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whumblr · 18 days ago

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Losing battles, winning wars

Crossed out - Continued from ch.11 - Prologue

“A visitor?”

Ava brought up her agenda for the day, pressing the phone to her ear with her shoulder. Sure enough, she hadn’t missed anything; the only thing scheduled for the upcoming hour was a quick meet with Sarah. No outside clients for today. With half an eye still on the file in her hand and the phone in the other, the name the receptionist gave her didn’t fully register through her surprise—and annoyance.

“Yes, ma’am, he is—"

“Tell him I don’t do walk-ins, Fletcher, and that he can make an appointment like the rest of the world.”

A soft rustle sounded, as if Fletcher turned away from his visitor and cupped a hand to the phone. “He says he’s police,” he whispered, “and that it’s urgent.”

Ava didn’t bother repressing an annoyed sigh. “Send him up, then. I’ll give him ten minutes.”

Police… she mused when she put the phone back in its holder, a little more forceful than necessary. Not uncommon given her line of work and the defendants they represented, but usually handled through the right networks and with the right communication. Given this deviance – and the ambush – she had a feeling she knew what this was about.

The USB drive Lucas had given her was snugly plugged in her laptop. She removed it, put it in a drawer, and closed all digital files still open. Unreasonable, she knew that, not like he was going to tell by glancing at the stick what was on it or get anywhere near her computer, but still.

A knock on the glass door interrupted her musings and she turned.

“Ava.” Her secretary, already a girl of small stature, stepped aside in the doorway, dwarfed by the man she was escorting. “Mr Mathison.”

The man gave a polite nod and smile at the girl in thanks and she didn’t seem uncomfortable in his presence.

Ava, however, put on her game-face to hide her surprise. She had seen this man before. Leading a pack of black-clad armed men into a theatre. Marching back out with a bloodied Lucas.

He was wearing the same long black coat as he had then, a white dress shirt underneath and wearing black slacks. Given his clothes, here in the business district he could pass as a cunning lawyer or business man – probably what he was going for in public – and if she’d passed him in the lobby, she wouldn’t think twice about that assumption. But his manner and poise – the at ease stance with his hands behind his back – betrayed a little something else. And, well, having seen him having a bloodied man carried out of a public theatre might skew her judgement. Despite his attempt at this ‘disguise’, it was clear up close that this man was law enforcement through and through.

Not to mention she had done her research. Or rather, Lucas’ research, combined with some searches of her own. She was well aware this was the man Lucas suspected of murder, a man in charge of a prison, probably holding Lucas in custody. Illegal custody.

“Mr Mathison,” she echoed her secretary, but with a hint of ice in her tone. Time was precious after all, especially if it was taken from you like this.

“Ms Akwebe,” Mathison returned the greeting with a slight nod, his voice a deep rumble.

He shook her hand, less firm than she’d expected, and he immediately took a step back, making sure to keep a distance. The gesture seemed polite, but to Ava it seemed calculated. A façade that he merely kept up to compensate for his intimidating presence and that now clashed with how he’d bulldozered his way in here.

“Thank you for meeting me. I understand I am taking up your time so I’d like to get straight to business.”

He sat down on the sofa without waiting for an invitation. And just before he settled down, something caught Ava’s eye and she bristled with suppressed fury.

“Mr Mathison, you’ve either got a lot of guts or a lot of issues carrying that into my office.”

She nodded at the slight bulge next to his chest, under his coat, where she’d noticed his shirt had crinkled in a way that seemed familiar.

He didn’t seem bothered, didn’t adjust his coat nor moved and merely gave a polite smile. “Well spotted.”

“Do I need to call security in here?”

“I do not believe that is necessary. After all, they cleared me at the entrance as I have a concealed carry permit. I do apologise if it makes you uncomfortable.”

While anger was a form of discomfort, bubbling up inside her chest, she would never let it show. She had remained standing behind the other couch, perhaps an unconscious manner of creating some distance between them. But before he could notice and add to her ‘discomfort’ she walked around and sat directly across from him. This was a power play through and through; showing up assuming she’d make time for him, carrying a gun into her office.

“I assume you’re here about Lucas,” she said, not wanting to give the man a way to beat around the bush. After all, ten minutes is ten minutes.

“I am,” he said. “You are his supervisor?”

“I don’t supervise, mr Mathison. I lead a team of skilled people and I need them to be competent enough to work independently, without me holding their hand along the way.“

“Maybe it you hadn’t just held his hand but actively pulled him back we wouldn’t be here.”

“I don’t like what you’re implying.”

He held up his hands. “My apologies. You are aware what the charges are against him?”

“Helping a client with some less than scrupulous advice.”

“Yes. We are under the impression that he was acting independently, so none of that rubs off on you or the other people here.”

“Which client?” Ava pressed, and she expected him to blink and go ‘what?’ in that fake polite voice of his but the man didn’t hesitate at all.

“Unfortunately I cannot tell you that. The investigation is still pending and I can’t name names. I’m sure you can understand.”

“I need to know to make sure others don’t fall for the same trap.”

“I can assure you this person will never walk into this building to seek legal or other unscrupulous assistance again. Should that change, I will be the first to give you a heads up.”

He was quite invested in this fake story. While Ava was more interested in the real story and the illegal detainment. But she was stuck there. She couldn’t ask, couldn’t hint, couldn’t press. She’d only oust herself and paint a clear target on her back. So against her principles, she had to relent and allow him a win here. She’d strike when the time was right.

“We think he acted independently,” Mathison said again when she sat back on the sofa, “but I wanted to ask you if you noticed anything… different about his behaviour the weeks before his arrest.”

How antsy he was, bolting out of the building at random times, working overtime once his regular work files had been finished – though uncharacteristically rushed – clearly exhausted but working like a possessed man? While she’d hated him ambushing her at the theatre, at least it cleared the fog and he had finally confided in her. “Nothing unusual,” she lied.

“You were with him the day of his arrest.”

Ah, so that’s why he was here. Combed through security footage, now, had he. She could turn him away with a single word; merely as warden this man did not have the jurisdiction to get involved with any investigation. But doing so wouldn’t get her anywhere, it would only give her a mental win while what she needed were answers.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“We were at the theatre. We were seeing a movie.”

“Which movie?”

“The journey to Mars.”

“Did you plan this trip?”

“We happened to meet inside.” Close enough to the truth with him ambushing her.

“Did he give you anything?”

“Cash for my niece to get snacks.”

“Nothing else?”

“Nothing else.” An enormous headache, sure, but probably not as bad as his own when they’d carried him out, near-unconscious. A tinge of rage twisted in her stomach.

He asked several more questions and she answered with as little information as she could but still enough and being cooperative, to make sure that, first, he’d believe she was no threat, and second, to never have him ‘visit’ again for more follow-up questions. At the end, he seemed satisfied and at ten minutes sharp, he stood, thanked her for her time and left as sudden as he’d announced his arrival.

Ava dropped back on the sofa, still whirling from this force of nature that had just blown through.

A knock on the door again, this time from a welcome visitor.

“That was him?” A blonde woman, carrying a stack of files almost reaching her chin, walked into the office. Sarah, the person she actually had a meeting with and who probably had hovered awkwardly in the hallway, carrying pounds of paperwork and waiting for them to finish up.

Ava nodded and sat back with a sigh, gesturing for her to sit down. “That was him.”

With a heavy thud Sarah dropped the stack of files on the table in-between the two sofas. She looked back, as if she could still see the imposing man retreating out the door. “Seems like a handful.”

“You have no idea… What did you want to discuss?”

“You asked me to look into the financial aspects of the prison. His prison.” She nodded back.

“What did you find?”

Sarah scattered a number of files over the table and opened one of them. “Mostly what you’d expect to find. There are, however, monthly recurring transfers that aren’t from the government or charities or corporations, but from private persons or institutions. Booked as donations.”

“Is that uncommon?”

“Not in itself, but it is in this amount and usually donations are one-off. So, I looked into some of the names and that’s where it starts to get odd. I recognised some of the cases connected—” she pulled out two files from under the others and opened one, pointed at the name, “— this one, rather obvious, connected to the local mob, so that’s enough to make you wonder. But this one—” she opened the other file and tapped the name at the top of the page, “—Newport, government family who lost a son in that hit-and-run a few years back, whole thing was splashed over the news.”

“I remember. High profile case. They donated? The family?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Multiple times?”

“Over multiple years.”

“Are we sure these donations are voluntary?”

“No. But it seems they are.”

Ava furrowed a brow. “Are they donating or paying…?” she pondered out loud.

“Donating to keep their son’s killer incarcerated?”

A far reach. Something she absolutely would have dismissed before. Before she had read Lucas’ research on the prison.

She didn’t want to speculate too much. Get the facts first, they will point out a pattern and confirm their hypotheses or not. “Good find, Sarah. Run through all the names behind the donations. Double check them with the names of inmates – ask Robin for help with that, he’s looking into that – see if some are connected to the mob or rivalling factions, families connected to any crimes or victims—”

“Everything.” Sarah nodded, already ahead of her. “I’m on it.” She stood, but lingered near the door. “Any word on Lucas?”

“Nothing. All silent on the front.”

Sarah bit her lip, gave a solemn nod but her eyes blazed with determination, and turned back to her own desk.

Ava looked at the stack of files in front of her. A wry smile formed at her lips and the same determination lit in her eyes.

You may think the world bends to you, Mr Mathison, but that’s going to snap back at you some time.

Backing down was not her style, but she knew damn well when to pull back a little for the sake of winning in the long run. She wasn’t sure she’d parried all of his suspicions but even if he weren’t fully convinced they weren’t involved, he couldn’t do a thing about it. They were all involved. And they were coming for him, and coming for Lucas.

She opened the file Sarah put on top of the stack, settled in for work, and read the top line.

Newport v Georgiou.

Tag list: @gala1981 @chaotic-orphan @lolrpop @andithewhumper @tippytappytyping

@suspicious-whumping-egg @cherrychupachup @alexmundaythrufriday @defire @withdrawingramen

@light-me-on-pyre @treasureguardingdragon @notactuallyluska @fortunately-cool-penguin

#whump #whump writing #caretaker vs whumper #prison whump #crossed out #my writing #happy almost christmas #Im dead tired I'm taking a christmas writing break :))#need to see which chapters are next for lucas...

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rebelliousstories · 19 days ago

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Spirit

25 Days of Ficmas

Relationship: David Loki x Reader

Fandom: Prisoners

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of Alcohol

Word Count: 1,222

Main Masterlist: Here

Jake Gyllenhaal and Co. Masterlist: Here

Summary: Getting Loki into the Christmas spirit is like pulling teeth. But a few days off might change that.

Consider Donating: Here

“No.”

“Please, Dave. Just this once.”

Scrubbing his hands over his face, David Loki was trying to keep his cool. It was not even his girlfriend’s fault. She was being wonderful, and sweet as usual. No, this was his own hang up.

Resting the edge of the phone against his temple, he looked towards the clock above his desk. Just thirty minutes to go until he was free for five days. He would have to come back the twenty-sixth but that was alright. Loki would definitely take having Christmas off over New Years.

“Babe, I’m gonna let you go. Alright? I’ll be home soon. Love you.” Waiting just long enough to hear her say her own goodbye back, the call was disconnected.

Sighing again, David threw himself into his work. If there was one thing he needed right now, it was to not be late getting home. When he could make it home for dinner, he did. However, he was a little reluctant. That phone call played in his head on repeat all through the rest of his shift.

Not a second after the clock chimed, he was out of his seat and on his way out the door. The chilly Pennsylvanian air nipped at his cheeks. It pushed that pep into his step to make it to his car before the cold could truly seep in. But the second he started driving, the heat that he had kicked on was unbearable. And even though it was beginning to snow outside, Loki shut off the heater and rolled his window down.

Wind whipped against his face, grounding him in the moment. He was looking forward to staying home for a few days, but he was not looking forward to memories that it was going to dredge up. However, David just continued on, until he saw the familiar image of his house.

Hands scrubbed over his face once more, before shutting off the vehicle and making his way inside. The steps up to the door were a bit slippery as the ice had finally come in. They were set to have a white Christmas this year, it seemed. David scratched the bit of ice off of the door handle before being able to slip his key inside.

“Babe,” he called out, unlacing and slipping his shoes off in the foyer.

“Baby!” Loki tried again, walking deeper into the house.

“In the kitchen,” she replied.

As David walked in, he was taken aback. There were declarations everywhere and a whole re-theme of the kitchen. It legitimately looked like a section of Santa’s workshop in there. And, of course, dressed in nothing but an oversized Christmas sweater, with a doe and silver threads, and some knee high knitted socks to keep her feet warm, was his girlfriend at the stove. It looked to be some sort of pasta sauce in the pot.

“Dave, you’re home.” Gleefully, she dropped the spoon that she was stirring with to come over and wrap her arms around him.

“Yeah, I’m home.” Pressing a kiss to her head, the man wrapped his own arms around her body while looking around. “You got enough decorations, princess?”

“They’re pretty.” Her words were muffled from where her face was smushed into her partner’s chest. However, despite the warmth, she pulled back just enough to see his face.

“Go get changed, and I’ll dish up some dinner for us.” She pressed her lips against his finally. They both could feel Loki’s body relax as he accepted the affection.

Reluctantly, he pulled himself away from his girlfriend’s arms in order to go back into their bedroom. While she was busy fixing up dinner, David took a shower to wash off the exhaustion of today. With a towel around his waist, he came back out into the bedroom to find some clothes when he noticed something he had not before. On the bed was a pair of his sweat, some clean socks and underwear, and a sweater. A Christmas sweater specifically.

And then he thought about what they had talked about earlier in the day.

David sat at his desk, trying to finish up the grueling paperwork that he had to get done before his time off. He had less than an hour until freedom, which made him try and work harder and faster. All of the sudden, a ringing came through o his personal cell phone. Taking a quick look around and making sure that his captain was not watching to get him in trouble, he answered.

“This is Detective Loki.”

“Hey, honey. How’s your day going?” A sigh of relief tore through him. It was just his girlfriend.

“Hey, baby. It’s going alright. A little slow but alright. How’s yours?” His eyes kept scanning his surroundings.

“It’s fine. Gonna get started on dinner here in a bit. I just wanted to know if you wanted to go have Christmas dinner with my folks when the time comes? We got invited today.” There was the sound of rustling on her end, like she was moving clothing around.

“Sure, baby. That’s fine. What are you doing,” came his ask as his eyebrows were scrunching together.

“I got a thing.” Her words came out incredibly fast that they nearly slurred together.

“What thing? I swear, if you brought home another stray dog-”

“It’s not a dog, David.” She cut him off, rolling her eyes even though he could not see them.

“What did you get?” He pressed. Instead of answering him fully, she murmured lowly. “Speak up, babe. I can’t hear you.”

“Matching Christmas sweaters.” David sighed the second the words left her mouth.

“No.”

“Please, Dave. Just this once.”

His was just laying there on the bed. All red knit and golden threads. It was not even a bright red, which warmed his heart. Against a maroon background, a gorgeous stag was embedded in the fibers. Hesitantly, Loki trailed his fingers over the soft, warm wool that his girlfriend had gifted him.

He got dressed in the clothing around the sweater, trying not to let his mind wander. But each time David reached for a new piece of clothing, he kept coming back to that sweater. Memories of different Christmas’s of years past kept running through his mind; memories that he would rather not relive. But, then, flashes of his last few Christmas’s followed, bringing his mood back up.

David left the bedroom shortly after, coming into the dining room through the kitchen. His lover was already beginning to sit down, plates of penne alla vodka steaming hot on the table. Making a final check, she put a light beer next to his plate, and a glass of rosé next to hers. When she heard footsteps behind her, she turned around.

Before she could control it, she began beaming. Loki was wearing the sweater that she had laid out for him. The color was stunning on him, making him look healthier than he usually did. But she did not comment on it. She knew that if she did, this would never happen again. Instead, she just walked over, planted a kiss to his lips, and led him back over to the table.

If this was the kind of rewards he would get for indulging her every now and then, David might find holiday spirit more often.

#rebelliousstories #writing #25 days of christmas 2024 #25 days of ficmas 2024 #25 days of ficmas #25 days of christmas #christmas imagine #christmas #prisoners imagine #prisoners fanfiction #prisoners #david loki imagine #david loki x reader #david loki #jake gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal imagine #jake gyllenhaal

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themostdearofspaghettis · 6 months ago

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Something very special about January taking himself SO seriously, and absolutely no one in town matching that energy

Let him take a nap - said everyone in town

#ethics town #someone at some point probably: yo is that the mayor on the roof????#someone else: yeah he does that spiderman thing sometimes don’t worry about it #so unfortunate when no one takes you seriously #while you literally shout about what you’re doing wrong on the radio #trapped in your own prison #haha #get it?#because of the ‘christmas special?’#ethics town spoilers

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moongothic · 1 year ago

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Crocodile's inability to truly get people to follow him is so interesting though, because in that way he's like the polar opposite of Luffy, who has the ability to draw people in and get them to follow him instead

And like it's not surprising Crocodile can't get anyone to be truly loyal to him (Daz Bones aside), since his primary method to get people to do as they're told is through (threats of) violence and money (if he has any). Like yes, that will get people to do as they're told, but you can't buy loyalty, you can't beat people into trusting you. And so, when shit hits the fan, who the fuck would stay for you, when you're like that

Of course, Crocodile is like that due to his trust issues, and god only knows what caused those trust issues. It's possible he was always like that, or past trauma caused him to become like that-- if it's the latter though, even if he was like more trusting of others once in the past, people still didn't stick with him in the end. The trust was one-sided

I think this also reflects in a really interesting way in Cross Guild actually, 'cause like. Despite being scared shitless, not even Buggy is willing to keep on taking Crocodile's shit. Even that clown has his limits before he starts a mutiny against Crocodile

And while Buggy hasn't really done anything to "earn" his current position in the world (like he hasn't Proven Himself in Combat, he's just Faked It Until He Made It), because he has treaten his underlings with basic kindness and respect, even if he's been lying through his teeth the whole time, that has been enough for Buggy to gain his followers' trust. And that's why Buggy's able to rile up people to follow him. While Crocodile can't.

Unironically makes me wonder what Daz sees in Crocodile that makes him want to follow Croc to literal hell and back

And I wonder what it really would take for Croc to be able to inspire people to follow him and be loyal to him, if it's even possible

#Moon posting #Sir Crocodile #OP Meta #OP Spoilers #To be fair Miss Goldenweek did try to break Croc out of jail #But her primary goal was to release the people in jail she already knew (like Miss Merry Christmas and Mr 4)#Where as she met Crocodile for the first time at that prison. They did not know each other #And when Croc refused to leave they just. Didn't seem to argue against that. Like they weren't going to follow him to Impel Down #I have additional thoughts but I'm saving those for another post lest this one become too long #Also that draft might change a lot based on what happens in the next two chapters #Debating if I wanna even post it before or after we see how shit goes and edit it accordingly

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