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wardenparker · 1 year

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Down the Rabbit Hole - ch 7

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When Jack accidentally shoots a civilian on a mission he takes on not only the guilt of the man’s death, but inherits his soulmate as well. To you, it’s a dream job with more perks than you can imagine - but for Jack it’s a nightmarish complication. Even more so when he starts to develop feelings.

Rating: Explicit for violence Word Count: 11.4k Warnings: *Blanket warnings - mentions of deceased spouse, a lot of food and alcohol consumption, family recipes, age gap, cursing.* Canon typical violence. WARNINGS CONTAIN SPOILERS! Kidnapping, torture, burning victim with cigarettes, broken bones, a whole lot of gun pointing and talk about murder, medicine by injection. Summary: When the divide between you and Jack becomes big enough that a well-intended question causes an explosion of anger, you decide to get out of dodge for a while. Unfortunately, this decision has consequences that neither of you could ever have anticipated. Notes: I cried writing it, I cried editing it, I cried putting this post together. Consider yourselves warned.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15 ~ Epilogue

It's been a month and Jack Daniel's is a miserable fucking bastard. You've been told about the marks being detrimental to his job and refuse to get rid of the tattoo or the scars. Claiming that it wasn't your problem, and he considers that to be true, even if it pisses him off because he can't escape you. Stuck here at Statesman and being a firsthand witness to you dating. He swears he's seen half a dozen different men picking you up from your cabin and every goddamn time his stomach churns with jealousy until there's nothing left to do except get blindingly drunk.

There have been good days and bad ones, of course. You and Jack don’t ignore each other but you don’t ever do anything more intimate than having an occasional drink or taking a break from your day to have lunch together if he stops by the restaurant. Your staff has been hired and menu set, interior painted and linens picked out. Now that opening is just a few weeks away, it’s about finalizing and finesse, and your staff has been amazing.

The dating has been…touch and go. You had gone out with Ginger’s brother Lewis on almost every night of his visit, enjoying each other’s company much more than you had expected. Apparently he was just getting out of a relationship and had accepted Diana’s attempt to fix the two of you up gratefully. Without any kind of stress as to whether or not the relationship would be perfect – or even lasting – you and Lewis were able to have fun and relax on the nights you went out together.

With Jack not wanting to have anything romantic to do with anyone else especially and including you, you had no reason to say no to most of the invitations you got after that. A concert or a dinner or a movie or a special event - they were all nice things and the men were equally nice about half the time. Sometimes they stayed over and sometimes they didn’t, but none of them ever saw you more than twice. The guilt and the regret would creep in, reminding you that you have a soulmate and that he’s a good man, even if the two of you are at odds. The fact of the matter is, even with the casual and extremely platonic time that you spend with Jack, you do find yourself falling for him a little more every day. Whether that’s because you’re bound to him or because you just do love him, you really can’t be sure. And it wouldn’t do you any good to say anything anyway. So you do what Statesman employees do best and drink away the guilt.

******

Jack sighs, rolling his shoulders back before he opens the door to his house and steps outside to face the day. This time of year seems to weigh heavily on him and it doesn't help that he had watched you disappear into your cabin with some man last night while he sat on his porch. Not seeing either one of you emerge when he had finally gone to bed well after midnight.

Catching sight of Jack as you leave your house in the morning isn’t uncommon, but today when you do, guilt pools deep in your gut. Waking up with someone other than your soulmate is a special kind of self-torture, and the green-eyed, blonde-haired man curled around you this morning definitely was not Jack. This morning when you glance toward his house, you accidentally catch his eye and end up awkwardly waving as you leave your house alone. The blonde had been politely kicked out before breakfast.

Jack sends back that half-hearted wave and tries to keep the scowl off his face for your sake. Knowing that you will think that it's directed towards you instead of towards the man who had snuck out of your house this morning with a jaunt in his step that Jack certainly recognized.

A thought has been gnawing on you for a while now, and you hustle to catch up to Jack on the sidewalk that leads away from Statesman housing and heads toward the main area of the company’s campus. Trying to maintain a friendship with Jack has been agonizing for you, as you realize the actual depths of your feelings for him, but you’re also trying to respect his wishes. If he doesn’t want to be anything but a platonic pair, you aren’t going to forcibly change his mind. Either he wants to be with you or he doesn’t. End of story.

He hears your quick footsteps behind him, the effort for you to catch up to him and Jack sighs to himself. Not in any kind of mood to play nice, not when he's going to see that 'freshly fucked' glow that you seem to get when you bring someone home. Acid churns in his gut and he wonders if he's developing heartburn for how often he's eating antacids to keep it moderately tolerable.

He slows down only slightly, but you catch up to him by just the last few steps that land much harder like a schoolgirl trying to casually match the stride of her upperclassman crush. It’s a fairly apt comparison for how you feel about him sometimes, but that’s not a thought you want to have to nurse today. “In a hurry today?” You ask, knowing he isn’t late for his usual day. His 9-5 is the same as yours.

"Just wanting to get my heart pumping." Jack doesn't look over at you. "Not getting much exercise being stuck behind a desk." He tells you. "Champ still won't clear me for field work."

That’s your fault. You know it is. You’ve had full conversations about it. But as long as Jack insists on acting like you mean nothing to him, you’re going to maintain the same behavior. If he doesn’t want a soulmate, then he doesn’t get any of the benefits of you being that person. Including, but not limited to, an understanding heart.

“I had something I wanted to ask you,” you admit, shoving your hands in your pockets as you walk. Something that is very much above and beyond the call of a normal friend, but you’re telling yourself that that doesn’t mean anything. He’s not the only person you’ll be asking about this, so it’s fine.

"What do you need to know?" Jack rolls his eyes, noticing that you are avoiding him mentioning the fucking tattoo, but he didn't expect you to.

“I know it’s not really your thing…” He looks annoyed, and you wonder if he didn’t get enough sleep last night or if he skipped breakfast. The fleeting thought that he might be jealous of your date is flicked away with the reminder that he doesn’t want to be connected to you. He’s probably glad you’re finally leaving him alone. “But I’m asking my friends, which you did say you wanted to be,” the reminder comes with an awkward smile that you drop when he doesn’t respond. “Gabriella’s birthday is coming up, so it jogged my memory. I’m just asking my friends what they want their birthday cakes to be this year so I can plan ahead.”

"I don't celebrate my birthday." Jack manages to say the words without anger or devastation in the inflection in his voice. "Don't worry about it, sugar."

“I know you had said that, but I thought…sometimes it’s worth revisiting an old tradition. Who doesn’t like cake and presents, ya know?” Walking beside him, you feel like you ought to be clutching your textbooks and twirling your hair or something equally ridiculous. But all you want is to show him that you’re not the enemy.

Jaw clenched, Jack stops short and whirls towards you, obviously startling you from the way that you jump but he doesn't give a damn. You just push and you push and you push, not giving a damn what someone else might want. "I don't fucking celebrate the day my goddamn wife and baby boy died." He growls furiously. "Forget the goddamn day exists."

You feel knocked over even though all you've done is freeze on the sidewalk, wide eyes staring at him in shock while you're not sure if your jaw is trembling in shock or dropped fully open. "I—" The way your chest clenches, it feels like you might dissolve inwardly. "I didn't know. I'm so...I'm so sorry..."

"You didn't know because you didn't give a fuck." Jack sneers. "All you care about is yourself, what you want. What you think is best, damned what anyone else might think."

"Where do you get that from?" From bottomless sympathy, you bounce back to shock in a very different way. "I was trying to do something nice for you!"

"I told you I don't celebrate and you couldn't let it go." He shouts. "You won't get rid of the fuckin' tattoo so I can do my goddamn job. Maybe if you did, you wouldn't hafta worry about a fuckin' soulmate because I would be dead like I deserve to be!"

"This is the first and only time I've asked since the day we met." This time you know for certain that your lip is trembling, and that it's from oncoming tears. Being screamed at is never something you've been able to take, and this is...it's Jack. Someone you want to make happy so desperately that you're doing things you actively hate in order to do it. "You didn't want a soulmate. You wanted to be friends. So that's all I've done."

“I do want a soulmate. I want my soulmate.” Jack fumes, eyes flashing angrily. “I want the woman who fucking died on my birthday because she was going to get the fuckin’ candles she had forgot to buy for my cake. For me. She died because of me! That’s the soulmate I want!” His own agony makes him blind to the fact that he is crying, tears rolling down his face and his heart about to fucking bust apart, but not because of Abigail, it’s from hearing you say that all you’re trying to do is be friends.

With both of you crying it's almost an exercise in futility to make sense of anything, or to try to hold a reasonable conversation, and you can feel yourself shutting down faster than lightning. The words are there, ringing in your ears, never ever to leave again. I want my soulmate. Not you. Never you. He wants his wife back and you're just standing in the way and insulting her memory purely by existing. "Right." You barely croak out the one syllable, nodding vaguely and already backing away from him while you try not to shake where you stand. "Th—that's...you..." Whatever sentence you were trying to form isn't happening, to the point where all you can think about clearly is how badly you don't want him to be upset with you anymore. And the only way to do that is to walk away. "I'm sorry." Are the only coherent words you manage to murmur, fleeing in the opposite direction as soon as you get them out.

Jack stands there for a few minutes, only moving to wipe away the tears when his breathing is relaxed. Dread curling in his stomach as he replays the cruel things he had said to you in his anger and sorrow. “Shit.” He hisses quietly, wondering if you would talk to him now, but he doubts it.

You have to get yourself under control before you make it to the restaurant, you know that. But the tears rolling down your cheeks are thick and angry and making it hard for you to think, and when you pull out your phone to send a text you can barely read the screen. Hopefully, even if it doesn't make sense, your brother will understand enough to call you later. It's Friday and you need to be anywhere but here this weekend. Hopefully his guest room is free.

******

Jack pauses outside the restaurant, knowing that he needs to talk to you again, but he can’t make himself go inside. He’s fucked this all up. He’s hurt you and his heart aches from that. Instead, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials a number that oftentimes he avoids like the plague. “Hey doc.” He greets the Statesman therapist when the call is picked up. “Do you have some free time? I need to talk.”

A two-hour flight to New York is nothing, but by the time you land it’s late and the sight of your brother standing at the gate waiting for you nearly brings you to relieved tears.

******

It’s not unusual that he doesn’t see you at night. His therapy session opening his eyes and making him see that he’s been very wrong, very cruel to you. Sighing, Jack pushes off the swing with his foot, the tall glass of Statesman in his hand as he watches your dark cabin. He knows you’re in there, the pinging on his phone showing that you are.

There’s no sign of you all the next day, or even the one after that. No movements from your house, no lights turning on or off, no television flickering or even anyone else’s car in the driveway. It’s like you’ve shut yourself inside and locked out the rest of the world.

Jack tries to go about his weekend, but his eyes still wander over to your place. Hoping to see you, not having enough courage to go over and knock. He knows you won’t answer the door and it’s not like he’s given you any reason to. So he waits for an opportunity to bump into you.

But when Monday morning comes, you aren’t there. The bracelet he gave you - the one that was presented as an apology for an argument but actually contained a tracker so he can keep an eye on you - hasn’t moved. According to that tracker you’re still in your house, but it’s 8:40 on Monday morning and you are never late. You should be closing your front door behind you right now to walk to work, but there isn’t any trace of you in sight.

“Fuck this.” Jack slaps his thigh and stalks across the small courtyard to march up your step and - it’s probably a little more forceful than necessary - he starts beating on your door. “Come on, sugar! Open the door!”

There’s no answer. No movement from within at all. A peak through the garage door shows your car sitting there as usual so it’s not like you’ve decided to break your walking tradition and drive to work.

“Damnit.” Jack shakes his head and presses the button on his watch. “Ginger, unlock cabin 6.” He orders, worry starting to curl in his gut though your marks are still on his skin.

“Roger.” Ginger’s voice comes through his com loud and clear and the locks on your front door click open obediently to allow him entry.

His search is quick, getting more and more hurried as he rushes through the space until he’s convinced you’re not here. “Shit.” Jack hisses, sweeping his hat off his head in a panic. “Shit!”

“Agent Whiskey. Report.” Ginger had left the com open when she unlocked your house, knowing Jack would never want her to do something like that for anything less than an emergency.

“Where the fuck is she, Ginger?” There’s an undercurrent of panic in his voice and the bracelet firmly in his fist. “‘Cause she ain’t here.”

"Come into the office," she urges him, knowing that tone in his voice after years of working together. "I'll see if I can track her down in the couple of minutes it takes you to get here."

“Find her now, Ginger.” Jack flies out of the cabin and his boots thump on the walkway as he makes for Statesman at a dead sprint.

The door to the lab slams open with a violent rattle five minutes later but Ginger barely moves in her seat. The control panel in front of her gives her domain across the myriad of screens mounted on the wall, most of which are showing traffic cam footage, sidewalk security footage, or even in-building security footage of you over the last two days. A flight itinerary is pulled up in one corner and the far-left monitor shows a string of text messages. "She went to New York City," Ginger tells Jack, her hands flying across her keyboard. "It looks like she went to see her brother after your last fight."

“How did— you know about that?” Jack huffs, slightly deflated as he catches sight of the texts that you had sent your brother and winces at the stark harshness of his words written out. “Shit. Can you track her phone? Where is she now?”

"I tracked her phone to a hotel in Times Square." That fact makes Ginger cringe, but she glances up at Jack cautiously. "She didn't get on her flight last night and she didn't change her ticket, either. When I called the kitchen with the pretense of wanting to invite her to lunch today, her sous-chef said she hadn't heard from her either."

“Fuck.” Jack shakes his head, pointing at her as he starts rushing for the door. “Get Pony Express fueled up and on the tarmac when I get there!” He orders as he dashes out of the room. In his gut he knows something is very wrong.

Jack dashes out of Ginger’s office right before she gets another ping on your information - something more than cell phone records between your family members like she’s seen this morning. This is a missing person’s report, filed by your brother with NYPD just a minute or two ago. “Shit.” Ginger mutters, furiously clicking at her control panel to notify the hangar to have the Pony Express ready so she can call Champ immediately.

Jack has never run so fast in his life. Breathlessly changing into his flight suit and bolting for the fighter jet. He knows something’s wrong. You would never let your kitchen be kept in the dark, no matter how upset you were with him. No, this is dangerous and it’s all his fault.

******

There are some things television is very informative about: interior decorating, cooking, fashion, even nature or manufacturing. But in no way, shape, or form does it prepare the unsuspecting person for what kidnapping might really be like.

The men who approached you after you left your self-indulgent solo dinner had been overbearing and pushy, asking for your number and where you were going, trying to get you to go with them willingly to their next destination - a bar you had never heard of. When you had politely refused so many times that you had to go from polite to insistent, the one standing directly in back of you had pushed the muzzle of a gun into your back while the leader ordered you to do as you were told so you wouldn’t have your spinal cord severed. In terror, you had obeyed.

The duct tape, zip ties, and blindfold were not enough, apparently. You had been gagged and starved, left tied to a chair in a room you could only describe as drafty and damp, and generally ignored excepted to be threatened periodically or violently interrogated whenever one of them got frustrated. You’re fairly certain that you now know what waterboarding actually is, but you’re grateful they haven’t done worse. The thing is — what they want? Is Jack. And there is no way you’re going to give them that. Even as angry as you can be with each other, if you didn’t realize that you loved him before now, this would have proved it. Literally willing to die for his safety, you haven’t said one coherent word to these mongrels since they shoved you into the back of an SUV in Times Square.

“Come on sweetheart…” The slow, condescending roll of the words come from your left where a man of middle-aged years is watching you, leaning back in his chair as your head swivels towards him. “All you gotta do is make a phone call. One thirty second call. You can be as damsel in distress as you’d like.”

With a gag in your mouth, you shake your head once to signal ‘no’ and raise your head again, determined not to cry this time. You have no idea how long you’ve been with these degenerates, but it feels like days - and you’ve definitely cried a lot during that time. So much that you’re starting to finally feel numb.

“Fuckin’ ridiculous,” mutters someone on your other side. The voice sounds younger. Angrier. And familiar. “She’s fuckin’ useless.”

“No, she ain’t.” There is a low, evil chuckle from the other man. “You said she’s his soulmate.” He hums, pleased with himself. “If she doesn’t want to cooperate, we’ll start shippin’ pieces of her back to him.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. You blink back the fear, cut between the fear that that kind of stunt either wouldn’t work at all because Jack hates you so much, or that it would bring him straight into danger on Champ’s orders. Whoever that man is, he can’t know what Statesman really is - or is that exactly why they came for you? If you could fucking place his voice, that would be a huge goddamn help.

“Aw, look.” One of the other men snickers nastily. “Bitch is gonna cry again.”

There’s a round of chuckling, generally enjoying your fear and upset, “I bet it’s gonna eat him alive.” The older man snorts. “Buryin’ a second soulmate. Another one he couldn’t save.” There’s another round of amusement, harsh and cold. All of them in on a secret you don’t know.

“Go get some dinner.” The first man tells another. “I’m hungry. I’ll watch her, see if she’ll give in.”

There is a general sound of chairs scraping and boots on concrete, the sound of heels clicking so similar to the now-familiar sound of cowboy boots on the sidewalk. They keep you from responding with the gag, and the blindfold keeps their faces hidden, but they always want you to hear. It keeps you afraid, and fear is what they’re banking on. That fear will make you cave. What they don’t know is that your fear has more to do with not knowing whether or not Jack will even care that you’re gone.

“Has he fallen for you yet?” The question comes with a hint of irony in his voice. The need for information that would twist the knife deeper. “Or is he runnin’ from it to keep from gettin’ hurt?”

You can’t help that that brings a fresh set of tears. It seems to be the part of your body you have the least control over. Fucking tear ducts. But this guy’s seemingly endless need to talk and talk and make you as miserable as humanly possible has made you pay more attention to his voice over however long you’ve been here. Some of the others have slightly different accents - but this one is a cowboy.

“Mhm, running.” The deeply satisfied tone settles back slightly as he sits back in his chair and watches you, “just so you know it’s not personal.” He tells you conversationally. “I just want to see the poor bastard’s face as he holds another dead soulmate.”

Without this fucking gag in your mouth, you might have said something that would give you away. That would hurt Jack somehow or prove that you actually are useless to them. They don’t know that you’ve fallen for him despite your very best efforts, and they don’t know that he despises you simply for existing. He’s not running from anything – but you’re not Abigail, so you’re an insult to her memory.

“Oh hell, I’ll tell you since you aren’t leavin’ this room.” Alive is left off the end of the sentence, but the threat is clearly there. “I was the one who arranged for good ol’ Jack Daniels to lose his first soulmate. Her and the kid she was carryin’. Cherry on top of you ask me.”

Your eyes open wide against the blindfold, head snapping in the direction of the voice as he chuckles. The evil bastard is so goddamn pleased with himself. You could scream if you had breath, but the best you can do is fight against bindings that will never break.

“Bastard never even knew it, either. Dumb son of a bitch.” He huffs. “Bought the story of it being meth heads, robbing the store. Can you believe that? But it allowed me to attend the funeral. Watch his grief firsthand.”

Why? Is all you can wonder, as your mind races to try to figure out what the hell Jack could have done to warrant such a vast conspiracy before he was ever even a spy. Diana said Jack hadn’t joined Statesman until after his wife and son had died, so why the hell would anyone want to ruin his life when he was just a normal man?

“Jack Daniels is gonna fuckin’ pay,” the chair scrapes back and the sound of boots slowly comes towards you, ominous in how measured the steps are. “Maybe I’ll stage it for him. Write a note sayin’ how you couldn’t take being his soulmate.” He chuckles and his hand caresses the side of your face. “Pretty neck of yours will look good stretched out on a rope for him to find.”

You grunt, jerking your face away from his touch and wishing you could just scream at him. The muffled noises of frustration that do make it past your lips seem only to amuse him and you twist in your chair in a vain desire to lash out.

“Oh don’t be that way…” he tuts and bends down, smirking directly in your face even though you can’t see it. “You’d even be my type if you weren’t tied to that bastard. Maybe we could have some fun before your usefulness is done.”

That’s a line too far, and you instinctively start screaming, not like you’re trying to call for help but like you would call him every horrible name in the book if you could speak. There’s no way you can move but you take a chance, even knowing it’s a long shot. Reeling back as quickly as possible, you hit your head forward and manage to connect – head butting the bastard and making him stumble and fall backward into some nearby furniture, from the sound of it. Bastard.

“Bitch!” he growls, rushing forward and raising his hand. Bringing it down against the side of your face and slapping you hard enough to nearly knock your chair over. “Fuck with me and I start chopping you into pieces now!” He bellows.

Muffled and muted, the "Fuck you!" you scream as loud as you can is just clear enough to understand. You've gone from terrified to pissed, and it feels like a light switch has turned on inside you. These fuckers aren't getting shit from you. Not even another tear.

******

Honestly, Jack doesn’t remember a time when he’s pushed the Pony Express so hard. Finally setting down on the runway, he ignores the curious and awed looks of the grounds crews of the airport and starts looking around. “Where are my wheels, Ginger?”

"Rye is in the black SUV on the edge of the runway." Ginger fires back immediately. Champ had authorized the rescue mission immediately and sent one of the senior agents from the New York office to be at Jack's disposal.

“Goddamnit this is all my fault,” Jack spots the car and starts running, not bothering to change out of his flight suit. “She should be in her kitchen!”

"I've combed the security footage from Times Square." In his ear, Ginger is clicking through countless screens with images of you from all angles - a large number of them featuring a group of seven men and a large SUV that you appear to get into willingly. "She got into a slate gray SUV with a group of seven men on West 51st between 8th and Broadway."

“Who the fuck are they?” Jack demands, ripping the door open and jumping inside the car. He spares Rye a nod as he waits for his answer. “And did you track the SUV?”

“I’m working on the car. It drops off the traffic cameras after the Williamsburg Bridge.” A few clicks can be heard in the background and Ginger hums. “I have records on four of the seven men. Domestic, drug charges, firearms, breaking and entering, the usual gamut of ‘goon’ crimes. But…” she muffles a groaning sound. “Jack. Some of these guys are from your hometown…”

“What?” Jack slams his fist on the dashboard, sick that his suspicions are right. This is all his fault. “Give me their names.”

"Hank Rollins, Ben Jeffrey, Andrew Kelly, and Sean Perring. All from Lloyd, Montana." Ginger bites her lip, sighing at her screen. "On the sidewalk footage she appears to be going with them willingly, but from your reaction I'm guessing that isn't the case."

“Rollins.” Jack growls out, pissed off to hear the name after so long, thinking that he’d escaped the fucking family feud unscathed. “Haven’t heard that name in a long time. Hoped to never hear it again.”

“They’ve had her for nineteen hours now.” Ginger swallows, not liking how high that number is. “And we haven’t had a ransom note or a phone call of any kind.”

“Shit.” Jack shakes his head. “Take me to where she was taken. Now.”

Rye doesn’t hesitate, throwing the car into gear and heading for the road at a full tilt. Getting close to Broadway at any time of day is a task, but if they have to, he can pull any number of public safety tricks to be able to block off part of the area. Being a Statesman agent in New York City means having a few tricks up his sleeve. “What can we be expecting?” He asks Jack, wondering if the other agent might have an idea now that he knows some of what is going on.

“Anything.” Jack’s teeth grind together. “This is personal. A family feud over land disputes dating back to the fuckin’ 1800s.” Jack hisses, shaking his head. “I left the goddamn valley for a reason.”

“They grabbed her over a two-hundred-year-old land dispute?” Nothing should surprise him at this point, with what he’s seen as a Statesman agent, but Rye still huffs. “What the hell do they want you to do? Time travel?” It’s the absence of a ransom demand that makes him nervous. They took an agent’s soulmate and it’s not money they’re after.

“When my daddy died, I put the land in the hands of the ranch board.” Jack tells him. “I didn’t wanna fucking ranch, not after Abigail died. Rollins wants me to sell to him, but I can’t. It has to be passed down to blood.”

"So what's the idea?" Speeding through the streets as fast as possible without causing an accident, Rye keeps his eyes on the road but frowns. "Make sure she's out of the picture so there's no blood to pass it down to?"

“Did I mention that the entire Rollins family is as crazy as a fuckin’ loon?” Jack huffs, shaking his head and even more worried about you now that he knows that bastard is behind your disappearance. “Who the hell knows? Tried to claim I’d stolen his soulmate at one point.”

“Jesus.” The other agent huffs, continuing to weave their way through the thick New York traffic. “It’s up to you how you want to approach this,” he tells Jack honestly. “She’s your soulmate.”

“She doesn’t get hurt.” His answer is immediate, almost growled out. “Not a fuckin’ hair on her head.”

“Copy that.” His tone says everything, and Rye doesn’t ask any more questions. “We’ll get her back.”

Finally, the SUV comes to a screeching stop at the spot where you were forced into a vehicle. Jack throws open the doors and bolts out, eyes scanning the ground for something – anything. It's a long shot, but there's got to be something here that would show that you were here. Some marker. Anything.

Any street in New York City has trash and debris to a certain extent, and there are traces of people having been through the area just because of how much car and foot traffic moves through Broadway every single day. Broken bottles, cigarette butts, tissues, all the normal bits of peoples' lives that go by the wayside are littered about on steps and in sidewalk cracks. Candy wrappers or coffee cups by the curb. Rye combs the area for specialized clues – a name on a cup or a wrapper from a list of the favourite snacks listed in your file, but frustratingly finds nothing.

“Come on, there’s gotta be something here!” Jack huffs, kicking a trash can and there is the tiny clink of something metal being launched against it. “Fuck, what’s this?”

Rye bends over, swiping up the item as it glints in the sun. "Looks like a bracelet." He inspects it carefully, not finding a serial number or any indication of a designer, except for a small engraving in the tip that looks like a maker's mark. "Maybe Ginger can track down the manufacturer? It's a long shot that it will help, but it's something."

“It’s hers.” Jack stares at the inscription on the inside of the bracelet. “Beautiful girl, you can do hard things.” He reads aloud. “She—she showed me this. It’s a quote her grandmother would tell her.” His mouth is dry and he takes it from Rye to put in his pocket, determined to put it back on your wrist himself. “Let’s hope she can hang on. Just hold on, sugar. I’m comin’.”

"Whiskey. Rye." Ginger's voice in their ears makes both men's heads perk up, listening for a report from their eyes and ears. "The car registration belongs to a shell corporation owned by the Rollins family. They also own a shipping company with containers in the Brooklyn Navy Yard." She clears her throat pointedly. "Right off of the Williamsburg Bridge where we lost the car."

“Get us there now.” Jack points at Rye and starts running back to the Statesman SUV like his heels are being nipped by the hounds of hell. “Ginger, I need you to get me the specs of that building.”

"Sending them now." Her voice is accompanied by the sound of keyboard clacking as Rye and Whiskey jump back into the car, peeling back out onto Broadway to head toward Williamsburg. The heavy traffic doesn't part for them easily but Rye was chosen for this assignment specifically for his abilities as a driver.

“Ginger, is there any indication on how they know that I have another soulmate?” Jack demands, tensing the closer that he gets with every mile to the shipyard. He knows he will kill them; he’ll kill every last one of them to protect you. “They don’t seem to know I’m a fuckin’ spy.”

"I'm working on it." It isn't something that has been advertised, obviously, and Jack has kept his marks from you hidden since they first appeared on his skin. There are few people who know, most of whom have priority clearance. She's gone through all the background checks on the new Statesman employees and the places you frequent, all the men you've dated, even all the way back through the staff at The Whitney months ago who might have seen your marks on your first soulmate before the accident. Not a single red flag had risen, but Ginger hesitates for just a split second as she tries to think through more connections. There was one - just one – the newest line cook for The Rabbit Hole that makes her hesitate. "Have you ever heard her mention a man named Tripp Tanner?" Ginger asks, pulling up the file on the man once more. It's too pristine. Too squeaky clean. Too pitch-perfect. Like it's been manufactured.

Jack is ashamed to say that you’ve not been doin’ a whole lot of talkin’ around him. It’s not like he’s really encouraged close conversations. Keeping things as surface level as he could to not make it more difficult. Even though every day he aches and he hates that he aches. “No.” Though he recognizes the name, he can’t place it. “She hasn’t mentioned him. Why? Is he one of the ones she’s been…uh, seein’?” His ears burn slightly, noticing the way Rye’s eyes cut from the road to look over at him but he tries to ignore it.

"No, he—" Ginger hates that it makes her stammer, feeling like your dating is partially her fault because it started with her brother. "He's on her staff. The background check is clean and his resume is spotless. But it's too clean, so it's the best lead I have. I'm running him through Statesman facial recognition now." The Statesman database is far more complex and complete than any government or criminal database. If her gut feeling is right, it might kick up a result.

“Send me a picture of the boy.” Jack grunts, having already looked at the blueprints of the building where you might be. It’s better than you being in a random shipping container. They might never find you if that’s the case.

"His employee ID photo is coming through now." More taps come from Ginger's end of the conversation before a muffled shriek of dismay. "Shit. Jack— Tanner is from Lloyd, too. He changed his name from Rollins two years ago. Stephen Stuart Rollins the third - nickname Tripp - has a rap sheet a mile long."

“Son of a bitch.” Jack hisses, his grip on the dashboard nearly about to put an indentation in it. “This is my fault. If I hadn’t been avoidin’ her, I woulda recognized the bastard.”

"We'll fix it on this end, Jack." She promises him. "Just go bring her home."

“She hates me.” Jack murmurs quietly. “I was— I wasn’t very nice to her.”

“I’m pretty sure she’ll forgive you after you save her life.” Ginger sighs, watching the dot on her on-screen map that represents her two agents speed toward the warehouse where she’s figured out you’re being held. “Stop these assholes first, apologize second. She— she thinks you hate her. That’s what she told Gabriella, anyway.”

“I don’t hate her.” Jack grumbles, feeling guilty as hell because he knows that’s what it looked like.

“I would suggest telling her that.” Even though Ginger’s voice goes soft, she’s following their movements and watching the Navy Yard security cameras. “There’s movement at the building. I don’t see her, but I’m counting…six men outside the building.”

“Good.” Jack’s voice is grim and his brows are knitted together. “Every single one of them is going in the ground, Ging. This feud ends today.”

******

There is a group of men milling about around a large brick building with the number 31 painted above the bay doors. Cars parked haphazardly nearby with doors flung open present as frustratingly casual, but the large, dark gray van from the sidewalk cam footage is nowhere in sight.

“So what are we doin’ here, Whiskey?” Rye demands, slowing the vehicle down so it doesn’t look like they are barreling into the place. “Are we run in guns blazing or using some stealth?”

Every instinct inside him is screaming to run in guns blazing, but he can’t risk another man inside hurting you. “Shit.” He hisses. “Turn down the service road and park the fucking car.” He grunts. “We’re sneakin’ up on the bastards.”

The service road runs behind the old abattoir buildings and Rye tucks the car out of sight so he and Whiskey can arm themselves out of the trunk before coming up on the group of abductors. “Three doors on the blueprint.” Rye murmurs, tucking a Bowie knife into the sheath on his belt. “Those buildings are big, we gotta be methodical.”

Jack finally shucks the flight suit, changing into his standard jeans and a button up with a sports coat. His double six shooters tucked into their holsters and his electric whip and lasso tucked into his belt. “They are going to keep her somewhere small, like an office. Probably have her tied to a chair, the bastards.”

“I’m followin’ your lead.” Tucking a few throwing knives into the hidden pockets of his jacket for good measure, Rye nods for Jack to step out first. This is his operation and Rye will do what he needs to keep him covered.

He moves silently, deciding that he will pull his weapons later to get as close as possible without seeming suspicious. Crouching low enough that his knees protest, Jack skirts the edge of the loading docks and edges towards the northeast door. The one farthest away from the group out front.

There is no guard at the northeast door. The bastards obviously are either overconfident or underprepared, and Rye picks the padlock in record time to let Jack get inside with minimal noise. No alarm sounds, no person is alerted. It looks to be a storage room, and the two men pass through it easily to find a claustrophobic hallway waiting for them beyond the interior door.

There’s a muffled sound, Jack tensing and hisses under his breath when he recognizes the sound of screaming through a gag. “Fuck.” He murmurs, imagining all sorts of horrible things. “That way.”

The room where the noises are coming from is non-descript now, empty except for some card tables and chairs, and the remains of a meal spread out with some discarded firearms and a bag of who-knows-what open on the ground. Two large men are hunched in the center of the room. Deep, rumbling laughter rolls from them and cigarette smoke is pungent in the air as the muffled shrieks get slightly more panicked. Still blindfolded and gagged, the front legs of the chair that you've been zip-tied to almost constantly your arrival in this place have been broken, leaving you kneeling on the cement floor between the two of them. One who has decided to turn your shoulder into his ashtray, and the other who is deciding which fingernail to pull off with the pliers in his hand. Presumably to send to Jack.

“Shit, shit.” Jack hisses under his breath, the urge to rush in there nearly overwhelming but he doesn’t want to give them a chance to anticipate. Stealth is needed and he slowly starts to pull his pistols out but decides against it. He wants this to be more personal, so he reaches for the whip and lasso.

“I know, I know.” Rollins drawls, holding onto your left hand to inspect your fingernails. “Jack likes his girls done up, so not being able to have all your nails painted is gonna disappoint him.” He tuts, finally deciding that your pointer finger mail is long enough to get a good grip on with the pliers. You’re screaming and crying again after a few hours of putting on a brave face and he’s enjoying it. “If ya like I could just cut off the whole finger? That might be more fun for everybody.”

“More fun if you get the fuck away from her and face me like a man, Rollins.” Jack bursts through the door and squares up, his eyes not even looking at you as he focuses on the man responsible. “Always knew you were a chickenshit, but this is low even for you.”

Jack? You would know his voice anywhere, even as often as you’re at odds you’ve still memorized the tone and tenor. He came. He actually came. As fast as your heart was beating before, the pace doubles now and the tears soaking your blindfold are relief. He came for you. It might not say ‘love’, but it doesn’t say ‘hate’.

The deep, rolling, evil laugh that bubbles out of the man beside you is so pleased that it makes you physically ill just to hear. Rollins, as Jack calls him, drops your hand but stomps on the back leg of the chair you’re tied to for good measure - breaking it and sending you crashing to the ground with another scream. There is no way you can see what’s going to happen with the blindfold, but at least the two men have lost interest in torturing you for the moment.

“Daniels.” The game is up and if Rollins is surprised that Jack has found out that it’s him, he doesn’t show it. Too deep into his madness and he sneers at the man in front of him. “You came with a whip?” He chuckles and shakes his head. “Always knew you were a fucking idiot.”

The man who had been standing in the other side of you drops his cigarette beside you - probably hoping to burn your clothes in the process - and squares his shoulders like he’s planning to make a run at Jack but isn’t sure he’ll win.

“I’m begging you too.” Jack growls out, wanting nothing more than to have them strike first. Give him a reason to cut them into pieces with his tech. Rye moves past the door behind him, intent on taking out the others while he saves you. “Do it.”

“Begging.” Rollins laughs again, taking a step forward. “Tripp, don’t fuckin’ move. Keep a gun on the bitch until I say otherwise.” The sound of the safety of a gun clicking is now intimately familiar to you and you squirm on the ground, trying to push your chair away from it even a little, but a pressure on your ribcage stops you. It’s unmistakably a foot. And you’ve only heard the name Tripp once in your entire life - meaning the jackass you hired to your kitchen to bolster numbers now has his goddamn boot in your side. You knew you recognized that fucking voice.

“It’ll be the last fucking thing you do, Tripp.” Jack hisses, keeping his eyes on the older, more unhinged brother. “Finally gone off the deep end, huh? What’s this all about?” He doesn’t know why the Rollins boys are after you to get to him. Doesn’t understand it. He’s not run the ranch since he was in high school.

"You're a hard man to get through to, Daniels." Hank tells him, smug smirk still painted across his crooked face. "Last time I had to talk real loud to make you listen. Figured I'd have to do it again."

His head tilts, eyes narrowing slightly as he tries to figure out what he means by that. “Well, I’m here now. Whadya gotta say?”

"Y'all got something I want." And even after fifteen years, he hasn't figured out a way other than this to get it. Something that isn't criminal. "Now, the last time I made myself heard, you went off and skipped town with your tail between your legs like a spurned schoolgirl on prom night." Hank Rollins takes out his own gun, the pistol pointed directly at your head when he stretches out his arm. "But I'm sick and tired of a whole world that thinks the sun shines outta Jack Daniels' ass crack."

Jack’s entire world narrows and focuses on his words, taking them and twisting them in his mind. “The last time…” He growls. “My wife died in a fuckin’ robbery.” He hisses, fingers twitching on the whip and hovering over the button that would turn it deadly.

The way Hank Rollins laughs - the wicked, pleased, loathsome way he chortles at Jack's pain - almost makes you physically sick. "I love that you bought that," he gloats, taking another step toward the senior Statesman agent, ignoring his backup altogether if he's even taken a long enough look to see Rye in the room. "Hook. Line. And sinker. Goddamn beautiful."

“What did you do, you bastard?” His knuckles are practically white and he curls his lips back in disgust. “A pregnant woman? Why? What evil did I do to you?”

"You took what was mine." His free hand moves to his sleeve even as Jack watches him more carefully than a hawk. When Rollins rolls up his shirt sleeve, there is a scar there that is burned into Jack's memory as clear as day - Abigail was bitten by the neighbor's dog as a little girl and wore the scar for her entire life. "You brainwashed her against me. And you paraded my soulmate around town like your fucking prize, Daniels. That boy should've been mine, too."

“I wore her marks.” Jack hisses. “Every goddamn one of them and you know it! They would be gone if she was your soulmate.” He always thought Hank was insane, and this just proves it. The marks would have disappeared. They wouldn’t be there, just like they disappeared from Jack when she died. “But you mean to tell me that you murdered her because I had her and you wanted her?”

"I saved her!" Rollins snaps back, waving his gun in your direction as the rage builds in him. "The wife of some city-slicker pretty boy without the sense to keep a single fuckin' eye on the most important woman in the world. She would have been miserable bearing your heathen children and picking up the pieces of everything you ever broke."

Jack scoffs, knowing it won’t make any use to point out that he grew up in the same small damn valley Hank did. That they both worked and lived on ranches. The Daniels spread was more lucrative thanks to his Grandaddy being a smart man and the Rollins have always been a little unhinged. Hank and his younger brother being the worst of them all. “Point the gun at me, not her.” As devastating as it is to hear him talk about Abigail that way, you are the one in danger right now. His heart bursting with the need to see you safe.

"Now, c'mon." Rollins drawls, throwing his brother a smirk from a few feet away. "Don't start pretendin' you like her now. She already knows why you can't look her in the eye. Lyin' piece of shit."

Jack wishes he could see your eyes, but they are covered. All he can hear is the panicked breathing and sobs from your poor body. “Your issue is with me. She ain’t got nothin’ to do with it.”

"Cryin' over a man who can't ever love her." Tutting as he shakes his head, Rollins moves his gun temporarily from pointing at your head to Jack, but goes back again. He's having too much fun watching the man he despises twist. "You been treatin' this one even worse than my Abigail."

It’s in his chest to scream out that Abigail was his, but she’s dead and you’re here, alive and depending on him. His heart clenches and he rocks his jaw. “If you know how I’ve been treatin’ her, why take her? Why not let her go? I’m here now. You’ve got my attention.”

“You want me to let her go?” Hank Rollins scoffs to his brother and seems to weigh his options. As far as he’s concerned there’s no reason this can’t be as much fun as he likes. “I could see my way to lettin’ that happen,” he concedes with another contemptuous chuckle. “You got two options, Daniels. One is I shoot her in the head right now and you walk free knowin’ you’re the reason two innocent women are dead. But two? Two is you take her place. Right here and now. I’ll let her walk right out on outta here. Yer friend there can even get her home safe. Either way, yer signing over that ranch land and the whole business operatin’ on it over to me first.”

“Done.” The word is out of his mouth so fast he’s not even sure if he actually said them out loud. Maybe he just thought it. But then Rollins’ face cracks into a wide grin and he looks like he’s struck gold. “Let her go, and I’ll take her place.”

It may not be discernable words, but the hoarse screams coming from you now are crystal clear - pleading with him not to take your place. As much as this is the very last circumstance you would ever want to be in, as much as you cannot fathom how this absolute basket case Rollins thinks his 'plan' could ever succeed, Jack is worth far more to the world at large – and to you. So if either one of you is walking out of here, it should be him. Thrashing as much as your binding will allow, trying to toss off the foot of the man standing on you or else wiggle away from the pressure, probably a move that will end in broken bones, but you couldn't care less. Just as long as Jack stays far away from this chair.

“Let her go.” That’s all that matters to Jack right now. Getting you far away, keeping you safe. “Now.” Hank huffs and rolls his eyes, pointing the weapon at your head once more for the sheer pleasure of watching Jack’s face drain of all life. “Fine.” He grumbles, motioning to Tripp. “Get her up and hand her over to whatever city boy he has with him.” He doesn’t get to watch you die, which is disappointing, but he gets Jack Daniels and the land his family stole. It might even be better this way.

Tripp grumbles, on the verge of protesting, but he does as he's told...mostly. All he really does is kick you - still attached to the chair - over to the man a few feet away. Rye immediately drops to his knees, murmuring to you quietly who he is and that he's going to untie you, Bowie knife out of its sheath and slicing away at the ties and tape that bind you to the chair that has been your prison for the last God only knows how many hours. As soon as your ankles are free you kick your legs, trusting that this other Statesman agent is here to help but wanting desperately to get to Jack to stop him from giving your literal kidnapper what he wants. As soon as your wrists are free you shove the blindfold off your eyes and drag the gag out of your mouth, shrinking away from the light in the same breath that you scream for Jack not to give in with everything you have left in you. Which, after countless hours screaming, crying, and very nearly choking on a ball of knotted cloth, is hoarse at best.

Finally looking over at you, Jack is furious by how swollen your eyes are, how raw your voice is. He doesn’t say anything about it though. Knowing it would give Hank a thrill to know how much he pissed Jack off. “Get out of here, sugar.” There’s a lot that Jack wants to say, but there’s no time. He needs you away from this room. “You’ve got a restaurant to open, remember? Go with Rye.”

Like the nail in the top of the coffin, you reel back at being ordered away. Not a moment of gentleness or sensitivity after being fucking kidnapped by the man who is still as obsessed with his wife as Jack is. After being convinced he wouldn't come for you only to feel such soaring hope at hearing his voice, the desolation of realizing that he only came because you're a complication and that he never felt any kind of tenderness or care for you at all. It's almost reassuring, in a way. To know that you at least had the right level of expectation in the beginning is something, at least.

It isn't hard to bundle you up into his arms when you deflate, but Rye doesn't say anything about it. Only tucks you against him and helps you shuffle toward the door on weak legs. "Come on, darlin'," he murmurs, glancing back at Jack. "We'll get you fixed up right. Let Jack handle it from here."

"Sure." Even one word makes you cough, but you don't put up a fight or try to get back to him. To your fucking soulmate. After all - you have a restaurant to open. God forbid you get behind on your commitment to Statesman for any reason.

He wants to call you back, to talk to you. His heart aching with every step you take away from him, but it’s safer. He sees the glint in Hank’s eyes, he knows he’s looking for another reason to strike out. Possibly waiting until Jack talks to you to shoot you. He can’t risk that. He can’t risk you. No matter what, his soulmate – you – needs to survive.

After about four steps, Rye stops your shuffling and scoops you up, not wanting you to walk on any injuries or aggravate anything. He nods to Jack and carries you out the back door, planning on bundling you into the backseat of the SUV and then taking out the stragglers out in front of the abattoir. But you need to be safe, first.

It feels like you’ve cried every tear in your body, and this bitter disappointment is met with stony silence and efficiency of movement. It doesn’t take long to get you out of there but Rye does it carefully, promising you in low tones that everything is going to be okay from here. That you’re safe. That Jack’s going to take care of you. The last part just makes you feel hollow as you nod.

“Now you stay right here,” Rye croons, buckling you into the backseat and tapping a few times on his watch. “Ginger, I need your eyes in the car. Our girl is safe but I gotta take care of somethin’ before we clear out of here.”

“Copy.” Ginger acknowledges the request and as soon as Rye closes the doors, the entire vehicle locks and a red light above the rear-view mirror flashes on. The built-in screens in the headrests come on and you can barely see Ginger’s concerned face. “Honey, I need you to listen to me.” She urges. “It’s Astrid. The Statesman cars come equip with medical facilities for injuries. I’m going to scan you now.”

Talking hurts, with how hoarse you are, but you nod at Astrid’s face on screen and only shrink away from the bright lights - What are those? Lasers? - for a second before you remember she has never done anything to hurt you. “Everything hurts.” It’s just a whisper, but it’s there.

“I know, I’m going to make sure that you feel better, okay?” Sorrow and rage fill the Statesman tech as the images comes back to her. Multiple contusions, burns - obviously from cigarettes - two broken ribs and a fractured ankle. All of them evidence of the horrific torture you endured at the hands of those madmen. “I can have a shot administered.” She tells you through the screen, trying not to show her emotions. “Just a tiny prick and then you will feel so much better. Can I do that?” It’s important right now for you to feel like you have control. That nothing is being done to you anymore and she wants you to be comfortable.

“Sure.” You murmur, hoping it’s something like morphine or stronger so you don’t have to think or feel anything. “A-Astrid?” Right before whatever happens happens, you look up to find her eyes watching you on screen. “How…how long have I been gone? Does my family know?”

Pausing for a moment, Ginger nods. “Your brother filed a police report, this morning. After Jack went to your house when you didn’t leave for work this morning—”

“Jack came to my house?” You practically whisper it, but Ginger hears you loud and clear. “He did. You’d been missing for seventeen hours when Jack jumped into the jet to come to New York.” She confirms softly.

“Will you just…let them know I’m okay?” Whatever lie Statesman tells people, you’ll go with it. It’s just that right now you can’t wrap your head around the idea of Jack giving two shits about you enough to check on you at home - let alone rescue you. It’s too much.

“As soon as I get you feeling better, I will have the local police contact them to tell them that you are safe.” She promises, knowing that you wouldn’t want them to worry. “We’re going to bring you back to Statesman to put you in our hyperbaric healing station. Six hours in it and you will be completely healed.”

“Okay.” As long as they tell your family you’re okay, you could care less what else happens. Everything hurts, there are no more tears to cry, and it’s possible that you feel even more hopeless about Jack ever sparing you a second glance ever again. Soulmates. Fucking laughable. Whoever Abigail was, she was clearly more important and more wonderful to multiple people than you’ll ever be. “Astrid?” When you look up again she’s still watching you intentely. “Can…can you get rid of my tattoo while I’m in there?”

“Are you sure you want that?” She asks quietly, her eyes searching your face through the screen to try to get an inkling of what you are thinking. “You don’t have to make any big decisions now.”

“The scars, too. You said you could erase scars.” Let him be free. Is all you can think. Obviously nobody was exaggerating about the danger you were in, but it’s more than that. It’s how, when Jack barely spared you a single glance, it hurt more than anything the Rollins brothers ever could have dreamt up.

The silence lingers in the air, suspended between the two of you for a long moment. Ginger sighs softly. “Of course.” She murmurs, hating how broken you appear. “We will get rid of them all.”

Gunshots, unmistakable now that you’ve heard them up close and personal, ring out from multiple directions and you sink down in the back of the car you know for a fact is bulletproof - all Statesman vehicles are - out of instinct. “And Astrid?” You watch the automated needle release from the door handle of the SUV and make sure your arm is in line for the injection. “Remind me to fire Tripp.”

“I don’t think you need to worry about that.” Ginger promises you softly. On another screen in her lab, she can see the feeds from both Rye and Jack, and the justice that is being delivered is swift and brutal. They messed with a Statesman’s soulmate, and Jack grunts in pleasure as he retracts the whip on the left screen, pieces of Hank and Tripp Rollins scattered around the room.

A clean up team will be deployed from the New York Statesman building to scrub the site. Body removal is a necessary evil of the job and Statesman has some of the best. By the time footsteps can be heard running back toward you in the car, Ginger’s injection is starting to take hold and you’re finally feeling drowsy. Adrenaline and fear have had you on high alert since you were taken, but having Astrid’s face and voice to reassure you is soothing.

Shouting your name, Jack rushes towards the SUV. The only thing in his mind has been to get to you. To make sure you are okay. He knows Rye will be alright and he needs to see you. He manages to get to the rear door before Ginger deactivates the locks and security, yanking on the handle. “Let me in! Let me in!” He yells frantically.

“She’s out, Jack.” Ginger’s voice in his earpiece comes with a sigh as she deactivates the locks and lets him into the car. “She’s hurt pretty badly so I gave her a sedative. When you get back to Statesman, get her in a medical chopper and bring her to my lab asap.”

“Oh my god.” Jack rips open the door and climbs into the back seat, finding you slumped against the other door. “What— what did they do to her?” He demands, panicked because he’s never seen you like this. Angry at himself that he let this happen. Gathering you against him, he runs his hands over your body as he pulls you into his lap.

“Nothing I can’t fix,” she promises him, not wanting to give him the full rundown of your injuries when he’s still visibly upset enough to lash out. “She’ll be okay, Jack. But I don’t want her to go into shock or accidentally aggravate an injury, and she said she was in pain. That’s why I needed to medicate her.”

“Tell me what they did to her, Ginger Ale.” Jack demands again, turning towards the screen even as he is cradling you and stroking your face.

Ginger sighs, softly again, and looks down at her diagnostic pad. Avoiding Jack’s eyes while she reads this off will probably be better. “Two broken ribs, fractured ankle, superficial burns clearly from cigarettes. Bruising, contusions, and internal injuries consistent with being beaten, waterboarded, and kicked multiple times.”

“Motherfuckers.” Jack hisses, tightening his grip on you to where you whimper in your unconscious state. Immediately relaxing his hold on you and petting your face to soothe both of you. “I should have made it take more time. I should have beat him to death with my fists.” He growls. “I’m gonna burn their fucking legacy to the ground and piss on the ashes.”

“Jack.” This time Ginger’s tone is a warning. It’s not frequently that she hears this kind of rage from him – usually only in relation to his late wife. “She’ll be okay,” she repeats. “But she’s going to need support. Mentally. Emotionally.”

“It’s my fault, Ginger!” He hisses, his own emotions beyond rage finally surfacing from the compact box he had shoved them in to be the agent he needed to be in order for both of you to get out of that building alive. “She would have been at home— it’s my fault. She asked…she asked me about my birthday and I lashed out at her.” He chokes back a sob and looks down at your face. “I didn’t protect her.”

“Then you’ll apologize. And you’ll make sure it never happens again.” Jack isn’t a man who breaks down unless the stress is truly unbearable, and as his friend Ginger has seen only a bare handful of these moments. “She wants me to remove her marks when she gets here,” she tells him carefully. “Just so you know.”

Jack closes his eyes, absorbing the meaning behind it. “She wants to be rid of me.” He whispers, knowing it’s his fault when he had pushed you away and kept you at arm’s length. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry sugar. I should have been keepin’ you close. Keepin’ you safe.”

“You can talk to her when she’s awake,” Ginger murmurs, watching Rye finish with the last of the goons on the video feed from his glasses. “I’m deploying Delta Team to sweep up. You and Rye get back to the New York building and you get her in a chopper first thing. If she wakes up before you get back, you can talk then. If not?” Ginger watches Rye running back to the SUV, so much more composed than Jack for having no personal stake in this mission. “If not, then it might be tomorrow morning. After she’s done at the lab.”

He’s not happy, but he nods. Holding you and refusing to let you out of his arms as Rye comes climbing back into the SUV. “Where’s the chopper, Ginger?” Jack demands, knowing he needs to get you home and mended.

“There’s a helipad on the other side of the Navy Yard. Five minutes from where you are. I can have them meet you there.”

“Copy that, Ginger.” Rye takes the suggestion as absolute, seeing the condition you’re in, and the car comes roaring to life a second later.

“Goddamnit, sugar.” Jack huffs, his hand smoothing over your hair as he tries to look past the damage inflicted on you to see the woman who had intrigued him from the start. “You gotta hang on. You gotta get better.” He murmurs. “I gotta lotta grovelin’ to do when you’re up for it.”

______ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73

DtRH: @haileymorelikestupid @spishsstuff @missmarmaladeth @axshadows @a-gay-cryptid @sgt-morgan @1a-ma1a-su3rt3 @flowers4copper @ghost-timelord @the0racl30fd3lphidos @all-the-way-down-here @bobafvcker @ficsbynight @dinoflower @supernaturalgirl20 @xdaddysprincessxx @bobawh0re @amiee-mitch18 @darkhairedmenrule @heyyimlaynna @strawberry-f4iry @3zm33atzbuss33 @whataghost @cyber666slut @nobody-000 @eddiemunsonsgirlfriendirl @lucciolaraven @powergirlsupremacy @secondsistershelby @dreadmars @androgynoushellscape @soytomatecherry @cheesecake-massacre @mylifeisbasedonashow @idiotickiddo @tomfeltonisbae @maratheidiot22 @im-nada @everybirdfellsilent @deepdarkdelights @brokenwhitegirl384 @ur-honey-child @caseket @copperrose15 @we-could-have-been @valkyries-ride @scarletmunson @strawberriricemilk @ghost-timelord @galactigoos @floridawaters @cutiepie6473 @pinball-vance @theslytherinwriter @scorpioswonder @stankyleg05 @fxdsketches @sad-innit @coffeyorky @1a-ma1a-su3rt3 @starlordsonlywife @aura626 @mistresskei @marv3lwhor3 @sadimusprimee @yourwonderbelle @sgt-morgan @spot116 @milybaby018 @loserk1nks @artfulthoughtswp @aavw @babyrunsforfanfic @faceache111 @midnight-huntress @asimpleraccoonqueen @marki-moo0 @pages89 @rawr-bitches @rebel-fanfare @soooosha @luna-is-out-there @im-sylien @timpletance @certifiedhunter @ellenmunn @littlethief78 @tinalbion @eddy-y @tikibabi @whyidkok @bearcoon1666 @littlebirdsbookshelf @a-gay-cryptid @disaster-ahaha @viridiesa @axshadows @purplerain04 @karmarouge @holycyclehomo @sainteredhood @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @the-wishmonger @theliferuiner @raptorclaw24 @asp1r1ngm1lf @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @st4rl1ght444 @litholithium @tusk89 @youjustneedatherapist @nekodemon73 @iceclaw101 @lightningsface @shakespeareanwannabe @jasminemunson @spideysimpossiblegirl @wannabedaphne @sammus-white @jazzieomega @88dragon06 @ishabull @raquel-rial @tuquoquebrute @hotleaf-juice @dantaku @youokhoney @thisiswhyibleedsstuff @maximumkryptonitegladiator @jediknight122 @gadsgikklesen @movievillainess721 @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @the-strawberrythief @spishsstuff @choppedmugjudgeplaid @haileymorelikestupid @gooddaykate @missredherring @abyssal-zone-stares-back @supernaturalgirl @winterandstars @severewobblerlightdragon @missmarmaladeth @noisynaia @saintbedelia @algressman16 @eaks0710 @mina2000alex @emdraws02 @universallyclodlawyerpainter @rayrayvan @akaleelanie @mishasminion360 @amneris21 @roxypeanut @lunarcatbun 118 @frasmotic @emdraws02 @universallyclodlawyerpainter @rayrayvan @lovelychaos420 @1432690 @no1pornstachefan @thegrimreaperbitch @esmeensheep @izz-ayes-world @kittycatcait219 @loveyou3000tonystark @tintinn16 @igenerallytrynottogiveagoshdarn @motheroftorches @phoenixhalliwell @the-dazzling-urbanite @coffeyorky @trickstersp8 @victorian-cherub @julissadunn @clarysthing @the-girl-that-loves-many-fandoms @mastersurf @theghostofutopia @ncsls0515 @seraphinaivy @hiyorinatsuki @ghostofaboy @yn-hamato @elfwriter1088 @sunnygrey99 @lexinicolenix @lazyemisfandomtrash @curiouskeyboard @qualityearthquakes @spider-284748 @unnecesarysstuff @sgt-morgan @love-affair-with-fandoms @lunarcatbun @kstar770 @kykymarty @supergingerlocks @hell0kittybimb0222 @a-birds-fin @loidforgerishotashell @mythical-writer @ghostshalo @avengersimaginesfan @sccialcasualty @lordecult @petalo-dropsart @i-quite-like-eating-carrots @svudetective @hasta-la-pasta-bb @manicpixiedreamgirly @destinydog @skeppycarnation @anaisweird @critters-beware @fruityforcocoapuffs @linnnniie @spideyromantic @paupeach2024 @faithxyu @fxramir @legomyeggo @jjggdfvvy @hi-my-name-is-riley @kasaikawa @lost-ghost-thats-sleepy @callmegkiddo @2dead2function @generallysleepdeprived @failingclassesinmygucciglasses @thebeesknees42 @moonmoon007 @wi0na @cilliansangel @lostinsideourminds @angstismydrug @elvenmother @bilibiche @kettlekatie @preschoolispunk @djarinsstuff @generallysleepdeprived @love-affair-with-fandoms @jay-ghostly @wowieitbeme @fanofverymanythings @josephquinnswhore @this-harl0t-shant-be-unalive @djarinsstuff @justherebecausesafarisucks @cedricbitch @rebel-soldat

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Jack Daniels #Jack Daniels x reader #Jack Daniels x you #Jack Daniels x female reader #Jack Whiskey Danels #Agent Whiskey #Agent Whiskey x reader #Kingsman Golden Circle #soulmate au #canon typical violence #graphic depictions of violence

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choco-pudding · 4 months

Text

Space Channel 5 Part 2: Sugoku Sugoi Guide Book p. 190-199 (Translation by @lavoszero and myself. Edits and typesetting by myself)

Second part of the character profiles.

Imgur link to all of the Sugoku Sugoi Guide Book translations we’ve done thus far.

Plain text below

p. 190

022: Heart Woman Recording Location: Report 1: Space Symphony · Lounge A Profile: She’s a master of disguise, capable of fitting into any setting, through her training at the private investigation company “Superior Secret Agents." She’s ridiculously proficient at information gathering, even government agencies request her by name for investigations behind the scenes. Always calm and composed. Note, Item: One of two people involved in receiving the Ear of Corn item.

023: Nice Middle Recording Location: Report 1: Space Symphony · Lounge B Profile: Space Art Dealer. He cares not of a piece’s authenticity so long as it’s beautiful. He’s formerly the curator of a famous museum, but he recently went independent. Rather than setting up a specific gallery, he’s constantly traveling the galaxy with just a single bag. It works far better in theory than in practice. Note, Secret Input: Information for a secret input in Report 1 (see 111).

024: Neo Space Astronaut 1 Recording Location: Report 1: Space Symphony · Lounge B Profile: Inside the airtight spacesuit is a tall, kind father who lives with his wife and three children. He works at the post office in the Central Sector. Adores ninjitsu; on his days off, he indulges in reading books related to it, and sometimes he even practices it with his family. He’s living the dream. Note, Item: One of four people involved in receiving the Lantern item.

Sweet! 187

Left

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025: Neo Space Astronaut 2 Recording Location: Report 1: Space Symphony · Lounge B Profile: Wife of Neo-Japan Astronaut 1. Knowledgeable about Space Naginata blades, Space Rakugo comedy, and Traditional Space Dancing. She always moves with a steady form, making it difficult for others to find any openings. She’s also an established sculptor. Note, Item: One of four people involved in receiving the Lantern item.

026: Neo Space Astronaut 3 Recording Location: Report 1: Space Symphony · Lounge B Profile: Child of Neo Space Astronaut 1 and 2. He's the eldest of the three siblings. Has a striking resemblance to his mother. He's strong, which is hard to imagine considering his kind nature, demeanor, and body type. Joins in Judo Club and invented the "Full-Moon Galactic Throw." Note, Item: One of four people involved in receiving the Lantern item.

027: Neo Space Astronaut 4 Recording Location: Report 1: Space Symphony · Lounge B Profile: Child of Neo Japan Space Astronaut 1 and 2. The middle child of the three siblings. Really a stay at home kind of guy. He's kind of a loner, with a devotion to surprising anyone who passes him by as a daily goal. For some reason, he's currently obsessed about making karakuri puppets. Note, Item: One of four people involved in receiving the Lantern item.

Sweet! 186

Right

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028: Neo Space Astronaut 5 Recording Location: Report 1: Space Symphony · Lounge B Profile: Child of Neo Space Astronaut 1 and 2. Youngest of the three brothers and the calmest one in the family. Sometimes, everyone's strange behavior is to difficult for him to understand. Likes collecting lanterns. Notes, Item Received: After clearing Report 1, if you check his profile, then profiles 027, 026, 025, and 024—in that order—then speak to Neo Space Astronaut 5 again, he will give you the Lantern item.

029: Big Momma Recording Location: Report 1: Space Symphony · Lounge B Profile: A famous culinary heavyweight known across the galaxy. Best consultant in the biz; offers her advice on a variety of topics ranging like raw ingredient procurement, menu development, restaurant designs, to even management policies. She's always on the lookout for that undiscovered dish. And when she has the time, she's hunting down undiscovered places. Note: Only appears during the Space Symphony · Lounge B segment in World 2, Report 1 if no mistakes are made.

030: Afro Dude Recording Location: Report 1: Space Symphony · Lounge B Profile: A chair designer. He's a man that uses new plastic materials to create series of colorful and playful works of art. His most famous work is the "Leaf Fall Sofa." He's also responsible for the mass-produced product. About 250,000 sets have been distributed throughout the galaxy. Note: Only appears during the Space Symphony · Lounge B segment in World 2, Report 1 if no mistakes are made.

Sweet! 187

Toyota

p. 193

031: Chef (green) Recording Location: Report 1: Space Symphony · Lounge A Profile: He's the winner of the 255th Space Cooking Battle, in which 684,200 contestants participated in. He specializes in dishes using space konnyaku. Now, he's putting his ever-changing cooking skills to the test in order to satisfy his customers. He's a fanatic of high-tech cooking utensils. Note, Item Received: Appears in World 2, Report 1. Gives you the King of Frypans item if you check his profile after rescuing him.

032: Cook (aqua) Recording Location: Report 1: Space Symphony · Lounge B Profile: A cook who uses the "Legendary Egg Beater," a whisk made from an unknown mineral excavated from ancient ruins. His whipping skills with the whisk is nothing short of amazing! The whole process is mesmerizing, even though it's impossible to see with the naked eye. He has a remarkable fascination with vanilla beans. Note, Item Received: Only appears during the Space Symphony · Lounge B segment in World 2, Report 1 if no mistakes are made. Gives you the Legendary Egg Beater item if you check his profile after rescuing him.

033: Chef (yellow) Recording Location: Report 1: Space Symphony · Lounge B Profile: He's a strong man who's capable of using the "Super Ladle," which has a sturdiness of 8.3 billion dice, and is said to be one of only three in the galaxy. He's searching for a pot with the same sturdiness of the ladle, dreaming of the moment he'll become a cooking king. He's well studied and knows how to use over 640,000 kinds of spices, so his cooking is always exciting. Note, Item Received: Only appears during the Space Symphony · Lounge B segment in World 2, Report 1 if no mistakes are made. Gives you the Super Ladle item if you check his profile after rescuing him.

Sweet! 188

Honda

p. 194

034: Bartender Girl Recording Location: Report 1: Space Symphony · Lounge A Profile: A professional bartender who works in the lounge of the Space Symphony ship. Always chooses the right drink to fit the customer’s tastes and lend those in woe an ear—mostly to satiate her own curiosity. She uses her exclusive insight gathered on the clock in her columns for a space women’s magazine. Note: Appears in World 2, Report 1.

035: Boozer Recording Location: Report 1: Space Symphony · Lounge B Profile: A waiter on the Space Symphony. Though this 57 year old boasts the ability to carry 36 beer mugs simultaneously, there aren’t too many opportunities to show such skills, much to his dismay. Note: Only appears during the Space Symphony · Lounge B segment in World 2, Report 1 if no mistakes are made.

036: Space Music Primary Schooler 1 Recording Location: Report 2: Space Park · Exhibition Tower A Profile: An enigmatic boy, who cries out "X, X, X!!!!!!!" He’s an expert at imitating various instruments with his voice. When you save him, he hums a special melody! Note, Secret Input: Information for a secret input in Report 2 (see page 112).

[[translator's note: Bartender Girl's note and profile contain an error, stating she appear in Space Symphony · Lounge B rather than A]]

Sweet! 189

Toyota

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037: Space Music Primary Schooler 2 Recording Location: Report 2: Space Park · Exhibition Tower A Profile: A primary schooler with the skill to imitate instruments with her voice. She’s so skilled you’d swear you’re hearing a real instrument. When you save her she hums a special recorder melody! Note:

038: Space Music Primary Schooler 3 Recording Location: Report 2: Space Park · Exhibition Tower A Profile: A rather proud primary schooler who’s a whiz at imitating instruments with his voice. He never preforms at a place unless he's completely prepared; it has to be the right place and the right time. When you save him, you’ll hear a special accordion melody. Note:

039: Space Music Primary Schooler 4 Recording Location: Report 2: Space Park · Exhibition Tower A Profile: A real showgirl of a primary school kid who does drum imitations with her voice that are powerful enough to move the spirit. She's serious about hoping to heal people with her art. When you save her, she begins to hum a drum melody. Determined to get into a middle school specializing in music. Note:

Sweet! 190

Honda

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040: Glockenspiel Primary Schooler Recording Location: Report 2: Space Park · Exhibition Tower A Profile: Former child prodigy keyboardist. She was so famous that she was asked to appear on a special music program at Channel 5. But one day she was suddenly inspired by the soothing sounds of the glockenspiel. She's presently mastering the finer points of the 'spiel at an extraordinary speed. Note, Item: First person involved in receiving the Lollipop item. She will hand you a piece after clearing Report 2.

041: Recorder Primary Schooler Recording Location: Report 2: Space Park · Exhibition Tower A Profile: This primary schooler had a snake-charmer as a teacher. He learned and expanded upon the entrancing power of the recorder beyond snakes to control any small-sized creatures. He enjoys collecting ammonite fossils, but far from his hobby. Note, Item: Second person involved in receiving the Lollipop item. He will hand you a piece after clearing Report 2.

042: Accordion Primary Schooler Recording Location: Report 2: Space Park · Exhibition Tower A Profile: A gentle flower-loving accordion girl. She believes that the music of the accordion nourishes the plants, helping their leaves, roots, and stems grow healthily. Her dream is to become a Space Reporter; she’s even started training in secret! Note, Item: Third person involved in receiving the Lollipop item. She will hand you a piece after clearing Report 2.

Perfect! 191

Up Down Up Down Up Down Up Down Up Down Toyota Toyota Toyota

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043: Drum Primary Schooler Recording Location: Report 2: Space Park · Exhibition Tower A Profile: Drum it up! A young student who went head-over-heels for the entrancing sounds of ancient drums. Once he gets hold of a pair of drum-sticks, you’ll be guaranteed at least a six-hour smashfest. He drums away while en route to school, making him quite the lil’ celebrity in the shopping district he passes. He can even play while doing a flip! His playing always rakes in the tips. Note, Item Received: Fourth person involved in receiving the Lollipop item. He will hand you a piece after clearing Report 2. After getting all four pieces, you will receive the Lollipop item.

044: Mr. Nervous Recording Location: Report 2: Space Park · Exhibition Tower B Profile: A nervous man known for his knee-knocking. He came to Space Park to supervise the students competing in the Space Music Festival. He got into a big mess with a man-eating plant, but Ulala saved him from melting into plant food just in time. He's quite fond of small retro game consoles. He sometimes trades games with students. Note, Secret Input: Information for a secret input in Report 2 (see page 112).

045: Class President Nervous Recording Location: Report 2: Space Park · Exhibition Tower B Profile: The fashion-conscious primary school class president. He puts a tremendous amount of effort into his hair, spending unreasonably long hours in front of the mirror each morning. Not so great at skipping, apparently his right hand and leg always raise in tandem. Note, Secret Input: Gives you the Folding Fan item if you check his profile after clearing Report 2.

Perfect! 192

Toyota toyota toyota toyota toyota toyota toyota

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046: Space Bird Mistress Recording Location: Report 2: Space Park · Fountain Square B Profile: An ageless beauty with a lovely singing voice that has the power to control all types of birds. Due to the heavy weight (58 kg) of the remote-controlled Power Wings attached to her back, she always suffers from back pain. Note, Item: One of two people needed to obtain the Ice Cream Cone item.

047: Birdman 1 Recording Location: Report 2: Space Park · Fountain Square B Profile: The first of the Birdmen, guys who are weird about weird birds. He uses all five of his senses—taste included—to show his love for any and all birds. Their high tech binoculars can spot Magellanic Clouds (available at Galaxy Gifts and Gadgets). Note:

048: Birdman 2 Recording Location: Report 2: Space Park · Fountain Square B Profile: The second of the Birdmen, who are mad for birds like you’re mad for this game. With the help of his myriad of bird friends, he sometimes takes on the offenders of nature in battle. He can travel about eight kilometers in less than 40 seconds by jumping from vine to vine, not once touching the ground. Note, Secret Input: Information for a secret input in Report 2 (see 112).

Perfect! 193

Toyota toyota toyota toyota toyota right left

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049: Birdman 3 Recording Location: Report 2: Space Park · Fountain Square B Profile: The third of the up for it bird-lovers, whose binoculars hide his guise from morning to night. He even walks with them on, leading to embarrassing—and frequent—falls into ditches and ponds. Kookaw! Kookaw! Note:

050: Birdman 4 Recording Location: Report 2: Space Park · Fountain Square B Profile: The fourth of the cuckoo bird lovers. Actually, a girl. She’s so infatuated with birds that she speaks to them in her sleep, “Birdy, birdy, where are you?" By the by, she dresses like a boy for her own reasons and anyone who tries to reveal her secret will be taken away by men in black… Note, Item: One of two people needed to obtain the Ice Cream Cone item.

051: Birdman 5 Recording Location: Report 2: Space Park · Fountain Square B Profile: The fifth of the legendary bird fiends. Studied with inhuman intensity to take the arduous Birdman Exam. After passing with flying colors, he became the latest addition to the Birdmen. Note:

Perfect! 194

Right left right left right left right left right left right left toyota toyota toyota

#space channel 5 #space channel 5 part 2 #Sugoku Sugoi Guide Book #translations

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beautifullache · 2 months

Text

🦄The Sims 4🦄

🍟Fast Food Careers🍔

💕EARLY RELEASE: 5.31.2024💕

McDonald's

3 days of PTO

McDonald’s is proud to be one of the most recognized brands in the world, with restaurants in over 100 countries and billions of customers served each year. As the global leader in the food service industry, we have a legacy of innovation and hard work that continues to drive us. Today, we are growing with velocity and are focused on modernizing our experiences, not to make a different McDonald’s but to build a better McDonald’s.

We are a people business just as much as we are a restaurant business. We strive to be the most inclusive brand on the planet by building diverse teams who create delicious, feel good moments that are easy for everyone to enjoy. Joining McDonald's means thinking big on a daily basis and preparing for a career that can have impact around the world.

Crew Member

Janitor Custodian

Shift Manager

General Manager

Allow Teen

Allow Young Adult

Allow Adult

Allow Elder

Taco Bell

3 days of PTO

Taco Bell restaurants have a variety of job opportunities to suit you. Whether you want to pursue a career with us or utilize our career opportunities to start chasing your dreams, we want to be a part of your story. Additionally, we continue to evolve our benefits for employees. Here's just a taste: free meals, competitive pay, flexible scheduling, paid time off, performance bonuses, education support, and career growth opportunities.

Taco Bell Corp., a subsidiary of Yum! Brands, Inc., (NYSE: YUM), is the nation's leading Mexican-inspired quick service restaurant. Taco Bell serves made to order and customizable tacos, burritos, and specialties such as the exclusive Doritos® Locos Tacos, gourmet inspired Cantina Power Menu and lower calorie Fresco Menu. The company encourages customers to “Live Más,” both through its food and in ways such as its Feed the Beat® music program and nonprofit organization, the Taco Bell Foundation for Teens. Taco Bell and its more than 350 franchise organization have nearly 7,000 restaurants across the United States that proudly serve more than 36 million customers every week.

CASHIER

KITCHEN / COOK / FOOD

FOOD SERVICE / FOOD PREP

SHIFT MANAGER / HOURLY MANAGER

GENERAL MANAGER

Allow Teen

Allow Young Adult

Allow Adult

Allow Elder

Wendy's

3 days of PTO

The Wendy’s Company (NASDAQ: WEN) is the world’s third largest quick-service hamburger company. The Wendy’s system includes more than 6,500 franchise and company restaurants in the U.S. and 29 other countries and U.S. territories worldwide. To learn more about the brand, visit our website: www.wendys.com When everyday people sort through all the ‘spin’ there is one quick-service restaurant that is ‘A Cut Above’… that’s Wendy’s … we stand for honest food … higher quality, fresh, wholesome food … prepared when you order it … prepared by Wendy’s kind of people … people that believe this is My Wendy’s … we do it Dave’s Way … we don’t cut corners. We work hard with honesty, integrity and a true sense of respect for one another. And we take time to give something back to our communities. We are looking for individuals with a track record of achievement who are seeking an opportunity to make an impact in an evolving, growing organization. We are committed to providing “A Cut Above” development experience to help star performers achieve their full potential, while providing a great employee experience.

Crew Member

Cook

Assistant Manager

Manager

Allow Teen

Allow Young Adult

Allow Adult

Allow Elder

DOWNLOAD NOW

#gaming #the sims 4 #the sims university #the sims 4 cc #sims 4 #celebrities #the sims 4 mods #sims 4 mods #nicki minaj #pink #mcdonalds #taco bell #tacos #wendy

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izicodes · 1 year

Note

Hi! I’m a student currently learning computer science in college and would love it if you had any advice for a cool personal project to do? Thanks!

Personal Project Ideas

Hiya!! 💕

It's so cool that you're a computer science student, and with that, you have plenty of options for personal projects that can help with learning more from what they teach you at college. I don't have any experience being a university student however 😅

Someone asked me a very similar question before because I shared my projects list and they asked how I come up with project ideas - maybe this can inspire you too, here's the link to the post [LINK]

However, I'll be happy to share some ideas with you right now. Just a heads up: you can alter the projects to your own specific interests or goals in mind. Though it's a personal project meaning not an assignment from school, you can always personalise it to yourself as well! Also, I don't know the level you are, e.g. beginner or you're pretty confident in programming, if the project sounds hard, try to simplify it down - no need to go overboard!!

But here is the list I came up with (some are from my own list):

Personal Finance Tracker

A web app that tracks personal finances by integrating with bank APIs. You can use Python with Flask for the backend and React for the frontend. I think this would be great for learning how to work with APIs and how to build web applications 🏦

Online Food Ordering System

A web app that allows users to order food from a restaurant's menu. You can use PHP with Laravel for the backend and Vue.js for the frontend. This helps you learn how to work with databases (a key skill I believe) and how to build interactive user interfaces 🙌🏾

Movie Recommendation System

I see a lot of developers make this on Twitter and YouTube. It's a machine-learning project that recommends movies to users based on their past viewing habits. You can use Python with Pandas, Scikit-learn, and TensorFlow for the machine learning algorithms. Obviously, this helps you learn about how to build machine-learning models, and how to use libraries for data manipulation and analysis 📊

Image Recognition App

This is more geared towards app development if you're interested! It's an Android app that uses image recognition to identify objects in a photo. You can use Java or Kotlin for the Android development and TensorFlow for machine learning algorithms. Learning how to work with image recognition and how to build mobile applications - which is super cool 👀

Social Media Platform

(I really want to attempt this one soon) A web app that allows users to post, share, and interact with each other's content. Come up with a cool name for it! You can use Ruby on Rails for the backend and React for the frontend. This project would be great for learning how to build full-stack web applications (a plus cause that's a trend that companies are looking for in developers) and how to work with user authentication and authorization (another plus)! 🎭

Text-Based Adventure Game

If you're interested in game developments, you could make a simple game where users make choices and navigate through a story by typing text commands. You can use Python for the game logic and a library like Pygame for the graphics. This project would be great for learning how to build games and how to work with input/output. 🎮

Weather App

Pretty simple project - I did this for my apprenticeship and coding night classes! It's a web app that displays weather information for a user's location. You can use Node.js with Express for the backend and React for the frontend. Working with APIs again, how to handle asynchronous programming, and how to build responsive user interfaces! 🌈

Online Quiz Game

A web app that allows users to take quizzes and compete with other players. You could personalise it to a module you're studying right now - making a whole quiz application for it will definitely help you study! You can use PHP with Laravel for the backend and Vue.js for the frontend. You get to work with databases, build real-time applications, and maybe work with user authentication. 🧮

Chatbot

(My favourite, I'm currently planning for this one!) A chatbot that can answer user questions and provide information. You can use Python with Flask for the backend and a natural language processing library like NLTK for the chatbot logic. If you want to mauke it more beginner friendly, you could use HTML, CSS and JavaScript and have hard-coded answers set, maybe use a bunch of APIs for the answers etc! This project would be great because you get to learn how to build chatbots, and how to work with natural language processing - if you go that far! 🤖

Another place I get inspiration for more web frontend dev projects is on Behance and Pinterest - on Pinterest search for like "Web design" or "[Specific project] web design e.g. shopping web design" and I get inspiration from a bunch of pins I put together! Maybe try that out!

I hope this helps and good luck with your project!

#my asks #resources #programming #coding #studying #codeblr #progblr #studyblr #comp sci #computer science #projects ideas #coding projects #coding study #cs studyblr #cs academia

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satoshi-mochida · 26 days

Text

3D platformer The Big Catch for PC to be published by XSEED Games - Gematsu

XSEED Games will publish Filet Group-developed 3D platformer The Big Catch when it launches for PC via Steam in 2025, the companies announced. A free demo dubbed The Big Catch: Tacklebox is now available.

Here is an overview of the game, via its Steam page:

About the Game

The Big Catch is a 3D platformer all about tight expressive player movement, exploration, and FISH. In addition to inheriting the best parts of retro and modern platformers, The Big Catch is designed to be something fresh (like the fish). You play as the acrobatic fisherman, Caster! Tasked by his boss Chef Leurre with saving the titular restaurant, The Big Catch, Caster ventures in search of ingredients to spice up the menu and bring in new customers. In The Big Catch, flow and momentum are king. By jumping, wall running, sliding, kicking, spinning, swimming, climbing, swinging, and grinding, experienced players can effortlessly fly through complex environments. Being a fisherman, Caster is quite skilled with a fishing rod. As such, interacting with the world is primarily done through the rod itself! By hooking, reeling in, casting, and tugging objects, Caster can interact with the world in a myriad of ways. The Big Catch aims to feel like an adventure, and to that end features a completely open world and progression structure. By surfing the sands of an expansive and mysterious desert, you have the freedom to discover and complete challenges at your own pace. Caster’s primary goal is to catch fish! Thwack’em, snag’em, and bring’em home to put The Big Catch back on the map. But is that all there is to this tale? The whisper on the wind tells of a dark past, a sinister plot, and ominous otherworldly entities. To find out more, you’ll just have to see for yourself.

About the Demo

Catch a short taste of The Big Catch and see if you’re ready for the full adventure! The Big Catch: Tacklebox is a standalone chapter and prologue to The Big Catch. Play as Tackle (Caster’s rival and co-worker) during his final days of training before being hired by Chef Leurre. Test your platforming prowess, surf the sands, and get your feet wet catching some fish. This free title won’t come close to reaching the depths of the upcoming full game, but we hope you’ll find dipping your toes refreshing nonetheless! If you’re hungry for more after this appetizer, do be sure to wishlist the full game! You’re gonna want to finish this meal—once it’s ready.

Watch a new trailer below.

Publisher Announce Trailer

youtube

#The Big Catch #Filet Group #XSeed Games #3D Platformer #Gematsu #Youtube

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foodresearchlab · 2 years

Link

#restaurant menu development #restaurant menu development consultants #restaurant menu development companies #recipe consultant #custom recipe development #Restaurant recipe and menu development #recipe and menu development #menu development #recipe development services #recipe development process #beverage recipe development #Restaurant Menu & Recipe Development #recipe development

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christinesficrecs · 1 year

Note

hi christine! hope you're well. I was wondering if you knew any fics where Stiles thinks Derek doesn't like him but is actually in love with him? Or if you had a tag for it, could you direct me to it? I looked at your tag page and didn't see it but I definitely could've looked over it. Thank you so much!

Sure! You could also try the enemies to lovers tag.

Landslide by reillyblack | 25.5K | Mature

Beautiful? Check. Dismissive? Check. Hated him? Double check.

Stiles was doomed to develop a crush of epic proportions.

The Only Thing That Looks Good On Me (Is You) by distortedreality | 17.9K | Explicit

Derek is fairly certain the new kid is either an incubus or a witch. Turns out he’s actually his mate. Stiles is 98% certain the brooding guy in the leather jacket is fantasizing about stringing him up by his intestines. Turns out he’s also wrong.

A Wild Heart's Desire by mikkimouse | 13.4K

If there's one thing Stiles Stilinski knows, it's that Deputy Derek Hale absolutely Does Not Like him. The only reason Derek even tolerates him is because their kids are worryingly codependent.

So Stiles is understandably confused when a very feral Derek shows up in his backyard after a call gone wrong and proceeds to move in with him.

Between the Drinks and Subtle Things by yodasyoyo | 4.4K

He holds up his free hand, eyes still closed. “One second,” he says through gritted teeth. “I’m just taking a moment to mourn the fact that we could have been fucking since–” He cracks open an eye and glares at Derek.

“Freshman year,” Derek supplies. “I’ve pretty much had the biggest crush on you since our freshman year.”

erroneous manoeuvres by slippingfromreality | 5.3K

“Hey, Stilinski!”

Stiles clenches his teeth. “What do you want, Hale?” he shouts back, not bothering to turn around. The smug smirk that’s most likely waiting for him is already seared into his mind from overexposure.

“A date!” the answer comes, still as loud, and most of the bystanders giggle or snort in Stiles’ direction.

Stiles rolls his eyes. This is the third time this week. He’d complain that Hale’s jokes are getting pretty stale, but he’d probably be milking this situation for all that it’s worth, too, if their roles were reversed. “Wrong aisle,” he grouses back, “try the bakery section. I hear they have fresh tarts.”

Fireman Derek's Crazy Pie [Cheeseburger Baby] by owlpostagain | 17.6K

“He can't blame me for the fact that I live in a building full of people united in the singular effort to ogle Hot Fireman as often as humanly possible."

Laura laughs, loud and echoing in the empty restaurant.

"Hot firemen can make a girl do crazy things," she agrees, nodding towards her brother's name on the menu. "Derek won't let me date anyone from his company, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate the eye candy."

"Send them my way," Stiles suggests, finally loading up a forkful of pie. "Apparently I'm incompetent enough that I need to be babysat at all times, because it would be cheaper than dispatching a truck every time I try to use a kitchen appliance."

Broken Nose | 3K

Stiles is convinced that Jock-y Derek Hale hates him. It takes an accidental injury at the beach to turn that all upside down.

Laying Groundwork by 10.9K | Explicit

The one where Scott and Stiles go clubbing and there's this broody Bouncer out to get Stiles-

Or get into his pants. Thank God it's the latter.

#asks #sterek fics #ficrecs #dramaticvhs #oblivious!stiles #misunderstandings

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staticspaces · 1 year

Photo

Coffee Time

You can find the video at the link below!!

https://youtu.be/ohPLRY92yZ4

Today, let's take a look at some overall shots of this abandoned coffee shop!!

In this week's post we will be taking a look at a Coffee Time restaurant that has been abandoned since 2009. Coffee Time has been around since the 80s, it is a coffee shop that serves coffee (obviously), donuts, sandwiches and soups, among other things. It has always taken a backseat to the more popular chains such as Tim Hortons or Starbucks and is similar to say Country Style in terms of sales and reach. I personally have never been a fan of Coffee Time, their coffee was never as good as the other brands and their food always just looked less appealing as well. Growing up before I had a car, the closest coffee shop to home was a Coffee Time and I have many fond memories of sitting in the restaurant till all hours of the night with friends...who knows, maybe their menu has improved since then!

With its headquarters in Scarborough, Ontario, Coffee Time operates over 100 stores throughout Ontario and Alberta. Founded in 1982 by Tom Michalopoulos in Bolton, Ontario. The first few stores were operated under license agreements until they began franchising the restaurants in the late 80s. In October 2006 the brand's parent company, Chairman's Brand Corporation bought the Alton Food Group, which owned Robin's Donuts, 241 Pizza and Mrs. Powell's Cinnamon Buns. Starting in 2014 Coffee Time began updating and rebranding their locations, apparently this location missed its chance by only five years.

As for this particular store, I think it closed mainly due to being in a bad location. It was part of a larger building that housed other businesses, when the restaurant closed, they built a wall to separate it from the rest of the building and it remained in the same state, untouched for over a decade. The building also appeared to be in really rough shape, the roof looks as though it was beginning to fail before 2015. The McDonald's closed in late 2015, the gas station and go-kart track would later close in 2019 but more about those later in part two of the video. Since then the building has deteriorated even further, the roof has developed holes and the vandals have taken over. In the spring or 2022 the entire building now sits boarded up and likely awaiting the wrecking ball before the property is redeveloped.

#abandoned #abandoned buildings #abandoned places #abandoned restaurants #abandoned coffee shops #restaurants #coffee shops #forgotten #forgotten buildings #forgotten places #bandos #urbex #urban exploration #urban exploring

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machifuwa · 1 year

Text

Autumn Cafeteria | Chapter 5

A week later. At the Meeting Room in the ES Building.

Tsumugi: Sorry to keep you waiting, Shu-kun~

Shu: You're late, Aoba. I already got one job done while I was waiting.

Hm? That parfait...

Tsumugi: Here is the new menu. I sent a photo through Hold Hands, but I wanted you to actually try it. We borrowed the kitchen of the company cafeteria in order to make it.

Shu: Why did you have to bring it yourself? If you told me, I could have come to the cafeteria myself and eat it there you know.

Tsumugi: That's true, but... I couldn't bear to bother Shu-kun, who just came back from Paris. Are you feeling okay? Any jet lag?

Shu: Long trips are tiring, but I've been back home every once in a while. I'm used to it by now.

Anyway, let's have the parfait now. I'm glad to have a supply of something sweet and cold to keep my mind sharp.

Tsumugi: Also, please try these Salt Cookies. They are said to be a dessert for those who do not like sweet stuff.

Shu: Sounds like a good palate cleanser. I'll have it along with this.

...The sourness of the cherries is stronger than I expected. The sweetness of the whipped cream neutralizes it, making it easy to eat.

Tsumugi: I heard that the cherry was Koga-kun's idea. It was supposed to be a strawberry at first.

The arrangement of the bottom portion was Yuta-kun's idea. The red color makes it look more attractive.

The acidity of the cut cherries and the jellies allow you to eat all the way through without getting heartburn.

Shu: Hoh. I remember that the whole idea was proposed by Suou. So it was a joint development by those three.

Tsumugi: The menu has remained the same since the restaurant opened, and regular customers are ordering it because they are curious about it.

Shu: ...Fumu. Just the regulars? How about new customers?

Tsumugi: As you can see, we've not been able to attract any new interest. I have the impression that it's been limited to the inner circle, or that there has not been enough publicity.

We can also advertise on our social media accounts. I doubt it will lead to continuous sales, but it will still attract attention.

We can't tell them who invented the new sweets, since we're not actually working there.

Above all, as idols, it should gain some publicity. Let's just say that we're currently doing this for personal development only.

It is most likely that we'll get complaints from people, so it's better to not disclose the fact that we were in charge of this.

It would damage us, and it's also disrespectful for the companies that try their best to protect our image.

Shu: So, we're basically limited to doing things. It can't be helped, then.

Tsumugi: Right. So, I was also thinking of taking advantage of the fact that we're idols. It's still not planned well, but...

I'd like NewDi to partner up with the café and provide working experiences for other idols.

Basically, it would have that "place where you can feel closer to your idols" concept.

Shu: ...I'm not sure if I'd like that place to be something like that--where the target audience are our fans.

However, the situation is already bad as it is. That's better than getting the café closed.

The question is whether the owner would agree with that proposal. Will it be all right for him to destroy the original image of this place for the sake of its survival?

Tsumugi: I already went through that. I asked the owner beforehand what things he'd want to be changed vise versa.

Actually, the owner is really determined to keep the original taste of the round bread.

Shu: The original taste of round bread...?

Tsumugi: When I asked about the details, it seemed like it was somewhat connected to the owner's childhood. Unsold bread, specifically round bread, was what the owner grew up eating.

I heard that his parents asked him to take care of the family business, so he ran away in the process.

A long time passed. He worked as an office staff in the city. After hearing the news of his parents' death, he returned home. Since then, the bakery has long gone out of business.

A short time after he left his parents' home, they closed the place with old age as the reason.

The owner missed the taste of the bread, so he looked for the recipe, but was unable to find it.

I guess there wasn't a recipe to begin with, since they were making it based on experience and intuition.

Even so, he's confident that he remembers the taste of the bread that he was forced to eat as a child, so he tried recreating it, but he hasn't succeeded at all.

As a result, the café was built in order to preserve the memory of his parents' bakery.

Shu: ......

...For some reason, I want to eat that round bread now.

Tsumugi: Actually, me too. Shall we buy some later?

previous | mastelist | next

translated by machi and mars

#ensemble stars #enstars #shu itsuki #tsumugi aoba

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tenebraevesper · 8 months

Text

Five Nights at Freddy's: Salvaged, Night 1: Replay Your Nightmare

''In a loop inside the screen, your own prison in a dream. Try to run and try to scream, even death can't save you – we replay your nightmare.''

– Replay Your Nightmare by TryHardNinja ft. Thora Daughn (Ultimate Custom Night)

xXxXxXx

''That's what you get for leaving me hanging!''

''Seriously?!'' The girl threw up her hands as she watched the black screen, showing her that she got a Game Over. ''I died to Toy Freddy?! How could I die to Toy Freddy? Didn't I check on him? I did!''

She was fuming as she went back to the menu, which was showing her the 50/20 Mode of Ultimate Custom Night. She groaned in annoyance, knowing just how close she was to finally winning the game. It took her ages to even get this far.

''I guess I have no other choice but to try it again,'' Sam muttered. Her actual name was Samantha Blackburn, but she usually went by Sam. She was a teen with brown hair and brown eyes, turning 17 this summer. She was wearing a black T-shirt and jeans, her purple and black jacket being draped over the swivel chair. A small desk fan was whirring next to her laptop, cooling her. She took a look at the smartphone next to it, noticing that at least four hours had passed since she got on her laptop and started to play the game. Deciding to take one more turn, she put the headphones on and started the game.

It was a little weird though, if intriguing. In the past year, several games came out, as well as an official website featuring them, all bearing the title Five Nights at Freddy's. They were made by an obscure indie game developer and were supposedly based on the urban legend surrounding the restaurant known as Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. On the surface, the games had you playing as a night guard in an old pizzeria, where you would fend off the animatronics who would attempt to stuff you in a suit, thinking you were just an endoskeleton. However, the more you investigated the game's lore, the more obvious it became that there was a lot more to the story.

A few months ago, the company Fazbear Entertainment took the games and the website down, making a post about how the developer (if she remembered well, his name was Scott) was trying to tarnish the company's reputation with those games. He had been discredited and even called a crazy lunatic, or something like that. Nevertheless, Sam managed to make copies of the games and store them, so she could play them to her heart's content, even though she was annoyed that they took them down. She could understand their reasoning though.

Apparently, more than 30 years ago, at least five children have gone missing on the premises of the restaurant and were presumed dead, even though their bodies have never been found. It was quite a tragedy. However, playing through the games showed that, what was known as the Missing Children Incident, was just one of the many tragedies that occurred at Freddy's and how the lore was much deeper and darker than what most people were aware of.

Still, it was just a game, wasn't it? It was quite ridiculous to think that a soul could possess an animatronic or that the murderer had been experimenting with some substance called remnant, which would bind a soul to said animatronic. It was ludicrous and Fazbear Entertainment was aware of that. They even announced a VR game that would parody the games made by the ''crazy lunatic'' and show that those games were nothing more but a stupid rumor.

Nevertheless, Sam was really intrigued by the games. She loved urban legends based on real events and would investigate them, trying to find out whether they were true or a hoax. She also spent a lot of her free time writing down everything she knew about the games and making up theories. She even had several files for each game, all filled with theories and speculations.

However, her interest in Freddy's dark history didn't start with the games. It actually started with Fazbear's Fright, a horror attraction based on the old urban legends that was supposed to open about two years ago. Being too curious for her own good, Sam figured that she could get a little preview of what would await her in the horror attraction, but was chased away by the night guard, an old man who looked like he had been through Hell. However, she managed to get a glimpse of an animatronic that was brought there; a golden-green withered bunny with a ripped ear and a slasher smile.

Then, it happened. The horror attraction was burned to the ground, supposedly due to faulty wires. However, only a few months later, a new location opened. It was a renewed Freddy Fazbear's Pizza restaurant and this time, Sam actually got to spend time there. She loved the place and the animatronics, feeling like she traveled back in time, when Freddy's was at its heyday. Nowadays, other restaurants would chuck out the robots and costumes in favor of animated mascots on big screens, who would be singing to the kids or advertise the merch. Perhaps people liked the animated version more, but Sam felt that nothing could top a real animatronic. There was something fascinating about them.

Nevertheless, even after visiting the place, she just had to snoop around once again. She sneaked into the back alley, seeing two men trying to take a withered animatronic inside. Before she could get a good look at the animatronic (she did remember that it had green fur), one of the men chased her away. What did strike her as odd was that he was wearing bandages under his purple shirt and some of the bandages even covered his face, which was obscured by a cap. She guessed that he had been in an accident that caused bad burns on his body or something similar. The location didn't last long anyways, as it was burned down in a blazing inferno.

Nobody had an idea what happened and the only answer she had were those games that came a while later. She didn't know whether she could trust the lore, as it was a little unsettling that someone might know so much about what was going on at Freddy's. It was a lot easier to conclude that the creator of the games took the story of Freddy's and just let his imagination run wild.

''Hallelujah!'' Sam felt like screaming after hearing the GAME WIN fanfare come up. She couldn't believe she managed to beat 50/20 Mode. She wanted to cry, after all the deaths she went through.

However, her celebration was cut short when she realized that the game was done. An empty feeling spread through her chest, the kind where you would ask yourself ''and now what?''. She played through all the games, managed to get all the achievements, found all the secret messages and now she had nothing else to do. She could keep on theorizing though, since the lore was still quite confusing.

When it came to Ultimate Custom Night, her theory was that it was actually William Afton's Hell, Afton being the one who killed the children. His soul was trapped inside it, forced to endure eternal punishment for what he had done, being effectively killed by his own creations. It was a vicious cycle, one he couldn't escape.

Sam frowned. Ultimate Custom Night was supposed to be unbeatable, right? Yet, she beat it. Now, what would happen to the poor soul who managed to beat it? Would they move on or still be stuck inside it? Would their soul be free to roam once again among the living?

Sam looked at the time on her smartphone and figured she could go to Ricky's Wonder Shack. While she didn't really have an opinion on their pizza, she did like their milkshakes. It was also a good place to think about the Five Nights at Freddy's lore.

xXx

The man ran his fingers through his dark hair, his dark, cold eyes being empty as he anticipated another death. Every animatronic in this building was after him. The sleeves of his purple shirt were rolled up, showing the scars on his arms. He was slowly losing hope for surviving this night.

He could feel their eyes on him. He knew that it was impossible to escape them.

It's over.

He was suddenly startled by the fanfare that played whenever the night was over. He won.

William stood up, the office surrounding him being engulfed by the darkness. He looked around, but there was nothing. He wondered whether this was his prize for dying over and over again in the most brutal ways.

His eye caught the sudden appearance of a new animatronic. It was a golden bear with a black bowtie and a top hat.

Fredbear? No, it's Golden Freddy.

He watched Golden Freddy twitching violently, reminding of the time he let the Spring Bonnie suit snap and tear into his body. The animatronic slowly faded away, the glow in his eyes perishing. Then, he was gone.

Am I finally free?

He shielded his eyes as he was almost blinded by the bright light. Once it subsided, he discovered, much to his dismay, that he was back at the office. Not only that, but there were no animatronics. He already had a bad feeling about this. He walked over to the monitor and looked at it. None of the animatronics were active.

He punched the desk in frustration, realizing that he would be starting this whole Hell all over again. Even if he survived the night, in the long run, it would never end.

''Let me out of here!''

He sat down, feeling exhausted. He could scream and cry as much as he wanted, but he couldn't escape this Hell. There were times he wanted to murder someone for putting him through this, only to be reminded that this was the reason why he was here in the first place. He had no business tampering with life and therefore he would pay with his own soul.

''He's here, and always watching, the one you shouldn't have killed.''

''Seeing you powerless is like music to me.''

''I am given flesh, to be your tormentor.''

He fell on his knees, clutching his head. He could hear their voices, over and over again, taunting him. Even if they weren't here, he would still hear them.

''Shut up…'' he whispered.

''THIS TIME, THERE'S MORE THAN AN ILLUSION TO FEAR.''

''I AM HERE TO CLAIM... WHAT IS LEFT OF YOU.''

''This is how it feels, and now you get to experience it over, and over, and over again... forever. I will never let you leave.''

''SHUT UP!''

The office was empty, but he knew that they were observing him. There was no pity, but there was no joy either. They were watching and waiting, stalking him. They would replay this nightmare until he has lost all of his sanity and even then, they wouldn't be satisfied. He knew that. He knew that not even the torment they executed upon him could satisfy them.

''It's me…''

He felt something wet and sticky. Looking down at his hands, he saw blood dripping from them. His dark eyes widened in fear and he whimpered.

''Please… no…''

He felt hollow. The man he was once before was gone. Whatever was left of him was just a broken vessel. He was forsaken, left to suffer in this cursed state.

He suddenly broke into a mad laughter. He knew that he deserved this. They would remind him over and over again that he deserved even a worse fate than this. Even the one who masterminded this Hell wasn't satisfied with the cruel punishments, but it didn't matter. William knew that the spirit had moved on a while ago, leaving their creations to play with him.

The hollow feeling spread through his chest once again. His vision went blurry as the blood he hallucinated faded. He closed his eyes, lowering his head, feeling bitter and disgusted with himself. For all the torture he experienced, he had been given time to reflect on all his mistakes and atrocities. He was aware that what he had done was beyond forgiveness and how this was the end of him.

All he wanted was to simply leave.

''I'll do anything…'' he whispered, opening his eyes.

''Anything?''

xXx

Sam enjoyed her strawberry milkshake, sitting alone in a booth and playing on her phone. She would sometimes glance at the other visitors, but what had her attention were the animatronics that would periodically perform on the stage. A person in a costume was also walking around, dancing and singing along whenever the animatronics had a pause.

This place was known as Ricky's Wonder Shack, a restaurant that also had an arcade area. It opened recently and the owner of the franchise, Wolfrun Corporation, was quickly recognized as a rival to Fazbear Entertainment. However, the restaurant proved to be a lot more popular than its rival, mostly thanks to the shady past of Fazbear Entertainment. So far, if you didn't count the one or the other kid that got lost and found or the patron who spilled their food over themselves, there were no incidents. Parents considered it safe enough to let their kids run wild and the kids didn't care about anything as long as they got their food or could spend their money on the games in the arcade area.

Ricky's Wonder Shack seemed to be also one of the few restaurants that put money into their animatronics and it showed. The animatronics were brand new and had no issues, with the company behind the animatronics ensuring they were 100% safe… unlike some other company's mascots. Yes, Sam read that comment on their website when they advertised their animatronics. Speaking of which, the animatronics that seemed to be the pride of Wolfrun Corporation were about to finish their performance.

One of them was Max the Swashbuckling Cat animatronic. He looked like a tabby cat, wearing boots, a belt and a huge hat with a feather on the top. On his belt was a cutlass which he could easily draw. He seemed to be some kind of storyteller, appealing to kids with stories of adventures and fantasy. He also reminded Sam of Puss in Boots, with her guessing that he was probably based on that character.

The second animatronic was Dahlia the Swan, an elegant white swan animatronic with humanoid features. She was dressed in a blue tutu with a white and blue sparkly bodice, blue ballet shoes and a silver tiara on the top of her head. It was obvious that Dahlia was a ballerina and created to appeal to young girls, with Sam figuring that she perhaps had a Swan Lake theme.

The third animatronic was Quentin the Hedgehog, a humanoid brown hedgehog wearing a black leather jacket. He was holding a red guitar and his black quills were styled into a mullet. Sam had no clue what was the idea behind Quentin, guessing they just wanted to throw in another character.

The fourth animatronic was Virgil the Owl, a grey and brown owl animatronic who was operating the prize corner. Wearing a black cap with a tassel, he would give children the prizes they wanted, all while telling them random facts about history and life.

And lastly, there was Ricky Wolfrun, the main mascot. He was a grey wolf with a white tuft of hair, wearing a blue vest and holding a silver microphone. Sam had to admit that he looked really cute and how his creators did their best to make him as appealing to everyone as possible. She also noticed that, whenever the animatronics were finished with their performance, the curtains would close and Ricky would step off the stage, walking into a room in the back. After a few minutes, he would emerge, but this time moving more fluidly and would interact with the patrons. Sam knew that this was probably a worker who was paid to put on the costume and pretend that he was Ricky.

All in all, the place was quite successful and people even nicknamed the animatronic band Ricky and the Misfits, which later became their official band name. The atmosphere was quite relaxing and the company made it clear that the idea of using animatronics as entertainers would still last.

''I hope you're enjoying yourself!''

Sam looked up from her phone, only to see Ricky himself addressing her in a husky voice. He tilted his head.

''Yeah, I am,'' Sam replied, lifting her half-empty milkshake.

''I am glad to hear that. In order to make your experience even more pleasant, we are giving out free coupons today for the food. Would you like one?'' Ricky showed her the coupons.

''Thanks,'' Sam said as she took the coupon, with Ricky saluting and leaving her. She was already thinking about ordering another milkshake and getting 25% off coupon was a steal. She leaned back, feeling that nothing could ruin her day or even the rest of her summer holidays.

She looked at her phone, reading the files about the animatronics from Five Nights at Freddy's. As much as Ricky's Wonder Shack was safe and accident-free, she loved the lore of Five Nights at Freddy's even more. She imagined what Ricky and his friends would be doing during the night. Perhaps, they also had a dark secret and would actually attempt to murder the night guard after hours. Her imagination ran wild with this one. She then sighed.

It's still a story based on a tragedy. It is better now that everything has ended.

xXx

William stood up, confused as the office vanished, replaced by the darkness. The voice he heard was nothing like all the voices he heard before. It was gentle and velvet, yet it sounded incredibly self-satisfied.

''Who are you?'' William asked, looking around.

''An entity a mere soul cannot comprehend.''

The voice seemed to be coming from everywhere. William gave up on pin-pointing the owner of the voice and just listened.

''What do you want?'' he asked.

''Someone vouched for your soul… Someone decided to allow you to return and finish what you started.''

''What?''

''You can take either path and face atonement or annihilation, depending on your actions.''

William had a bad feeling about this one. It sounded like one of those ''selling your soul to the Devil'' stories, even though he had no idea whether he was talking to the Devil, or to something much worse. He felt reluctant, as he didn't know what was going on nor who decided to let him leave. However, a voice inside his head screamed for him to accept. If he accepted, he would be able to escape this nightmare. If he refused, he would be put back to that office he desperately attempted to escape. In the end, he felt that he had no choice.

''I always come back, don't I?''

The entity remained silent.

Links:

#Previous Chapter

#Current Chapter

#Next Chapter

#Five Nights at Freddy's: The Untold Story (Masterlist)

#Five Nights at Freddy's: The Untold Story #Five Nights at Freddy's: Salvaged #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #ultimate custom night #fnaf ucn #william afton #springtrap #glitchtrap

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