his twenties - I know this was usually a punishment for children, it's just a really specific situation in an imaginary setting that resembles the late '800. Thank you for your attention and feel free to discard this ask if it's unfitting!

It might surprise you but by the modern legal definition this is arguably torture, so yes it’s very much in the scope of the blog.

 The definition of torture by the UN essentially amounts to this:

It must be painful

It must be done deliberately

It must be done by (or under the orders of) a public official for one of the following reasons

To obtain a confession

An attempt to gain information (torture can’t do this)

Punishment

Intimidation

 It does not matter if they’re trying to effect the victim or another person. So for instance if someone is tortured to ‘punish’ a relative who hasn’t been arrested, that still counts as torture.

 Class room abuse of school children isn’t what we usually think of when we discuss torture and it isn’t where most of the research is focused. But legally speaking, if it’s a government run school it certainly counts.

 My understanding here is based on modern research on spanking and I think it’s worth discussing the ways in which torture in a class room might differ from torture in a jail cell.

 In many countries and schools (probably most) children do not stay at the school. They have a reprieve. They know when they’ll leave every day and how long classes are. If they’re lucky they’ll be going back to a supportive families.

 They also have the support of their peers in class, something prisoners don’t always get. And they almost always have access to medical help in a way that is not dependant on the school.

 Depending on the context there may also be more effective recourse for children in schools then prisoners.

 What this amounts to is that children in schools are not necessarily subjected to the same long periods of abuse that prisoners are. For example standing stress positions were used against children in western schools for a long time. But if children aren’t sleeping at school then they’re less likely to be kept in those stress positions for 48 hours straight compared to prisoners.

 And all of these differences might effect things like recovery rates and symptom severity.

 I think that having time away from the abusive environment (the school), a supportive family and supportive peers would be protective factors. On the other hand children are incredibly dependant on adults and though the school day might end it takes years to finish school. I think those factors would make things worse.

 We know from research on smacking that even low levels of violence have a pronounced negative effect on children. Children who were hit grow into adults that have lower IQs, are more likely to be mentally ill, more likely to behave aggressively and have worse relationships with their parents (who smacked them.)

 Based on what I know about torture (keep in mind the studies I look at focus on adults) I think it’s likely that the frequency and intensity of the attacks would make a difference to how mentally healthy the character would be as an adult. He’d probably have lower self esteem then he would have done otherwise. He would be more likely to develop anxiety and/or depression.

 Think about how often these attacks are happening, how long each attack takes and how long through the schooling process they continue. This feeds in to what ‘reasonable’ physical and psychological consequences for the character look like. A character who is subjected to attacks of several minutes every day for the entire time he’s in school will look very different to a character who is hit once in every 3-6 weeks for the two year he had that one terrible teacher.

 Hitting the hands was and is a pretty common attack on children globally. My impression is that hitting the backs of the hands was more common but it depended on where you were. I think generally what you’re describing is a fairly ‘typical’ torture used against children in schools.

 The context I’ve heard it in most often is a single hit, during class as the teacher walks past.

 Honestly there are a lot of possible injuries these kinds of attacks can cause. Broken bones are possible but unless it’s a prolonged attack (ie he’s hit a lot of times over the course of a minute or two) they’re less likely with a wooden ruler. Even then I think fractures are more likely then breaks.

 Your instinct is pretty good. I think you’d see visible swelling and you would sometimes get bleeding as the skin across the knuckles cracks.

 I actually get these cracks pretty regularly because the chemicals I use dry out my skin. And I forget to moisturise. Like a terrible mammal.

 They don’t bleed a lot. But they’re also hard to put plasters over, the movement of the hand makes the plaster peel off. You can bandage around the whole hand, but this is very bulky and clumbersome. I personally never bothered. The cuts also re-open often. They often leave small blood stains on sleeves and cuffs. They also sting, especially when washing your hands.

 The actual hits- It’s a sharp pain and it makes a loud noise. The noise itself can be surprising. The joints often ache afterwards and it can take several days, may be up to a week for that ache to vanish. Which makes any repeated blows over the next few days more painful.

 If it’s a single hit that might be the end of the physical injuries, unless he’s really unlucky. But the more often this happens and the more times he’s hit in any attack the more likely more serious injuries are.

 I’m honestly not sure about nerve damage in this case. I will say that it seems unlikely if you’re talking about a single blow every month or so. I don’t think I’ve ever heard an adult survivor of this particular practice describe symptoms similar to nerve damage.

 Overall it sounds like a perfectly plausible scenario. I hope this helps :)

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[samanthalightning]

She's Got A Date-EoWells X Allen!reader- Part V

*The GIF is not mine. All rights to the owner*

Part IV

Summary: While you face a relationship dilemma, you must help Barry stop The Mist from coming after your adoptive father. Based on 1x03

Warnings: None

***

You submerged your face in the water on your hands. The coolness temporarily eased the sting in your eyes. You turn off the faucets, you grab some tissues and dab them on your face to dry. You stared at yourself in the mirror; you were starting to look fine. The puffiness of your eyes ease, your eyes are still bloodshot red, but it was better.

It had been hours since that fight happened, and you have washed your face for the hundredth time today. Each time you think about it, you cry despite trying hard not to, and lucky you, it's all you can think about.

You reapplied your lipstick and mascara, and left the restroom. You walked down the hallway to come back to the cortex. You rounded a corner, but your feet quickly halted when a figure popped up to avoid collision.

It was him. You both froze, staring at each other. He could have swore, he saw a flicker of hurt and coldness in your eyes, before you lowered your head down when his stare became intense. This wasn't the first you crossed paths today. It's his building and you work here, though it didn't mean it got easier. It's always awkward and uneasy.

He didn't speak or move, so you figured you would be the one who needs to do it.

"Excuse me," you whispered, walking ahead passing by him.

"Y/N, wait." You stopped in your tracks and formed a fist. Although you didn't turn around. "We need to talk,"

"We already did. There's no need to further discuss it and make it worse." You didn't dare let him respond, and walked away rapidly away from him, not skipping a beat until you reached the cortex.

You quickly took a seat beside Cisco and buried your head on the computer, typing as you finished a report. Your thoughts ran, a sudden furious rage boiling in your veins. You couldn't believe how ironic it is that earlier he didn't want to talk about it, and now he does. It just infuriates you so hard, so hard and murder him with your bare hands.

"Woah, woah, you okay?" Cisco's voice pulled you out of your spiral.

You paused, fingertips ghosting the keyboard. You didn't even realize you were typing audibly, angrily. "Yeah. Just itching to get our meta," you said.

"Okay. Whatever you say," he replied, obviously suspicious and not an ounce convinced. None of them were if you're being honest. Especially Barry. He was very concerned, but it occurred to him that this might be regarding your mystery boyfriend, so he reluctantly kept his distance.

Wells came back. You can feel his eyes boring at you. You pretended to be oblivious, but it bothered you. Deeply.

Abruptly, a ping coming from the computer echoed in the room. It was the analysis on the toxin. Cisco was quick to call Barry and Caitlin, who God knows where to come to the cortex immediately.

They arrived moments later.

"Yo, check this out."

You all huddled up in front of the TV, waiting for someone to explain the result.

"We have identified the toxin," Wells said, clicking the screen of his tablet. The analysis results popped up on the screen.

"Hydrogen Cyanide?" Barry's brows furrowed.

"Well, what's interesting is what mixed in with the cyanide— a sedative," he added.

Your head cocked to the side, confused more than ever. You're no Caitlin, but that sounded odd. Never in your life have you heard those chemical compounds being mixed before— hell, even in being in the same sentence.

You turned to Barry to ask. His demeanor changed from being in serious thought to his eyes lighting up in recognition. A hand flew to his forehead, turning to Caitlin.

"The night of the explosion— find out if anyone was executed," he ordered.

Caitlin nodded and headed to the nearest computer.

"Why?" Wells asked, beating you to it.

"That sedative was given to criminals on death row before they go into the gas chamber, and breathe in cyanide," he explained.

That was one hell of a fact.

"There was someone executed— Kyle Nimbus," Caitlin informed.

A tab of his background and records popped up. And yup, he does look like someone crazy. Bald, pale skin, huge bags under his eyes. Just add a crooked smile and he could be the missing son of the Grinch and Penguin.

"That's him," Barry confirmed.

"He was a hit man for the Darbinyan crime family. They turned on him and testified. Judge Teresa Howard was the judge at his trial. She sentenced him to death."

It makes sense why he was hell bent on killing these people. The irony of his life though. Karma really is a bitch.

"He said there's one more on his list. Check the arrest records; who caught him, that could be his next attack," he walked towards her, and you trailed after him, dumbfounded.

There was too much information all at once, and Barry's the only one who's putting two and two together as fast as he runs.

You watched as Caitlin's eyes widened in horror. Her face blanched, glancing up at you and Barry, as if she had seen a ghost. It made you a little worried and anxious. The pit of your stomach knotting, as you swallowed thickly. Whatever information she got a hold of isn't good.

"Barry, the lead detective..."

Your heart dropped. Your mind quickly thinks of one person: Joe. Your thoughts ran wildly. You refused to believe it's him.

"Cait, who is it?" You asked, shakily.

"It's Joe."

You let out a gasp, panic surged through you. It felt like the world collapsed, your worry escalating into another level.

Next thing you knew, Barry was on his cell, both of you pacing back and forth, while he tried to reach Joe. Each time he took his phone off his ear, not able to reach him, he grew more frustrated. And so were you.

"He's not answering,"

"Call Eddie, maybe he knows," you suggested.

He took your advice and dialled him. You held your breath, anxiously waiting for the end of the ringing noise from Barry's phone.

"Eddie!" You immediately moved to Barry's side. "Hey, do you know where Joe went? He's not picking up his cell."

You placed your ears near and listened carefully. He paused, then said he didn't know.

"Eddie, it's really important I speak to him. I need to know where he went." Barry pleaded, evidently desperate.

Eddie must have picked it up. You heard an audible sigh from him through the phone. Eddie said he's in Iron Heights. That must have been why he's not picking up.

"Thanks, Eddie." Barry ended the call, and went to the team. "He's in Iron Heights, he's in Iron Heights because of me,"

Your brows drew together. If the toxins results didn't make sense, so is Barry right now. "What? Why?"

"I'll explain later," he said, running off to Caitlin.

She developed an antidote from the toxin, in case Barry didn't make it in time to stop Nimbus. Barry put on his suit, and faster than a blink of eye, he sped off, leaving a red streak of lights behind and a gust of strong wind blowing through your hair.

You took a seat and behind a computer to do your designated job. You pray to God Barry gets there before Nimbus does.

"Barry, I pulled up the specs on Iron Heights prison with maximum security, but I think I can talk you through breaking in there," he said, as he took a seat beside you.

You chortled, shaking your head. Your brother is probably doing the same thing right now. Cisco looked at you confused and a little offended.

"No bother. I've been figuring out how to break in that place since I was 11,"

Damn right he was. He used to get in trouble with Joe because of that, and you'll get a warning to think twice before pulling the same stunt. Barry still continuously, persistently did it. Eventually, he got older and no one has to call Joe about a minor trying to sneak in to see his Dad.

In a snap, it dawned on you. That's what Barry meant. Your Dad was the reason Joe was in Iron Heights. As to why, you wondered. Joe never once visited the man; he strongly believes that your Dad killed your Mom, it doesn't make sense why he would want to see him after all those years.

Your thoughts were pushed in the back of your mind, seeing Barry was inside the prison. You all cowered in silence, anxiety prickling your very existence. Your heart beating fast like you ran a hundred miles, you fingers were trembling. You took them off the keyboard, and hid them under the desk, clenching and unclenching it repeatedly.

You tried to keep it together, itching to hear Barry's voice, saying Joe's fine. You already lost your parents, you can't lose another one.

You felt a warm, large hand on your formed fist, fingers wrapping it securely with a squeeze. Your head shot up to the man in glasses beside you, stunned. Not that you just had the biggest fight ages ago, but your colleagues are literally sandwiching the two of you.

He gave a soft, assuring smile. And you appreciated it deeply. You opened your palm, intertwining your fingers with his. The differences were set aside for a moment, as you hold on to him for dear life.

"Joe's stable," Barry spoke.

The weight on your chest was lifted off. You relaxed for a second only to be reminded that there's still a meta-human on the loose that desperately needs some ass-kicking.

According to Barry, Nimbus transformed into a mist again, and Caitlin advised him to stay away, do not breathe him I'm. As weird as that sounds, it was the only way to avoid inhaling cyanide, and he might not be so lucky again.

But it was very obvious that it wasn't easy; the man is literally air.

"Guys, I don't think this is helping me,"

"You can't fight him, Barry. Just..." Caitlin paused to think. "...keep him coming at you, that should sap his strength."

Wells nodded in agreement. "Yes. Gas is the least stable form of matter— this meta-human will not be able to stay in this mist form, his particles will need to reform."

Barry ran. He ran farther and farther away from the prison. He takes quick stops, before running again.

Your eyes peered over to Caitlin's computer to check on his vitals. His heart rate elevated a bit, but everything was fine. Although he wasn't updating or saying anything it's starting to worry you.

Wells, clearly worried, leaned over and grabbed the mic. "Barry?" He called him. There was only silence on the other end. "Barry?" He called again, louder and firmer.

"We win,"

You all sighed with relief. Your eyes fluttered close, as you lean back into your seat and roll your head back. You squeezed him, you looked at him as a grateful smile spread across your face.

Barry brought Nimbus to S.T.A.R Labs, and left to go to the hospital. You stayed behind to see how well you did with makeshift prison, and get some satisfaction by watching him go crazy to find a way out.

You stood by the entrance of the pipeline with the team, watching the door slide down in front of a very angry Kyle Nimbus, pounding on the glass, constantly morphing into gas to escape his cell. The dummy didn't actually think you'd seal it.

"So, we just have to get used to working above a makeshift prison," Caitlin commented.

"Yup," you replied.

It's surreal. You can't still quite grasp the fact that you built a prison, and it's weird to see someone actually imprisoned inside. He deserved it, yes, but it's still weird.

Everyone turned to shuffle back to the cortex. Cisco pulled Caitlin aside. It looks like they have something to talk about, and by the look on Cisco's face, it's probably serious.

Your eyes flickered to Wells, who was surprisingly staring at you too. You locked eyes, realizing things had wind down— Nimbus is apprehended, and no meta-human to worry about for the time being. You don't know what's going to happen, where you both stand; if the relationship still exists, but one thing is for certain: it was time to address it and deal with it.

He tilted his head to the side, gesturing to go outside, before leaving the room.

You followed him, trailing behind him in the hallway. You dreaded every step you took, you heart racing fast under your ribs, and for many times today, your stomach churned, nervous.

You didn't know where he was leading you. You never really wandered around this area. The hallway is like a never ending maze; just no twist and turns. It was long and quiet and dark. If he was some dude, you would think that he's luring you to kill you.

You were about to ask him where you both were going, but he stopped. You both stood in front of a door. Nothing special about it, just a door. He twisted the knob and opened it. He took a step aside to let you in first and you obliged.

The lights automatically turned on, shedding lights on the room contents. Shelves containing boxes and some other covered things lined up across the room. It's another storage room. The dust isn't disgustingly obvious yet, but it hasn't been touched in a while. Probably since last year.

"We have another storage room?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. This was used when we were building the accelerator," he explained, closing the door behind him.

This is not the most ideal place to talk, but it's secluded and quiet and hidden. Given the fight earlier, all those three are a must.

You spun around to him, folding your arms, awkwardly waiting for him to speak first.

"So?" He started.

"So?"

He exhaled sharply, pursing his lips. "I thought about what you said, and..." He trailed off. A lump forming in your and you gulped in anticipation, watching him be lost for words. It was like those heart stopping moments in class just before your teacher passed your papers, scared of what your mark would be, except on this one, there's only two of you. This would not just affect the future, but potentially break your heart.

He stammered. " I don't— I don't want to lose you. I love you and you were right." Your mouth went dry. You were rendered speechless. Not a single word you could utter, staring at him in shock. You didn't expect that one. Scared that might not convince you, he added, "I mean it. I couldn't risk losing you."

Emotions barrelling through you. You kept it together, not wanting to broke down immediately.

"What about the press?"

"They'll leave us alone eventually," he answered.

"Your haters?"

He chuckled lightly. "They'll forget about it."

"And Joe?" The smile on his face faded, aware of the seriousness of that name.

"We'll deal with it. But I'm pretty sure he'll be happy for you,"

You lowered your head, looking down at your feet.

"Y/N?"

You glanced up, your demeanor stern as you looked into his eyes. "Are you sure? You might be just saying this right now, but you might regret—"

"The only thing I will regret is letting you walk away. I lost a lot of things last year, and I don't want you to be part of it. You mean so much to me,"

Your heart was cracked open. You were in awe of his declaration. Today was a tough one, and it will be on some days, but you certainly knew you would be a damn fool to let him go.

Although, it doesn't hurt to rile him up a bit. You maintain a stoic expression for a period of time, which ended very soon because you couldn't help it anymore.

"Damn it," you hissed.

You went to him, cupped his cheek and pulled his lips to yours. He responded quickly. His lips move passionately against yours, pouring all emotions into the kiss. Your stomach flutters in realization how vulnerable and raw this moment is. It was like he's opening up and he didn't have to say anything. Everything disappeared for a while. He clutched your arm, pressing you closer to this warmth.

You pulled away reluctantly, panting. You leaned your forehead against his.

"I love you," you whispered to him.

"I love you too,"

He drew closer to kiss you again, but you withdrew. You gritted your teeth, looking at him nervously.

"I think we should tell them tonight,"

***

Uh Oh. How do you think they'll react?

Anyway, I'd appreciate if you share this and give it love. Thanks!

Part VI

[charcubed]

Frank Hudson, Greta, Margaret, & Mary

(PSA: If you’ve been tagged in this post, it’s because I’m crediting you or linking to a meta you wrote! I particularly linked a lot of things at the end I think could be tangentially related. No pressure to read all of this!)

Please allow me to take you on a journey in which I present a theory:

Mary is Frank Hudson’s daughter from a relationship with another woman, and part of her motivation (as a villain, as Moriarty’s agent/possible successor) is to get revenge on Sherlock for having killed her father all those years ago and ruining the drug cartel empire.

I was calling this a crack theory, but uh, given that I’ve now written thousands of words connecting weird dots, I’m gonna say maybe this is potentially not as far-fetched as I initially thought.

Before Sherlock series 4 came out, we were given this delightful niche little “clue” in a Youtube video on the official channel:

It’s always struck me as odd that this was specifically shown in a video advertising / leading up to series 4... when it seemingly never connected to anything. Why this, of all things?

Let’s review what we know about Mr. Frank Hudson.

• He was sentenced to death in Florida; Sherlock ensured his execution. (ASiP)

• He was executed for double murder and the execution was via lethal injection. He was arrested for “blowing someone’s head off.” (TSoT)

• According to Mrs. Hudson, about their relationship: “It was just a whirlwind thing for us. I knew it wouldn’t work, but I just got sort of swept along. And then we moved to Florida. We had a fantastic time, but of course I didn’t know what he was up to” and “It was purely physical between me and Frank. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other.” What Frank was “up to” included a drug cartel and “all the other women.” (TSoT)

• Mrs. Hudson was a typist in Frank’s drug cartel (and an exotic dancer, which is in YouTube videos in-universe). This is also the scene where she’s present to hear enough to figure out that Mary shot Sherlock; in the original script, it’s made obvious that she was eavesdropping even after walking out. (HLV)

• We’re also given repeated reminders in TLD that Mrs. Hudson was/is somewhat of a badass. She tells Sherlock “you’re not my first smackhead, Sherlock Holmes,” and whether or not any of that (the revolver, the kidnapping of Sherlock, the car) is actually literally real, I take it mostly as a blatant reminder that Mrs. Hudson has a past filled with “not good” people.

A lot of this info is given in more comedic moments... but I think because it is repeatedly mentioned with consistent detail, especially largely in season 3 when Mary arrives (partially to mirror John/Mary’s doomed relationship), it shouldn’t be swept aside.

Speaking of Mary, let’s get into it. 

In ACD’s The Sign of Four, Mary Morstan’s story centers heavily around the loss of her father. That’s also the story that involves the Agra treasure, and Mary notably receives 6 pearls in the mail as part of the mystery. Keep all of this in mind because it’s going to be relevant as we go.

First, let’s roll all the way back to The Abominable Bride.

(All transcripts I will be quoting are from the inimitable Ariane DeVere.)

Giles, & Morse Hudson

The abominable bride herself–who I trust we all know mirrors Mary at this point lol–stands on the balcony and aims her guns at people on the street while saying “You?” / “You, or me?” One of the people she aims at is this man, who is listed in the credits as Giles. I always found it odd that he was named, so I decided to look him up in relation to Sherlock Holmes.

“Giles” connects to Giles Conover, the criminal in the 1944 Sherlock Holmes movie The Pearl of Death. That movie is loosely based on ACD’s The Adventure of the Six Napoleans. In the movie, Giles (who is not in the ACD story) stole the Borgia Pearl and hid it in a bust of Napoleon. In case there’s any doubt, we can know for a fact that Moffat and Gatiss are familiar with this movie because they referenced it in TGG previously; the Golem assassin is a nod to The Creeper.

So I was like, why that movie specifically? What’s significant, and how would that connect to the bride?

And as I’m sure you’ve figured out by now... they later referenced that movie again in TST. The writers called back to both the ACD story and the 1944 movie, very specifically. 

Referenced movie details I noticed in TST include the following: Sherlock calls Lestrade “Giles.” The Borgia Pearl (movie phrasing, as opposed to “the black pearl of the Borgias”) is mentioned multiple times; we’ll go back to that. We are also pointedly told by Ajay that one of the members of AGRA was killed via a broken back, which is how a murder happens in the 1944 movie.

As for TST’s references to the original Napoleon story by ACD... there are many, but there’s one thing they pointedly didn’t reference (unless I missed it) that I find interesting: in the ACD story, 3 of the 6 busts were at the shop of a Morse Hudson. Beppo, the criminal in the story, worked at Morse Hudson’s shop to have access to the locations of those 3 busts. Even in The Six Thatchers version on John’s blog, Beppo is the criminal but Morse Hudson was not mentioned. 

So I thought... alright, Morse? What morse code have we seen in the show? Well, there’s UMQRA, from The Hounds of Baskerville.

I poked around and some genius anon on @inevitably-johnlocked​‘s blog once said that if you encode UMQRA with HOUND using a vigenere cypher, you get BAKED. Mary bakes her own bread, according to Sherlock’s deductions in TEH. The abominable bride, in the above scene, shoots at/into a bakery. 

Edit: @rosie_ww on Twitter aka @silverybees​ pointed me to this, from THoB:

SHERLOCK: You’ve been to see Mr Chatterjee again.

MRS HUDSON: Pardon? 

SHERLOCK: Sandwich shop. That’s a new dress, but there’s flour on the sleeve. You wouldn’t dress like that for baking.

(Friendly reminder that shortly thereafter we find out that Mr. Chatterjee has other women)

Does this morse code / BAKED business necessarily mean anything by itself? No, and of anything in this post, it’s the biggest stretch. But it’s still kind of wild, because let’s recap so far:

• We have Morse Hudson in The Adventure of the Six Napoleons, a story which is heavily referenced in TST

• TST heavily connects to Mary / AGRA (we’ll get to how specifically)

• TST also heavily connects to The Pearl of Death, which connects to TAB

• And not only that, but The Pearl of Death connects to the exact scene in TAB where the bride shoots @ Giles and the bread shop. The bread shop could connect to the UMQRA morse code in the show... meaning “Morse” (code, and therefore Hudson) could then connect to Mary.

Morse Hudson -> The Six Napoleons -> TST -> The Pearl of Death (“Giles” etc.) -> TAB (“Giles”) -> Mary, the bride

Oh what a tangled web we weave. That’s a Hudson to Mary.

But let’s keep going. Better stuff to come.

The Black Pearl of the Borgias In TST

Let’s play the game of following the trail of the Black Pearl. Shout out to @miadifferent​ and @impossibleleaf​, because their combo post here I came across was very helpful for showing me the best way to write this out to make it easily understandable. I will be quoting / paraphrasing them below!

The first time we hear about the Pearl, it’s from Mycroft, who connects it to Moriarty’s final activities:

MYCROFT: In the last year of his life, James Moriarty was involved with four political assassinations over 70 assorted robberies and terrorist attacks, including a chemical weapons factory in North Korea and had latterly shown some interest in tracking down the Black Pearl of the Borgias, which is still missing by the way, in case you feel like applying yourself to something practical.

We also learn that the Pearl is somehow connected to London.

HOPKINS: Interpol think, the case of the Borgia Pearl trail leads back to London, so..

So we have Moriarty -> Black Pearl -> London...

And next up, there’s Sherlock’s “fake” deduction about Greta Bengtsdotter (who has always very obviously made us all think about Mary.)

SHERLOCK: Your wife is a spy. That’s right. Her real name is Greta Bengtsdotter. Swedish by birth and probably the most dangerous spy in the world. She’s been operating deep undercover for the past four years now as your wife for one reason only: to get near the American embassy which is across the road from your flat. Tomorrow the U.S. president will be at the embassy as part of an official state visit. As the president greets members of staff, Greta Bengtsdotter, disguised as a twenty-two stone cleaner, will inject the president in the back of the neck with a dangerous new drug hidden inside a secret compartment insider her padded armpit. This drug will then render the president entirely susceptible to the will of their new master, none other than James Moriarty. Moriarty will then use the president as a pawn to destabilize the United Nations General Assembly which is due to vote on a nuclear non-proliferation treaty tipping the balance in favour of a first strike policy against Russia. This chain of events will then prove unstoppable thus precipitating World War 3.

The name “Greta” is derived from the name Margareta, which comes from the Greek word margarites. It means pearl. Further versions of this name are Margarita / Margaret / Maggie.

Thus, we add her in: Moriarty -> Greta -> Black Pearl -> London

So when Sherlock finds the AGRA stick in the busts of Margaret Thatcher, he says to Mary...

SHERLOCK: I was so convinced it was Moriarty, I couldn’t see what was right under my nose. I expected a pearl.

Sherlock expected to find a pearl (Greta / a spy), but instead he found AGRA/Mary’s identity. He actually found what he was looking for, but he just didn’t recognize it.

And it actually still makes sense:

Margaret Thatcher’s bust -> Black Pearl -> Greta (“pearl”, spy) -> Mary (spy) -> AGRA memory stick

That’s how it went in the plot. It’s a subconscious connection.

So what’s ACD have to say about all that then?

This is the point where I remind you...

In ACD’s The Sign of Four, Mary Morstan’s story centers heavily around the loss of her father. That’s also the story that involves the Agra treasure, and Mary notably receives 6 pearls in the mail as part of the mystery. 

So all of this does have connections back to ACD canon; who is surprised?

But what do we know about Mary’s past from the show’s canon in His Last Vow? Let’s look at some other reminders.

SHERLOCK: By your skill set, you are – or were – an intelligence agent. Your accent is currently English but I suspect you are not. You’re on the run from something; you’ve used your skills to disappear; Magnussen knows your secret, which is why you were going to kill him; and I assume you befriended Janine in order to get close to him.

+

MAGNUSSEN: All those wet jobs for the CIA. Ooh! She’s gone a bit... freelance now. Bad girl.

Mary’s not English; she could be Swedish, she could be American, but regardless–Sherlock deduced she’s a linguist in TEH. And either way, she’s worked for America.

Americans crop up a weird amount in BBC Sherlock (and ACD canon too really), and usually in negative contexts. I just want to highlight one American connection from The Abominable Bride, about Emilia Ricoletti:

SHERLOCK: So she decided to make her death count. She was already familiar with the secret societies of America and was able to draw on their methods of fear and intimidation to publicly – very publicly – confront Sir Eustace Carmichael with the sins of his past. 

HOOPER: He knew her out in the States. Promised her everything... marriage, position – and then he had his way with her and threw her over, left her abandoned and penniless.

Also, where was it that Mr. Hudson had his drug cartel? Oh yeah. Florida.

We’ll go back to that.

More Margarets In BBC Sherlock

So we’ve officially got one connection where Margaret relates to Mary. TST makes that pretty clear. 

Now, where else have we encountered the name Margaret in the show?

Three places (at least, that I’ve caught):

1. A Study In Pink.

The first victim of Jeff Hope the serial killer is Sir Jeffrey Patterson. He was having an affair with his personal assistant Helen, despite being married to his wife Margaret Patterson. 

It’s a well-known fact in this fandom that the victims in ASiP are considered mirrors for John Watson, highlighting things that would lead to his own unhappiness/death–possibly even by suicide. (TJLCE video)  So, let’s say Jeffrey Patterson is a mirror for John.

Helen the personal assistant (who says “I love you”) is, perhaps, a mirror for Sherlock. She’s wearing a deep purple shirt.

Does that connect Margaret Patterson, who insists her husband was happy, to Mary? 

MARGARET PATTERSON: My husband was a happy man who lived life to the full. He loved his family and his work – and that he should have taken his own life in this way is a mystery and a shock to all who knew him.

[looks at John’s unhappiness in HLV after a month of marriage, looks at series 4 theories about John faking his suicide / trying to commit suicide, laughs nervously]

Well. Moving on.

2. The Hounds of Baskerville.

Project HOUND was a CIA Classified / American project that Major Barrymore was involved in. The Major is apparently a fan of Margaret Thatcher, and the password to his laptop is Maggie. Sherlock types “Margare” then hesitantly backtracks and writes Maggie and it works. It’s worth noting that in the script it was drafted to just be Margaret.

3. The Sign of Three. 

MRS. HUDSON: My best friend, Margaret – she was my chief bridesmaid. We were going to be best friends forever, we always said that; but I hardly saw her after that. [...] She cried the whole day, saying, “Ooh, it’s the end of an era.” She was probably right, really. I remember she left early. I mean, who leaves a wedding early?

So in BBC Sherlock, the name Margaret is connected to...

• The Margaret Thatcher busts in The Six Thatchers, which connects to Mary/AGRA/pearls/Greta the Swedish spy

• Margaret Patterson, the wife of a mirror for John who was the victim of murder that masqueraded as suicide. This Margaret insists that the John mirror was happy in their marriage, but the John mirror was having an affair with a Sherlock mirror

• Project HOUND, of the CIA. I find this exceedingly interesting because the name "Margaret” has connections to Moriarty/Mary, and this could mean it’s safe to guess that this case is/was connected to the wider Moriarty web. We see Sherlock hallucinate Moriarty when drugged by the fog, sure, but otherwise Moriarty’s handiwork supposedly isn’t involved in this case... but maybe it was indirectly, by Mary in the CIA. Just ruminating.

• Margaret was Mrs. Hudson’s best friend, who left the wedding early when Mrs. Hudson and Frank got married

Re: that last bullet point, here is what I am suggesting as a possibility: Margaret was one of Mr. Hudson’s “other women.” Margaret left the wedding early because she was sad about the marriage, obviously, but maybe she wasn’t in love with Mrs. H like we would naturally assume (per Sherlock leaving the wedding early because he loves John). Maybe Margaret was in love with Mr. Hudson.

Maybe Mary is the daughter of Margaret and Mr. Hudson, and (as previously stated) she’s motivated to get revenge on Sherlock for killing her father and ruining the drug cartel empire. Who knows what would’ve happened to her mother Margaret, in that case, too.

This is speculation, of course, yes. Yet [waves to all the ridiculous web of connections I’ve delved deeply into, and the Frank Hudson hangman] can you blame me?

But, maybe you’re wondering... why would I think she’s the daughter of a Hudson specifically, even aside from all this Margaret stuff? 

Well.

Hudsons In ACD Canon

Where is the name “Hudson” used in ACD canon, other than for Mrs. Hudson?

Three places (that I’ve caught; my ACD canon knowledge is limited):

• Morse Hudson in The Adventure of the Six Napoleons, as discussed above; not mentioned in BBC Sherlock canon for some reason, yet strongly tied to the story that inspired TST.

• A name drop of “Hudson” in The Adventure of the Five Orange Pips.

Quick run-down of some aspects of this case: the client, John Openshaw, asks Holmes for help because a series of mysterious letters seems to be connected with the recent suspicious deaths of his uncle Elias and his father Joseph. The letters included 5 orange pips, and KKK on the envelope. When his uncle received his letter, he burnt a bunch of secret personal papers. One paper survived; it’s on that paper that we see Hudson’s name, associated with the KKK, and otherwise oddly unrelated to the case.

Holmes moved the lamp, and we both bent over the sheet of paper, which showed by its ragged edge that it had indeed been torn from a book. It was headed, “March, 1869,” and beneath were the following enigmatical notices:

“4th. Hudson came. Same old platform.

“7th. Set the pips on McCauley, Paramore, and John Swain of St. Augustine.

“9th. McCauley cleared.

“10th. John Swain cleared.

“12th. Visited Paramore. All well.”

Here are other ~features of interest~ in this case to me: Openshaw’s uncle Elias was a planter in Florida for many years. Florida is mentioned by Holmes as a “notable” state where the KKK formed a branch; the others are Tennessee, Louisiana, the Carolinas, and Georgia (hello to Tbilisi, Georgia being in TST seemingly at random). It is also mentioned that the fear of someone or something is what drove Elias from America to England. There’s also a very random name drop of “Mary” in this story that doesn’t relate to the case, told as part of Openshaw’s story, in which I can only assume Mary was a maid?

OPENSHAW, QUOTING UNCLE ELIAS: “They may do what they like, but I’ll checkmate them still,’ said he with an oath. ‘Tell Mary that I shall want a fire in my room to-day, and send down to Fordham, the Horsham lawyer.’

The fact that the name Mary manages to be in this cracks me up.

The orange pips / secret societies in America / etc. all heavily tie into The Abominable Bride, and the women’s hoods were visually reminiscent of the KKK. Sir Eustace’s line in TAB of “Death” (when he receives the pips) is a direct quote from Elias in this story when he receives his pips–and a quote that Mary echoes in TST when she completes Vivian Norbury’s sentence in the aquarium.

VIVIAN NORBURY: I’m just like the merchant in the story. I thought I could outrun the inevitable. I’ve always been looking over my shoulder; always expecting to see the grim figure of...

MARY: Death.

So, in summary we have: a name drop of Hudson in a story that factors in Florida, Georgia, pips, secret societies, the KKK, and even a name drop of Mary.

• Hudson is the criminal in The Adventure of the Gloria Scott.

This case is the one Holmes credits as his first case, and it inspired his future profession. He’s telling Watson the story. It happened in his university days and centers on his friend Victor Trevor (TFP says hi, lmao). More specifically, it centers on Victor Trevor’s father. I won’t go into all the details, and the plot summary on Wikipedia is good if you’re curious, but–

A quick run-down of some ~features of interest~ in this case: Mr. Trevor the elder is being blackmailed by the criminal Hudson because of their old criminal past together with others. Hudson is threatening him with exposure / public shame, and Mr. Trevor is forced to employ him. Victor gets pissed about it and eventually upsets Hudson enough that Hudson leaves in a very “this isn’t over” kind of way. Later, Mr. Trevor dies from a stroke after receiving a letter that threatened him via a skip code. It is a skip code of specifically every third word, beginning with the first.

Full skip code message: "The supply of game for London is going steadily up. Head-keeper Hudson, we believe, has been now told to receive all orders for fly-paper and for preservation of your hen pheasant's life."

Decoded message: "The game is up. Hudson has told all. Fly for your life."

(It’s not a game anymore...)

Who do we have in show canon who recognizes a skip code on sight of specifically every third word, beginning with the first?

All together now: Mary.

(Bonus points for “Save John Watson” being the phrase Mary says in her creepy posthumous DVDs. Bonus points x2 for the fact that this text was sent by Magnussen, the “Napoleon of blackmail,” to Mary when he was supposedly trying to find Sherlock’s pressure point. But anyway!)

Another feature of interest about the Gloria Scott case: Holmes deduces that Mr. Trevor was once connected to someone with the initials J.A. whom he wanted to forget, guessing it was an old lover. Mr. Trevor momentarily faints in shock. Holmes guessed this based on an old arm tattoo that Mr. Trevor had tried to get rid of, where the initials are blurry. This later turns out to be wrong, because Mr. Trevor’s previous name was James Armitage–J.A.–when he was a criminal, and that is the reason behind the tattoo. (JA? AJ / Ajay? Much to think about)

The J.A. tattoo deduction was referenced in The Six Thatchers, when Sherlock deduces that the client had a Japanese girlfriend he is now indifferent about. 

SHERLOCK: You’ve got a Japanese tattoo in the crook of your elbow in the name ‘Akako.’ It’s obvious you’ve tried to have it removed.

KINGSLEY: But surely that means I wanna forget her, not that I’m indifferent.

SHERLOCK: If she’d really hurt your feelings, you would have had the word obliterated, but the first attempt wasn’t successful and you haven’t tried again, so it seems you can live with the slightly blurred memory of Akako, hence the indifference.

I’m bothering to highlight this in TST because after Sherlock explains it, the client remarks upon it being “simple”... and that’s when Sherlock immediately launches into his ~fake~ long-winded deduction about his wife being Greta the spy, as I already talked about above. Wild.

One last fascinating thing about the Gloria Scott: this case is referenced in 2 other ACD stories–The Sussex Vampire (John texting in TST), and The Musgrave Ritual (TFP). Gotta love that.

So, uh, what if Mrs. Hudson’s “case” (getting her husband executed) was one of Sherlock’s “firsts” that inspires him to become a consultive detective full-time? We’re told in ASiP that he ensured Frank Hudson’s execution “a few years back.” The inexactness of that year amount drives me bonkers, but I think it’s potentially plausible.

Short Coda: Ghost Stories...

In Mr. Trevor’s reply to Holmes’ (incorrect) J.A. tattoo deduction, he includes the following line:

“Of all ghosts, the ghosts of our old loves are the worst.”

Mark Gatiss talked a lot about ghost stories. In the Sherlock Chronicles book (which I own) teasing series 4, he said, “I can certainly give you one word. Ghosts...” and in this interview he said “There’s a conspiracy theory about everything and they’re almost the modern equivalent of ghost stories. And the great thing is, you can have all the tropes of a ghost story. . . There are lots of people in happy marriages who turn out to have terrible secrets or to have done some awful deed in the past that must be paid for in the present. In Doyle’s stories, those are the ghosts you need to worry about.”

And here are the lines we get from Holmes in The Abominable Bride about ghosts (that aren’t literal):

You may, however, rest assured there are no ghosts in this world... Save those we make for ourselves.

+

We all have a past, Watson. Ghosts – they are the shadows that define our every sunny day. Sir Eustace knows he’s a marked man.

+

The avenging ghost – a legend to strike terror into the heart of any man with malicious intent; a spectre to stalk those unpunished brutes whose reckoning is long overdue.

While typing, I’ve now galaxy-brained my way to the realization that Mrs. H was canonically an “abominable bride” to Frank Hudson and literally murdered him (with Sherlock’s help), just like the women in the special. She’s also shown as one of the women ignored/disparaged in the special (”I’m your landlady, not a plot device”) but just isn’t shown in the crypt/society. So that’s, uh... interesting.

In (Semi-)Conclusion: A Summary

We have the following significant points at minimum: 

• A Frank Hudson clue in a series 4 video

• One reference where Mary is undeniably connected to a Hudson who was a criminal in ACD canon (skip code)

• One ACD Hudson who was heavily connected to The Six Napoleons story, aka The Six Thatchers

• One ACD Hudson name-dropped in a story that heavily connects to The Abominable Bride, and Florida

• A bizarre pile of evidence that all Margaret mentions in the show could relate back to Mary the ex-CIA spy, in some way or another

• A Margaret connected to Mrs. Hudson who could’ve been in love with Frank Hudson (in Florida)

• The overall theme of s4 being ghosts from past deeds and un(happy) marriages coming to haunt people. And lest we forget, “ghost” Mary literally haunts Sherlock and John after her “death.”

Does that cover it? I feel like that covers it.

Of course, I absolutely could be reading into a ton of things that are unrelated, but... Who is to say ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  

Random Related Stuff

Not required reading, but while poking around, I’ve found other things that could or could not connect to the above theory. I’m just gonna... info dump it right here. It could all be meaningless, it could all connect, it could be unrelated! You decide! Lots of meta links involved below, so credit where credit is due.

• I knew I wasn’t the first to come up with this concept/possibility of Mary being a Hudson. While building this post, I ran a search and came across this old one by @the-7-percent-solution​, who posited there’s a letter game at play of AEIOU involving Mary’s monstrous regiment of various characters and connects Amo/Love to Mary. I love this concept, and while I do think there are other elements/aspects in play for the plot besides just this, that post still has pieces that can work nicely; doesn’t matter that it was written before TFP aired.

• Frequently thinking about how Sherlock said “Mrs. Hudson? Leave Baker Street? England would fall,” because what does Mrs. Hudson do in TLD? She leaves Baker Street.

• All of the above cursed elements haunt me. (Arwel’s Instagram post was April of this year.) Note: there’s another tweet Arwel jokingly posted of this photo years ago, but that tweet’s caption was connected to Brexit based on dates / my memory (i.e. “England has fallen”), so I’m not including it lol.

• In TFP, when Mrs. Hudson is vacuuming, she’s listening to Iron Maiden’s “The Number of the Beast.” The lyrics we get are “666, the Number of the Beast. Hell and fire was spawned to be released.” The other time 666 is mentioned was by Mary in TST, in reference to Rosie.

• Mrs. Hudson is in the center of the 221B promo pic for series 4, as noticed by @sherlocks-salty-blog​.

• This cursed pic of Mary’s "ring from her past” on top of a series 4, episode 3 script (??) that Amanda took has haunted me since she tweeted it. Mary wears this ring on-screen in TEH, and you can see it when Sherlock deduces her.

• The Gabrielle Ashdown passport (in TST) is from America.

• Janine (who many of us notice is likely involved with Mary / Moriarty of course) often wears pearls, as @sherlockmeta​ noticed. Mary also wears pearl earrings in series 4 promo shots but never in s4 episodes (that I can find/remember). I also always think that Mary and Mrs. Hudson are dressed very similarly in s4 promo images (see all promos here).

• @raggedyblue​ discussed how Sherlock’s window deduction in TLD sounds a lot like Mrs. Hudson’s kitchen in 221A, and how a sheet of paper being pinned/folded is an opposite element in ACD’s The Sign of Four. The re-folded paper was a map leading to the AGRA treasure, and Mary found it in her father’s desk. Brilliant catch. Of course, in the show, the paper says Miss Me which is also heavily connected to Mary.

• The mystery of the little girls with blond and braided hair, as compiled by @ebaeschnbliah​, is also going to haunt me. I suggest reading the post, but minor summary: during s4 setlock, there was filming with Ben and Mark at Ogmore Castle with a little girl "wearing a skirt or dress, and her hair was blonde and in pigtails,” and she was running circles around Sherlock. There are two separate reports from people who saw this and mentioned it had to do with Mary; at first glance it bears similarities to Eurus scenes we got in TFP, but seems different in description. This also brings to mind the little girl with blonde braided hair in TEH at the bonfire, who notably wears a bright red jacket just like Mary. And there’s also a doll with blond braided pigtails in Magnussen’s mind palace.

• @gosherlocked​ has posts about “The Children of Sherlock” (part 1)(part 2) that highlight how children are frequently victims in this show. Metaphorically, I find this interesting if Mary plays a role of a “wronged child” avenging her father, regardless of age.

• Let’s talk music in TLD–or at least, one piece of it. When Mrs. Hudson drops the teacup, Mozart’s “Andante From Piano Concerto #21” plays. That specific second movement was used in the 1967 Swedish film Elvira Madigan. Sweden, of course, immediately reminded me of Greta the spy (aka Mary) being Swedish. After I realized this info, I ran a search to see if anyone else had mentioned this movie and I found this post, where @tjlcisthenewsexy​ and @possiblyimbiassed​ discussed how it’s a story of 2 doomed lovers who die via suicide-by-revolver. This is significant because Sherlock drops a revolver to catch the tea; death replaced by (gay) love?

• Speaking of Sweden: in The Game Is Now, Sherlock is abroad in Sweden. This is mentioned more than once: first, in this audio message between Sherlock and Mycroft (“Sweden sends its regards.” “It does?” “No, not really.”). This audio message also includes “This is not an international game of sardines.” Fish reference? Aquarium?

The second Sweden mention is visually, in this video. See below. (Also, in both, the characters say “real people,” which I can’t help but feel is a fourth wall break of them being fictional?) 

I hate this Sweden stuff specifically. Thank you.

This post is so much longer than I expected it would be, thank you for reading all of this if you did, Johnlock is real, Mary is a villain, etc.

Come yell at me on Twitter @CharCubed! 

Also, I made a secret sideblog @frankhudson​ to just reblog meta or info I might want to be able to find later lmao. Feel free to poke around if you want.

[gothic-safari-clown]

The Mind’s Power Over the Body

Part 9: Explanation

Story summary: They only ever had each other. It had been that way since high school, ever since Elianna transferred to dreary Arlen and took Jonathan under her wing. They go separate ways for college, and when they're reunited at Arkham Asylum professionally, Elianna comes to find that they've both changed during their time separated. Can she look past the promise of danger and stay by Jonathan's side as they slide further and further into the darkness while she grapples to come to terms with the truth about herself? Can she accept what needs to be done in order to hold onto the only person who holds any meaning in her life? This is a very self-indulgent AU that draws from several different canons of the DCU and ignoring others, starting in the Batman Begins Nolanverse. This will follow the plot of the movie, although the timeline has been very slightly tweaked.

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight

Word count: 2469

Between her newfound acceptance of her less-than-moral tendencies and her freshly organized office, Elianna had finally been able to find peace for the day as she finished plugging all of her notes into the computer. Cognitively she knew (and had even told several patients in the past) that seeking revenge was unhealthy and detrimental to the healing process, especially if the outcome could get the exactor arrested. But God was the prospect of it attractive.

I don't think God has anything to do with any of this.

She wrapped up the rest of her work fairly quickly, still mulling over the unethicacy of admitting patients with common phobias, finally deciding to overlook the fallacies if it meant that she wouldn't be attacked again any time soon, and gathered her purse and her suitcase before making her way to Jonathan's office after a glance over her map of the facility.

On her way, Elianna suddenly found herself wrapped in the embrace of something blonde and very shrill. "Harley?"

"I'm so sorry that I didn't check on you sooner!" El laughed and gently pried her friend off of her.

"It's okay; I'm alright." She assured with a warm smile. She barely knew Harley. How sweet of her to be so worried.

"Like hell you are, look at your forehead!" Without thinking, El lifted her hand to touch the bandaid, which was only partially covered by her hair.

"To be honest, I forgot about it. But the fact that I only needed a bandaid and not a hospital bracelet means something, I think."

"Yeah, I guess so." Harley pouted and linked her arm with Elianna's, starting to walk her in the direction she had been going before she stopped her. "I was really worried about you, y'know, and nobody expected you back today. I mean, you must be traumatized! Any signs of PTSD?"

"Not yet, but I'm trying not to dwell on it. I mean, I came here for a fresh start (not technically a lie), and as far as I'm concerned, this was just the city officially indoctrinating me as a Gothamite." Harley snorted and shook her head.

"Alright, however you want to look at it, I guess. Look, I gotta run; I just couldn't let you go without making sure you're okay. You're sure you don't need anything?"

"Not at the moment, but if I need anything, I'll keep you in mind." El stopped walking again to give the blonde a tight squeeze, which she returned readily.

"Alright, honey, say hi to Doctor Crane for me," Harley finished with a kiss on her cheek and then seemed to vanish before Elianna had a chance to say anything else.

Upon reaching Jonathan's office, she knocked and waited for him to buzz her in, and her original greeting died in her throat as she entered.

"Why do you get a bigger office than me?" She asked, looking around the space. It was still messy, just like his home office, but the chaos seemed more organized.

"Because I've worked here longer, come help me with this stack, will you?" He sighed and pushed said stack to the other side of the desk from him. El nodded and sat in front of it, taking the top file off. "Just read me the most recent notes inside, and I'll type it up." They set to work straight away, finally getting each computerized file updated after an hour or so. Jonathan stretched his back as they stood up, and El noticed that he still seemed irritated by whatever her name was from the DA's office.

"You okay? I can drive home if you want." He let out a short, humorless "ha!"

"Under no circumstances do you get to drive my car. You drive like Scarecrow."

"Wh-you let him drive but not me?" He shook his head.

"Not a chance, but he likes it when you drive, and that's enough of a deterrent for me." El rolled her eyes, but it was sound reasoning, she supposed.

"Fine, but you have to make dinner again."

"Well, the difference is that with me behind the wheel, we'll actually make it home to enjoy dinner." He replied offhandedly, snapping his briefcase closed and walking with her to the door.

"Okay, I get it, find a new joke, will you?" Her light irritation seemed to amuse him, and she muttered something about, "never should have taught you about humor," as he held open the door for her.

Once back at Jonathan's apartment, El wasted no time getting into the shower and changing into pajamas. She still had so many questions about his involvement in the underworld, and being comfortable acted as her preliminary strike against what would doubtlessly be a less than fun conversation.

When she returned to the living room, Jonathan hadn't bothered to change out of his work clothes, and it appeared that he had been trying in vain to tidy his desk the entire time. El left him to it and continued to the kitchen in search of something to snack on.

"You jealous of my clean office yet?" She called as she pilfered through his pantry. Her friend had had a weakness for goldfish ever since she had introduced them to him, as silly as it sounded. I know they're in here somewhere...aha!

"Hardly; I just misplaced something." He replied distractedly as she walked back in with the entire carton. "If you finish that, you're buying me more."

"Deal. So, why don't you put that on pause until after we talk about everything else?" El asked as she walked next to him and leaned back against the desk, and he stopped shuffling through his papers.

"Where do you want to start?" El thought for a moment before pulling him over to the couch so that they could sit and set the carton between them.

"Why don't you tell me how you...came into the life of organized crime?" She asked slowly, unsure of how to go about asking. Was that the right way to refer to the situation?

"There's a man, Ra's Al Gul," El was taken aback by the intense name—this really was very serious. "He contacted Falcone a while ago to find someone to make a compound that can help him purge Gotham. Falcone found me because of my specialty in phobias and recruited me to the cause. He assumed that I would be easily corrupted, working at Arkham and all." He reached into the carton for a handful of goldfish. "I guess he was right."

"O-okay, and that's why you developed the toxin in the first place." He nodded. "And this Ra's Al Gul character, he's the one shipping what you need into Gotham, what is it?"

"It's this little blue flower from Bhutan. It grows in the mountains. There's a natural chemical in it that reacts to being broken down that causes vivid hallucinations by hijacking the amygdala and creating a powerful fear response. He uses it for some...initiation process for his organization."

"So you studied it and found a way to work it into a serum." He nodded again, still slowly working through his handful of the little crackers, and suddenly something clicked in Elianna's brain. "My patients." He looked at her, his face impassive. "The ones with the anxiety disorders, there isn't actually anything wrong, is there? You admitted them to study the effects."

"Yes, I've been microdosing them with different strains of the toxin to study the results."

"Well, how do you keep them from ratting you out? I mean, if I'm working with some of them, then that means other doctors are too."

"I've made it clear to all of them that if they point the finger at me that I'll give them a full dosage. It's not like the administration would find any of my research if they cared to look anyway; it's all here." Elianna laughed incredulously.

"You really do have everything figured out, don't you? Sneaky bastard."

"I'm going to choose to assume that was a compliment." There was a quiet pause while El thought over everything she had learned in such a short space of time.

"Why does Ra's Al Gul want to target Gotham?" Jonathan half shrugged in response.

"Something about the corrupt elite, the thinks that by weeding it out, it can allow humanity to heal."

"He thinks he can fix humanity by taking out one lousy city?" She asked before another thought hit her. "Hold on, you're one of the corrupt elite, aren't you? That goes against his whole plan. Why are you helping him if you're in his crosshairs?" At this, Jonathan shook his head and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"I agreed to do this because if I didn't, they could find someone else to, and as long as I continue with the project, I've been promised a way out of the city safely. This has been in motion for long enough that I work directly for Ra's Al Gul now. Falcone is just involved in handling the shipments; they sneak it in with other drugs."

"Well...shit, you get to leave the city so that you don't get caught up in the...the chaos, what about me?" She had a moment of self-awareness for the selfishness of her concern, which was easily brushed off (much to her own surprise), and she did not want to get caught up in the attack on the city. Jonathan turned his head to look at her, almost offended that she had even asked.

"I'm going to take you with me. I thought that would go without saying." He shifted his whole body to face her. "Like I said this morning, I do terrible things, but I wouldn't abandon you do that any more than you would to me, especially now. I told you everything; now you're involved."

El nodded in relief. All of her questions answered, she returned to thinking about how much she should have been disturbed by the situation. Her best friend was involved in a plot to bring down an entire city, and she had been more concerned about her own safety than she had been about the innocent people living there.

Then again, why should she be worried? Everything, everyone, for her entire adult life had been just like high school in Arlen where the strong and privileged had punched downward at the weak for fun, and the weak were pushed to do bad things to get by. Was it not kinder to eliminate the city where it was all overlooked? Kinder to provide the weak with an out from subjugation with a choice that they didn't need to make? To exact revenge on their tormentors?

Really, she thought, if you think about it, the only difference between them and the two of us is that we have the chance to do something about it. So why shouldn't we?

Life in Gotham had already been so much more exciting than she had hoped for, and the promise of more in store filled her with anticipation. Why had she chosen to go so far away from Jonathan in the first place?

"Well then," she moved the carton onto the coffee table and laid across the newly empty space to put her head in her friend's lap and looked up at him. "What's the plan for Zsasz?" The littlest hint of a smile appeared on his face.

"You're looking forward to it now, aren't you?"

"He deserves it." The condemnation flew from her mouth without a second thought.

"He does, but are you sure you can do it?"

"Yes. I want to do it. And if I can't, that won't change. Even if you have to do it for me, it'll be done, and so long as one of us does it and no one else, I'll be satisfied with the outcome." Jonathan found himself feeling proud of his friend, and Scarecrow echoed the sentiment; the straw man was really starting to like her for the first time.

"Well said."

"I thought so too." El smiled at him, suddenly remembering once again her mysterious savior. "Oh!" She sat up quickly, turning to face him again. "The parking lot the other night, Zsasz; there was someone else there."

"What do you mean, there was a witness?" Elianna shook her head.

"No, it was after I fell, when I got up again and I was running to my car there was someone else there, he-" she paused to decide how to tell what had happened. "It seemed like he flew over my head, I don't know where he came from, but he went after Zsasz. I saw him for a seconds before I left, he was dressed in all black, and his face was covered. I thought that he would take care of Zsasz, but it seems like the police detained him, so I don't know what happened."

Jonathan thought for a moment, analyzing the information. "Well, even if whoever it was incapacitated Zsasz and called the police, it's unlikely that they would broadcast that on the media." EL nodded in agreement.

"I wonder what his motivation was and how he happened to be there." She spoke aloud, but more to herself than to Jonathan. "If he hadn't shown up, I don't think I would have made it."

"Well, it's definitely strange, I'll give you that." Jonathan sighed. "Something we'll have to keep an eye on. If a vigilante is gearing up to take out criminals, then we'll have to be prepared for it."

"Yeah." The apartment was silent as the pair thought over what would happen if anything they were planning on doing was discovered. "I knew Gotham would give me some excitement." She finally said lightly, to which Jonathan scoffed.

"Yeah, you could call it that. Is...there anything else you may have forgotten than you need to tell me?" El thought back for a moment, fighting a chill as she forced herself to remember anything.

"No, that's it." He nodded.

"Good."

"Yeah." They both paused for another moment before El spoke again, looking to change the subject. "Now go make dinner before I'm forced to finish your goldfish; I'm starving."

"Yes, ma'am," Jonathan stood, taking the carton back into the kitchen with him. "How do you feel about pasta tonight?"

[empathdespoina]

Social effect of unhealthy minds hurting others...

This isn’t a post in regards to being an Empath. But it does affect Empaths, because this is happening close to their home...their families, community and towns bordering your own; besides state you live in.

I was reflecting and realized that Donald Trump (I know, I know you don’t want to hear about him, but hear me out, it has a ripple effect) grew up abused by his father and mother and child abuse is something that should seriously be address; due to the mental health issues that stem from this and it’s a cycle that gets put onto the next young innocent victim, or a victim not blood related. Seeing how Trump still refuses to acknowledge that he lost, due to his psychological mindset that he’s still trying to please his father...that’s a very unsettling mindset; especially that his father died so long ago...I honestly don’t know.

So here is a man that’s in charge of a nation, that’s mentally unstable and this is causing others who have been abused as a child and NEVER got psychological help...are ever so lovely continued the sick cycle. I say this because my mother was abused by her mother as a child - it was verbal, emotional and psychological; plus my mother’s older sister (my aunt) was abused and then her sister turned it onto my mom. This has caused my mom to follow in these foot steps. Yet my mother and aunt don’t see anything wrong with the way they treat me and sadly my brother has learned to treat me very similar; but in a worst way...due to him bringing his NYPD job home and blowing up on me for no reason, and I feel he’s not to far away to unleash his physical anger on me. I have suggested to my mother on several times to go to therapy and her response is always... I’m okay there’s nothing wrong with me. As of recently my mom wants very little to do with her sister, on the way her sister treats her. I am my mother’s and brother’s emotional punching bag of dumping their bad days on me...all because I do something small that a healthy minded person would be upset; yet for these two, flip off at me as if I did something so damn horrible as if killed a wild animal in the house and destroyed the house in the process.

Now seeing how my family is...my mom likes Trump and is very pissed that he lost; due to her being very negative towards me, anytime there’s a reference around our new leaders for the nation. And the negativity outburst is nothing more than childish, but her being an adult and the years of how she destroyed my mental health on causing me to have very high stress anxiety; that if I do something similar to what would have upset her in the past...I start freaking out, in an unsettling reaction. Reason why? Because spilling a drink on the floor isn’t a big deal for healthy minded people. Yet for my mother it was the straw that broke the camel’s back and completely lost it with me. My father tried his best to protect me when he was alive; yet reflecting on the past and understanding my mother’s past; he was most likely abused along the same line like me, due to his last famous words to my mother, as he died from cancer: “You did this to me and put me here!” Which I believe was him lashing out on the abuse she did to him and it was always a passive aggressive to then shouting and bringing up every damn past mistake and making you feel worthless and that you’re nothing more then an embarrassment to her. Since she’s always concern of how others perceive her, due to the fact she never was popular in high school and that mindset still hasn’t been let go...seeing how she was ecstatic when my brother was the popular kid back in the day, in school and she could hang out with the popular moms. -face palms herself-

Having a mentally sick man as our president who won’t admit to losing or that he’s fucked up because yeah he was abused as a child...since around that time, it was considered ACCEPTABLE. Now you’re getting all these other people who were abused as a child and mentally sick to be encourage to let all this out, let all the abuse out and to hurt others. To attack people out of nowhere to let racism fly. But for some people at home, to deal with those we know, are getting worst than they were before...all because they admire this man like a Korean Idol or a Kardashian. The most dangerous ones are who are less educated; then following under that is people (more now my mother’s age group compared to my age group...to an extent on my age group), who are getting addicted to FB - which has always used ads and fake news to convince people of what the democrats are doing and to believe everything the republicans are saying...when what they are saying, is very dangerous school of thought; for these people to become nothing more than sheep that can rage and hurt others without a care; since Trump has been doing that in the public eye and social media.

Trump doesn’t want to hear the truth and those who don’t agree with him and make it known on news channels...where he takes comfort in social media; which he can easily bend those to his thought process and believe in it. I shit you not my mother believes in this thought process; which I believe is from FB. She’s now on FB more often and her friend who is too (the one that’s got chemical brain and talks to her daily)...that the three red strips in Biden’s campaign design is related to China...because some asshole who wanted to stir things up and cause chaos; when Biden was mimicking Obama’s campaign design. I couldn’t tell my mother other wise due to her hard belief in this...and this was a woman, who years ago when my father died- she did massive research on the pesticides that cause my dad’s cancer, which lead to his death. And she would always look into things. Yet due to her being chair bound as her ankle heals...she’s been on social media more and more; which I am not addict to social media like I was to an extent 10yrs ago. She believes in the republicans on what the democrats are going to do, on making our American country into one of socialism and the socialism very that is being inferred is the one in which we have no rights. Then there was another time this reference was brought up- note by my mothers and believing that by destroying all the stores, would cause this country to quickly turn into a socialism nation. I told her we have three branches of government and it isn’t going to change, due to how the three branches of government works. She replies go ahead and believe that it will stay the same, once Biden is in office.

This is what I mean about a ripple effect of these dangerous school of thoughts and to be violent to others and keep the cycle of abuse going. My mother is a woman who could think for herself...yet these past four years under Trump it’s more of the social media fake news to scare people in buying guns...in order to “protect” themselves from an uprising of the minorities; who will come and attack our home and to protect ourselves... I am not making this up - this actually came out of my mother’s mouth when I question my mothers on why my brother had three guns and a SNIPER RIFFLE. And the other push for buying guns that Democrats would ban guns-  this causing my brother to buy so much damn ammo for his “guns” that he can be his own militia army...where these people are too stupid to realize the rights to have guns is within our 10 Amendments. It is as if no one remembers our Amendments and how our three branches of government works any more of history.

And if I have to show you dangerous school of thought to cause chaos look to the dr who lost his medical license due to things that endanger a patient, because he was putting his believes onto this woman...instead of the best care to help her. He went on social media on video saying the 5G towers were “causing the COVID” and he would go on and on about it...where he’s clearly not right in the head...but of course you have mental sick idiots who will believe someone that “appears” smarter than them. And what did they do...they went around in Europe and destroying those 5G towers.

Trump’s legacy should be of a different social experiment (which they refereed to the prohibition), on how a man could use social media to bend people to his unhealthy thought process and make others stupid to believe in everything he says. Look how some republicans are believing the election is a fraud still, due to Trump losing, and this is a man who’s always got his way and his energy aura has to be very intimating for no one to say “NO” to him. For an other average person to pull the same shit off as Trump; would be arrested in a heartbeat, yet they are afraid of this man. Which I believe, when it comes time for him to leave office and we know he won’t go peacefully; to get a trank-gun and shoot him with it; then put a straight jacket on him and haul him away to a really heavily secured mental ward. Trump has caused healthy minded people to do things, that were not seen under Obama and Bush’s time in office. I only pick them, due to the fact I was more aware of how the president worked and being able to vote. Trump is a mental disease in his own way and to see others catch this and treat those around them...like Trump treats others, as if they are beneath his feet. I don’t know how much more rage outbursts that I’m going to have to deal with, in regards to my mother as this year ends and Biden will soon be in office. Plus keep in mind, I am the only one of her two children home (due to can’t find a job) to help her out and drive her around and she treats me like this...also I wasn’t the one who left something in my mother’s path of walking for her to fall and hurt herself, it was my brother. Yet he’s not helping out as much more, due to him being happy that his back working Narcotics unit; since he was desked for awhile due to he, himself breaking his leg and ankle of the right side a year ago from mom hurting herself.

I am really concern seeing what this nation has become and seeing how my mother and brother are on board with the words coming out of Trump’s mouth; especially my mom’s friend. I guess I felt compelled to write out my fear on seeing this...awhile ago, I read two articles that psychoanalyzed Trump by some professional therapist, as they watched and observed him on tv and looked into his history, on the life he had growing up. I honestly don’t know how long it will take to make society more...I honestly can’t find the right word....less violent and more willing to hurt others in a sick twisted obsession...? Yet that still happens in this world...maybe I’m looking for is......less negative fuel to fuel the monsters that are wearing masks and are two face to people...pretending by day to be a respectable person of society and when not watched by those people...take the mask off and reveal the monster underneath willing to hurt others; as they see Trump has done, and what he’s encourage to happen in this country.

So if you have family members, friends or co-workers/bosses who have similar thought process like my family... try your best to endure it and make sure you have something you can discreetly touch to ground you... or go for more pee breaks and just say you’re body’s off...if you get questioned.

[pghpoliceproblem]

A list of known examples of police brutality and corruption in the Pittsburgh, PA area:

August 2019: Off duty cop drives drunk and hits a bicyclist, then drives away.

January 2020: Verona (suburb in Allegheny Country) police officer exchanged pornographic images with a 16 year old boy.

August 2017: Pittsburgh police officer aims a loaded gun at someone in a fit of “road rage”. Two years later he got his job back, plus back pay.

September 2019: A police officer in Washington County (southwest of Pittsburgh) sexually assaults a woman in a police vehicle while on duty. He lured her with promises of advice on becoming a cop and helping her loved one with addiction.

January 2010: Three undercover cops in an unmarked car brutally beat a black teenage boy for no reason besides “looking suspicious”. He was walking home from school.

September 2016: A Pittsburgh police officer brutally beats up a drunk person at a high school football game. The officer had used more force than necessary 56 times in the previous year.

June 2018: An East Pittsburgh police officer shoots unarmed black 17 year old Antwon Rose in the back three times. He is later acquitted.

November 2013: Pittsburgh police wrongfully arrest and detain a black teacher for 12 hours because he said “wow” after almost being hit by their car.

November 2012: Pittsburgh police officer leaps into 19 year old Leon Ford’s car despite Leon being innocent and complying. Police shoot Ford in the spine, permanently paralyzing him. Ford was arrested and spent months in the hospital handcuffed to the bed while recovering. None of the officers involved were convicted and they kept their jobs on the force.

February 2012: Pittsburgh Police officer Adam Skweres is charged with sexually extorting multiple women and attempting to rape at least one other woman.

2012: Pittsburgh police use excessive force on a 16 year old boy who was smashing Halloween pumpkins. As of February 2020, the police force has refused to pay the settlement which was awarded to the victim in 2017.

August 2016: Pittsburgh Police use excessive force and allow their K-9 unit to bite an innocent bystander who did not match the description of the crim they were investigating.

August 2002: The ACLU slams Pittsburgh Police and the city for deliberately delaying misconduct complaints, including the public strip search of an infant.

August 2017: Pittsburgh police are shes for terrorizing students at Woodland Hills Highschool, knocking out their teeth and tasering them while already having them pinned to the floor.

June 2018: Pittsburgh police use a stun gun on a 12 year old black child and handcuff him. This occurs on the same night that Antwon Rose is killed by police.

July 2019: Pittsburgh police initially decline to arrest a white man who assaults and forcefully detains a 13 year old black child.

2014-2017: A Mount Pleasant (suburb east of Pittsburgh) police officer is charged for raping multiple women.

2011: A Connelsville (suburb of Pittsburgh) police officer is charged for multiple instances of rape, including corruption of a minor.

2004: Cranberry Township (suburb north of Pittsburgh) police accuse a pregnant teenage rape victim of fabricating her assault and arrest her for false reporting. The attacker is later caught and confesses to the crime.

February 2020: Elizabeth borough (right outside of Pittsburgh) police officer forges another officer’s psychological exam which had expired.

December 2019: Pittsburgh police officer pulls a 15 year old black girl’s hair while restraining her on a school bus, jolting her head backward

October 2009: Pittsburgh police call on the FBI to arrest a man who simply alerted folks on twitter to a dispersal order during the 2009 G20 protests.

2016: Activists speak out because Port Authority Police are basically a shadow government that has full arrest powers and jurisdiction from city proper all the way out to Westmoreland and Butler counties. They have a high arrest rate compared to all surrounding police forces. They have no available annual reports or audits despite arresting thousands of people per year, while also killing and brutalizing folks. All investigations are done internally.

Fall 2018: Undercover Pittsburgh Police drunkenly start a huge bar fight. One officer sprays pepper spray indiscriminately around the entire bar. They were never charged and simply moved to different positions on the force.

June 2020: Pittsburgh police arrest two women who legally filmed them brutalizing peaceful protesters. Police claim the women threw water bottles at them despite no evidence proving this.

2010-2015: 57% of police use of force incidents were on black people. Only 1/4 of Pittsburgh’s population is black.

2015: The Pittsburgh Police force was sued for purposely denying black applicants jobs.

June 2020: Pittsburgh Police use excessive force and chemical weapons on hundred of peaceful protesters. The police and mayor lie about use of tear gas despite video evidence.

2019: It is discovered that The Pittsburgh VA Police utilized a law meant to discipline corrupt executives to harass and fire low-level employees, many of which were disabled veterans.

2010: Green Tree (suburb of Pittsburgh) Police Chief hires sex workers, has sex with them, then immediately arrests them.

1995: Pittsburgh area police pinned a handcuffed man to the ground, applying pressure to his head and neck, which asphyxiated him to death. This was a full 25 years before the similar death of George Floyd.

2013: Former Pittsburgh chief of police found guilty of diverting more than $70,000 into unauthorized personal accounts.

December 2002: Police in a Pittsburgh suburb shot and killed a 12 year old black boy in the back. No real explanation for the incident was released.

November 2019: Elizabeth Borough (suburb of Pittsburgh) Police Chief steals heroin from the evidence room. He only gets probation.

2011: Seven guards from the State Correctional Institution Pittsburgh are arrested for rape, assault, intimidation and more. One guard is indicted on 92 counts.

2018: Allegheny County Jail violates at least three standards of the Prison Rape Elimination Act.

August 2015: Allegheny County Jail gets audited after a high rate of inmate deaths, including refusing medication to an inmate with a seizure disorder. Despite many violations, the jail is never penalized.

May 2020: Pittsburgh Police officers are overpaid $250,000 by accident. Police Union Leader claims to be unaware and hasnt paid it back.

January 2014: Pittsburgh SWAT team enters wrong apartment, traumatizing young children and costing taxpayers $80,000 in settlement fees.

September 2007: Pittsburgh Police Union Boss refuses to implement process to address officers accused of domestic violence. Calls it “cop-bashing” even though three accused cops got promotions.

September 2013: Off duty Pittsburgh police officer shoots and kills his own friend in a drunken argument.

2008: Pittsburgh police officer drives drunk and pistol whips an innocent person, his gun going off and shooting the victim. He is also accused of pressuring his wife to file a false report against her ex husband.

January 2011: Northern Regional Police (north suburbs of Pittsburgh) unreasonably detain a legal citizen, threaten to deport her. Costing taxpayers $175k in settlement costs.

November 2016: Pittsburgh police union votes “no confidence” in police chief because he supported black lives matter and wanted to address racism in the police force.

April 2010: A jail guard at Allegheny County Jail brutally beat an inmate. Jail leaders protected the abuser but fired employees who attempted to speak out.

2019: An article about truly horrific conditions at Allegheny County Jail is released.

2012: Pittsburgh Police officer demoted and transferred because she took out a PFA on her abusive husband who was a fellow officer.

[newagegs]

name: harleen frances quinzel

age: 34

date of birth: september 11th, 1992

fandom: dc

faceclaim: imogen poots

height: 5'4

pronouns/gender identity/sexual+romantic identity: she/they, nonbinary, bisexual biromantic

where have they been living since the return snap: between her apartment in coney island and one in gotham (mostly during the no man's land event)

what have they been doing personally and/or professionally since the return snap: harley is trying, to some extent to be an almost, kind of decent person. or more of a harley person, at least. she's working on moving past her trauma, results of which have been dubiously successful. helping in killing the joker, freeing ivy from arkham, moving to coney island (taking over an apartment that had been willed to her by an old patient), and working with more heroes (also dubiously successful, considering her penchant for violent solutions) have all been attempts she's made to distance herself from the past.

distancing being a loose term, considering harley's come running back to gotham many times, most recently during no man's land, taking territory in the city just to prove she still could. she was harley quinn afterall, still someone to be feared, even if she was doing a little rebranding.

if they are part/have ever been a part of SHIELD or the avengers team, when did they join and why: her relationship with the avengers is...complicated. she worked with them a little post snap and post suicide squad, mostly due to the fact that she'd made herself a sometimes ally of the batfam after her time with the suicide squad and having her record cleared. her time helping mostly centered around scarecrow, and it's been about a year now. she's never officially been a member of either, nor will she be.

do they currently live in the avengers compound: nada

moral alignment: chaotic neutral

dusted in the snap or not: hella nope

if they weren’t dusted, what did they get up to in those five years, be as brief or in depth as you want: the joker was dusted in the snap, and that sent harley on a bit of a...murderous rampage. she couldn't handle it, putting her entire identity into her relationship with him, despite the fact that she knew the relationship was abusive, at least on some unconscious level.

she was arrested, and put in belle reve for her crimes, not arkham, and put on death row. she wasn't there long before she was broken out, forced to undergo torture before being inducted into amanda waller's task force x, also known as the suicide squad.

she was on the suicide squad for four years, only breaking her loyalty once, when she discovered that pamela isley had been snapped, breaking into arkham and demanding that someone tell her it wasn't true. this happened early on in her time with the team, and she was forgiven for her "disobedience", eventually having the bomb amanda waller had had implanted in her neck deactivated and removed.

after four years her time with the suicide squad was considered done with, her record being cleared, every trace of her crimes being erased from every database they could be found in.

for all intents and purposes, harley was a new woman.

she didn't exactly use that freedom, going straight back to gotham, the place where her face was known more than anywhere else, not leaving until after the return snap.

ramble a bit about them, their past, what their current motivations are: harley was born in brooklyn, new york, the oldest of four children. her interest in psychology started when she was in eighth grade, and a high schooler named bernie bash decided he was in love with her, going as far as to commit murder to prove his love, killing another boy that had been interested in harley at the time. he gave harley a taxidermied beaver as a gift before he was arrested, and after he was sentenced to jail she named it after him, keeping it as a momento of her first real relationship.

the fact that she wasn't disturbed by this, but fascinated, should've been the first sign that something wasn't entirely right with harley.

in her childhood, from elementary school all the way through high school, harley was a star gymnast, winning several awards for the sport.

she did college classes while she was in high school, and graduated at only sixteen, granted a full ride scholarship to several different schools, though she eventually chose gotham university.

she obtained her bachelors by eighteen as she already had quite a few credits racked up, and had a phd in psychology by twenty four, despite originally intending to go to school for veterinary and biological science. she did her thesis on the joker, believing him to be misdiagnosed by his previous psychiatrists.

she started out her residency at a prominent hospital in gotham, though was quickly transferred to arkham asylum when the joker killed yet another of his psychiatrists. she took on the challenge, fascinated by him and his psyche, and it didn't take long before he started talking to her, harley not falling for his taunting words, and never attacked. she thought she was special.

while working at arkham she was also the psychiatrist for pamela isley, requesting for her cell to be changed so she could have more access to sunlight, kind to her in a way that others weren't, and this earned her her loyalty before she ever became harley quinn.

on her tenth session with the joker, he revealed to her that he knew about the fact that her father had been killed by a drunk driver who had had the connections required to get off without any punishment. as a gift to her, he presented her with the driver's finger as proof that the man had been brought to justice.

it was here that harley started to fall, charmed by these actions.

harley's supervisor, dr.sterano, stole her notes, intending to publish them as her own findings, and in the process discovered harley's feelings for the joker. she confronted harley, who attacked her, enraged that her work had been stolen, brushing off any other accusations. she tried to kill sterano, but was interrupted by the guards. instead of surrendering, harley attacked them too, killing one of them. she broke the joker out of his cell, and he took her to the ace chemical processing plant, something that harley believed was another show of opening up, at least until she was pushed into one of the vats of chemicals, realizing too late what he'd intended to do. her skin was bleached and her mind was warped by the toxic fumes, but she lived long enough for him to drain the vat and fish her out.

she started to terrorize gotham alongside the joker.

she played a good villain, enjoyed bringing pain to others, though she had her limits. she spoke against the joker when children were involved, for one, which he didn't like.

he didn't like a lot of things about her, and harley forced herself to be whatever he wanted her to be.

she got pregnant not long into her career as a criminal, and she was being honest with herself enough to know that wasn't safe. she disappeared for several months, not coming back until after the birth of her daughter lucy, and the joker had barely even realized she was gone.

this hurt harley, but she stayed with him until he was snapped, and she was left alone.

one plot idea, big or small, you’d like to do with them: exploring a dynamic between both jason and dinah (because please). i'd love to explore more of harley's want to be a "hero" (however loose her definition of that might be), especially as civil war part two stuff starts moving forward.

mun details

name/alias: mekayla

age: 19

pronouns: she/her

timezone: pst

[starspatter]

Heroes and Thieves, Ch. 15

Title: Heroes and Thieves Fandom/Universe: BTAS, pre/post-RotJ flashback

Summary: A story about second chances, healing, and having hope.

Rating: PG-13, for references to character death, child psychological torture and trauma.

Genre: Romance/Family/Friendship/Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 4,800 Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

Also on ff.net and AO3. ...I lied.  This is totally a harem story. *flees*

She held onto my coat that night, like a kid lost in her sleeves Oh we warmed the ground, we hushed our sound We slept on walking feet Oh Darlin’, pardon me Can you help me remember When we were all flying free

-Gregory Alan Isakov, “Living Proof”

————————–

After.

Barbara breathed out as she stood before the large, warehouse-like building, gazing anxiously up at its second floor (and watchful security cameras she knew were installed overhead). The reinforced structure still seemed relatively sound despite the recent disaster. The… original occupant certainly knew how to choose a hideout location and prepare for all potential outcomes. …Must've been a habit he picked up from his previous landlord.

With a wary hand, she buzzed the doorbell.

Sooner than she expected, the entry flew open to reveal an unfamiliar face: a young man with a short crop of mane spiked in the front like flames, similar in color to her own.

"Well hellooo there," he greeted with a wide grin, eyeing his guest up and down. "What can I do you for, miss?"

Barbara stared at him in surprise.

"Er, is Tim home? He… does still live here, right?"

The stranger licked his lips, resting toned muscle casually against the doorframe.

"Who cares about him? What say you and me get to know each other a bit first, as fellow redheads, hm?"

He loomed towards her, admiring her luscious saffron locks. Barbara grimaced, getting ready to give the kid a good taste of a police twist hold (if not taser) – when a voice she recognized interjected from behind.

"She's a cop, Roy. And she used to be Batgirl. I wouldn't try anything if I were you."

Tim emerged beside the other teen, regarding the two dully. Unfortunately the statement only seemed to fuel his friend's lust further.

"Hot damn. You here to arrest me, officer?" He waggled his brows. "Slap some cuffs on me and take me down to the station? I wouldn't mind that on the first date."

"Roy."

"Kidding, kidding. Jeeze, you really have no sense of humor now, do you?" He lowered his limb dejectedly. "Anyway, you didn't tell me you were acquainted with such a gorgeous babe. Ain't you gonna introduce us?"

Tim sighed.

"Roy, meet Officer Barbara Gordon, the Commissioner's daughter and former Batgirl. Babs, this is Roy Harper, a.k.a. Speedy, Green Arrow's ex-sidekick."

"Ex-partner," the other boy corrected. "And it's 'Arsenal' now."

"Whatever. Now could you please give us some privacy?"

"A'ight, I can take a hint to take a hike," Roy smirked with a suggestive wink. "I've got a 'date' myself anyway. I'll leave you two alone. Don't wait up~"

He whistled and growled as he passed by Barbara on the way out, who shot him a dirty look before resuming attention to Tim.

"I see you've been keeping company. Honestly, he's worse than the Flash." (What was it with all the male copperheads she met giving her ginger brand a bad name?)

"We know each other from the Titans," he replied in a dry tone. "He needed a place to stay after Queen kicked him out – again. Dick said it was okay."

Barbara paused.

"You talk to him recently?"

Tim shrugged as he moved aside to allow her in.

"We keep in touch. He calls every so often to check up on… things."

She studied his backside as they started heading upstairs to the loft.

"And? How are 'things'?

"Fine."

She glanced around the interior of the room as they approached the top; it looked pretty much the same as she remembered. There was the ornate wall of Asian-styled checkered windows overlooking the city, and the ninja sword rack hanging next to a decorative dragon panel (behind which she knew there was a concealed compartment that used to contain Nightwing's costume). Dick did always have a flair for the Orient.

Running her hand wistfully along the armrest to the sofa, she recalled how she and Dick used to sit and cuddle together on it, enjoying late-night Chinese takeout and talks, among… other things.

A frown settled on her face as she noticed something… "off" about the couch cushions.

"'Fine', you say. …Is that why you have 'this'?"

Tim's eyes immediately narrowed as she stretched behind the seat and unzipped the foam, removing a bag of greenish-purple powder from deep within.

"It's not mine."

He answered, a little too hasty.

"Whose is it then?"

"Roy's," he stated flatly, seeming nonchalant about selling out his flatmate.

"And you're telling me you've never used any?"

He hesitated, eyes slanting aside in silence. She scrutinized the stash, recognizing to her horror that it was likely the popular new drug that was being distributed in the streets amongst decadent youth; an isolated chemical strain similar to Joker toxin, but more mild. Not strong enough to cause permanent psychological damage (at least when taken in minor doses), but enough to mimic the euphoric high for hours on end.

"Have you been doing deals with Jokerz?"

"Like hell I would," he snapped.

She reached out to sternly grab his wrist, trying insistently to meet his eye.

"Tim. Be honest with me. Please."

He yanked his arm away, glaring fiercely in anger.

"What is this, some kind of bust? Fine, go ahead, book me. I don't care. Why don't you just charge me with murder while you're at it?"

"Tim…"

"You don't get it, Barb." He clutched at his sleeves, digging digits deep into his skin. "You don't know what it's like, living with fucking laughter inside your head all the time. At least when I'm laughing louder I can't hear him."

She swallowed, biting her lip. Gently, she set the plastic down on the table.

"I do understand," she whispered softly.

He blinked at her.

"Tim, the reason I came here, is because… Lately, I've been having these… visions." She sank down on the lounger, steepling fingers in front of her. "You remember the time Scarecrow gassed me and left me in a hallucinogenic nightmare state?"

He nodded.

"It's like that, only now, I get them when I'm awake as well, at complete random. Ever since the quake, I'll experience these abrupt panic attacks, and see all kinds of terrifying shit. Then, the flashbacks start, and there's one that's always recurring…" She closed her eyes, reflecting reluctantly. "All of a sudden I'll see myself back at Arkham, fighting against Harley. We go over the edge of the cliff, and I'm hanging on like before, and she starts to slip… Only this time, I fall with her. I – I die, just like that time in my dream."

She hunched in on herself further as she continued.

"It doesn't end there though. It keeps going, and I can still see everything else play out, like when I visualized my dad going after Bruce afterwards. I – I see him and Joker, and you – JJ – there with the gun – and – and… The shot hits Batman instead."

Her speech tapered off as she finished the sentence. Her audience was deathly quiet as she carried on in a tremulous hush.

"Then you and the Joker – he – he makes you do all these horrible things – so many deaths – including Dick's – and finally my dad's the only one left – and he has to take you both down by himself – and it ends with either him shooting you – or you shooting him – and either way everyone I love is… gone."

She looked at him, tears starring her eyes.

"I'm sorry. You probably don't want to hear any of this. I – I just had to come see you…"

"To make sure I haven't gone on an insane murder spree?"

Barbara lowered her head in apology.

"I didn't mean it like that…"

Tim exhaled, unlinking his limbs as he leaned back against the table.

"For what it's worth, I don't think I've done anything recently that would land me a spot in Arkham. …Anyway, shouldn't you go see a doctor about this or something? Or someone else who can help, like…"

The weight of unspoken word hung heavy in the air. She shook her head.

"I'm scared. What if they can't treat it, say my condition's permanent? I'm no good to the force like this, I can't function out in the field. I'll have to give up my badge, after I worked so hard to finally get here..."

Tim rolled his eyes slightly.

"Gee, I wonder what that could possibly be like?"

Contriteness crossed her countenance again.

"…Sorry. That was dumb, I shouldn't have said that. I was being selfish, only thinking of myself. I shouldn't have bothered you with this. You've got enough to deal with, you don't deserve to have my issues dumped on you as well."

Tim held up his hand.

"Look, it's okay, Babs. …Is there anything I can do?"

She lifted timidly, chewing her lip.

"I – I was just hoping maybe we could… I don't know – talk for a bit?"

Tim remained mute, mulling for a moment, before turning and walking over to the mini-fridge. Opening it, he retrieved two chilled beer cans before revolving back.

"You want a drink?"

She boosted an eyebrow, but nevertheless gratefully accepted the offering of booze.

"I'm not even going to ask how you got these."

She muttered as she popped the tab and started to chug it down.

…

A nearly emptied six-pack later, they were both more than a bit tipsy, but Barbara especially so. Turns out she wasn't very good at holding her alcohol.

"I mean, who do those jerks think they are?" she slurred as she slammed her container down. "I'm not some little girl or someone's possession. I can date whoever I damn well please."

Tim perceived her lurch lopsidedly as she groped for another, growing concerned.

"Don't you think you've had one too many?"

"I'll be the judge of that," she hicced as she swatted his hand away. Tim persisted however, prying the prize firmly from her fingertips.

"That's it. I think you've had enough."

As he stood up to put the beverage back, he simultaneously fished out his phone and began dialing with his free hand.

"I'm calling your dad to come pick you up."

He felt a pressure on his lower waist, and he looked down to see Barbara clinging to the back of his shirt, burying her flushed forehead against his spine.

"Please," she mumbled into the fabric. "Just let me stay here a little longer."

He gulped, but submissively sat back down. She warmly nestled her head against his shoulder, causing his chest to beat rapidly in confusion.

"…What the hell happened to us, Tim? How did we end up like this? The four of us, hardly even speaking to each other? Dick would never return my phone calls, and Bruce – God, Bruce – I don't even know where to begin with him."

"To be fair, he was never much of a conversationalist to begin with," Tim griped bitterly. "Besides, don't you, uh, have a new boyfriend now?"

He cleared his throat, and Barbara sighed as she sat up, hugging her knees close to her for comfort instead.

"Sam's great. He understands, but… He doesn't really 'get' it, you know? What we've been through."

She traced a rim of condensation on the counter.

"Hey, you remember that time Bruce almost married a plant-woman? That was wild."

"Yeah? What about when Farmer Brown unleashed a bunch of giant mutant insects on Gotham? That's got to be the craziest adventure we ever had."

"Please. You weren't there when Baby Doll and Killer Croc teamed up and nearly nuked the city. I mean, can you imagine those two together? You can't compete with a weirder pair than that."

It was startlingly simple, to slip so smoothly back into nostalgia. Swapping stories, trying to one-up each other's exploits. Barbara would even fondly describe some of the times she worked with the original Dynamic Duo, back during the "good ol' days" – of colorful costumed villains, wacky crimes, and ridiculous motivations. Telling increasingly tall tales and amusing anecdotes that almost made Tim laugh. …Almost.

"So let me get this straight," she repeated, "You flew the Batplane all the way to outer space… to the Justice League Watchtower… by yourself?"

"Yup," Tim responded as he sedately cracked open the last metal vessel still in his lap and took a sip.

Barbara shook her head in disbelief.

"You always were a risk-taker. I still can't believe Bruce went missing and got brainwashed… again. How come I never knew about any of this? Why didn't you contact me?"

"You were off at grad school. I figured I could handle it."

Barbara propped her elbow on the plush, leaning her cheek thoughtfully against it as she tucked her legs underneath her.

"...It's good that you went to them for help."

Tim peered down, picking absently at the paper label, peeling off aluminum.

"Mr. Kent told me afterwards, that Bruce did call him in secret. The operating room's walls were lined with lead though, since they used to take X-Rays and brain scans there. Even the curtain and that stupid apron Joker wore had lead shielding. He had hench-spies stationed everywhere, in Metropolis as well, so he could render me unconscious as soon as Superman showed up and I wouldn't be able to scream. …He really was prepared for everything."

Barbara couldn't believe it. Just how long had that disgusting sicko been planning this?

"What about the Martian? He's a telepath, isn't he?"

Tim shook his head.

"Apparently the last time he attempted a city-wide psychic sweep to look for Luthor, he wasn't able to shut it off. The flood of thoughts nearly drove him mad afterwards. Bruce didn't want to risk it."

"That still doesn't excuse-"

"What's done is done," Tim curtly cut her off, crushing the canister in his grip to transfer his own resentful rage, before tossing it in the trash. "I've accepted the damage. There's no use in going back and flinging hindsight accusations at this point."

Barbara surveyed his sullen expression in overwhelming sympathy.

"…There's one thing Joker didn't count on."

"What?"

"You fighting him off in the end. You were stronger than him. You won."

Knuckles balled on Tim's kneecap.

"That wasn't a win. We lost the moment I confessed everything to him."

"That's not true, Tim."

He shook his head.

"I killed him, Barb. I did what none of us were ever supposed to do. And the worst part is, I – I was glad about it."

She extended her palm to wrap reassuringly around his wrist.

"So? You have every right to be, after what he did to you."

Tim's fist only tautened further as he avoided her eyes, ashamed of his own ugly sin.

"You know, it's ironic – Batman got gassed by Scarecrow once too. Only instead it took away all his fear. He was seriously out of control, to the point where he wasn't even afraid to kill criminals. I had to take him down myself. I… managed to keep him from making a big mistake."

He laughed then, though it sounded hollow. His eyes had such a pained look, moreso than anything physical could've caused him. The hurt was in his heart and soul. Barbara's own heart broke to see him like this. Her brain swam, swarming with remorse. Wishing there was something she could do to help heal him, convince him that he had a good heart, one that was still worthy and capable of loving others, and of being loved in return…

…

Slowly, she inclined forward – and kissed him.

…

For a second, all Tim could register was the flavor of liquor mixed with black licorice – lush and luscious on her lips – before panicking and pushing away.

"What are you doing?"

"I… don't know."

"…I think you're making a big mistake."

Barbara bristled.

"Who says?"

From their positions, she was practically on top of him. He grasped her shoulders, keeping determinedly at bay.

"You're drunk. And probably hallucinating."

"I'm not hallucinating."

He sighed, scraping a hand through his hair.

"I'm not Dick or Bruce, you know. …I'm nobody."

"You're not nobody."

Conflict clouded his eyes.

"Look, this is all kinds of wrong. What about Sam? Besides, your dad would probably kill me…"

The whites around her blue irises widened.

"Kill you…?"

…Shit.

"Babs, no, I didn't mean-"

She slid off, seizing arms around herself, impressing into her flesh.

"He'll kill you. You'll kill him. …Everyone's going to be killed. And it's all my fault."

Shit. Shit shit shit. He should've known better.

"No one's dying. We're all still alive." (…If what they had could be called "living".) "You're just imagining it."

Her claws only clamped tighter.

"Sam… What if he comes after Sam? I'm putting him in danger. Oh God." Her pupils contracted, zoning into the distance. "Sam, don't open the door – he's got a gun!"

This was not good. He was losing her. He tried to twist her around, get her to see him instead of… of… whatever it was she was trapped by.

"Babs? Hey, hey, look at me. Look at me. Whatever you're seeing right now, it's not real. You hear me? It's not real."

She stayed stiff as a board though, staring far off into vacant space.

"Dad. Oh my God, what's he doing to Dad? He's trying to turn him crazy too. No, no, make it stop!"

Worriedly, Tim shook her shoulders.

"Babs, hey, c'mon! Snap out of it!"

Her eyes were glazed, no longer glued to one spot but rolling everywhere else. Darting frantically to and fro. Features contorted, seemingly in some kind of phantom agony.

"My legs. I can't feel my legs. He took my legs."

Nails curled around her abdomen area, clenching cloth in anguish. Scrabbling, scratching, as if searching for something.

"Babs!"

"The baby," she sobbed. "I lost the baby. I couldn't protect him. Couldn't protect… im…"

The last part was muffled by a wounded choke, but… From the way she said it, it kinda sounded like…

His name.

Helpless, Tim looked on with an aching empathy as the normally tough, take-charge woman he always knew coiled into a fetal form, crying miserably. He mused if this was how he must've often looked to the others back then. He didn't know what to do, how to help her. He felt so utterly useless.

Running over options, his mind halted at one possibility. Something that used to help him deal with nightmares as a kid, before… everything. It was probably dumb and desperate, but it was worth a shot.

"Wait here. I'll be right back."

He dashed to the bedroom, opening up the nightstand drawer and fumbling around inside. Withdrawing the object from the far back, he considered it grimly for a beat, before gritting his teeth and resolutely taking it back to where Barbara was now rocking herself.

"Babs? Hey, look: Remember this?"

She ceased instantly when she saw the Batarang suspended in front of her.

"You always felt safe whenever Batman and Robin were around, right? Nothing… bad can happen to you as long as they're there."

Sentiment welled in her ducts as she reached out tentatively for the reminder, cradling it close to her breast.

"Just in case you run into trouble up there."

"Dick… Bruce…"

Tim drew her in towards him in a compassionate embrace, soothingly stroking her quivering back as if she were the child.

"It's okay, Babs. It's okay." He reiterated the phrase in her ear. "You're okay. I'm… okay. We're okay."

They stayed like that for a while, and eventually the shudders and sniffles subsided as she seemed to fall into a fitful sleep. While she still whimpered occasionally, holding the Batarang nearer did appear to help somewhat.

Just then, he heard the opening and closing of the front door as Roy returned from his "date", bounding up the steps and stopping short upon witnessing the scene before him.

"Whoahey, am I interrupting something?"

He grinned, and Tim scowled at the guy's terrible timing.

"This isn't what it looks like. Just hurry up and help me get her to the bed."

Roy was about to open his mouth to make another snide remark, but promptly shut it upon seeing the searing look Tim speared at him, and the sweat and tears on the moaning visitor's visage. Switching into serious mode, he lent a steady hand with supporting her to the mattress. He was still a hero himself, after all, always available to aid any damsels in distress.

As he agreed to take over looking after the patient for the time being, Tim thanked him and left the bedside temporarily, pulling out his cell again as he traveled downstairs. Inhaling deeply, he began to punch in another number he knew all too well, forever engraved in the back of his skull.

After a couple rings, the other end picked up with a gruff greeting.

"…Yes?"

The cold, almost impatient lack of pleasantry was all Tim needed to confirm he had indeed reached the right person.

"Bruce, it's me. …Barbara needs help."

…

When Barbara finally awoke, the first thing she spotted was Tim sitting on a reversed chair next to her, chin reposed idly on his forearms.

"Hey."

"…Hey."

"How are you feeling?"

"Better, I guess. …How long was I out?"

"The whole night. You were tossing and turning a lot."

She elevated gradually, sensing a moist towel fall from her crown onto the sheets in the process. Had he been nursing her this whole time?

As she tracked its descent, she saw she was still adhering to the Batarang as well. She blushed a bit at how babyish she must have seemed, to have to rely on something like this to calm her down.

"Um, thanks. …You can have this back now."

He relieved her of the improvised crutch, and in exchange he handed her a small vial of medication.

"Here, take this. It's similar to what Dr. Thompkins used to give me, but more concentrated. It's not a permanent cure, but it should help with the terrors. It'll likely knock you totally out for a few more days, but you won't have to suffer nightmares during it. If it doesn't work or you're still experiencing symptoms afterwards, call her and she'll adjust the dosage."

"You got this from Leslie?"

"Bruce did."

She gaped in astonishment.

"You actually spoke to him?"

"He just told me what I needed to know, then hung up and sent Alfred over with the stuff. …Typical, huh?"

His jaw drooped a little further into folds, as did his tired-looking lids.

"You're not the first Scarecrow victim to undergo relapses like this. It's rare, but everyone responds to the fear serum differently. Yours is a more severe case."

Barbara thought about how many others had to live their lives in a compromised state (or lost them entirely) all because of some psychopath who kept breaking out of Arkham – no matter how many times they put him back in – if not released through the revolving door due to (hell, courtesy of) all the corruption in the system. How many lives were really spared, while others still suffered because of their incompetence? Inconsequence.

"You know, sometimes I wonder: If what we were doing was ever really the right thing? After what happened with the earthquake… God, I don't know. Maybe this city is beyond hope. …In the end, did we even make any difference? Was it worth it – any of it? We've saved a bunch of people, sure, but at what cost? I mean, just look at us… We're a mess."

Tim simply shrugged.

"At least Dick's still doing okay over in Blüdhaven. And Bruce seems to be handling things fine on his own. Besides, it's not like he ever really needed us anyway. Because he's Batman."

Barbara observed as Tim toyed with the Batarang in his hands, balancing the tip on the chair back. She dropped her view towards the blankets.

"…You're not him, you know," she pronounced harshly. "You'll never be him."

Her own fingers fumbled with the damp napkin, and bottle of medicine, before looking up again with a smile.

"But, that's not a bad thing."

As she said this, she extended out to pat his cheek, noting the dark bags under his eyes. Had he even slept at all, she wondered? …Then again, she was probably taking up his bed, she realized with sudden embarrassment.

Tim seemed even more embarrassed by the affectionate contact, turning away with a cough. The memory of what she had done surged back to her cheeks, and she hastily detached, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, which bloomed a matching humiliated hue.

"Listen, about what happened last night…"

Tim merely waved off whatever she was about to say in advance.

"We were both drunk. It doesn't count."

"…You're awfully quick to dismiss." Detecting his fidgeting, she gleamed in comprehension. "Ah, don't tell me – you've never kissed anyone before?"

A pure pink tinge faintly colored his complexion, corroborating her suspicion.

"Ehehe, did I steal your first kiss, Boy Virgin?"

"Sh- shut up."

His flush deepened further.

"It's not like I've exactly had much opportunity to try it," he murmured in his defense. "…Besides, if we're counting that kind of thing, technically my first time would've been with Dick."

"Oh."

He sniped a sulk at her reaction.

"I gave him CPR once. What were you thinking?"

"Nothing," she declared innocently, hand hovering over her mouth to obstruct a snicker. "I bet this time was a lot better though. I'm sure you must've thoroughly enjoyed it, if not to some extent."

Tim averted his eyes again as she winked at him.

"Wh- who knows."

"Oh please. Don't deny you were the least bit curious. You think I never noticed you sneaking peeks while we were getting changed?"

Tim burned burgundy as he shifted sight down to his toes.

"I was 13. What'd you expect?"

She nodded sagely.

"You are a boy, after all. It's only natural for these things to occur."

She giggled in entertainment at his expense. When the chuckles died down, she checked the time on the alarm clock by the pillow.

"…I guess I should get going now. I'll need to call in to the station to tell them I'm taking the next days off."

He helped see her out. Standing awkwardly in the entrance, he rubbed his neck before addressing encouragingly.

"You're a great cop, Barb. You're gonna do a lot of good things for this city. I know you'll make it a better place."

She beamed.

"Thank you, Tim. …I'll start by confiscating 'this'."

She held up the contraband, which Roy had taken the liberty of hiding again, but there was no way he could outsmart a Bat, even if she wore a different symbol now.

"And I better not catch you with anything like this again, or I will take you in. Got it?"

Tim winced at the strict lecture and slap on the wrist, but nodded. Barbara softened as she reached around to envelop in a broad hug.

"…Don't be a stranger, Tim. You're the only one I can still talk to about all this."

He wavered, but kindly reciprocated the gesture. As she withdrew, she raised an arm to lightly pet his hair, discerning he had finally hit that growth spurt; he was almost at her height now.

"Listen. Someday, you're gonna meet someone special, who loves you just the way you are. And she's gonna be so lucky to have you in her life."

Tim scoffed.

"Yeah, right. Like that's ever gonna happen."

She took his hands in hers. Hands that still twitched and trembled every once in a while, as if afraid to even be touched. Hands that had, in his opinion, committed the greatest act of transgression, taking another's soul and doomed toll on his own – but had also toiled all night to keep changing her cool kerchief, tending and tenderly wiping her temple in enduring devotion to charitable ideals. That had prostrated and prayed, begging for a favor from "God" for her sake, subjugating self in spite of whatever spiteful feelings he bore towards said sore subject. …That had rescued so many lives at the risk of his own, without asking for any reward other than to have a place to call "home", and a "family" who cared for him as much as he did for them. (And even that had been mostly taken from him too, something for which she regretfully shared the blame.)

"Don't give up hope. Things will change. It's gonna get better. I promise."

She stooped forward to peck his cheek, before letting go.

"Thank you, again, for everything. I'll see you around, Tim."

"Yeah. See ya."

She left with a wave, and he halfheartedly did the same as he watched her go.

…

About a week later, after she'd fully recovered and gone back to work as good as new, she received an urgent call from Roy at the hospital.

…

Tim had tried to kill himself.

————————–

That sky glowed all calico, like phosphor in the sea To the ground we fall, she owns us all Kings and boys and beast Kings and boys and beast

[antman-56]

The Day We Meet Again Pt. 5

News Anchor 1 : Reports of small riots over Sunsets Family’s facilities have now turned to a ...

News Anchor 2 : Vacuo has now entered a state of emergency due to the increase violence of Faunus workers under Starr Industries...

News Reporter : Atlas is now called martial law once again due to the Faunus attacking SDC security and supervisors. As you can see below me their are fires and raging rioters. We were lucky-

Pilot : Ma’am were leaving!!!

NR 3 : Why?!

Pilot : Reports of the rioters gath-

The camera shakes violently with the screams of the news team and the helicopters warnings ringing.

The screen soon turned back to the main news team starring in shock and one of them crying.

They weren’t alone. Team RWBYJNR had the same reaction. Speechless and scarred. Kali was in tears. All the progress they have done since Adam’s suposive death. Gone.

Ghira right now was giving a statement, mostly to say he and the new White Fang had no part of this.

Kali : I can’t believe... 

Kali left the room in a hurry.

Blake : Adam has to be a part of the insurgency.

Weiss : How do you know?

Blake : He has to!! The White Fang stopped supporting him when he ran away at Haven. Their is no way-

Ren : It could have been a Faunus worker responsible. They might’ve saw or heard some of the things Adam did.

Blake : But he left. Abandoned his friends.

Jaune : What message would you send when you attack the people your supposed to liberate? 

Blake : He attacked me.

Ren : More than likely out of anger and the fact you organized that resistance.

Nora : Are you defending him?

Ren : No, I’m trying to rationalize what he was thinking when Blake showed up with Menagerie resistance.

Blake : Well he lost everything when he fled.

Ren : That didn’t mean everyone gave up on him, just the majority of Menagerie,.

Yang : And what dose that mean?

Ren : That the Faunus in slavery still see him as a hero.

Nora : But he was a murder and a coward.

Ren : Like Jaune said, what message would he send if he attacked the Faunus, reports say that his men fired at the humans and mostly ignored the Faunus resistance. The only people that were attacked were the ones who fought them, ie you and Sun.

Blake : But what of the ones that fired?

Ren (on scroll) : Reports state that they were employees of different facilities of different companies. Meaning-

Blake : They weren’t part of Menagerie.

Ren : Exactly. According to their statements Adam saved them from either mutilation, rape, torture, the list goes on. 

Blake : That’s not ...

Ren : Well that explains why they fired. They didn’t want to anyone to go through what they did, even if it meant killing humans.

Blake : That doesn’t change the fact that-

Ren : Blake your trying to make a slave and a free man have the same mind. Its not going to work. One knows the hardships in life and the other doesn’t. One lived in a room alone and the other shared a broom closet with 12 others with no restroom. One ate whenever they wanted the other was lucky if his superiors remembered him.

Blake was quiet. 

Ren : From what was seen, to written, to said will change. The workers probable see you and Menagerie as spoiled or lucky. That you don’t know what they have suffered, They see survival of ones self important. That it’s common for them then it is to the people of Menagerie. So, Adam running means nothing to them. It only meant he would come back. 

Blake : But we are fighting for the same thing.

Ren : The only difference is that they want it done faster than how your father can do it.

Blake : So, we know why they follow him now. So who's leading this group?

Weiss : I'll call Whitely. Ask for some intel and who knows we might get lucky.

With that Weiss left and Nora changed the channel to Ghira.

Ghira : Again we have no leads on who is responsible for these attacks. As you have heard they tried to take my life as well. (He gestures his torso so they can see the bandages) But we will help the local authorities find the culprits and the mastermind behind this.

The reportes all rushed for their questions.

Ghira : Yes, you in the back.

Reporter  : Do you think this has anything to do with the late Adam Taurus? 

Ghira : No comment.

He left the stage all the while the media was adding more to the question.

When Ghira made it back he saw that all eyes were on him.

Ghira :Blake i’m-

Blake : Dad this is your last chance. We need to know what the Faunus have suffered so we can get an idea on how to help the kingdoms.

Ghira (sighing) : You just don’t give up.

Blake : Dad i’m not a child. I want to help but before I go in blind I need to know what to look out for. How to handle a worse case scenario better than going in blind.

Ghira stayed silent.

Yang (enraged) : Dammit old man. What is it that  that your hiding?!?!

Yang stomped over to him. Ghira didn’t bend but he meet the girls red eyes with his own.

Ghira : All of you are so naive.

This caught them by surprise.

Ruby : I’m sorry sir, but no. We have seen our fair share of the world.

Ghira : And what is that? Grimm? Miss Rose, the Grimm are simple creatures. They see and kill any thing that looks human. They are far easier to handle than politics, or worse, humans.

Ghira covered his eyes and laughed silently.

Ghira : You don’t know what it is that I know. Blake, you are right but you are not ready yet.

Blake (enraged) : What do you mean i’m NOT ready!! I have fought the White Fang, Humans that see us as garbage, and-

Ghira : THATS ONLY THE TIP OF IT!!!

Blake backed down and everyone could see the more cat like eyes on Ghira.

The man is stressed out. With the attempted assassination on his life, the riots, the media trying to get him to confess to a crime he didn’t commit, and now a determined daughter asking about the horrors he has seen. 

He was at the end of his rope.

Ghira (recomposed) : You really want to know?

Blake just nodded.

Ghira : Follow me.

He began to walk into the masion and Blake and co. followed.

It had been close to 10 minutes and he was not stopping. They have now entered further down into the Mansion. Even Blake was surprised, she had never seen this part of it.

They had now entered an old room, in the middle of it laid an old desk, an old chair,  some books and a lamp on the desk and a book shelfs filled the wall all of them full.

Ghira took a seat and stared at his daughter, his pride and joy but also a pain. Still he loved her.

Ghira : Mr. Arc close the door.

THUNK

 Ghira : Now the truth.

Blake felt uneasy and she wasn’t alone. The room was old and the cold. And the fact that Ghira was a calm disheveled mess scared her to no end. Still she would not bend to the truth of her people.

Ghira : The Faunus have suffered more than you and the world know. Along with being put into force labor either by kidnapping or by poverty. we have suffered more.

Blake : I kno-

Ghira (raised his hand to silence her) : Along with that, we have been used as test subjects since we are more human than rats. Forced to endure unknown chemical compounds to see how they respond. all in the name of science And somtimes for fashion. Faunus are put on a table and are removed of their skin if it resembles leather or any other animal fabric. We have been hunted like fair game. Deer, Rabbit, Moose, and even Bird Faunus are kidnapped or bought from companies and are released into the wild to be hunted for sport. Faunus of endangered species are more preferred since their counterpart would get them arrested if caught. (the room grew colder as he forced himself to reveal more) And in some kingdoms they get away with it since “A savage attacked me. I had to defend myself”. (croaking) We are put into gladiator pits forced to kill one another for the pleasure of others. Some Faunus with more mutations like razor sharp teeth, claws, fangs, or thick skin are put to fight others of the same, more, or less mutations. Doesn’t matter about age, gender, relations, species, or conditions. As long as their masters are happy. Their are cults that require the blood of animals and humans and guess who fits right into that category. The scenes that were left behind, it was one of the few things I agreed with what Adam did. (he closed his eyes) The women in some of those examples are put into breeding facilities, legal or not, mostly not. Do you know what it fells like to be held down ladies ( RWBYN began to feel chill down their spine, some making a fist to hold in their rage others to mortified to do anything but hug themselves). begging for it to stop and then forced to give birth right were you defecate. I saw the photos and I didn’t want to imagine your mother in that situation. Did you know their was a plan for you and your mother at one point. ( Blake was now mortified, she was shaking and RW_YJNR stared at her). Sienna told me after Adam found the conspirators and the traitor. Out of the 5 we destroyed the youngest one recorded was 6. And we believe their are more and we are still searching. The Butchers Mine was one of a few example of us being used as cattle. Their are clubs that kidnap Faunus, fatten them up and feed them to the family. And get to do it again. If you wan to know more, the books here hold the records of each encounter that Adam and others found. Now if you’ll excuse me.

Ghira got up and left. Leaving a room filled with mortified young adults.

Nora was being consoled by Ren. You could hear quiet sniffles. Ren stayed strong for her, she needed him now.

Ruby was looking at the floor. Trying to understand how people could do that another being.

Weiss was beginning to hyperventilate. What else has her father done to their name and could it even be fixed.

Jaune walked up to Weiss and gave her a hug. She didn’t care at the moment if it was him, Ruby or anyone. She just needed someone to hold.

Yang walked up to Blake. You collapsed to her knees before she could reach her. 

Yang dropped next to her and hug her, hoping to bring her some comfort.

Yang : It’s okay. It’s okay. We can fix this.

Blake began to stare at the desk. Her people have suffered and they were right about her.

She was nothing more than a princess. She may fight for her people and her goal may be noble. But she would ignore the people who have suffered without a second thought.

Adam was right. He was right.

He was right.

[the50-person]

HONG KONG UPDATE 27 AUG 2019: Longest HK political uprising

Surpassed 2014 Umbrella Movement and Occupy Central (79 days)

Entered 80th day on 27 Aug 2019.

1. What is Emergency Regulations Ordinance?

Effectively giving power to government to change HK into current Xinjiang.

.

2. The 5 demands of HK citizens

.

3. What have the Chinese gov, HK gov and HK police been doing?

The China Extradition Bill is not dead, and now the government is suppressing all freedoms and rights:

freedom of speech (real speech, social media, discussions, university courses)

freedom of expression

rights to your home

right to legal help

right to medical help

torture in custody

sexual abuse

sexual assault

verbal abuse

underaged persons rights to guardians

arbitrary arrests

white terror - arrests at hospitals, Hospital Authority and some pro-gov medical staff leak details to police, violates humanitarian policies that HK is bound to

white terror - any opinion that is not pro-gov enough = immediate unemployment against labour laws

ID-ing

body search and possessions search

invasion of private premises

chemical weapons (tear gas, pepper spray)

physical weapons and ammunition (tear gas canisters used as bullets, eubber rounds, foam rounds, sponge rounds, live rounds, batons, brutal beatings, water cannons etc)

attacking peaceful non-violent unarmed citizens (be they protesting or not)

surveillance, and arrests after deeming someone is not pro-gov

using triads to kill indiscriminately

assassinations (29 Aug 2019 against CHRF convenor Jimmy Sham)

illegal detainment (in police facilities and in China)

invasion of privacy thru searching phones and data, and questioning ppl who have cleaned their phone

planting evidence

sending undercover cops to incite and enact violence and push blame on citizens

smear campaign, fake news

forcing marches to march only small route

banning marches (even though peaceful)

banning assemblies (even though peaceful; as of 29 Aug 2019)

gaslighting and twisting truth (e.g. "phone" becomes "broken police shield", "kneeling to beg for mercy" becomes "unknown intent", "kicking unarmed man in stomach" becomes "cop pushed him away")

kettling citizens in a sealed mall where they have no escape and beating them up brutally

attempting to gouge someone's eye

firing all sorts of weapons at extreme close range and eye level

headshots

shooting at eye (at least 4 eyes lost)

dehumanisation of HK citizens as cockroaches, a chilling parallel to Nazis and Rwandan genocide

death threats (multiple pro-CCP groups exposed to have discussed using knives, guns)

rape threats (towards female protesters and journalists, discussion of gang rape and mass rape)

doxxing (anyone who supports democracy is doxxed and info sent to China's Ministry of State Security)

taking photos and videos of protesting citizens without permission, refusing to delete, attacks citizens when requested, then pretends to be ill and blames citizens

violent and illegal (they didn't apply with authorities) pro-CCP Mainland Chinese counter-protests around the world, with attacks on pro-HK protesters and their exhibits and Lennon Walls

These are only some of the atrocities and violations of human rights and freedoms by Chinese gov, HK gov and HK police.