#someone infiltrating the government with the intention of taking

[cyborg-squid]

One of the many things that really struck me about Come Catastrophes or Wakes of Vultures is how Cliff's actions... really seemed to parallel those of the Lateran state? Like, he seems to be pretty clearly not affiliated with it and might be disconnected from the Sankta Empathy, but if you look at his actions and intentions, they pretty clearly parallel those of Yvangelista XI with the Summit of Nations. Both Cliff and Laterano aim to, in my eyes, use violence to control violence. Cliff puts it excellently when he says "Because if I can never end war, I have to settle for the next best thing. To hold its on-off switch in my hands." And Yvangelista basically tries to do the same, on a larger scale, trying to bring all the nations of Terra to the table for world peace, but such a meeting is only possible because of all the guns Lateran has. Cliff spent years building this mercenary empire of his, doing what sounds like black ops coup stuff for the American government.

And we see that the violence these two systems enact, in hopes of one day controlling it, isn't limited to physical violence. Wake of Vultures shows us very clearly how the bank is abusing and killing the people of Davistown, backed up by this idea of violence from mercenaries or government, but isn't called upon until the last minute. And in Lateran you have this literal ethnostate, in Guide Ahead you have these armed civil servants tripping over each other looking for this one mixed-race girl. And it's not directly in the Lateran events, but with the Lateran Church and the 'hands-off' approach it takes with regards to it's influence in Iberia, that's part of what ultimately allows for the Church of the Deep to infiltrate it. These systems, the Lateran government and Church, Blacksteel Worldwide and the Columbian government, don't need to be threatening you directly at gunpoint to get what they want, they hold enough power that simply the idea of them is enough to extort and influence people. And this is the type of power that Cliff and Yvangelista, two entirely different Sankta, independent of one another (afaik), spent years cultivating.

And this kind of brings me to something i'd been thinking about with Andoain (who also parallels Woodrow in his role vs the Pope). There's this Dorothy line, "There's no such thing as mad science", and that's a way you could certainly describe her as a good Mad Scientist, and it's in that way that I kinda think of Andoain, as someone who has, with whatever supernatural thing happened with the Lock and Key that drove him to try and kill his squad, gone Mad With Power, but in a way that's... not entirely wrong. Because so many of his critiscisms of Laterano are correct, and the way he's been building his faith and followers is this creation of the 'Sankta' Empathy, of understanding one another, just without the supernatural component. He's right! And even when he sees God in the Basement, when he realizes that his quest to change Laterano is fruitless, that still doesn't stop him from attempting to help and save those he can, with the power he has.

Similarly, you can see some of this with Woodrow, when Cliff hands him the tablet/phone and he sees the nature of Cliff's war and control, he knows he personally can't control this, but says that no one should. "...They shouldn't. There shouldn't be nobody else like you." Then he shoots the communicator. This is one of the moments that shows, despite Cliff's claims to have his hand on the lever of war, he is not the one in control, in this moment, Woodrow is, by choosing to walk away. And earlier, the bank manager demanding Franka and Liskarm disperce the crowd, they refuse, despite the bank and Cliff ostensibly being the ones in 'control', the possibility of violence at the moment didn't depend on them, but on the individuals, with Franka and Liskarm. And Jessica's "My gun will cry for their sorrow"! The system that Cliff is in 'control' does not do anything for the people of Davistown, in fact it is the one hurting them, but it is the individual violence that Jessica and the others commit through their robbery that enables change, for while they're not able to save Davistown as a whole from being consumed, they themselves are 'saved'.

And one last parallel on an already rambly post: the calls. I couldn't help but notice, the calls Cliff mentions getting from governments, from the ones ultimately in control of him, reminded me of the call Malkiewicz gets at the end of Maria Nearl where he's made spokesperson for the Chamber of Commerce. Here you have Cliff, the 'old', and the calls he gets and is beholden to, that he never thinks of just "letting ring" until Woodrow suggests that to him, and Malkiewicz as the 'young', not seeking power like Cliff did but having it thrust on him, feeling like he can't escape from it, and bound to pick up and answer the call. This idea of the 'old' feeling that they can change the system from the inside with the power they have, yet not doing so and instead perpetuating it, and this idea of the 'young' being so caught up and entwined in a system that they feel they can't move apart from it, and being unable to affect change with the power that he eventually has. I don't really know, but I just felt like there was something there with these phone calls that control.

[sangyeonsmuse]

BREAK THE WALLS | Kim Hongjoong

Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Full Chapter List

🀥 Government agent Hongjoong x Rebel Oc

🀥 genre | dystopian society, halazia x geurilla concept , enemies to lovers

🀥 word count | 706

🀥 Summary | An organization by the name of Sector 1 was well known for their work in the underground, theyve been well known for the recruiting of teens and using them to form an army since the year 2034. Collecting strays for their rebellion against those in higher power. Now the year is 2064 and the organization still runs strong they run like a family, with the new technology theyve found ways of keeping alive those that have been scorned in any past battles theyve had against the government.

When the government sends in 7 of their best men to infiltrate the organization. What will they do when their cover is blown and their true intentions are revealed? Will they join the rebellion or will they continue to let the government pull their strings like the little puppets they once were?

Skylar district October 14th 2064

While others had been out and about either spending their free time away from the Sector 1 or helping find new recruits, Tahani had stayed behind. To the others it was no surprise that the girl once again chose to practice in her free time rather than actually use it. Ever since Tahani had woken up after the organization's last mission it was all the girl ever did. She was no longer the cheery and outgoing Tahani in which they once knew. Even with Jongho who had been like a brother to her she became less enthusiastic.

Sweat dripped down the girl's forehead as she collapsed to the floor taking the time to catch her breath after hours and hours of sparring. Throwing a towel around her neck and sitting up in her place she found her eyes locked on a nearby mirror in the solo sparring room. As her eyes scanned over her black exterior she let a sigh spill past her lips. It bothered her, knowing that she could never live the normal life she would have if she had never followed Mingyu and Juyeon that day. The more she looked at herself in the mirror the more angry she grew at Loren. They had all let him in, treated him like family, they cared for him like he was their own blood and now look at her. She was grateful to still be alive but knowing the cost there were times she questioned whether or not she'd be better off dead. Though her humanity was still intact there were things so humane she knew she would never get to experience in her life again or even for the first time. Having children, the feel of someone's touch on her body, dancing in the rain, she'd never be normal.

Pulling herself up from the ground, Tahani stepped outside after hearing a large group of voices emit from the airlock outside. Once she stepped out her eyes landed on Jongho accompanied by 7 unfamiliar men to which Tahani simply just rolled her eyes. Ever since Loren betrayed their trust Tahani made it a mission to never trust another new recruit, yeah it wasn't okay to treat them all as traitors but one traitor alone cost her her family and a normal life. Though Tahani tried passing by quietly without being noticed it seemed she had caught the eye of one of the new recruits which caused everyone's gaze including Jonghos to shift to her.

"Tahani!" He calls out to her cheerfully to which she simply glares in response.

"What did I say about calling me that?" Was the only thing she said to him which earned a pout from the boy.

"Sorry sorry I forgot, Hira." He says putting emphasis on the name.

Another thing that had changed since Tahani woke up, she now only went by the name given to her by Mingyu and Juyeon. When asked why all she said was Tahani was a figment of the past. Truth be told, the birth given name only reminded her of her family and the life she once had when her body wasn't half machine.

"What is it Jongho? I need to get to the Oasis so Eris can perform a checkup." She sighs

"I was showing the new recruits around the place and Juyeon said to introduce you to them since they'll be training with us." Jongho responds excitedly only earning a shrug from her in response.

She glances at each of them with uninterested eyes before looking back to Jongho.

"I think ill pass." Was all she said before leaving the eight of them standing alone.

Jongho sighs watching her back as she walks through the two large metal doors and disappears into the back corridor.

"Sorry about Hira.. she's not all that great when it comes to meeting new people but i'm sure she'll warm up to you eventually" the seven guys all shrugged before following Jongho as he continued on with their tour, one of the 7 found himself staring in the direction in which the girl had disappeared to.

Later that night in the starhold those same 7 men sat quietly conversing on their next move.

[notsocheezy]

Brain Curd #72

Brain Curds are lightly edited flash fiction - practically first drafts - posted daily and sometimes written with the express intention of being terrible… but, you know, in an endearing way. The following is a continuation of yesterday's Brain Curd - read that first!

Postal Fred raised his hand. “Can I go first?”

Cody gave an affirmative hand gesture.

“I’ve been doing good lately, mostly, but I had a setback. You remember that guy who kept putting the wrong amount of postage on everything? A couple days ago, he came in, and I tried to stay calm, but it was too much to take. The label said it was for a three pound box with dimensions of twelve by twelve by twelve, but it was a four-and-a-half pound box with dimensions of twelve by ten by thirteen!”

“What happened?” Cody asked, with all the patience and grace of a kindergarten teacher.

“I did what I believe any self-respecting postal worker would do. I followed protocol and told him this was insufficient postage and that he could either pay for a new label here or go back home and print one with accurate numbers.”

The group snapped in applause.

“That doesn’t sound so bad, Fred.”

“Exactly. That’s when it got bad. He started arguing with me, saying no one was going to notice ‘one pound’ and that the size was ‘close enough’ and that the price difference was ‘nothing’. I told him, hey man, we can’t bend the rules to save you a dollar, we’ll go broke, and he started throwing coins at me, saying, ‘Fine! Fine! Let me buy a stamp to make up the difference! I don’t have time for this, I’m a busy man!’.”

Fred started crying, and put his face in his hands.

“That’s not how it works!”

Roberta put her hand on his back to comfort him. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

He hugged her tightly, burying his face into her abdomen. Government Man thought it looked very uncomfortable, since Roberta had very defined and firm abdominal muscles.

Cody waited a moment to see if Fred had anything more to say. “Thank you for sharing,” he said, before moving on to someone else. Pablo raised his hand and Cody gave him a thumbs-up.

“My bakery has been attacked once again by the Yeastie Boys. They smashed the back window and unlocked the door, then came in and took all my honey and left several gallons of homebrew mead. I think what gets to me the most is all the questions: like, if they didn’t have honey, how did they make the mead? And why do they leave things behind like that? It doesn’t make any sense.”

Richard half-raised his hand. “Was the mead any good?”

“I don’t know, I don’t drink.”

“Do you… do you have any left?”

“The police took it as evidence.”

“Dammit.” Richard crossed his arms. “They’re just gonna drink it themselves.”

Pablo continued. “Last time they left behind the best croissants I have ever tasted. I’d think about hiring these crooks if I knew who they were. I just want them to stop stealing my ingredients! I couldn’t fulfill a large order for cornbread because I had no honey. I’m in danger of bankruptcy.” He sighed. “Anyway, that’s all that’s going on with me.

Cody looked around and set his eyes on the theater usher. “Deborah, do you have anything to share?”

“Not really… Honestly, once I stopped trying to stop Charlie from sneaking into the theater, things went back to normal. I’ve just been living my life again. It’s nice.”

The group snapped in applause. They sure liked doing that.

Cody turned his gaze. “Richard?”

“Nothing new to report this week. The plumbing business has been reasonably stable.”

All eyes were on Government Man, now. He didn’t like it.

“Government Man,” Cody said, “How much can you share about your adversary?”

He swallowed. “My adversary is… classified. But I will tell you this: He is always one step ahead of me. I have never seen him and yet he knows exactly how to manipulate me. He has impersonated my coworker. He has escaped my grasp. He has infiltrated my dreams. I have not slept a full night since our first encounter. All I want is for things to be how they once were. For things to go back to normal. Everything used to be so easy then - go here, go there, shoot that, cuff him, follow that car… I’m trapped now. Trapped in this diabolical plot.”

Government Man leaned back in his chair and sighed. “I don’t feel like myself anymore.”

Cody put his hands together and leaned forward. He spoke softly. “Things can be okay again. You just have to let him go.”

“I cannot do that. I cannot let him get away.”

“You don’t have to. But you need to stop thinking about him at every moment, or else he wins. Because if you don’t get the rest you need, Government Man, you won’t be able to stop him.”

Government Man’s weary eyes met Cody’s.

“Find any sort of healthy distraction you can. Maybe get a new plant for your garden.”

Government Man took a deep breath and let it out.

[verityswritings]

The Witch

(The fourth and final character profile for my new story!!)

The Prince and The Guard’s profiles

The Cupbearer’s profile

Background:

The woman’s true origins are strictly unknown. She appears similar to an unusual shadow on the ground or a whisper in the wind in many tales told by the common folk. Not there one second and then there the next. An air of mystery surrounds all the tall tales about the Witch’s youth. People speak of her more as a story character than a real person. Mayhaps because many believe magic to be more of a myth than something that can be used by mankind.

There are numerous accounts of the Witch being sighted in various countries across the sea that are heavily involved in the Great Temper War. Though, the amount of truth in these sightings is greatly undecided because of the varying descriptions of the Witch. None are quite sure what the woman truly looks like or when she will appear next, leaving carnage in her wake. No one knows what face she will take when she comes, but all know it will end in a blaze of destruction and death when she does.

A large number of reports have been made as of late that state that the Witch has now taken up residence within the walls of the kingdom in the heart of city. City folk speak of men, women, and children disappearing as soon as they enter a back alley, wander in the dark or simply just stay out too long. The correlation between these disappearances and the Witch are officially undetermined, but only a fool would not notice that the rise in disappearances started when the rise of reports of Witch also came about.

The whispers about the Witch could quite truly be no more than old wives tales, but they fascinated you so. The Cupbearer recently informed you that the case of Witch is something that comes up heavily in the King’s meetings with the Counsel. You pondered why the Witch would have so many sightings. Why would she want to make her appearance so known? What exactly could be her intention?

Story:

You supposed that you feared the tale of the Witch just as much as the next, though as of late you have found yourself thinking of her quite often. It was just that wasn’t it? Just a tale? Though, if it were, why would it apparently be such a topic of debate for the Counsel? Surely the Counsel would not take such time to ponder on things that are just baseless stories.

As you think of it more, you find yourself in more unease. If the Witch has no confirmed appearance, then she could truly be anyone that you come across. And if it is true that she can use magic, then how could you really know that anyone you do not know well would not be a dangerous magic bearer? You have the terrible feeling at times when you are making public appearances that someone is watching you and you have the horrible suspicion that that person is the Witch. Though, this must be a silly fear right? Why would the Witch ever even want to watch you specifically? You tell yourself must be becoming too paranoid.

Yandere type description: Stalker, delusional with some lucidity, love struck, jealous

The Witch had come across the sea with the intention of releasing chaos on the so-called ‘peaceful’ kingdom that you lived in. The Witch came to the kingdom to bring deadly trouble to the foolish ruler of the kingdom and stayed when she saw you. She came across you one day while she was infiltrating the court to discover weak points within the kingdom’s government and political forces. And she has been fascinated with you ever since.

She, of course, can not speak to you directly lest she risk becoming discovered, but she spends a great deal of time watching you whenever it is possible. You move, act and simply breathe so eloquently, even when you do not know someone is watching over you. At least in her opinion you do. You are so fascinating, naïve and yet clever as well. You even seem to notice how some of the others really act and how they are infatuated with you as well, but still go about your day as if everything is normal. She finds this particularly interesting.

The Witch thought delusionally in the way that she thinks she has in some way a right to watch over you. And yet is also lucid enough to realize it is a very strange thing to do. Some of her actions are unusual, yes, but is she not just unusual as a whole? It was just her personality, she rationalized. She merely watched over you because you were interesting and mayhaps even deserving of leaving the kingdom with her. That is all.

You were simply just so …compelling. How could she ever not feel a great interest towards you? You very well could even have the spark that is talked about in the great prophecy forgotten this way across the sea. You are simply too enthralling to ignore, even if that would mean changing her plans for the fate of the kingdom entirely.

Anger, or perhaps something even deeper like something akin to rage, burned within the Witch when she saw how others could freely speak to you and she could never. She felt such a constant conflict over this that she almost considered sending one of her newly made puppets to speak to you. Just to see how you would react and to see how elegant you truly looked up close! Though, that would be foolish. If you saw the puppets now then there would be no surprise for you later! The Witch supposed she would just have to continue to contain herself now as her plans with the kingdom and, more importantly, with you still formed.

A/N: Character profiles done! Hopefully the chapters don’t take too long to write, but I hope y’all enjoy the profiles for now! Sorry they took so long lol

[howhow326]

Funk Up The Night

Miraculous Ladybug salt fic (Felix salt, Lila salt, Gabriel salt, Nino salt, original character protagonist, Alya sugar, tw: racism, torture, sexism, ableism, teens assaulting other teens, suicide mention, p*dophilia). (This fic is a sequal to another fic I made before that got hidden because it's a reblog and my third fanfic)

Narrator PoV

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In the dark of night at a secret government base, Felix Fathom is using the powers of the stolen peacock miraculous to infiltrate the facility. The boy snaps all of the guards into his Red Moon, a fate that he has no intention of freeing them from. However, Felix can't shake the idea that someone is watching him...

After a few minutes, Felix finds his goal: a safe full of hoards of wealth and confidential information kept secret by his late father. As Felix opens the safe he feels a strong gust of wind move past him, but he pays it no mind. After all, isn't Felix invincible?

Felix takes a few steps into the safe before he senses someone watching him again. This time, Felix catches his stalker standing behind him. From far away, Felix thought the mysterious person was some type of dirty peasant: he was wearing a baggy black shirt, a tattered navy cravat that layed untucked, and a black newsboy cap that covered his coily black hair. But closer inspection made Felix doubt that assumption: the boy in front of him also had black, knee-length boots that covered his black pants and elbow blue gloves. Felix tried to focus on his face, but it looked like he painted himself with grey make-up. The mystery boy also had a trail of floor length blue feathers popping out of the sections of his arms that weren't covered by his gloves. Before Felix could insult his fashion choices, the stalker finnaly spoke:

"Fancy bumping into you here." the boy said while placing his hands on his hips. "Out to find some answers about your father, are we?"

His golden eyes reminded Felix of someone he met in France, but he couldn't place it.

"You have quite the familiar face and I assume you are using the same powers, but you will have to forgive me; do we know each other?" Felix demanded.

"Same powers? Don't make me laugh! Your espionage skills back there looked a bit rusty."

Felix snickered at the peasant's insult. "The only rust on me is from the lack of any real challenge. Perhaps you are up to the task?"

"You already disappointed me." The boy said as he held up Felix's ring between his fingers. Horror dawned on Felix's face as he realized that his ring was stolen. Then he pounced on the assailant.

"Stop." With one word, Felix fell to the ground one foot within the thief. "Quite the peculiar object, this ring. According to my sources, all I need to do is snap my fingers and you would vanish without a-" "What do you want?" Felix asked.

"I love it when people get straight to the point." The mystery boy joked. "What is Hawkmoth's secret identity?" "Gabriel Agreste." "Hmm, and here I was thinking it wouldn't be so obvious."

The mystery boy began pacing around in a circle thinking to himself. "Why haven't you told anyone else?" "I was going to deal with him myself." "Of course. So that's why you've been hiding in Britain for the past month?" "I couldn't let Ladybug take my miraculous!" "The miraculous you got making a deal with Hawkmoth in the first place?"

The mystery boy finished his thinking and turned to face Felix. "Well, let's make a deal since you love making those. I'll give you your ring back in exchange for the peacock miraculous." "NO!" "You are in no position to refuse me." The boy thief used Felix's ring to make him feel intense pain, causing the blond to whimper in agony. "Make no mistake, I won't hesitate to end your existence after you helped the terrorist that tried to cause WW 3. My deal is the only scenario where you walk away alive." "Fine!" Felix spat.

"Fantastic!" The mystery boy took off Felix miraculous and used it to transform himself. He then tossed Felix his ring, giving him back his freedom. "And before I forget... Red Moon, I release you from existence!" "NOOO!" Felix screamed. But before he could stop him, the boy snapped his fingers, killing Felix's 'sister'. "WHY DID YOU DO THAT!" "You used your powers to create a living weapon. You shouldn't had created her." Felix once again tried to jump the murderer, but he knocked the blonde out with a back hand slap.

Having gotten what he came for, the mysterious boy left Felix in the facility where he would no doubt be arrested by the guards... or worse.

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Timothy PoV

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Timothy Cesaire was having an amazing day. It wasn't often that he didn't have to fake being in a good mood, so he made sure to enjoy it as long as it lasted.

Last week, The Raptor annihilated Techno-Pirate during combat. The villain had an uncomfortable amount of civilian hostages during the long battle, so Timothy weighed his outcomes and decided his solution was for the best. The boy thought that making the 'ultimate choice' for the first time would be bad for his mental health, but it ended up doing the opposite; Timothy felt a weight lift off his shoulders as he realized New York was finnaly free of a blight like Mike Rochip.

Of course, not everyone agreed with his actions. While the hostages defended the Raptor and thanked him for saving their lives, the United Heroez used the incident as evidence that the Raptor had to be taken down. A part of Timothy agreed with them, after his fist time he wondered how many problems he could solve using his new 'solution'. But their criticisms didn't matter to him, Timothy was the one who saved innocent people's lives not the Heroez and their dumb sidekicks. Perish the idea that the aggressors life is equal to their victim, Timothy thought.

But all of that is in the past right now. The Raptor is on hiatus, and Timothy Cesaire is in France to visit his favorite cousin Alya. Of course, Timothy is really here to get rid of Hawkmoth before he makes the earth explode on accident, but that dosen't mean he can't have fun!

As Timothy opened the door to his temporary classroom, he was overwhelmed by a massive sense of déjà vu.

Alya, Marinette, and Adrien were all sitting in the back corner of the class. A boy, Kim I think, threw a paper ball at Marinette's head. The raven haired girl's expression suggested that was normal. When Timothy looked to his left, he expected to see the same orange haired witch that he got fired last time. He expected that he was in a nightmare or some horrible time loop.

Instead, Ms. Mendeleiev, the teacher that Timothy planted into this class, yelled "No throwing things in the classroom, dog boy!!!" What the heck just happened??? "My last names not that kind of Chien!" The jock yelled at the teacher. "And now you're talking back to your teacher? Go to the principles office, now!" "Excuse me-"

The familiar voice filled Timothy's heart full of dread. There's no way that b*tch came back here, Timothy thought to himself. Low and behold, that b*tch was sitting right there. The last time Timothy was in France, he broke Lila's reputation, relationships, and her ankle as revenge for bullying Alya. She was supposed to be in jail for working with Hawkmoth. And yet, there she was. Her hair style was different, and her eye color changed, but it was the same girl. Sitting in the front row. A boy in a trashy outfit, Nino?, was currently throwing himself all over Lila, but Timothy could care less.

"-Kim was only trying to give Marinette his notes for class." Lila lied. Timothy expected the teacher to call her out, but- "You can't keep covering for trouble makers, Iris, but I'll let it off the hook just this once." Ms Mendeleiev stated. WHAT THE WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE??? No matter how Timothy tried to rationalize the situation, nothing in front of him made any coherent sense.

After the disastrous class, Marinette filled Timothy in on the situation. At first, everything seemed to go back to normal after Lila was exposed and Ms. Bustier let go. Then Iris Verde showed up. The new girl charmed every member of the class, including the teacher, into thinking she was the greatest thing since sliced bread. Then, just like Lila before her, Iris accussed Alya/Marinette/Adrien of bullying her. The akuma class just got done giving apologies to the three of them for helping Lila, but they all fell back into their old roles after Iris restarted the whole song and dance. Iris even manipulated Nino to break up with Alya and to become her boyfriend days after Alya and Nino got back togather.

"And that's not even the worst part," Marinette exclaimed over lunch, "I caught Iris kissing Kim, Ivan, and Nathaniel outside of school! She's a liar AND a cheater!" The raven haired girl was discussing ways to expose the new Lila, which caused Adrien to sigh. "Marinette, we showed them a recording of Iris threatening us last week and it didn't work. Nothing's working!" The blonde exclaimed.

Timothy shifted at the sound of Adrien's voice. While he hates to admit his opinion was biased, Timothy didn't like Adrien when he first met him. He didn't like that Adrien associated himself with Lila, even though he was forced to by the Italian's manipulations. Timothy always sought to defend the weak, a category that definitely included Adrien, but he was always close to being strong. The friend of an rich idiot, the former boyfriend of Liar Rossi, the cousin of the boy who helped Hawkmoth, and apparently the son of Hawkmoth... but Adrien was different from them. After realizing that taking the high road dosen't work, Adrien began to proactively defend Marinette and Alya. Sure, it had consequences. Adrien became a social outcast along with the two girls, but if being popular meant hurting two of his closest friends, then he would make the same choice every time. If only every rich kid could be that altruistic.

"Your being quiet, Alya." Timothy changed the conversation. "Oh, I'm sorry I-" before Alya could finish her thought, a voice so loud it sounded like screaming shouted into everyone's ears. "HEY ADRIAN DUDE!!! LET'S HANG OUT AND DITCH THESE LOSERS!!!" Nino shouted. "Agh, Nino I already told you that I can't be your friend if you keep being mean to Marinette and Alya. Also, please keep it down." Adrien politely asked Nino. The loud boy looked hurt by Adrien's words, but then his expression changed to one of rage. "Tch, well I don't want to be your friend as long as you keep hanging out with that ho." Nino direct his insult at Alya. Timothy summoned every ounce of his willpower to restrain himself, who the hell does he think he is???

"Nino, we already told you that Alya never cheated on you!" Marinette said in her friends defense. "LIARS!!!" Nino shouted. After a huff, he left the group to go hang out with Iris and her zealots.

When Timothy and Alya made it to her parent's house, Timothy pulled Alya aside for a talk. "Alya, what the heck! Why didn't you tell me that all of these people were bullying you again!!! I could have-", "Could have what? Break people's ankles!" Sh*t. "Uhh, Alya what are you talking about haha?" "Don't play dumb with me, I already know your secret-" Timothy was dreading when this day would come, when someone close to him would discover his secret identity. While The Raptor has the power to move faster than the eye can see, he dosen't have the power to erase memories... Unless, I give Alya a concussion? But doing that could hurt her really badly, Timothy thought. He felt a cold sweat trickle down his back... I have to do what I must.

"-you are in contact with The Raptor!" Alya wrongly concluded. Timothy breathed a sigh of relief and told Alya what she wanted to hear, "You got me... I'm sorry Alya, but I just couldn't stand to see you hurting like that. That's when The Raptor made an offer to help me in exchange for information from the science lab I have an internship at." Timothy wanted to eat his heart out for lying and manipulating Alya. It's for the greater good, Timothy thought to himself... but he knew that his actions barely made him different from horrible people like Lila.

The rest of their conversation became a blur before they both went to off to bed. Timothy still felt guilty that he could even dare think about hurting his favorite cousin in the whole world. Even back in Martinique, Alya was still the nicest, bravest, greatest person he knew. Meanwhile, I'm... Timothy stopped that train of thought. Right now, he isn't important. What's important is helping Alya and her friends.

The day after tomorrow, Timothy managed to convince Alya and her friend's parents to get the principal to switch their homeroom classes. Alya hated the idea, but her parents and Nora refused to let her go back to the class she was being bullied in.

After Alya was safe, Timothy began to work his magic on the class. Kim, Ivan, and Nathaniel all got exposed as cheaters to their significant others, which tanked Iris' reputation. Then, Timothy convinced Rose and Juleka, the two least evil girls in class, of how evil Iris was. Those two especially felt bad that they isolated Mari and Alya twice, and decided they would switch schools to make it up for betraying their friends trust. When those two went, Mylene and Max followed them. Timothy then convinced Chloe and Sabrina that Iris was a threat, which prompted them to begin bullying Iris and Nino. In one week, Iris power had faded just like Lila had. Now there was only a few things left to do...

Nino received a text from a secret admirer that wanted to meet up. Knowing that his girl was always having flings, he decided to try it out for himself. The location on the text led him to an allyway where a boy stood. "Huh? You're a dude, not a girl!!!" "I can't believe you're this stupid." "Wait, you're that filthy cheaters cousin! What do you want!!!" "This."

Before Nino could react, Timothy sprinted up to him and kicked him in the gut. As Nino layed on the ground in pain, Timothy stomped on every part of his body until he became black and blue. "Believe it or not, this is nothing personal." Timothy lied. "I just needed you out of the way so I could get to Lila." Nino tried to speak, but it came out as grunts because Timothy had stomped on his throat. "Oh, and by the way... this is for Alya!" Timothy said as he kicked Nino hard on his forehead on last time. The loud boy fell unconscious, but not dead.

And now, the real fun begins...

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Lila? PoV

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Angela Diavola was surely having the worst week of her life! First, the black kid from America came back to bother her right after she worked so hard to get back into Ms Bustier's classroom. Did he even know how much work she put in to fix the problems he caused??? "Lila Rossi" was in jail, so Angela had to discard that identity along with that girl's mother. Luckily, Angela tricked one of the crazies into thinking she was "Lila Rossi" and escaped from her prison. Now she was "Iris Verde". But when her "Iris" came back home, her dumb cr*p mom started asking too many questions. Angela had no choice but to get rid of her like all the moms that get too curious. So far a missing persons report hasn't been filed yet, but eventually "Iris Verde" will have to take the fall for the murder after disappearing. Ugh, I'm too stressed to plan! Nino was supposed to go out with me an hour ago but he missed our appointment! Right when Angela was getting ready to leave her ultra secret hideout, the lights went out. "I told you that if you tried to bully anyone in your class again I would come back!!!" an invisible voice spoke, but Angela knew it well. The Italian woman ran to the drawer where she kept her emergency handgun. This time, that dumb islander won't walk away from me! As soon as Angela pulled the gun out the drawer, the lights flicked on and The Raptor appeared behind her. Eat lead, Angela screamed at the him. She fired all of her shots at him, but he dodged each one. Angela then threw her handgun at him, but he caught it. "Where did you even get a gun from?" Before Angela could run away, The Raptor threw her handgun at her head, knocking her onto the floor. Im not going to let him ruin me again, Angela frantically thought. She reached into her back pocket to grab her emergency knife, already coming up with a devious plan. "Ohh, what ever will I do with you..." "Wait! I confess, I'm not 15. Im a 33 year old from foster care with a hormon disorder and I just pretended to be younger to feel safe!!! I promise I won't do it again!" Ha, bird brain dosen't even know that when he drops his guard, I'll stab him in the throat! Angela thought. The Raptor didn't drop his guard. "... It all makes sense now. This whole time, you were an adult manipulating teenagers... YOU WERE DATING TEENAGERS!!!" Angela only then realized that the superhero didn't figure out her secret until she told the truth just now. "Oh, uh, I was just lying!"

The Raptor lunged at the woman. She took out her knife to stab him, but he grabbed it from her and tossed it aside. He then knocked her out. The Raptor considered ending her miserable existence, freeing the world from her blight... but he decided there was a better way.

He tied her up and called the police. When Angela Diavola came to, she was in a max security cell for serial killers like herself. During the investigation, it was discovered that Angela had "disappeared" at least seven different woman who adopted her from the foster care system. Additionally, she left a long string of bullying and, in the worst cases, students taking their own lives from the schools she attended.

Ladybug wanted to feel happy that she was finnaly gone, but knowing the evil depths "Lila" sunk to shook her to her core. "M'Lady, there's a note here." Chat Noir's words brought Ladybug back to reality. As she read the note, she felt a chill go down her spine. Lila's exposure wasn't a happy coincidence.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ladybug PoV

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"I stole the Peacock miraculous from Felix. Come to the Agreste Mansion if you want it back." Was all that was written on the note. Normally, she would think it's a trap, but her instincts were telling her to follow it's order. Whatever is happening now, is The Raptor's doing.

Ladybug, followed by Chat Noir, made it to the Agreste Mansion. The front door being open made Chat Noir uneasy. Inside, there was a trail of black paint that lead into Gabriel's work room. "Ok, this is clearly a tra-" before Ladybug could finish her thought, Chat Noir made a bee line for the room. Normally, Ladybug would yell at him for being so boneheaded, but something was telling her that Chat was being dead serious right now. "What?" was the only word needed to make Ladybug's skin crawl. Inside the work room was a secret elevator in front of a painting. What Ladybug and Chat Noir discovered at the bottom of that elevator would change their lives forever.

"I see you lot are unfashionably late." The Raptor announced to the duo while facing Hawkmoth. Hawkmoth?! Hawkmoth's here?! Why is Hawkmoth down here?! This has to be some kind of trap or- "Mom?" Chat Noir called out while looking at a casket behind Hawkmoth. "... Adrien?!" Ladybug hid her gasping mouth with her hands. It's happening again. "no." "Adrien, I am your father! Give me Ladybug and your miraculous so I can wish your mother back to life!" "NO!" Hawkmoth then threw out an akuma at Chat Noir. Ladybug wanted to intercept it, but her body refused to move. He's going to turn into Chat Blanc! The world is doomed again and it's all my fault...

At the last second, a hand reached out and crushed the akuma. "Ladybug, now!" The Raptor cried. Without thinking, Ladybug threw out her yo-yo at Hawkmoth's chest, cracking his miraculous. "Nooo-" Hawkmoth collapsed onto the floor coughing. The superheroin ran to the villain and took off his miraculous, which reverted him back to Gabriel Agreste. "Father, how could you do this!" Chat Noir screamed at him. "You ungrateful brat, I could have saved your mother! Saved our family!" Chat Noir slowly walked towards his father, his eyes full of hatred. "Mother's death didn't break our family... you did! You were the one who shut me out! The one that choose not to eat dinner with me anymore! You're the ungrateful one! You don't deserve this house! You don't deserve mother, or me, or Nathile, or anything... cataclysm." "Chat Noir no! Doing that will just make you as bad as he is." Before Ladybug could stop her partner, The Raptor held her back. "It's his choice."

Adrien held his father for the last time.

[thatonemarvelchick]

Apricity - Twenty-Five

Ok, for plot purposes I did this chapter in Apricity's POV again, but the next one will be Peter and we'll resume our regularly scheduled programming.

Apricity kept her pace brisk, her eyes alert. “Bucky, what’s my status?” She asked quietly into the com that they had hidden deep in her ear. It was micro, so not even HYDRA would be able to sense it if they patted her down. She was told it was the same thing Peter had used when they’d come to get her. 

She cringed at the thought of the boy. She couldn’t think about Peter right now, about the way MJ had enveloped him in a hug that he’d immediately returned. About the way the two had looked at each other as if they were lovers long lost. 

But they were, weren’t they? 

“You’re clear right now, as far as we know there’ve been no detections.” Bucky’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts, making her focus once again on her mission. Infiltrate HYDRA, and take them down. “The man you’re looking for is named Jared Pritchet. There’s a photo of him coming your way. You’re going to go up to him, and you’re going to say Hail HYDRA. He’ll take you to the base. Or, he’ll call someone who will.”

Apricity nodded even though Bucky couldn’t see her. Or, maybe he could. She had no idea the kind of tech Sam had gotten them access to. 

“Ok. Thanks.” She sighed, looking around her. She’d pulled out her phone to look at the photo Bucky sent her, examining the face of the man. When she looked back up, his was the only face she was looking for. 

It didn’t take her long to find it in the mostly empty plaza. He was sitting at a table, typing something rapidly on a computer. He wasn’t paying attention to anyone or anything around him, completely zoned in on his laptop. This was good for Apricity, as it enabled her to walk directly up and sit down across from him before he noticed. 

He frowned, watching her closely for a moment. “Can I help you? I don’t have any change, I’m sorry.” 

Apricity chuckled softly, leaning in and pushing his computer closed, much to his dismay. “Hail HYDRA.” 

The man seemed to freeze at that, looking at her with widened eyes. A flicker of recognition ran throughout them, and he was suddenly swallowing thickly. 

“Come with me.” His American accent was gone, replaced with a thick German one. He stood, packing up his things and walking away without waiting for her to follow. 

“Good kid. Now just be careful.” She heard Bucky’s voice over the coms again, and a jolt went through her when he called her kid. She knew he would call anyone younger than him a kid, but it was different when she was actually his kid. 

“Apricity?” She heard Peter’s voice over the com next, something that also sent a jolt through her. She’d thought he was still with that girl, MJ. She hadn’t expected him to be there with Bucky and Sam, to still care about the mission. Or her. “I know you can’t respond, I just- Please tell us if you need any of us. I’ll be there. Don’t die, ok?” Apricity swallowed, bowing her head. She hoped that they could see her and that they would take this as a sign of understanding. She had no intention of dying today. 

Apricity followed Pritchet to a cab, getting in after only a moment of hesitation. He leaned forward, shutting the divider between them and the taximan, before turning to her. 

“You’re her? The Soldier’s daughter?” He asked, looking at her cautiously. 

Apricity jut her chin out, putting on an act already. “He took part in my creation, and then he abandoned the cause. He is no father of mine.” Her voice surprised even her. But Pritchet seemed to buy it, because soon enough he was smiling. 

“Good. We’ve been quite worried about you, Winter Sun.” A chill went up Apricity’s spine at the name, but she showed no outward reaction to it. 

Soon enough, they were walking into an unassuming government-looking building, plain on the outside. Apricity looked around, taking in every detail she could. Pritchet was let in without a code or scanning of any kind, but the guard at the door put a hand on her chest to stop her from coming after him. 

Apricity acted on instinct, grabbing his wrist and twisting until his arm was pinned behind his back and he was shoved into the wall. It was a move her father had taught her earlier that day, and she could hear his laughter coming through the coms. 

“Woah woah woah-” Pritchet held up his hands to the other guards who were rushing towards her with electrified batons at the ready. Her eyes flickered wildly between them all, her breathing heavy. For someone who was only acting power-hungry and wild, she was putting on a good show. “Let’s be civil. She’s with me.” Pritchet put a gentle hand on her shoulder, causing her to let the guard go slowly. “Let’s go inside and get you settled, yeah?”

Apricity’s jaw clenched. “I want to talk to him. The scientist who tested on me. I want to know what he put in me. I want more.” Her demands came quickly and brutally. Pritchet watched her for a moment, and for a terrifying second, she thought she’d oversold it, that they would catch on and realize that she was lying. 

“Right this way, soldier.” Pritchet grinned and her heart lifted. She let out the smallest sigh of relief, perceptible to only herself. She was led into the building and then into an elevator, Pritchet pushing an unmarked button. “This will take us to the labs. The man you’re looking for is Dr. Convoy.”

She nodded, swallowing thickly. She hoped Bucky had caught that and was doing a run on the name now.

“What did he put inside of me?” She asked, clenching and unclenching her fists over and over again. 

Pritchet glanced over at her and shook his head as the elevator doors opened and let them out into a purely white hallway, not a window in sight. “I don’t know, I’m not even sure he knows.”

She frowned at this, following him down the hallway. He opened a door that revealed rows upon rows of lab tables. Some of them had people strapped to them. Apricity resisted the urge to be sick, watching tubes of black and blue sludge being pumped into these people's arms. They were still experimenting on people. 

“Dr. Convoy.” Pritchet led them to a man that was all too familiar to Apricity. She tensed upon seeing his round, balding head. He still had that stupid clipboard in his hand. Much to her approval, he had a black eye and what looked to be a broken nose now. She would have to thank Peter for that later. 

Convoy turned, eyes going wide when they landed on Apricity. “You’ve got her.” He breathed, rushing over to them. “Why is she not in cuffs?”

“Actually,” Pritchet grinned at her as if they shared an inside joke. She didn’t return the look. “She came to me.” 

Convoy shook his head slowly. “My goodness.” He breathed, reaching up to touch her face. She jerked her head away. “A miracle.”

“I came to get more. I want more of whatever it was you injected into me.” She said, looking at him with burning blue eyes. She couldn’t see herself, but she knew that to these people, she looked utterly insane. 

Convoy laughed, putting a hand over his stomach and leaning back as if she’d just told the most hilarious joke she could’ve made. “Of course you did, my dear! You see, when you have that first taste of power, it’s all you want.”

Apricity stepped forward, grabbing him by his tie and yanking him towards her. “What was it?” she demanded lowly. His eyes went wide but the smile never left his face. She was starting to think he was more insane than she was pretending to be. 

“Come with me, my dear. I’ll show you.” He said, having no qualms with the fact that she was holding him in a manner that made it clear that she could snap him like a twig if she chose to do so. 

She was led further into the labs, past tables with people doubled over and throwing up into buckets. The buckets were all full of black sludge and something that looked eerily close to blood. She had to keep her eyes trained on the back of Convoy’s shiny head to avoid her stomach churning and making her join those people. 

“You see, we’ve been trying desperately to replicate what we had with you. However, we’ve never been able to reproduce the serum, so no meer human’s body has been able to handle it. But now that we have you, we can see just what in your blood has made you immune. We can create an entire army of super soldiers that the world has never seen. An entire army of you.” He sounded elated. Apricity felt sick. 

He opened the door to a room with a large clear tube taking up the entire center of it. Inside the tube was that same black sludge she’d seen before, but it was suspended in air, floating around and moving as if it wasn’t affected by gravity. As if it had a mind of its own. 

“What is that?” Apricity breathed, shaking her head. She stared up at the tube in awe, her jaw falling slack. 

“We don’t know!” Convoy sounded delighted. “It’s Asgardian. After their home was destroyed, we imagine it made its way here, looking for shelter. It seems to have a mind of its own, but its only thought is survival.” He grinned over at her. 

She swallowed, watching the way it twisted and moved. She walked over to the glass, drawn to it. The substance seemed to radiate energy and power. Apricity walked directly up to the tube, putting her hand on the glass. 

The sludge stopped flicking as if it sensed her presence. It flung itself into the glass she was touching, over and over, until it began to crack. Apricity jumped back, eyes wide. It wanted out, and it wanted her. 

She could hear shouts coming from out in the labs behind them. Convoy turned. There was a low rumbling sound, the sounds of things being knocked over and tossed aside, people screaming in pain and fear. Apricity stumbled towards the back wall, watching the doors burst open. 

It all happened at once. The goop in the tube burst through the glass. Whatever of the substance had been in the labs burst through the doors, knocking them completely off their hinges. The energy was enough to shove Convoy and everyone else back into the walls. All of it, compiled now, was heading straight for her. 

She felt as the substance entered her, filling her body, conforming to her. She felt like everything was expanding, she felt like she was radiating. A low thrumming sound was coming throughout the room, deafening. The last thing she heard was Convoy shouting, before she herself seemed to explode with the energy, letting it radiate out of her, and incinerate everything it touched.

Next Chapter

[featherburnt]

➥ Til the Hurt is Gone: Bloodfeather

Title: A Lead Part #: 17 Pairing: Hawks x m!OC Word Count: 10,176  Tags: Blood, vague medical setting, poor medical treatment, government negligence, i have no understanding of how concussions work or even how Hawks would know that, mentions of prostitution, mentions of human trafficking, and more i’m sure

Summary: For three years, the hero Hellhound has been hunting, infiltrating groups of villains and probing for information in his search for one named Sonata, the former hero Prisma. A U.A. graduate, he should know better. He should be protecting civilians, hunting down villains when ordered, but his heart lingers on the pains of old memories, the hot desire for retribution burning in his chest. On one fateful night, when the enemy is locked in his sights, a man with vermillion wings snuffs the flames seated in his palms, using his words to burrow under his skin like a fowl little bug. What will he do then? Will he continue his hunt, or will boiling blood finally cool?

Gripped by apathy and doubt, Hawks receives a phone call from someone unexpected - and happens to come across someone else that makes him nervous.

As always, minors do not interact.

Two Days Later, 3:00PM

     Hawks stood by the sink, idly washing the steadily drying blood from his hands while Hellhound slept, detached and apprehensive.

     It’d been nearly two full days since the mock battle with Tarot, and Hellhound had yet to show any signs of regaining consciousness. Hawks had taken it upon himself to keep an eye on him, monitoring his injuries and changing his flesh-and-blood addled bandages when needed, when the time had been afforded to him. He’d kept busy in between check-ins with the infirmary, poking his head into his agency in Fukuoka and putting in a few calls, doing favors, doing work, digging through archives and the odd How-To to help put some things into perspective, connect some dots, and scrounge for information on Kioku Nusumi and her allies, but it’d been scarce at best. The circumstances he’d found himself in since he agreed to sit down with Nogitsune for the first time required an exercise in common sense, especially given that no one involved seemed to have any; Emotions ran too high on one hand, and the demand for secrecy - or, at least, ambiguity - left far too many questions unanswered on the other. Of course, much more had come to mind than puzzling out the Director’s true intentions or the threat that was looming over them, but he hadn’t much wanted to dwell on his own sentiments, having not been as discerning as he should’ve been, too invested in a kindred spirit.

     Even if that’s what it meant to be a hero, to invest oneself in the safety, protection, and betterment of others’ lives, he was toeing a dangerous line.

     He closed his eyes, digging flakes of blood out from between the creases in his palms and rinsing them away under the steady flow of water, his thoughts circling his mind like vultures starved for carrion - only, Hellhound was the proverbial carcass, where all his thoughts had been stemming from for nearly a week. 

     It was both a monumental pain in the ass and cause of genuine concern to so quickly be thoroughly entangled in Nogitsune’s mess and the Director’s plans, to the point any direct action he took would affect the outcome in some way, however major or minor, and sentimentality and kinship was assuredly affecting him now. His influence over Hellhound was perhaps minimal, but he’d already begun to see small differences in his demeanor, watching as whatever hopeful words he could spare in the moment seeded and took root. For every bit of fear and anger burning within Hellhound, there was a small, quiet, stubborn effort to keep moving forward that ran adjacent to his baseline persistence, and while Hawks couldn’t rightly take credit for it, he knew it was in part thanks to his encouragement that Hellhound was able to face the Director - and Tarot - at all. To be of use, to be helpful, to do what he could in too tight a spot– He was grateful to have been able to do anything to lessen the burden, if only because there’d not been anyone to do the same for him, and there was a bothersome sort of irony in that, to not want to deal with any of this at all and yet diving in head-first anyway. 

     Despite this one win, however, Hawks had directly contributed to Hellhound’s suffering, forsaking him as he begged for help the only way he knew how; Silently and with fear in his eyes.

     There were still a great number of things that needed to be done, but the most important had been taken care of - keeping Hellhound, at the very least, alive. What came next would invariably change everything, or it wouldn’t, or it would in a way that wouldn’t be immediately obvious, provided Hellhound awakened. Before, Hawks had been certain informing him of his failure to kill Prisma would only further deteriorate his mental and emotional state, teetering on the deciding line, but, now, after having made his calls and seen that the truth really and truly mattered most to Hellhound, he would tell him the moment he woke. Both his and Nogitsune’s lives hung in the balance, after all, and nothing could be done about the Commission, their relationship, Prisma, or anything else unless the truth had been revealed and an appropriately united front could be amassed. 

      Provided Hellhound came to.

     He heaved a sigh, opening his eyes to glance down at his hands, the suds collecting around his fingers reddish with the wash of blood as he scrubbed and scrubbed, picking at what was caked under his fingernails. 

     But Nogitsune’s lack of interference where he’d made a promise to do so had only further muddied the circumstances; The tenderness of Hellhound’s heart and oppressive weight crushing his mind were unbearably obvious and difficult to see, and there weren’t enough people who cared about the effects of what they inflicted upon him - or anyone else. Nogitsune could be placed into both categories, as one who cared but not enough. It was clear to anyone with a pair of eyes that his intentions were obscured, his actions never matching his words, and perhaps it was naive to think he would act appropriately in the first place, or follow through on the loud proclamations he swore. It seemed, to Hawks, that Nogitsune wanted, desperately, to play an active role in Hellhound’s life - to help - but he was a complicated man, in the end. Would acting, would intervening, have helped Hellhound in the long- or short-run? Doing so had proven little more than a means of anchoring him to the falsehoods spun by the Commission, irrevocably entangled him in a line of work, organization, and series of events that’d only brought him harm. By the time anything could be done about the Commission, Hellhound would never be the same person again, either a shadow or triumphant representation of himself, but a ghost nevertheless. Trauma, pain, betrayal, and extreme physical injury changed people; Why would he be any different?

     And why should Nogitsune’s willful betrayal at every turn be forgiven? He’d broken to pieces every one of Hellhound’s boundaries by abandoning him to his fate, tacitly setting him up for failure in the hopes he would find a way to succeed, lying to him about numerous vital aspects of his life in the horrifically vain hopes that he was protecting him. Wasn’t he stubborn enough? Wasn’t he strong enough? Hadn’t Nogitsune drug him through the mud enough times for him to know , right off, that he could do it himself without that which was most important to him? Did Nogitsune not see that, after his mother’s death, their friendship was one of the few things Hellhound still had…? And, now, even in the beginning, they were reaping the fruits of his labor - with Hellhound unconscious and slipping evermore into reaches few could bring him back from.

     Hawks picked at his cuticles, pressing his fingers into his calloused palms beneath the stream, gently clenching his fist as he washed around his wrists and lower forearms.

     Maybe it was hypocritical of him, to criticize Nogitsune - he was never blameless in all this, not from the start.

     It’d taken hours, when he’d gotten Hellhound to the empty infirmary, to clean his wounds and even longer to stop the bleeding, underprepared and short on time, and since, it had only become marginally less difficult to replace his bandages. He’d been careful, however, keeping his hands clean every step of the way as a pair of nitrile gloves had been, somehow, entirely impossible to locate. 

     There must’ve been a shortage - probably - but even if that had been the case, for there to be no spare gloves anywhere he'd looked didn't bode well. 

     Luckily, however, none of Hellhound’s injuries had shown any signs of infection, which was a miracle unto itself when taking into account the sheer amount of filth and debris in the water with which Tarot assaulted him and especially that Hawks' hands had been bare, though the possibility yet remained. But Hawks had been careful there, too, to wash it all away. His burns hadn’t been as severe as the ones he incurred during the fight with Bat Wing, but Tarot had done a number on him and seeing him more broken, more defeated than ever in so brief a passage of time brought to heel Hawks’ own faint hopefulness. He was worried, wordlessly watching over him while he slept, going through everything that’d led up to that point in his head, but what pricked at him most was the possibility Hellhound might not wake up.

     When he’d gotten him to the infirmary and finally had the chance to survey the damage properly, Hellhound’s head had been split open in a few troubling spots - most notably, his temples and the back of his skull - and while Hawks had no expert knowledge on head trauma, it was clear that the damage had been great. It was enough to knock him out and keep him out of commission for a few days now, which could only mean he’d suffered a severe concussion or worse on top of his numerous other injuries. It didn’t much matter the type of injury it was, however, because, either way, he hadn’t woken, didn’t show any signs of waking, and the damage done to his brain was enough to keep him in this unresponsive, sleeping state. Gashes caused by repeated impact against tile and stone, fractures, smaller and decidedly negligible cuts here and there, bruises, swelling–

      Did Tarot intend to leave him with permanent injuries…? If he couldn’t kill him, he was going to do everything he could to sabotage any possible progress, and head injuries like these–

     It was by some impossible miracle by the grace of some merciful god that he was able to keep the worst of it from worsening, holding shock at bay, but his usefulness here was nearing its end.

     Hawks rinsed and shook the water from his hands, absently reaching for a small handful of paper towels to finish, and, then, he stepped away from the sink, turning on his heel and looking thoughtfully upon Hellhound’s unconscious form. He tentatively approached the side of the bed, sliding on his costume gloves as he made his way around the other beds and side tables, tossing the wad of paper towels aside. A bitter expression spread across his face and he made no move to conceal it. 

     He should’ve done more, should’ve intervened more deterministically, but he hadn’t - couldn’t . The risks posed were more than a mere roadblock and if he’d more obviously broken the rules, the consequences would’ve been swiftly realized. Where Hellhound may have been subjected to torture, imprisoned, or forced to watch Nogitsune die, Hawks would’ve likely been entreated to the same or worse. Maybe his own mother would’ve been taken, murdered– 

     He forced himself to lay that thought to rest for the time being, a hand rising to settle on the guard rail lining Hellhound’s bed. 

     He couldn’t have done more, but he wished the circumstances allowed him the room, and even if it was effectively out of his hands, it was his turn to take the blame for Hellhound’s continued victimization. A precedent had been set and he’d done nothing to change it, thinking it best to bide his time so he might learn, gather information, build his strength until the moment to strike had come - and how idiotic a choice it was to make. What'd generally always been a sound strategy had spectacularly failed, blowing up in his face like a prejudicial bomb. Hellhound yet again suffered most, now bedridden and comatose, due to the incompetence of all those around him - Hawks included.

     Even the best of them all made bad fucking judgement calls. 

      I owe you an apology, pup…

     He looked Hellhound over, scanning his body for any injuries he may have missed, but nothing stuck out to him. Every bruise he had was now darker, particularly the ones around his swollen eyes and nose - which had already been awful in the first place - blackish purple in color. His burgundy hair stuck to him in a knotted mess, unnaturally parted in some areas due to his head injuries, but Hawks was sure to keep his hair out of his face with a cool, damp cloth wrapped around a cold pack on his forehead to help prevent any spikes in his temperature. He placed a number of cold packs around his body, too, and further insulated them with bundles of ice in spots already prone to heightened temperatures in the hopes it might help to minimize any differences in temperature. It was dangerous to leave him without any form of regulation and he’d seen as much with his own eyes not once, but twice now. 

     Hellhound contained within him a wealth of power and it seemed to shift and change right before Hawks’ eyes every time it was used, but for as vast and flashy a well it was, it’d been noticeably weaker during the mock battle than before, when they’d crossed paths with Bat Wing. Brilliant and beautiful, even strangely relieving in its own right, but no matter how brightly his flame burned, it was predicated on a foundation of panic. Hellhound could level a city block under the right conditions; Had he been so shaken, so rattled, with fear of Tarot that even after transforming into that horrible, skinless, monstrous beast and using his flames to fly across the training field, he couldn’t actually go beyond? Tarot intimidated him into muting his own quirk, frantically diluting his power out of sheer, seemingly unlimited fear, and only righteous anger had been his saving grace. Yet, still, somehow it was like watching a completely different person fight - a weaker, less discerning man.

     But, still, he fought and won regardless of his fears, and, to Hawks, that spoke highly of his strength, even if he’d wound up in another hospital bed in the end. It meant his strength could falter but would never truly fade, that the rawness of his emotions had been both a blessing and a curse.

     If only he’d never been forced into this position.

     Hawks took a small, miniscule comfort in knowing that Hellhound hadn’t lied about his supposed ability to fly, however new and infantile it was.

     He furrowed his brow, allowing his gaze to travel along the narrow slopes of Hellhound’s cheeks to the swell of his scarred and split lips, absently counting every freckle and knick dappling his coppery skin. Lengths of long, chunky burgundy pooled all around him, mussed and filthy, and he thought it complimented the many other aspects of his physical attributes; As injured and dirty as he was, he could still be handsome, and, in some ways, that made Hawks all the more bitter - not that he really cared about looks to any tangible capacity. It was simply a shame that Hellhound should be entreated to so much pain, to countless old wounds getting ripped open over and over again, and to be handsome even still. 

     Pain wasn’t supposed to be beautiful, and it wasn’t, yet here he was, sleeping soundly in the gloom where the sunlight could not reach him.

     Suddenly, his cell phone began to buzz, vibrating noisily in his jacket pocket and jarring him from his tumultuous stupor. He let it continue, prolonging the inevitable as he apprehensively stared down at Hellhound, but, then, he answered, only briefly checking the caller ID. A restricted number scrolled across the screen.

     He didn’t dare utter a word, listening to the quiet feedback crackling in his ear.

     “Hawks, sweetheart.” A woman’s voice came through, uniquely sultry in tone, and decidedly firm, commanding, powerful despite its sensuous lilt. Though he hadn’t been able to get ahold of her since his first meeting with Nogitsune, he knew, instantly, that it was none other than Crovita herself.

     “Sorry, who is this? How’d you get this number? Don’tcha know it’s rude to call people when they’re at work?” he said playfully, furrowing his brow and tightening his grip around the guard rail, his words not betraying how he felt in truth. He tried to keep his voice low to respect Hellhound’s rest, but he would leave before too long. He had much to do before the day was out.

     “You’re cute, but not that cute,” Crovita purred plainly, unamused. “We need to talk, darling. Lend an ear, won’t you? It’ll only be a moment.”

     She was being uncharacteristically pleasant , but he knew the truth. She was not to be trifled with and, in some instances, she’d been more frightening than he’d cared to admit - and that only covered what he’d heard through rumors .

     “What’s it gonna cost me, Crovita? Ya never wanna talk unless there’s somethin’ in it for you. What’s the play? Whadda ya want?”

     “All I want to know is how Hellhound is faring. Is he all right? Tarot didn’t hurt him too badly, did he? He’s been through quite enough, my dear, and I won’t be pleased if anything’s happened to him that cannot be reversed.” Her tone steadily dipped, more serious now.

     “How’d ya find out about Tarot?” he asked, already knowing the answer. Either she spoke to Nogitsune or Tarot himself, or managed to successfully undermine the many security protocols  put into place by the Commission - one of the two, maybe even both. Slowly, he released the guard rail and took a step backward, away from the bed, his gaze lingering on the bruises around Hellhound’s eyes and the long, burgundy lashes framing them for a few spare moments until he finally turned away. 

     “I have my sources, sweetheart, as you have yours. Will you tell me, please? I’ll give you what information I have on Kioku Nusumi in return, since you’ll be… assisting Hellhound. I’m afraid it won’t be as comprehensive as either of us would like it to be, however, but you’ll make do. You’re good at that.”

     “Ya sure it’s wise to talk about it over the phone? Ya never know who might be eavesdropping, y’know, and the Commission’s awfully nosy.” 

     He guessed she knew about Kioku Nusumi in much the same manner as the latter or perhaps due to some amount of experience, and he would oblige her, of course, and not only because she was willing to trade information for something so plain as a status report. Playing her game would yield results, that was true, but there was something tugging at the man in him, not the hero, an urge borne of sentimentality - respect for the good-natured concern Crovita so rarely displayed. That was reason enough for him, in the moment; He could afford to ask questions and be a mite liberal…

     “Don’t be silly, dear. My line is encrypted and the Commission won’t bother with me. There’s a reason I called you now and not before or later.”

     “Clever girl, aren’tcha? Sometimes I forget you have all your fingers in all the right pies.” He paused, walking toward the infirmary’s door, intending to leave, something small and quiet stalling him once more. For the briefest moment, he took one last look at the unconscious hero, pity and worry twisting his guts. “Hellhound’s been unconscious for a couple of days now, ever since the fight. Somehow, nothin’s broken, but he took a few blows to the head. He’s most likely got a grade-four concussion. Took a while to stop the bleeding, but he’s been taken care of; It’s just gonna take some time for him to wake up.” Stepping into the hallway, he shut the door behind him and leaned against the wall across from it, unperturbed by the diminished size of his wings. He’d flown back and forth between his agency in Fukuoka and Commission HQ in Shizuoka; It was no wonder his wings were small, almost unnoticeable really, but that was neither here nor there. “He’ll be okay. You know - better than I do - that he’s too stubborn to let something like this keep him down.”

     She sighed deeply and grumbled something to herself he couldn’t quite discern, but he had a hunch nonetheless. 

     He wanted to believe what he was saying, too, that Hellhound would get back up again with all the same fiery tenacity he’d shown since their first meeting.

     “And– Tarot?”

     He wrinkled his nose in disgust. He didn’t stop himself.

     “Hellhound sure took a beating from him, but turned it back around ten-fold. Didn’t stop until he was knocked out and even then, he was on edge– Tarot’s broken in more places - seriously, turned that guy into a human pretzel - I’ll put it that way.”

     “...I see. Hellhound prevailed.” She fell silent for a time; She was employed at the Foxfire Agency when both Tarot and Hellhound were there. She knew a great deal more about their relationship, no doubt thinking about it now. A sigh came through the speaker, as if she’d released a breath she’d been holding for many years, then, “That’s good. I’m relieved to hear it.”

     Hawks jammed his free hand into his pocket, wondering why she really called him, what she wanted from him. She was never the type to make phone calls out of the blue, so it’d always been difficult getting ahold of her and staying in contact; Her numbers always changed or were often restricted and she was better at covering her tracks than even the best of the best, keeping a few hackers in close and amicable proximity. Scrambling or encrypting data or any communicative function was child’s play for her. The Lady of the Underground, dark and terrible as any villain but as virtuous and focused as any hero besides, kept herself out of the limelight and everyone else at a distance for the sole purpose of handling the shadier aspects of heroism without interruption nor elevated risk. Having an understanding of how the world worked beyond rigid morality was as important as it was inconvenient for societal narratives, diametrically opposing the Hero Public Safety Commission’s public motto, in an effort to limit or dampen drug and human trafficking directly and at a high rate of success. She didn’t have the time to entertain conversations about bygone eras or long lost friends when waiting on a deal to go through with the foul and unrepentant dregs of society; Saving the victims of would-be traffickers from a short lifetime of forced drug dependency, rape, torture, experimentation, and other crimes was her chief M.O. The rest could and would often fall by the wayside. 

     So, what did she have to say? What did she know about Kioku Nusumi, Tarot, and Hellhound? Nogitsune? What did she really want to know: every last detail, or a brief summary? And what of the Director? What did she already know? What was she digging for exactly, and would it be a profitable exchange? What did she have to offer that would lighten both his and Hellhound’s load…?

      Maybe I’m being a bit too cautious here.

     “He put up one hell of a fight, Crovita, hard as it was for him… It was difficult to watch,” he continued plainly, through tight lips. “But, maybe it was good for him to confront Tarot, even if the circumstances are wholly unethical… There’s nothin’ saying he’ll be okay after this, less sayin’ he’ll make a full recovery, but he’ll have one less thing haunting him. That’s for sure.”

      Presumptuous, maybe…

     “Perhaps, my dear, perhaps,” she said smoothly, the faint clinking of glass and metal worming through his phone’s feedback, high-pitched static on the same frequency. “It sounds like you had a direct hand in treating his injuries. “Whisking him away like a thief in the night to the nearest hospital for care wasn’t an option?”

      You’ve got eyes everywhere, huh? Seems like Hellhound wasn’t dead or missing so much as his appearances went unreported, ignored even. Sounds like you pulled some strings, Crovita, if you’re letting this slip now, and with your network of informants and hackers, I’m willing to bet you knew Hellhound was alive all along. Helping him, too, in your own unique, hands-off sort of way; Maybe working with Nogitsune all the while…

     Does everyone from Foxfire operate like this? Two for two, now.

     He glanced at the ceiling tiles above, ignoring the fluorescent tubal lighting outright. Having even one of his suspicions confirmed was enough; He wasn’t going to call her out on it.

     “Nah, you know how the Director is. Wheeling Hellhound into a hospital the same day he’s released from one would ruffle too many feathers. Had to stay in-house with this one. Trouble is, there wasn’t any staff in the infirmary when I brought him and no one’s turned up since, so I’ve had to stitch him up and swap everything out on my own. The Director’s keeping everything concerning him hush-hush, for the most part, so it’s not surprising.” He drew his gaze from above and shot it down both ends of the empty hallway, swallowing thinly. “Frustrating, though. It’s like they want him to fail–”

     “Sabotage, subtle or bold, friend or foe. The Commission has always had a penchant for simultaneously putting all their eggs in one basket and promptly dropping it into the abyss.” She clicked her tongue and sucked in a breath. “I appreciate your honesty.”

     She didn’t want to hear any more; He could take the hint. 

      “Lying to you doesn’t exactly seem like it would help the situation any, an’ I’ve gotta feeling Hellhound would have a bit of a problem with me refusing to play ball - with an old friend he probably owes his life to.”

      “You’re catching on quickly, darling,” Crovita cooed, the hints of a smile filtering into her voice. “But I digress. You’ve done as I asked. In return, I’ll tell you anything you wish to know  about Kioku Nusumi - for Hellhound’s sake.”

      Perfect. He already knew just what to ask.

     “How did you find out he was assigned to her case?” A suspicious tone threatened to leak into his words, hanging on the trail of his sentence by little more than a thread. “Your timing’s just a little too convenient, even a little suspicious.”

     “Oh, sweetie, was I being too obvious?” she chuckled, almost mockingly. She’d dropped hints deliberately after all, then. “CCTV cameras and computers are a simple thing to hack into, and I wanted to see Hellhound’s press release for myself. It was by chance I saw one Hatsukawa Teiko cavorting with that fiendish little twit, and again, later, that twit with Tarot, when you and Nogitsune’d been occupied with other things. It seems both had information she was willing to risk capture to acquire and her gamble quite paid off, though I believe her schmoozing with Miss Hatsukawa had been purely to… sever a particular line of communication, the results of which only Hellhound will be able to discern.”

     She didn’t answer his question directly. If she learned Hellhound had been assigned to hunting down Kioku Nusumi, it couldn’t have been through a simple hack; Kill orders were classified, completely redacted, and filed away on paper. Who did she talk to before she ever bothered to call him?

     …Nogitsune.

     “Ballsy, I’ll give her that,” he said, deciding to drop his previous question if Crovita was unwilling to answer it in truth. Besides, it wasn’t entirely out of the question that she should know in any way, if she’d been monitoring Hellhound herself and maintaining a relationship with Nogitsune. Still, that implied she’d been relying upon the Kitsune Hero for anything, and if Hawks had known anything at all about her, it was that she was prideful. “Any idea what she was looking for?”

     “Nothing immediately obvious, but Tarot handed her a thumbdrive. What that thumbdrive contains, I’m unsure, but considering she’s Prisma’s right-hand woman and the second-in-command of their little ‘organization’ - the Red Letter; such a dreadfully unoriginal name - it’s clear her intentions were to get inside information. Tarot’s unafraid of the consequences of having and using that gaping hole of a mouth of his, especially if it means he may gain something from it in the end," she posited, allowing a thinly veiled warning to slip. How charitable of her, though he’d no doubts she’d done so on purpose. “Perhaps she was after information on both Hellhound and Bat Wing, or any others they might seek. If that’s true, then their group potentially aims to free one of their own and capture one of ours, but it’s not out of the realm of possibility that they’re planning something else more damaging than simply that,” Crovita continued, half-musing to herself, a questionable lilt rolling off her tongue as if she were playing coy. “Any day now, they’ll likely make a move and use the resulting commotion to their advantage. It would be best to prepare for that, dear.”

      That’s what I was thinking, too. Gathering intel precludes action. This might be far from their primary objective, but it will be the second time they’ve made a move in less than a week, which means they’re getting bolder - ready to move on to something bigger.

     “What’s on that drive’s gotta be patrols, personnel rosters, schedules, locations, security codes– If any changes are made to what they already know, they’ll get suspicious, turn tail and run. We can’t give them that opportunity, but we can’t hand Bat Wing or Hellhound to them on a silver platter either.”

     “True, if simplistic, but you may have to allow them to escape. The Red Letter won’t suffer another loss so easily. Cowardice - fleeing to safety in order to fight another day - is a viable course of action for them to take, but there will be other opportunities, if you should fail. Every action they’ve taken has sent ripples through the underground, sweetheart, and I can feel them from here. They won’t stop until they have what they want, and what they want - I assume you know - is to usher in a world where only the strong may survive at the expense of the weak, to accelerate and capitalize on the supposed eventuality of the Quirk Singularity Theory. They seem to believe in an extreme form of accelerated darwinism.The details concerning their ideology and how they plan to… excise the cancer of weakness they believe is crippling our society are in their published manifesto,‘ Garden World’ - I recommend picking up a copy. It was released quietly in limited supply alongside Destro’s autobiography, so it largely flew under the radar, only gathering the more studious villains to their side by chance while Destro’s flew off the shelves.”

     Hawks screwed his eyes shut, yanking his hand free of his pocket if only to briefly rub and pinch at the bridge of his nose, beneath his visor. He pried his cellphone from his ear and tilted his head backward and to the side, stretching the muscles in his neck and grimacing all the while. 

     The more he knew, the more involved he was, the more irritating, the more distressing, the circumstances became.

     He pressed his cellphone to his ear once more. Crovita still had plenty to say.

     "However, their vetting and determination processes are extremely thorough, with their focus on quality over quantity. Simply reading their manifesto means little to them if their target audience cannot… walk the walk, so to speak. They only accept those who possess multiple quirks into their ranks, with only one exception to the rule, but even she will outlive her usefulness. Kioku Nusumi - Kanetsuki Utako - was chosen for her intelligence, codependency, and, most importantly, her quirk. She's proven herself quite the worthwhile investment, too, darling, with her ability to add, remove, and scramble one's memories. Her history of involvement and direct employ by the Shie Kanetsuki played heavily into her consideration. Despite her lack of combat prowess and limited scope, she is formidable, and any other villain she's gotten her hands on is wrapped snugly around her finger - and all it takes is her touch. Crossing her is effectively identical to signing your own death warrant, or losing the core of your being to someone who would otherwise dispose of it. "

     He already knew that much. Although–

     "Wait a sec– You said she was chosen to join the Red Letter, in part, for her codependency , implying she's reliant upon something or someone within it. That’s too easy a weakness to exploit."

     "She's just as much a puppet as she is a puppeteer, my dear,” Crovita said, almost somberly. “Prisma keeps her on a long, loose leash, and in exchange for this illusion of freedom, she uses her quirk to brainwash and destroy both friend and foe alike. He plucked her from the clutches of her yakuza family and, now, preys on her need to love and be loved, using her as assuredly as they had. It's tragic, really, that a capable and intelligent woman like that twit should be wasted on the likes of that beast."

     "She’s not someone Hellhound will want to–”

     “Under no circumstances is he to follow that kill order, Hawks. Kioku Nusumi is a villain, yes, and she may even deserve much of what she suffers or has suffered, but she is also a victim of circumstance and in harm’s way at all times. There is a possibility that she may be swayed to surrender. Moreover, executing a member of the Red Letter would only serve to make a martyr of her, thereby emboldening them and pushing yet more to join their side of villainy.”

     “Then we agree.”

     “Quite right, dear. Hellhound may be reckless and idiotic, but he’s no killer and he shouldn’t be forced to be. Still, in the event he succumbs to the heat of his quirk, please, intervene. Nogitsune’s failures cannot be propagated by anyone else, or we will lose Hellhound. Not to villainy, but to death. He can only work with people he trusts implicitly, and if he can’t trust a soul on our side, what hope is there for him? Foster what little trust he’s given to you and let it mean something. To suffer his loss a second time will not bode well with myself nor the other former members of Foxfire, especially if that loss proves permanent.”

      “You’re starting to sound like a gentler version of the Director, like if the Director actually had a heart,” he teased, but there was little meaning behind it, pushing himself off of the wall he’d been leaning against to give his meager wings some room to flex and breathe. 

     Crovita scoffed loudly, as if snorting and sneering and half-screeching like an offended bird. She was a harpy, after all. She spat, “Oh, darling, if I didn’t think cursing was beneath me, I’d rip you to shreds with words alone.”

     He chuckled half-heartedly but said nothing more about it, his mood steadily beginning to change. 

     Another lecture about Hellhound had been altogether unnecessary and he resented that she felt the need to do so, but, at the same time, he understood completely. She was his friend, perhaps his mentor at one time or another, but she was also buried deep in the underbelly of hero society, entrenched in the fight against human trafficking. She couldn’t speak to him herself lest she drag him into that world alongside her, couldn’t impart any wisdom nor information - he was entirely beyond her reach despite being within her line of sight; Her lecture wasn’t about anything more than her fear for his life in any circumstance, and Hawks couldn’t fault her for that.

     People were complex, emotional creatures at the best and worst of times, and she was no different. Neither am I…

     “Thanks for the info, Crovita,” he said soberly. “We’ve got a few leads now.”

     “Not so fast. Before I close this call, there’s something else, dear,” she replied, every bit of irritation in her tone now lost, replaced by something aged and tired. “It would be increasingly beneficial if you both had more help; While you each have your strengths and weaknesses, neither of you can make up for them all, so you will need an extra set of hands - or even two. I suggest you contact Black Knight and Lightbringer, for this will not be an easy undertaking and, as I understand it, Stargazer will also be involved in time– Their approximate locations are in the same city. Tomigaya, Shibuya, to be precise.”

     “Already tried Black Knight. He hasn’t returned any of my calls and I’ve been trying for a week now. ‘Sides, he’s retired–”

     She cut him off quickly. Again.

     “Not technically, dear. Abandoning one’s post is quite a different thing, but I digress. A man like him cannot stay idle for long and, in truth, he’s been quite busy with an…unconventional case, I’ll put it that way. One that would be rather scandalous in today’s sociopolitical climate. There’s an American immigrant by the name of Fait Miris - a young, gay immigrant - currently stuck in a horrific set of circumstances all his own, both legally and criminally, and Black Knight has taken a keen interest in his case. Perhaps you could lend him a hand.”

     “Give a little, get a little. I get what you’re saying. What’s so special about this case? The way you’re dancing around it, it sounds like it’s more unsavory than merely being non-standard.” It sounds like you’re hinting at something worse than this guy being a gay immigrant. Sex worker, maybe?

     “Oh, this boy is special, darling, and for more than one reason. Faith, as he’s called in most circles, is not only pursued by Black Knight, but he’s also Hellhound’s only living relative. His older brother, in fact. He is entirely unknown to Hellhound and, as I think of him now, perhaps if he knew of him, the potentiality that he might allow himself to be killed could be eliminated.”

     “Why doesn’t he know about him?”

     “He’s a prostitute–”

     Thought so.

      “--and has kept himself from contacting Hellhound directly to kindle a familial bond because he knows exactly how that would appear to on-lookers, the media, and the government alike. As much as he’d like to, he simply won’t allow it; Preserving Hellhound’s reputation is decidedly an incredibly important brotherly goal for him to take on, dear. Anything else is simply none of our business.”

     Hawks thought about what might await him on the other end of that, what Black Knight could really be investigating - or if Crovita’d been using such language to imply something else . In which case, he hadn’t much cared; It’s not as if he wasn’t also in a relatively precarious position with his own sexuality, but, more than that, assuming it was an intimate relationship in the first place was presumptuous however expected. Black Knight was a discerning man who rarely erred in interpersonal judgments, and this extended well into his hero work, proving just how seriously he took it. Helping people came at an already unfathomable cost at times, and while he wasn't cartoonishly overpowered like so many others, he applied his reasoning and 'boots on the ground' approach to nearly all situations, often a first responder to even the best and worst of catastrophic events. 

     There was no reason for Hawks to assume anything. It was kind of Black Knight to lend a hand to someone in need, speaking volumes of his deep-seated principles. That’s what made him a hero, even after he’d retired, isn’t it?

     Whatever ended up being the case, the give a little, get a little principle would suffice for the moment; Hawks couldn’t begrudge a man making a positive difference in his own way, especially as it pertained to that which no one was willing to talk about outright.

     “I’ll see what I can do,” he said, casting sidelong glances down either end of the hallway. No one had come to bother him and there’d been no cameras in this particular hall - a rare stroke of luck he wasn’t willing to snub. “It’d be worth looking into, at least.”

     Crovita let out a pleased coo, purring like a dove on a cool spring morning - which, while specific as hell, was as accurate as it got. “I’ll keep my eyes open and forward you any information I receive that might be useful to you, dear, but that will be the extent of my help. You understand, of course.”

     “Totally get it, Crovita. This was more than enough. Getting a head start will be more helpful than you know,” he offered graciously, tipping his head back to breathe a hushed breath. “Thanks, again.”     And just like that, the line was abruptly cut, the frequency skipping a few beats before fizzling into static and, finally, silence.

     He stashed his phone away in his pocket, hoping Crovita would keep her word, but with all she’d told him, he now knew where to look properly instead of trying to grasp at straws. He didn’t know everything and couldn’t always get every little detail of every little thing - it’s unrealistic to think anyone could - but he would be able to piece together that much more of the puzzle even with Hellhound’s incapacitation. Before he could begin, however, he was going to check the evening-shift roster for Commission employees once again - and pray to whatever gods still in existence that someone in the medical field was scheduled; He’d be satisfied with a phlebotomist, at this point, but Hellhound needed better care than that, especially with how severe his injuries had been. And, if he’d been so worried about his head injuries, then he’d better act with haste.

     With a, somehow, renewed sense of purpose, Hawks shirked the restless, detached sort of anxiety that’d been pricking at him, weighing him down. There was no use in allowing himself to dwell on the harsh realities of the situation when he’d already accepted them, frustrated, apprehensive, and troubled as he’d been. Hellhound was depending on him, whether either of them wanted this to be true or not, and it was then, in that moment, that Hawks realized just how far-reaching his influence on their circumstances really was. While teamwork was decidedly something he’d wanted to work on with him and use to strengthen their slow-burn friendship, it would be that friendship that ultimately decided whether or not Hellhound would pull through the rest of all this. He hated that more than he could rightly say–

     What if he failed him? He’d already dropped the ball twice, and even if he hadn’t betrayed Hellhound, he certainly hadn’t helped him out of the unreasonably painful battles he’d been forced to fight up to this point, emotionally or physically. He was wanted by the enemy, wanted by their allies, and spit on by both, and his position between them all was precarious already; One wrong move, one more misstep, and would the worst not come? Would he not have failed yet another hero, another man, another person - Especially when given even a shred of information that may yet turn the tide for them? He didn’t have the option to stumble and fall here.

     He stood upright and straightened himself, swallowing thickly.

     If he could make use of what little remained of his wings to get to Shibuya, then he could potentially recruit Black Knight and Lightbringer. The way Crovita talked about the two made it seem as if they retained a promising amount of loyalty toward Hellhound, but what he knew of either one clashed with that implication; It didn’t have anything to do with him in specific, however, as both were incredibly distrustful on principle. Perhaps Nogitsune was to thank for that, but, as it were, he couldn’t afford not to try, even if Black Knight had denied him thus far. Lightbringer was loud and angrier than any of the former Foxfire members as far as he knew, but he was soft of heart in a similar fashion to Hellhound, so swaying him first might prove more fruitful than the latter hero. With him in tow, he’d have better luck convincing Black Knight to lend a hand, provided he delivered on a bit of quid-pro-quo himself.

     For now, that would have to be the plan.

     Hawks immediately vacated the hallway without giving the situation any further thought, keeping his steps even but quick so as not to arouse any suspicion from anyone else wandering the halls of this wing of Commission headquarters; He knew meeting Black Knight and Lightbringer and speaking with them directly would yield far better results than lingering outside the infirmary and making phone calls ever would, but he couldn’t afford to alert the Commission to his intentions in the meantime. If Crovita had hacked Commission security as he suspected, they would surely be on an elevated alert and behaving outside of expectation could result in forestalling and needless distractions.

     Time was short, and he still had Hellhound to consider. Ensuring medical staff would be in - and finding a way to convince them to visit the infirmary and monitor Hellhound; Bribery, perhaps? - was imperative; He needed to be certain he would awaken soon and that the worst of his injuries possibly weren’t as bad as he’d thought… Knowing better and hoping for the reverse could be forgiven, right? 

     Regardless, as he now stood before an elevator, eyeing the dully glowing button he’d pressed on approach, he knew his personal feelings were irrelevant. It was a hero’s duty to help those who needed it and where things stood now, with Hellhound incapacitated and the Commission ordering him to train to kill in the midst of a mission, threats looming over everyone’s heads they would follow through on, he hadn’t much confidence he’d be effective in his endeavor to do just that. He’d seen worse things, done maybe equally as horrible, and though he understood that change never came easy and there were simply going to be many circumstances where he could do nothing , he never could get used to it. But if he ever wanted to see an end to this seemingly endless cycle, he had to play the long game. Trouble is, he’s running out of time, and he’d begun to feel pressed, hurried. Wouldn’t anyone ? Even so, as much as he wanted to give himself even a little leeway, it wasn’t right for him to give himself any excuses. Harsh a conclusion though it may have been, he had principles and the will to maintain them through even the worst of circumstances - he’d better start acting like it.

     Hellhound wasn’t the only one who ought to be brave, hopeful. Even pretending to be could be helpful to weather what storms may come, and that would just have to be enough.

     As the elevator skidded along its track, quietly squealing and grinding, Hawks eyed the plain red numbers blinking between floors; It was altogether a short trip and, he thought, he may as well have taken the stairs. The infirmary was a small, contained area in the HQ building, appearing as just another office on the surface, hardly standing out from the others. He’d thought it was by design, as the methodology surrounding it had long been established as a pattern.

     The silvery doors of the elevator opened slowly; He waited until they were fully ajar  before slipping between them and out onto the next floor, intending to narrow down on the daily infirmary staffing and see who got stuck with the evening shift. As simple as that’d sounded, there were other locations within the building that provided some form of medical care and each had differing schedules, but none had been assigned to this wing for the last two days. Hopefully, someone would finally show up for a shift and the work week could begin. 

     With light, relaxed steps, he continued down a short series of hallways, a right followed by a left before a long bay of half-shaded windows with planters beset with faux flowers and elephant-ear ferns and plain wooden seating lining them in opposite to a small medical office. The glass door was frosted and set in mahogany-painted steel, framed by other windows - This part of the building faced the courtyard below; He could see it more clearly this time, all the littlest details more sharply defined, trees of varying species and carefully arranged flowerbeds dotting a neatly manicured lawn all arranged according to curving walkways and stairways, a medium-sized koi pond somewhere near the middle. It was almost pretty in its minimalist simplicity. A passing glance had been enough, however, and he veered toward the frosted glass door, effortlessly easing into the entryway and approaching the chart nearest the front desk. 

     He scanned the room, gaze accounting for all the usual things being in all the usual places but honing in on what disrupted that mundanity, a plain canvas tote bag with a black parka draped over it; A single All Might charm and deep blue puffball had been clipped to the bag’s straps just dangling off the counter of the front desk. Faintly, he heard the whirring and gurgling of an older model coffee pot - he was grateful for the quietude.

     Only a single person had been written into the schedule for this day, and he was grateful for that, too , though he was surprised to see whose name it was, shocked that fortune would be his for the taking, as apprehensive as he was.

     Sumoyo Furie had always been a medically focused agent, but he struck his claim within Commission ranks when he’d proven himself to them; Frequent recovery field missions before, during, and after both major and minor operations tended to do that. His skill set varied greatly, though he specialized in trauma care, orthopedics, and short-term physical therapy, but none of that is what made him great; He was a man of precious few words, his mouth practically sewn shut. The trivialities of human connection hadn’t seemed to ever interest him, and such was how he made his living, offering his silence and vaguely detailed medical prowess in trade for what appeared to satisfy his needs; A worthwhile business arrangement for him, it seemed. The Commission didn’t call upon him unless they aimed to maintain complete secrecy, so it was clear to him they’d known something was up, wanting to deal with Hellhound quickly and quietly. Furie wasn’t here to kill him, he knew that; That wasn’t his job anymore.

     Furia retired under the hero name Euphony years ago, just after All Might’s biggest battle with All For One, and hadn’t done any traditional or classified hero work since. Slipping into HQ for an evening shift as a nurse didn’t count. 

     Hawks peered around the corner down a short hall where a handful of patient rooms could be seen in direct opposition to another desk and series of break rooms and offices, archival, supply, biohazard storage and janitorial rooms, too. The coffee machine had still been gurgling, drops of water plipping to the bottom of the glass coffee pot. Furies was still busying himself with his coffee, but he no doubt knew Hawks had wandered in. If he had not come out to greet him, then perhaps he ought not bother him at all; He wouldn’t talk anyway, and Hawks could trust that Hellhound would have his wounds seen to appropriately. 

     They weren’t going to kill him, not when they’d invested so much time into him already. 

     Or, so he hoped.

     Maybe he should greet Furie, let him know someone had their eyes on the situation. Just in case, just in case . Just to satisfy the irrationality gnawing at his brain.

     Casually, he stepped away from the day’s schedule and swaggered down the hall to stand in the doorway of the small break room, his eyes quickly finding the slender, delicate, yet still uniquely masculine Furie with a pair of mugs set before him on the counter, both white. His wild snowy hair had grown since the last Hawks had seen him, strands of messy white dusting the spot between his sloping shoulders, uninterrupted by the strange, knitted material of his high-collar. He wore shades of dark and light purple amid black and white accents, all fabrics of varying textures and patterns; A pair of tactical harem pants outfitted with numerous pockets, strapping, and more, and a sleeveless, high-collared shirt to match, along with a pair of calf-high boots. The black jacket at the desk must’ve somehow brought his outfit together, but it was odd nonetheless, perhaps fitting Furie’s half-hearted stoicism. An eccentricity.

     There he stood, nursing the empty mugs. 

     “How’s it hangin’, Euphony? Never thought I’d see ya here again. How long’s it been, five years?” Hawks said with no small amount of suspicious friendliness - deliberate , of course - all the while tapping his knuckles against the doorframe.  

     A lone violet eye found him, acknowledging his presence, but not a word was spoken in turn.

     “Which one are you here for: Tarot, or Hellhound?” he pressed, his signature grin easing across his face. It didn’t touch his eyes.

     Furie chuckled to himself as the gurgling of the coffee machine suddenly morphed into loud sputtering before just as quickly falling silent, signaling the brew cycle had completed. Slender fingers slipped around the pot’s handle and he carefully poured its contents into each mug sitting on the counter, leaving the rest for later. Beside the coffee machine was a bowl filled with sugar packets - both real and artificial - and stir sticks all haphazardly thrown together, and with minimal effort had he stolen two of each, tearing open and emptying the packets into one of the mugs and stirring. 

     He looped both hands around one of the mugs, crossing his fingers, and brought it to his lips in one long, intentionally slow movement, breathing in the steamy waft of roasted coffee and sugar blending together. He sipped tentatively, cautiously, and turned to face Hawks in full, leaning against the counter.

     It was disconcerting, unnerving even, how delicately poised he’d been - his posture curved and lazy yet somehow elegant all the same - and how pretty. White lashes hung heavily over a pair of hazy violet, long and fluttering, somehow accentuating the statuesque, alabaster qualities of his skin, unblemished and fair. He was well-kept and clearly took pride in his appearance, wielding it as a weapon at the best and worst of times; Hawks shuddered to think how effective it may have been when paired with his quirk, a soothing lullaby to put one to sleep and a dreamy visage to hammer in the final nail. 

     “Nogitsune,” he said, his voice a smooth, low-toned offering of appeasement, no more and certainly no less. A meager smile pulled at the corners of his lips and he took another sip from his mug, eyeing Hawks with a vague knowing and amusement lurking in his violet gaze.

     “Tarot, then,” Hawks replied flatly, a hand raising to cup the nape of his neck, his grin twisting awkwardly. It hadn’t meant anything. 

     If Furie was looking for Nogitsune, however, then Hawks had failed to pick up on a detail or two. What, exactly, he wasn’t sure, but how much further could the plot thicken anyway? How much was Nogitsune actually involved in and why was the retired Euphony attempting to hunt him down, parading as an evening nurse? Was he there to convince him to do something? It seemed pointless; Nogitsune was stubborn and arrogant enough that nothing really worked, not even being part and parcel to the near-torture of his dearest friend, so what was the point here? Sure, the Commission played a definitive part in this, but it was the specifics that muddled things all the more.

     “No,” Furie muttered sweetly, his smile brightening around the lip of his mug as he took yet another, now careful, sip.

     “You’re not gonna tell me anything, are you? A’right, a’right, that’s fine, but do me a favor anyway, wouldja?” He had to keep things moving, even if he wasn’t sure he could rightly trust Furie’s placement here nor the utter lack of information however expected. “Check up on Hellhound when you’re done with Nogitsune. Tarot, too. Both of ‘em are in rough shape, but with your skill set, they’ll get off on a better foot.”

      Even bastards like him deserve their second chances.

     “Relax.”

     He narrowed his eyes, gold clashing with violet.

     “He’s got a concussion and will remain unconscious unless something can be done about it,” he retorted, ironing out his grin and emphasizing, playfully, with his free hand. “Can’t leave him, or even Tarot, to bedrest when we’ve all got work to do, yanno?”

     Furie’s smile steadily shifted downward into a flat line, but he said nothing more, not that he’d really said anything to begin with.

     Hawks rolled his shoulders, palms upturned in a combination of mock ignorance and surrender, his grin unwavering. Silence stretched between them for a time, but before long, he turned on his heel and shrugged once more, flexing his diminutive wings. “Just do whatcha can, yeah? Anyway, I’m outta here. If anything happens, let the Director know–”

     “Hawks.”

     He turned his head, hoping Furie might have something more substantial to add. “Huh?”

     “He’ll be fine,” the former hero begrudgingly muttered, an uneven lilt to his words. He almost, almost sounded like Crovita and Hawks had to wonder if they, too, had spoken - if he'd meant it.

     “S’all I’m asking for,” and he abandoned Furie altogether, making a hasty escape from the doorway, intent upon disappearing before anything more could be said. 

     With his mission accomplished, he could focus on pursuing the leads Crovita had graciously afforded him, but in his heart of hearts, he knew he wouldn’t be able to shed the worry pricking at his heart. Furie’s appearance at HQ was suspicious at best and provided sustenance for an ill-defined sense of foreboding at worst, considering his prior line of work, but Hawks had to find some miniscule shred of hope that the circumstances wouldn’t worsen in his absence. For as many questions as had arisen, fewer answers could be given, but he didn’t have time to dwell on any of it; At least one thing remained true: that there wouldn’t have been any point in conscripting Hellhound as Nogitsune’s penance if Furie had come to kill him. As a possibility, he wrote it off, crossed it off the list, and wondered if he was meant to apply pressure instead. For what, he didn’t know, but if Nogitsune was his admitted target, then his intentions lied elsewhere indeed. Nogitsune could’ve been keeping something secret, as he always was, but how could something so ordinary call for Furie’s interference? Did they know each other on some level, or had the Commission suspected Nogitsune’s resistance to forward, helpful action a direct failure to follow orders? Was his life to be cut even shorter than before, or were they trying to avoid any further complications? What was happening here?

     Hawks left the medical offices quickly, once more maintaining a swift but altogether normal gait for himself, deciding it best to temporarily set his thoughts aside. Whatever the case, he had to move on and affix his attention to the tasks at hand, reluctant though he may have been. Continuing on his path to the elevator, he paid no mind to the few agents now wandering the halls, only half-heartedly greeting them as he went.

     Hellhound would be fine, right? But, Nogitsune–

     He pursed his lips.

      Right. 

     Lightbringer and Black Knight come first, now. I gotta get to them sooner rather than later… I think my wings will get me to Shibuya, but the return trip’ll be a different story. Worst case, I can request a ride, give Jeanist a call. We are friends, after all. He’ll understand, provided he doesn’t have his hands full with any villains - or interns.

     He stepped into the nearest elevator, the one he’d arrived on, and pressed the button that would take him to the ground level, finding a small amount of comfort in having something, anything, planned out. Leaving Hellhound’s side for the hundredth time wasn’t what he’d wanted, but in the interest of keeping him safe for the time being and progressing in the case against Kioku Nusumi, he had to. Prisma couldn’t be allowed to put his plans into action, whatever they may be, and if Hellhound was to oversee this case with Hawks as his so-called babysitter, then Hawks had to get his ass in gear. 

     To help, to lend his expertise and strength to the cause… To keep another hero, man, person alive, to put a villain away and give them the second chance they so sorely needed with the promise of time served– To deliver on promises made, to hold true to his principles as a hero and aid others in their work, hold true to their own principles– Now was the time. 

      Now was the time.

     Hellhound would survive another few hours without him.

[sangyeonsmuse]

BREAK THE WALLS | Kim Hongjoong

Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Full Chapter List

🀥 Government agent Hongjoong x Rebel Oc

🀥 genre | dystopian society, halazia x geurilla concept , enemies to lovers

🀥 word count | 914

🀥 Summary | An organization by the name of Sector 1 was well known for their work in the underground, theyve been well known for the recruiting of teens and using them to form an army since the year 2034. Collecting strays for their rebellion against those in higher power. Now the year is 2064 and the organization still runs strong they run like a family, with the new technology theyve found ways of keeping alive those that have been scorned in any past battles theyve had against the government.

When the government sends in 7 of their best men to infiltrate the organization. What will they do when their cover is blown and their true intentions are revealed? Will they join the rebellion or will they continue to let the government pull their strings like the little puppets they once were?

"So you and Hira have been spending a loooot of time together these days." Seonghwa spoke to Hongjoong as he sat across the man who was reading peacefully on his bed.

"Yeah, she is our trainer, thats kind of the point of everything." He responds half heartedly

"Bullshit you know exactly what im getting at here, you like her." Seonghwa teased his best friend with a huge grin on his face

"Did you hit your head or something? Has wooyoung been playing with the accelerator gun again?" Hongjoong places his book open side down onto the bed.

"We've known each other for more than ten years hongjoong . I can tell by now when you're trying to avoid something. You like her, truth be told i think you have had a thing for her since the moment we got here."

"I just like hanging out with her, okay? She's fun to be around now that she's no longer so fussy and angry all the time."

"Are you sure that's all there is to it? Because i've seen the way you smile at her. The way your lips curl up into that satisfied grin every time you call her Tahani despite her telling you to call her Hira. You're always the first to volunteer to spar with her and sometimes the two of you sit alone in the memory room for quite some time not coming out until hours later." At Seonghwas words hongjoong simply sighs as he thought over his next few words.

"I don't know Seonghwa, getting close to her- since the first time she showed me her memories I could feel there was something more to her than she let others see. Shes so strong willed and determined and at such a young age she was able to tell right from wrong and set her own path. I'll admit when we all had our first encounter with her when we arrived I told myself I wouldn't even get involved with someone that wanted nothing to do with us, but I let my curiosity get the best of me at some point. She's a lot deeper than I thought she was that day. Yeah she's always been beautiful but, ive always seen more than that."

"So you do like her..why not tell her how you feel? I mean there's no telling what happens during the evaluations especially if we fail to pull through."

"I cant tell her because I'm not good for her Seonghwa. Looking back at her memories all anyone from Alaura towers has ever done was cause her to suffer. If I tell her how I feel and at some point in time she ends up broken that all will fall upon me and I don't think I can take being the one to make her break. Because of Eden she lost her family, a normal life, and even her and Jonghos friends. Though on the outside she's tough her memories have all shown how fragile she could be and I don't want to be the reason she breaks.

Skylar district April 5th 2064

"I got it i finally got it!" Yeosang bursts into their shared living quarters scaring Mingi who had been half asleep on the couch nearly half to death.

"Got what exactly" wooyoung responds watching as Yeosang scattered a bunch of papers over the coffee table.

"Is Hira here?" He asks looking specifically to hongjoong

"No, she and Jongho are out training with some of the new recruits to help prepare them for the evaluations." His response earns a small cheer from Yeosang who rushes back to the door to slam it shut.

"Whats this about Yeo?" Seongwa asks as he emerges from the kitchen, cup of coffee in hand.

"Well as all of you know ive been a little absent lately due to my time in the OASIS."

"Eris has seen more of you in the last few months than we ever have." Mingi spits out and the others simply nod their heads in agreement before edging him to go on.

"That aside, you know how Hira can no longer feel some of the things or do some of the things She used to right? Ever since we decided to stay ive been trying to figure out some kind of way to make it possible for her to feel again and i finally got it." He hands each of them his findings as he continued on with his explanation.

"Micro androdic skin regeneration. Basically if we take these little microbots and get them through her blood stream it'll regenerate skin. Though it wont help with the fact that she can no longer have kids, if we do this she'll be able to love a normal life again. Go out in the rain, feel the heat of the sun, yknow."

"Yeosang, this is amazing." Sans eyes scanned over the paper in amazement.

"She's gonna be so happy to hear this." Seonghwa adds on before placing the paper back on the table.

"There's just two small details that can make or break this discovery." They all stared up at him cautiously waiting for his next words.

"Theres a 50% chance that if the surgery isnt performed right..we just might lose her"

"And the other thing?" Yunho asks, knowing that after the first thing he said the next couldn't be any better

"The equipment we need, the microbots we need aren't here at Sector 1 they're in the alaura tower."

[alpha-centari27]

SONIC THE HEDGEHOG Exclusive Interview With Star Lee Majdoub About Agent Stone And His Dream Superhero Role

We recently caught up with Sonic the Hedgehog star Lee Majdoub to discuss his breakout role as Dr. Robotnik's sidekick Agent Stone, while he also reveals which superhero he would love the chance to play...

Sonic the Hedgehog proved that the video game movie curse is officially dead as critics and fans alike loved it (you can read our review by clicking here). Throw in the fact that it was a box office hit, and it's fair to say that there's a lot of excitement surrounding the yet to be announced sequel.

After being made available EARLY on Digital platforms, the movie arrives on 4K Ultra HD, Blu-ray, and DVD on May 19th, and to celebrate its release, we recently had the opportunity to catch up with star Lee Madjoub. He plays Agent Stone in Sonic the Hedgehog, and has been hailed as the breakout star (the character, meanwhile, has gained a devoted fan following online).

As the straight man to Jim Carrey's villainous Dr. Robotnik, Madjoub was responsible for many of the funniest exchanges in the film, and made a lasting impact after past memorable roles in TV shows like Supernatural, Zoo, and The 100.

In this interview, we delve into the Robotnik/Stone relationship, his experiences working with Carrey, and even hear a compelling argument for why he could be the Marvel Universe's next Wolverine!

It was great to talk to Lee about Sonic the Hedgehog, and we obviously want to extend a huge thank you to him for taking the time to do this interview happen with everything going on in the world right now. Agent Stone is clearly a role he's passionate about and, after reading this, we're pretty sure you'll also want to see him don those familiar claws...

Were you a fan of the Sonic the Hedgehog games before being cast and what did it mean for you as an actor to join such an iconic franchise?

Yeah, I actually did play Sonic on the SEGA Genesis when I was a kid. It was probably my favourite game growing up, and the SEGA Genesis was the first console I got to call my own. It was extremely surreal to get cast in the movie itself, and then when I found out Jim Carrey was playing Robotnik, and I was gonna be playing his right-hand man, it took it to the next level for me. I also grew up loving Ace Ventura, The Mask, and, well, all of Jim's stuff!

You're very much the straight man to Robotnik, but how do you keep a straight face when Jim Carrey is reeling off lines like the one about how Stone makes his lattes?

It was a challenge to keep a straight face at times, for sure. What was lovely about that set was that everybody was so positive, and having a good time was really welcomed. If we broke or laughed, you didn't feel like you were doing anything wrong, thank goodness! There were a few times, and the scene I remember was when Robotnik sticks the quill to his tongue and electrocutes himself...and then turns to me and offers it to me! I had such a tough time keeping a straight face, so I had to figure out ways to change my facial expression or not quite look at Jim in the eyes in order to get that scene done.

Did you get the opportunity to do much in the way of improv on set?

I did. Fortunately, working with Jim, improv comes with it. The looser he gets, and the more he's figuring out Robotnik, the more permission I had to feed off of whatever he was doing. That was really welcome, and it was amazing to be able to say, 'Oh my gosh, I'm getting to improvise with Jim Carrey, one of the greatest at it.' Some of the stuff didn't work with Agent Stone, but we got to flesh it out and have a lot of fun, nonetheless. Sometimes in the movie, you didn't get to see the improv, but then some of the improv does actually make it in there!

Did you find playing an original character without ties to the video game series freeing as there weren't any specific expectations from fans?

I think it was a little bit of both, to be honest. In the cartoons, he's got Orbot and Snively in certain versions, and when you're playing someone that already exists, you have a little bit of something to feed off. You go, 'Okay, this is what the character is like, so I can take some hints there.' With Agent Stone, there's also the element of freedom where there's nothing pre-established so you could do whatever works within the realm of the story after discussions with Jeff Fowler, who was our amazing director, and the writers and Jim. It was definitely fun not to be tied into anything and feed off Jim, for sure, and then what was on the page for us, was all you ended up seeing in the movie. Stone was, I wouldn't say last minute, but through the last few drafts, Stone was written in to give Jim someone to talk to. He was the straight man in the movie, but through discussions with Jim and Jeff and Toby [Ascher], our fantastic producer, we were able to flesh out the story a bit and figure out the relationships, and it turned into what you see now.

I feel like it's fair to say that you were the movie's breakout star, but were you surprised by the reaction fans have had to Agent Stone?

Yeah, I never ever imagined Agent Stone would have this much backing from the fans. Even before the movie came out, you'd see him once in a trailer, but people started to really stick by him. A lot of fans were like, 'We are Agent Stone, and he is us.' We've all had to work with that boss who doesn't appreciate you, and you get hired for one reason, but all they want you to do is make coffee! It was really surprising and it's still very surreal. There's a lot of engagement, and a lot of fan-art out there that I'm so appreciative of and it blows me away every time I see a new art piece come out. 

It seemed Robotnik hated everyone other than Stone, and he even finds a new Agent Stone on the mushroom planet, so I was wondering what you think it is that makes your character different to everyone else in Robotnik's life?

[Laughs] You know what, to me, I think Stone sees something in Robotnik that no one else does. There's this utter respect he has for Robotnik, and he lets him get away with a lot like the hand going into the mouth and the throat chop. Stone understands that this is Robotnik, and this is what he needs to do his thing. What I also love about Stone is that he judges Robotnik at times too, so I feel like there's a respect there, but I think Stone is unwavering and always there for him and it probably forces Robotnik to have to be okay with it.

Were you surprised to watch that mid-credits scene and see that Agent Stone had been replace with, well, a stone?

The day I wrapped on set was the day before I shot that scene. I was there when they were coming up with the ideas, and Jim was talking to them saying, 'What if he has another Agent Stone? Like a Wilson from Castaway?' It was so funny, and I saw them putting the moss beard on there. I laughed really hard. There's flattery there too as Robotnik needs Stone in some way, shape, or form in order to continue doing what he's doing. No matter how much he denies needing anybody, I think Robotnik kind of needs Stone there even though he's not willing to admit it.

Were there any scenes you shot which were particularly memorable for you that you didn't ultimately make the final cut?

Honestly, all of my major scenes made the cut. I'm so grateful for that. It's really hard to pick a favourite scene out of all that stuff as it was all with Jim, and there was always something to do and something memorable between the two characters in every scene we did. Even when he asks if I see anything on the screen and I'm like, 'Nothing at all,' and he responds with, 'That's right, it's because you weren't trained by the Native American shadow wolves!' Even in that moment, Agent Stone gives him this look, and there was always some fun to be had. Ultimately, I think the latte scene...the Austrian goat milk latte scene is my favourite just because that whole dance leads up to this one moment and it's the only time in this movie that Robotnik actually pays Stone a compliment even though it's berated and he yells at him.

You've spent some time in the Marvel Universe voicing Harry Osborn in the Absolute Carnage shorts, but would a live-action superhero movie role interest you, and do you have any characters in mind?

Ohh, that's a really good question! I grew up loving Wolverine. That's always been one of those childhood dreams of mine. If I get the chance...I don't know, there might be fan outcry or whatever, but you know, I'm a little bit hairy! I've got the bushy eyebrows! I'm Canadian! I qualify in certain ways. I'm shorter than Hugh Jackman! It's okay, we can pull it off...I'll put on the weight. I don't care! [Laughs] Wolverine, for sure. Ever since I was a child, I've wanted to play him. There are a few anime characters I've always wanted to play too if they were ever turned into live-action. There's an anime called Saint Seiya. Also, Venom. I love the anti-heroes for some reason growing up. As a kid I got picked on and I was never really in any groups and I never fit in, so I think the anti-heroes kind of had that little angry voice in me that I couldn't quite express.

Looking ahead to a possible Sonic the Hedgehog sequel, what would you like to see from Stone next if he gets to reunite with the new, unhinged Robotnik?

I would love a moment where we see why he's an actual agent. I feel like he could kick some butt. We haven't seen it yet, and I would love a moment with Robotnik as a damsel in distress and Stone shows up, saves Robotnik, and Robotnik won't admit that he's saved him!

You can find Lee on Twitter HERE, Instagram HERE, or Twitch HERE!

[valkyrieandstrangeridingaragorn]

The way I interpret it and I know it wasn't intention of the writer but the way I see it is the US government basically made Bucky a scapegoat. "It your job to make amends." So they don't have to face the consequences of having nazi cultists spies having positions throughout S.H.I.E.L.D. and the government.

It's an old magic trick: look to the right so you can't see what I'm doing on the left.

By claiming it is Bucky's job to apologize they're doing three things: they're blaming him for the murders, they're absolving Hydra and therefore absolving themselves. At the end of the day if the nazi organization that infiltrated their super-secret and totally-not-corrupt Shield after being invited by their founders can manage to get away with it and the blame is put on just one man, a man who's right there and can be used as the scapegoat, then the part they played in Hydra growing big and powerful throughout the decades can be washed away.

If the focus is on Bucky and what he does and says and how he says it then nobody is asking uncomfortable questions about the government and Shield and the UN, etc. The thing is, as a writer it is your job to acknowledge that, you just can't show him being accused and hating himself and calling Hydra "his people" then have no one, not a single person in the series, refute that. You're taking a stance by doing that.

If it had been their intention to have the US government blame him just so they can take the part they played in what happened and have it swept under the rug then they should have included scenes in which Raynor is talking to Walker or someone higher up and they're discussing that (much like they showed Sharon talking to Batroc for example). The sad part is they didn't want any of that.

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝑴𝒂𝒇𝒊𝒂! 𝑨𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒛: 𝑯𝒆𝒍𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑻𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝑶𝒇 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝑩𝒂𝒃𝒚

Disclaimer: In no way am I condoning, justifying, encouraging or promoting mafia behavior or lifestyle. This is simply a work of fiction and not meant to represent real life scenarios.

❥𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

"Ok ok stop fussing now. I'll get you out now."

Hongjoong walked over to the portable crib and picked up his son who was currently whining and kicking his legs around, hating being cooped up inside the contraption for too long. Hongjoong picked him up and looked at him.

"You know, not even the people we lock up in solitary confinement complain as much as you."

The baby reached his tiny hands out, gently patting at his father's nose and cheeks, making Hongjoong chuckle.

"Then again none of them have ever been half as cute as you are. It's a crime to be this cute. I should punish you."

Hongjoong nuzzled his nose against his son's, causing the baby to let out a happy squeal. A tiny buzz let Hongjoong know Yunho was calling him.

"Hey Hongjoong. Your boss is on the line."

Hongjoong rolled his eyes at Yunho's teasing, always saying how you were the real boss. Putting the baby down so he could crawl as he liked, Hongjoong picked up the phone.

"Hey honey." He greeted you.

"How's the baby doing?" You asked.

Hongjoong got a deadpan expression.

"Well hello to you too Mrs. Kim, I'm fine too thanks for asking."

Hongjoong was so concentrated on your conversation he didn't realize the door was open and the baby inadvertently went out.

"He's fine don't worry. And he's no trouble at all, he's currently crawling around my office-"

Hongjoong abruptly stopped when he realized the baby was gone.

"Hongjoong....? What's going on?"

He could hear you getting ready to scold him if anything happened to your child. He stammered as he began looking around for him. A beep on the other line let you both know someone else joined your call.

"I think an enemy spy has infiltrated our base, but honestly, I don't have the heart to fight back." Yunho's voice was followed an incoherent babble, belonging to none other than your baby.

"Oh my God! Yunho is he with you?" You were relieved to find out the baby was ok.

"Yep, and although I'd usually send out a ransom note, I think I'm keeping him hostage for a while." He chuckled.

Hongjoong fumed as he walked out of his office.

"Heck you will! Give me back my son!"

❥𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

Seonghwa peeked his head into the room, 7 pairs of eyes staring at him intently. Hongjoong sighed softly.

"You're late." He told him.

"Sorry. Got caught up with something." Seonghwa apologized.

"Whatever. Just get in. You haven't missed much of the meeting." His leader assured him.

Hongjoong was about to resume speaking, but he, like the rest of the members watched as Seonghwa opened the door and went to take his seat, a baby carrier on his left hand with his baby daughter inside.

"Night light!" San exclaimed the nickname they all had for Seonghwa's daughter.

"Night fury got stuck with babysitting duty?" Yeosang raised an eyebrow.

Seonghwa glared at him, about to say something but was stopped by Hongjoong.

"Guys! Meeting! Focus ok?"

Hongjoong began talking once again, detailing about a government cargo ship that was soon to land in the city, containing secret weapons.

"Now, if our information is correct, it'll get here in-"

A soft and subtle sneeze interrupted him, followed by a chorus of 'aaaws' and 'ooohs'.

"She's the deadliest weapon ever!" San clutched his heart.

"Yeah! Who can resist that level of cuteness?" Mingi agreed, crouching down to poke her tiny nose.

"I know! Isn't she adorable?" Seonghwa beamed with pride at his baby.

"Guys, remember? Timeline-" Hongjoong tried to get their attention again.

"Has she started talking yet?" Jongho asked.

"No not yet. But she's babbling a lot more, mostly songs in movies or cartoons though." Seonghwa explained.

"Ooooh! Can she do the banana song?! Night light! Watch uncle Woo."

Wooyoung began singing the minions song, not really getting a reaction out of the baby and further causing Hongjoong's annoyance to spike up.

"One more interruption and I'm shooting you all in your legs!"

They all stayed quiet, not wanting to further anger their leader. Hongjoong let out a sigh of relief.

"Now, as I was saying-"

"Ba ba ba, ba na na." The baby interrupted him as she tried to sing the song Wooyoung was previously singing.

They all stared in shock and adoration at her.

"Ok, that's actually fucking cute." Hongjoong admitted.

Seonghwa only giggled as he picked up his daughter and kissed her cheek.

❥𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

Yunho tried shushing the whimpering baby underneath his desk.

"Buddy come on. You're going to get me in trouble. Now shush."

Having no alternative, he picked up his baby son, cradling him in his arms as he tried to keep him from making anymore noise. He cooed at him and even made funny faces, but the boy didn't seem to calm down.

"Why are you being like this?" Yunho pouted.

The baby nuzzled his face against his father's chest before opening his mouth against it. Yunho immediately pulled the baby a few inches off him.

"Ok I get it now. You're hungry. Please don't do that again. My body doesn't work like your mom's."

Setting the boy back in the carrier, Yunho reached inside the baby bag and got out the bottle and baby formula. He quickly mixed them together, careful not to spill any of it on his desk. He looked around and realized he had absolutely no idea how he was going to heat it up. When the baby began fussing again, he quickly stooped down, trying to quiet him down.

"Uhhh Yunho?"

Yunho hit his head as he quickly stood up, looking at Yeosang who was right in front of him with a folder. Yeosang noticed the baby bottle in his hand and snorted.

"Is that your new guilty pleasure?" He teased.

"I'm not in the mood Yeosang. In case you haven't noticed, I sneaked him in."

Yunho picked up his child and rocked him in his arms, trying to stop his crying.

"Hi junior." Yeosang waved.

Scanning the baby, Yunho and the bottle, Yeosang ended up deducing what was going on.

"Give me the bottle, I'll heat it up for you." Yeosang offered, taking the bottle away from him.

"You will? Thanks Yeo. I'd really appreciate it." Yunho thanked him.

"No problem..." Yeosang looked at the bottle, studying its structure and model.

"I kinda want to try out the new fire weapon I created and this might just be the perfect test subject..."

When he heard those words, Yunho quickly stopped Yeosang.

"A microwave will do Yeosang! Don't fucking use my son's bottle for one of your weird experiments!"

Yunho gasped when he realized he cussed in front of his kid.

"Don't tell your mom."

❥𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

Yeosang carefully weighed the powder into the brown paper bags, careful not to go above the amount he needed. His eyes trailed to the tiny hand that tried reaching up for the contents he had.

"No no no sweetheart. Don't touch anything."

He put what he had in his hands down and picked up his daughter, setting her down and making her rest on top of a stack of books he had.

"Ok. Here you go. Play with this. Your mom says you like it." He handed her the rattle that was shaped like a chicken leg before going back to concentrate on his task.

The baby shook the rattle a few times before becoming bored with it. Instead, she was fascinated by all the intricate colors and strange devices inside her father's laboratory. Looking next to her, she saw a display of assorted test tubes that had different liquids in them. Curiously, her hand reached out to grab the red colored one. At that moment, Yeosang had finished weighing the stuff out and placed them in a container. When he looked back, he saw his daughter pulling out the test tube.

"No don't touch-"

Yeosang quickly scooped the baby up and covered her with his body as the tube fell to the floor, not only splattering the contents, but immediately setting off a tiny explosion that spread a horrible smelling gas in the air. Yeosang covered his daughter's face as he quickly got them out of the room. At that moment, Jongho came running down the hall.

"What was that?!" He immediately asked.

"One of the test tubes I was working on." Yeosang explained, as he scanned his daughter to make sure she was all right.

"Seriously Yeosang?! We've told you time and time again to be careful! How did it even happen?"

Yeosang immediately turned to his daughter, who was merely sucking on her thumb, looking at him with the most innocent eyes ever.

"You're lucky it was one of the least deadly ones and I got you out of there in time. Otherwise we'd both be laughing ourselves to death." Yeosang chuckled at her and kissed her forehead.

Jongho shook his head.

"I swear to god, if your daughter becomes another crazy scientist like you, I'm joining another gang."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

The diminutive man strolled from one corner of the alley to another, sighing as he stared once again at his watch.

"Where the fuck are they?" He shook his head, hating people being late above anything else.

Finally hearing footsteps, he saw the two figures approach him. He smiled contentedly until he saw that one of them had a baby strapped to his chest.

"All right Changbin, we got the money now where's the drugs?" San asked, not yet giving him the bag of money.

Changbin looked at San, then back at the baby boy.

"Don't look at the baby, look at me." San gestured to his eyes.

Changbin raised an eyebrow at him before looking over at Wooyoung, who looked completely unfazed.

"Just don't even question it man." Wooyoung suggested.

Changbin hesitantly got out the package from his coat. He was about to hand it to them, but he stopped when he looked at the baby again.

"Don't look at the baby, look at me." San repeated himself.

"Look man! It's just feels completely unorthodox to make illegal transactions in front of an innocent baby ok?! Did you kidnap it or something?" Changbin scanned him.

San scoffed in offense.

"This is my kid! Can't you see the resemblance? He's as handsome as me."

Changbin raised an eyebrow.

"You're seriously bringing your kid.... you know what? Never mind."

Changbin opted for giving the package to Wooyoung and then taking the bag of money.

"Pleasure doing business with you."

San waved at him when he departed. As him and Wooyoung made their way back to the car, his son started babbling something incoherently. San looked down and patted his head.

"Yes I know he's a mean, grouchy dwarf. Don't worry about him."

❥𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

Mingi sat down on the stool in front of the bartender, setting down the carrier on the chair next to him.

"I'm here." Mingi told the man who had his back turned.

"Oh Mingi you've come. Tell me what can I get-"

The pink haired man stopped when he saw the baby and pointed at her.

"Just give me my usual and don't worry about her. She's covered."

Mingi opened his trench coat and took out a baby bottle before taking the baby out of the carrier so he could feed her.

"You got the info Hyunjin?" Mingi lowered his voice.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes as he prepared him his drink.

"Mingi you brought a baby inside a bar. Forget trying to avoid unnecessary attention, everyone is already looking at you weird."

Mingi looked around, noticing a couple people staring at him as if he was crazy.

"Oh...right."

Hyunjin set the drink out in front of him before pulling out a folder and sneakily handing it to Mingi.

"Even got a few of the members' names gathered for you. Don't be fooled by their small numbers. These guys are very deadly and are slowly gaining momentum in the criminal world."

Mingi nodded and stuffed the folder in his coat. At that moment, his phone started ringing and he panicked when he saw who it was.

"Do me a favor. Hold her and cover her ears."

Hyunjin obeyed and cringed when Mingi fired a gun at the roof.

"I'm gonna need all of you to be quiet for a minute or else I'll put a bullet in your heads."

Mingi then quickly answered the phone, suddenly changing his tone.

"Hey baby. Oh nothing. I'm with Seonghwa, he wanted to see the baby.....no! I'm most definitely not working at the moment." He laughed awkwardly.

Hyunjin shook his head and looked down at the baby girl in his arms.

"Mind sharing some of your milk with me? I think I need it."

❥𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

"Wooyoung? Do you see the target?" Yeosang's voice echoed through his ear piece.

Wooyoung casually tilted his head to the side.

"No. There's too many people. " Wooyoung answered casually.

He looked down when he heard his daughter sneeze.

"Bless you." Wooyoung cooed at her.

"I'm literally trying to put a bullet through a man's head and you're giving me your blessings?" Yeosang asked.

"Not you idiot! My princess just sneezed and-"

"Oh my gosh! What a lovely baby you have!"

Wooyoung turned to find a young woman standing in front of him, twirling her hair in her finger as she looked at him and his daughter.

"Thanks..." Wooyoung answered.

"Is she yours?" She asked, stepping closer to him, reaching her hand out.

"Yeah...mine." Wooyoung shifted in his seat, moving the baby so she wouldn't touch her wandering hands.

Wooyoung tried not to cringe as the girl didn't seem to get the hint and continued talking to him.

"Want me to put a bullet in her head?" Yeosang offered.

Wooyoung immediately declined the offer as quietly as possible, not hearing what the girl said until she repeated herself.

"I asked if there was a mom in the picture."

She tucked her hair behind her ear before sitting down next to Wooyoung, her hand brushing on his shoulder.

"Cause if not.....I could help out in more ways than one." She bit her lip.

Before Wooyoung could even respond, he was saved when you suddenly showed up.

"I'm giving you ten seconds to run before I pull the trigger."

The girl froze when she felt a gun pointed at her back. Wooyoung waved.

"Hi honey." He smiled.

"Don't 'honey' me. First you take our daughter out on a mission and then I find some skank trying to take my place?" You scoffed.

"Should have taken my offer when you had the chance." Yeosang poked fun at him.

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

Jongho kept his eyes on the road, occasionally looking at the rearview mirror to check on the little boy in the baby seat.

"Getting sleepy there buddy?" Jongho chuckled when he saw the baby's eyes open and close slowly.

"Don't worry. After we deliver this package, I promise I'll take you to get ice cream......just don't tell your mom I've been feeding you that before you're old enough."

Jongho began to sing softly, hoping it'll help the baby sleep faster. However when he looked at the rearview mirror again, he noticed a strange looking car tailing right behind him.

"Huh....strange..... very strange."

Jongho gripped the steering wheel tightly. Looking back at his son, he noticed he was now fully awake.

"Buckle up buddy cause we're in for a fun ride."

Shifting the gear, Jongho immediately pressed down on the accelerator before rapidly making a u-turn, momentarily confusing the car behind him. Jongho drifted through the different alleys, hoping to loose the car, but it still seemed to catch up to him. His son on the other hand, seemed to enjoy the fun ride.

"Oh shit." Jongho cursed when he saw you were calling.

Pressing the button, he answered your call.

"I just got off work, barely going back. Think you can handle the boy for a little bit longer?" You asked.

"Take all the time. I'm going to be late too."

Jongho made a rather sharp turn that had your son squealing excitedly. You immediately sensed something was off.

"You're on a mission aren't you?"

"Yeah and we kinda ran into some chasers." Jongho chuckled rather amused.

You sighed softly.

"Where are you?"

"Gangnam district. Near the old abandoned factory." He answered as he continued trying to loose the car behind him.

"Give me 5 minutes and I'll be there."

Jongho couldn't help but bite his lip at your words.

"God baby, I love you so much."

He then turned his attention to his son who was still having the time of his life.

"Hear that bud? Mommy is gonna be joining us soon."

Gifs not mine, credit goes to their respective owners.

[mogsk]

This kinda shit pisses me off so much, like, I’ve been engaged in anarchism scenes for the last decade and I have never once seen someone just say “oh well disabled people already die so w/e” especially since how do we provide functional medical care outside of private industries and a state apparatus which can revoke or deny it at any moment is a foundational question of anarchist praxis.

What I have seen is dipshits who will randomly bombard anarchists with questions like these completely in bad faith with the sole intention of trying to score a gotcha in whatever holes they perceive in the answer they’re given such to the point that many no longer take answering such questions seriously.

In an ideal anarchist society, a doctor who wants to provide care or a chemist who wants to synthesize medicines would do so because a society founded on anarchist principals would have gone through unforeseeable changes which would eliminate things like profit motive behind why a person would do the work of a doctor or chemist.

But this is a dream of the distant future which is not the core of anarchist praxis, despite it being the only thing people who ask these sorts of questions seem to care about. In the here and now, anarchists are concerned with how disabled and chronically ill people can survive when the state fails them — which it often does!

For example, among other things, I’m diabetic and I have to cope with watching the price of insulin climb higher and higher and the possibility my medical insurance will be taken away by my government.

The anarchist way to confront this (and how many of us are trying to engage with it) is to try to find ways to source insulin outside of commercial lines of production. This may take the form of either finding some illicit way to acquire it from its producers (which would take inside cooperation or infiltration, very tough on either front) or finding some way to synthesize insulin using consumer-available supplies (afaik no one’s figured this one out yet) but the important thing is we’re trying to figure the problem out, even if the possibility of us succeeding is remote, the need for these solutions does not go away.

We don’t ideate around these things out of some purely moral stance against the state, but from the very practical position that the state is failing people and we need to find ways outside of its mechanisms of control to provide for these needs. Granted, this might mean I may one day need to survive off of anarchist bathtub insulin, but it’s a hell of a lot better than none at all!

My suspicion here is that anon heard someone respond to the accusation that anarchists don’t care about the disabled with a response about how disabled people are left to die in this society too. What this is saying is that “the disabled need the ongoing existence of the state to survive” is false because the state still systematically kills the disabled, not out of a lack of means to help them, but because of profit motives and bureaucratic nonsense.

An anarchist society would absolutely care for the sick and disabled, that’s fundamental to anarchism, and we know it is somehow possible because the state does it, but restricts people’s access to it which is why we oppose the state.

I feel like if anon is really anticipating such a terse response to this question, maybe they need to consider whether they are coming across as asking in bad faith and no one wants to entertain them.

So is there anything that could actually help disabled people in an anarchist society or are all the answers "Well disabled people die no matter what even in the current system soooo" because that's a throwaway answer

personally as a disabled person who struggles to work and cannot financially support myself, I think that a society that provides food and shelter and care for everyone,, regardless of their ability to pay for it or work to "earn" it,, and where there was no profit motive to gatekeep access to medicines and assistive devices,, would be tremendously incredibly helpful

[oneoftheprettynerds]

Welcome To The Darkside: Dark!Steve x Reader (Mob AU)

Chapter 1 in the Lipstick and Crayons Series

A/N: I just posted a story I know but I’m in love with this idea right now and this is my favourite fic right now. It’s going to be a three or four part fic I think and your support in any form: like, comment or reblog is appreciated greatly. Here is a piece of my heart right here.

Warning: Eventual Non-Con, Sickening Threats, Mob Themes, Violence, Death, Manipulation, sort of Blood Kink I think, Cheap Tricks later.

Genres + Characters: Mob AU, Single Parents AU, Steve Rogers x Reader.

Summary: Steve can't ever repay you for what you did. After meeting you, Steve believes his broken family is the missing piece in the puzzle of your own wrecked one. Indebting the crime lord to you has been the biggest mistake of your life, cause now you can't get rid of him, no matter what. Loyalty and favours go a long way in the mob.

Chapter 1 : Welcome to The Darkside

The gunshots around you frightened you more than anything in your life ever had. The merry, joyful ambience of the carnival was ruined in an instant. Screams around you provoked your panic-stricken form to gather your wits and run or hide. It wasn’t just you caught up in this dreadful situation, there was also someone you’d protect at any cost.

Picking your daughter up and setting her on your hip, you looked around for the way out. Who would have thought that open grounds were hard to get out of? Another wave of terror ran through you when the gunshots audibly neared and the crowd ran in random directions.

You decided to go along the way you recognised the games and shops at. You ran as fast as you could, checking on Grace in between to find her looking curiously all around but still more intent on eating her cotton candy than inspecting. You couldn’t be more thankful for kids' oblivion than at that moment in time.

A bomb explosion up ahead in your path made you halt in your tracks because you knew some of the attackers were scouting there. Turning back wasn’t an option, neither was crying and you were sure you closer to the exit this way. Another blast behind you took away the option of you retracing your path. You weren’t considering it but it gave you little comfort to have your options open.

As the shrieks and screeches grew tenfold, your best bet was to hide, the assaulters had already surrounded the field, the chaos around you informed you. Jumping through innumerable dead bodies, of kids and adults that ached your heart, and dodging bullets while laying low, you went inside a photo booth to hide.

This will not be in vain; you’d protect Grace no matter what.

The curtain to the photo booth provided cover from predatory eyes while the rest of the metal booth was quite safe against bullets you concluded hopefully.

You were just looking for a weapon to prepare for any adversity that might come your way, when the sound of crunching of pebbles made their way to your ears.

Failing to find a weapon in few seconds you opted to attack the intruder yourself when a voice reached your ears, “Mama?”

You puzzled your eyebrows and lowered your defences by just a bit when a toddler stumbled inside the booth, blonde haired and blue eyed. You were definitely not this girl’s mama but you grabbed the kid’s forearm and pulled her inside, shushing her gently and seating her beside Grace on the sitting bench inside. You were thankful Grace entertained her by offering her the pink cloud of sweetness.

You peeked outside but failed to find anyone else in 20 metre radii of you, nobody resembling the wandering kid nor looking for one. You did not know what you would do with another kid in your hands in this dire situation nor was it a wise decision to bring her inside and take her under your wing but you did not have it in you to leave an unsuspecting child, a mere four or three-year-old at that, during a calamity so extreme.

Your maternal instincts governed your thought process, imagining Grace to be in her shoes, all alone and discarded while a possible terrorist attack was happening. The kids’ corpses lying outside gave you no doubt that these children’s fate would be the same if found by the attackers.

A small tug in your dress made you look back and you found the azure eyed kid at your feet, offering you the street food you bought earlier while hugging your leg and observing you. Grace munched in the back silently, still happily eating and unaware.

You kneeled and whispered, “What’s your name, honey?” Maybe the girl understood the urgency, maybe she was just mimicking you but even she murmured in a low voice, “Sarah.”

You nodded, “Sweetie, I need you to sit there quietly and make no sounds, okay? We are playing a staying quiet game.” That was a stupid thing to ask of a kid but you hoped, you really, really hoped she would comply.

Her eyes widened in recognition of something as she eagerly asked, still in a hushed mumble, “Like I does for Dada in meekings?”

“Yes, you smart kiddo. Exactly that.” You replied with what you hoped was a convincing smile and ruffled her hair while nudging her towards her former seat. With kids, you knew a little encouragement went a long way to get them to do things. She whispered an ‘okay Mama’ and went about and sat.

You didn’t get to enjoy her obedience as the thud of pebbles crunching met your ears again. Your breath hitched; your intuition told you that this was not another kid confusing you for its parent.

Your eyes found a discarded piece of metal rod from the booth’s wrecked framework. You grabbed and hoped for the best, to save both the kids at your ability’s mercy.

Steve only saw red. The moment the first shot sounded in the air, he knew whom the assailants were, whom they were coming for. Going out tonight was a bad idea, a really reckless one indeed but when his daughter started bawling seeing the carnival’s lights from the car and wanted to get up and close, he couldn’t say no. He really tried to though, he really did.

It hadn’t been even a year since his wife died, but the father-daughter duo was getting by. He knew his wife took his daughter to the carnival and bought her things, toys and teddies, on every birthday of her own. It was a ritual his wife started, spending her birthday with her little offspring during the daylight and going out for a romantic dinner at the end of the day with her dear spouse. If only things could still be that way, could still stay the same.

When his wife turned out to be an elaborate spy all along, he was baffled. His professional side was, dare he say, impressed by the commitment to character but his personal side was beyond disappointed, disheartened in the worst way because his daughter was his most precious asset in this cruel world and that gift was given by such a treacherous person.

She begged and pled for mercy, to let Sarah have her mother and swore on her life that she quit her espionage journey when she actually fell in love but Steve didn’t trust a single syllable out of her filthy, deceiving mouth, not anymore.

He didn’t kill her though, because Sarah was his first priority no matter what. Her assassination was the work of his rival mob, ‘The Vice Kings’ led by the bastard Rumlow. It was an open invitation for war in the city, for them money came first and useless people had to die. They killed two birds with a single stone, git rid of a useless former member and successfully made a statement.

Then began the still happening rivalry between those Vices and his mob, ‘The Avenging Cartel’. The wound from his wife’s assassination was still fresh, he didn’t miss her as much as he had taken the hit to his pride. There had been a peaceful agreement until the brutal maiming of his spouse and now he was working more than ever, barely able to make time for his princess and that was his only regret, missing her childhood.

And now he felt more futile, his palette of emotions ranging from hues of ire to shades of dread. He couldn’t believe his entourage of trained professionals failed to monitor a two-year-old. He had just stepped aside to take a call, leaving her with his latest driver and three bodyguards. How could he be that clueless to not realise the imposters infiltrating his ranks, standing right there and selling away his location?

As soon as the sound of the first firearm shooting reached his ears, he leapt towards his daughter only to find her missing. His little minx thankfully escaped for one of her little adventures and successfully evaded these cheats, whom he shot right in the middle of the eyes when he glanced at the grenades packing in the coats’ undersides.

His moment of gratitude evaporated in mere seconds as he realised that the Vices now surrounded the entire area, their mission being his daughter’s abduction. If they wanted to kill both of them, they would have already, considering Steve’s distraction gave them quite too many openings. They wanted him to surrender, because mobs worked that way; only when one leader signed off his territories did it become the other party’s possession. If they just cut one head, another would grow in its place, a new leader would succeed the predecessor.

He sent emergency signals to both Barnes and Wilson, the only ones he could trust right now, summoning them with back-ups. The screams of the crowd did not ease him at all, piling on his burden and stress as he prayed for the first time ever, that by some miracle he would reach his daughter first in this field and she would safely be in his arms by the end of the night, not become a victim to what his enemies were planning.

He did have a tracker in her pendant but this realisation hit him later than he’d like to admit, the frustration clawing away his wits. The ground was now quite empty, piles of bodies scattered across the field abruptly where people became victims to the grenades, any person who failed to protect themselves, died. As he was pulling his phone out again, his eyes caught sight a flower bead. The same bead he and his daughter used to make a bracelet a month ago. She wore that everywhere, to day-care, while bathing, to birthdays.

The bracelet was obviously broken now but it was almost like a trail that led to his treasure, like in the Hansel and Gretel’s fairy-tale that Sarah loved. He followed with quiet steps, the beads far apart and some resting under the debris but they sure did lead him somewhere, and when he found the even the pendant in his path, he knew he had only the few beads to rely on.

Some thumps and crashes made him alert, his pistol ready, and when he neared carefully to a distorted metal framework of sorts, his eyes widened.

A young woman had a body in front of her lying on the ground. In a pool of scarlet it rested, still and unmoving while her breathing quickened, her eyes shining with tears that she tried too damn hard to confine to her eyes. He knew how hard the first kill always was, but one grows numb with increase in body count.

Brave women were his type and he would have been turned on by her courage, her hands stained red with whatever weapon she attacked with. Her soft facial features and her curves in the dress she wore were a show stopper for sure, and he would’ve been flirting with her if it was not for the brutal severity of the situation, his daughter missing and in possible danger.

His vigilant senses, courtesy of the epinephrin, picked up two things; the butterfly bead that rested in the door of the booth the woman stood at and the creep shadowing her from behind, ready to attack with a baseball bat he might have found in one of the other game shops.

Steve used his position behind the neighbouring booth to make a bull’s eye shot, the bullet going just an inch above the female’s shoulder and going across the creep’s head. The logo on the corpse’s leather jacket showed Steve he picked the right side to defend.

The sheer suddenness of the move caught the woman off guard as she dropped her weapon and twisted back to find the soulless eyes of her possible attacker staring at her. She quickly armed herself with her attacking rod once again and tried to trace the bullet back from its shooter, her eyes wide and calculating.

Steve decided it was time to interrogate, to find Sarah.

The graze of the bullet above your shoulder alarmed you and you stood dumbfounded only for an instant though. You were sure the bullet was meant for you but the thud of a body behind you, seemingly preparing to attack you proved you wrong.

Calming yourself, you still stood on the ball, because someone killing your attacker didn’t necessarily mean you were safe. With just a pull of the trigger, your fate could very easily be the same. You had to play this smart.

“Lower your weapon. I won’t repeat myself.” A husky voice called out, laced with seriousness which left no room for argument.

You did as he said, knowing that shabby rod was no match against the gun. He stepped out from his hiding position and gave away his location, steps slightly treading towards you. Your hands trembled, heart thumping a bit too loud while blood and sweat coated your frame.

When moonlight lightened his face, you saw his blonde luscious locks, slightly overgrown, a neatly trimmed beard darker than his hair and the cerulean blue eyes that were clear as crystal but shadowed with proficiency.

“Good, now did you see a kid around here? Blonde and blue eyes?”

His question didn’t surprise you, the gun barrel trained on you did. The previous man you had killed, that laid dead ahead of you had asked the same question. You did not know why they were after the toddler nor did you have the time to dwell on it. Time was of the essence now and he was expecting an answer.

The fact that he saved an unsuspecting lady was a plus point, but you also had to consider that he was threatening you all the same. But if that was his kid, it was understood, the resemblance between them was uncanny but that wasn’t enough proof. However, as your flickered to the man you killed, you noticed the logo on his jacket was the same as the one on your possible murderer’s jacket. It still wasn’t enough evidence but you had no choice, the man had a gun and you had two kids relying on you. At least he wasn’t on the bombing side.

“Yes, what is she to you?” You tried to be brave but you were sure he saw right through you.

“You don’t ask the questions here but this one I’ll answer. She is my daughter. Now, where is she?”  

“How do I know you’re not lying? I can’t just and her over to you!”

“Her name is Sarah; she is my carbon copy. She is wearing a pink dress with white flowers; pink crocs and her hair is in a ponytail with a white scrunchy. She had two white clips in her hair beside the ponytail. Enough proof?”

No, you could be a creepy paedophile for all I know.

You were still contemplating when he spoke again, “She’s my daughter and I know she’s in that booth beside you. I appreciate you trying to protect her I think but she’ll respond to me calling her. Sarah?”

The little toddler poked her head out, her eyes brightening in recognition and you heaved a sigh of relief involuntarily. Your maternal instinct made you anxious for kids you barely even knew. She ran towards her father shouting ‘Dada’ and jumped into his arms while he hid his gun. You almost snorted at that, tons of dead bodies surrounding you and he was worried about the gun?

He propped her up, hugging her tightly, and with what you knew now, he was scared to death and rightfully so.

Grace poked her head out and ran towards you now, hugging you from behind your legs and silently peeking at the mysterious human. You held Grace’s hand now, intertwining your fingers and felt relief after long. Even though there was no knowing that the man would help you two but you gave yourself comfort you weren’t alone here, not anymore.

Sarah turned and met your eyes again and whispered lowly, “Oops Mama, I think the games over! Sowwy!”

Steve’s eyes widened at that and you laughed at her innocence, feeling light. You played along with the kid, “It’s alright.” You didn’t want to play ‘Mommy’ anymore after that thinking it would offend her father but even, he chuckled, his laugh beautiful and boisterous.

Suddenly men dressed in black and armed with weapons ran about, skidding and crossing you to survey the area out. You shielded Grace once again but the father ahead of you didn’t even flinch. Noticing your unease, he came closer and put a hand on you arm, “I’m Steve and don’t worry, these are my men, the good guys.”

You nodded, not agreeing with his idea of good and bad but since you hoped he did acknowledge that he owed you one, you hoped none of these men would attack you. You introduced yourself and he nodded.

With Sarah on his hip, he started following one of his men and you followed along hoping to get to the exit. He even asked to drop you home but you refused, just wanting to get to the parking and put all these guns out of your kid’s sight. He tsked over his shoulder and you knew he would insist again later but for now he listened intently to the man he addressed as Buck.  

This Buck eyed you several times, not so discreetly, while Steve renounced the whole incident of some spies and whatnot. You closed your eyes, not wanting to eavesdrop and just wanting to relax but you could do neither right now. They were after Sarah; you had presumed right.

Sarah made grabby hands from over Steve’s shoulder while Grace slept soundly in your arms, maybe jealous of her. She pouted and then slowly began her lower lip began to tremble. A whine escaped her mouth as she started bawling. Steve stopped to shush her but she continued screeching, “I miss Mama!” and tried to get away from Steve and jump into your arms. Buck looked surprised while Steve’s eyes pleaded yours and you nodded and gave Grace to her and took Sarah in your arms, gently shushing her and patting her back. She drooled in the crook of your neck but that was nothing new and quietened down. You didn’t want to give Grace away but you couldn’t see another child so miserable, not when you had one of your own.

Steve and ‘Buck’ observed you, not saying anything so you broke the silence. “I’m sorry she confuses me with her mother, I hope she doesn’t get offended by this.”

“She’s no more.” Steve looked down and you cursed yourself for breaking the silence, make the situation more awkward and unbearable.

“I’m sorry.” Well that was better than joking about how Grace didn’t have a father either.

“Don’t be, she deserved what she got.” Steve mumbled and continued walking with ‘Buck’, lightly patting Grace and kissing her forehead.

The peck should have bothered you but you were too engrossed by his words to eavesdrop further or check on Grace. What did he mean she deserved it? You didn’t even want to think of the probability of him killing her. With all the soldiers that surrounded you, you suddenly realised he was capable of more than you thought and you felt stupid for feeling safe with him when you did. He was a leader of sorts, a person with unimaginable power and you had dived headfirst in the kind of things you should avoid at all costs. Even though you hadn't crossed him or weren't on his bad side, getting involved was a mistake.

You learnt this lesson the hard way soon enough.

[palestinianliberator]

To be Palestinian is exhausting

You will not find a single Palestinian who hasn’t had to endure all of the following and more:

Constantly having to prove our existence

[This is going to be a tremendously long post, but I implore you to read through what you can]

Constantly having to educate everyone around us on our history and people while we continue to be slaughtered

Constantly having to combat Israeli propaganda and dehumanization campaigns against us

Constantly having to combat liberal propaganda from those who simply cannot understand the pain and damage they are doing

Constantly having to defend ourselves from the overwhelming forces that stand in our way, from the Israeli forces to the global institutions that help support it to the structures in the US that mean that any Palestinian who dares speak out risk both their lives and livelihood

Constantly in fear of whether or not you’ll end up on another “list” as a result of daring to speak out

Constantly having to do it all again as soon as we’re back on the news

Constantly having to answer for all other Palestinians in a way that nobody else is expected to

Constantly being seen as the “crazy one” when trying to share your narrative, having to defend against an endless barrage of accusations of antisemitism

Constantly being put into situations by bad-faith actors who attempt to engage in “debate” or “discussion” or “dialogue” with talking points that demean and duhamanize you, all while being expected to maintain a smile and cool composure while someone literally debates to your face your own existence or how “actually it’s YOUR people’s fault you’re being slaughtered! Israel isn’t the bad guy here!”

Constantly being forced to choose between engaging in bad-faith debates framed in a way to make you look like the unreasonable bad guy while the person implicitly defending your ethnic cleansing is made to look like the “rational good guy” or looking after your own mental health, knowing that even refusing these “invitations” is itself a mark against you and your people

Constantly being told that you’re too “biased”, too “close”, too “emotional” about the literal slaughter of your people to be seen as a valid source, while Israelis and complete outsiders are given all the space they want to speak for us endlessly

Constantly seeing people being actively mislead and wondering if you have the capacity to reach out to them and attempt to share your narrative with them, knowing that if you don’t, they’re going to go on to propagate the same lies justifying your ethnic cleansing

Constantly having to combat GENUINE censorship throughout the media, social media, and society itself. It’s a fact proven by former Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and Youtube employees that Palestinian voices have their reach censored in a way no one else does, which is why it’s so important to amplify and actively share Palestinian voices rather than just liking or indicating support

Constantly being told you don’t know your own history by people who’ve educated themselves on Youtube and Wikipedia despite having lived the reality yourself and dedicating your entire life to studying every single aspect of it

Constantly seeing those who have the courage to stand alongside you being shut down with accusations of antisemitism and seeing them lose their courage to stand by you out of fear of their own image and livelihood and having to rush to their defense as well

Constantly having to see photos of your people, sometimes even people you know, maimed, injured, murdered, or burned to ash by Israeli aggression but knowing you have a duty to share what’s happening and must stomach the images to show the world the true extent of the suffering we endure

Constantly having to worry not just for your own safety, but the safety of your family and loved ones who can be punished or targeted because of things you yourself say

Constantly wondering who you can actually trust, from new friends and acquaintances to professors to even other Palestinians because we’ve been so heavily infiltrated by Israeli intelligence looking to blackmail Palestinians using anything from their sexual orientation or even made up “evidence” meant to ruin their lives

Constantly having your heart sink every notification you get wondering if it’s news that a loved one has been killed

Constantly seeing the corpses of loved ones shared on social media and reliving the trauma all over again, yet again knowing that you WANT the world to see what’s happening

Constantly seeing the effects this has on your own family and feeling helpless to do anything

Constantly on alert for the FBI at your door as they often “visit” Palestinians who dare speak out, myself included on numerous occasions 

Constantly wondering if your advocacy for your people is going to result in the loss of your job, scholarship, license

Constantly being asked to “humanize” and “feel for” those who live their lives day in day out completely unfazed by your suffering despite living in a society that couldn’t even FUNCTION without our subjugation

Constantly being told “don’t blame regular Israelis, blame the government!!” as if the state itself wasn’t founded on our ethnic cleansing, as if it isn’t “normal Israelis” who make up the entirety of the Israeli Military and have actively brutalized you and your people

Seeing allies you fought for suddenly SILENT when it’s their time to speak up

Studying on a US campus where those SAME SOLDIERS WHO ENGAGED IN YOUR PERSECUTION AND ACTIVELY SERVED AS THE ENFORCERS OF YOUR OCCUPATION then re-enact the trauma against you and you’re meant to simply ignore the fact that THEY ARE THE SAME PEOPLE WHO MURDERED YOUR FRIENDS AND FAMILY, and not being allowed to even be ANGRY at that

Trying to navigate this half-life in the diaspora where it’s a struggle to connect with other Palestinians given the distance between us and yet not being able to connect with anyone around because, again, they simply can’t understand

Constantly being expected to simply give up your time to those who demand you answer them and debate your existence and narrative with them, who them take you blocking them for your own mental health as a “victory” to be lorded over you when you simply can’t take it anymore

Constantly having to EXPLAIN all of this because nobody but other Palestinians can truly understand just how pervasive, overwhelming, and incapacitating this unique form of exhaustion is

Constantly seeing your erasure and ethnic cleansing defended all over the media, all over social media, throughout your academic career, while those ENGAGED in your ethnic cleansing have the audacity to claim that the media is biased against THEM

Constantly on guard with everything you say and write, knowing that unlike those promoting our ethnic cleansing, we don’t have the luxury of making mistakes or getting lazy in our writing and advocacy. One mistaken source, mistaken information, being imperfect is enough to discredit your voice entirely

The crippling obligation you have to share the narrative of your people, knowing that so many people will view you as the spokesperson of your entire people, knowing how unfair it is, but also knowing that if you DON’T speak out, nobody will on your behalf, and even the most well-intentioned, involved allies can simply never understand how it all truly feels

Seeing the entire world stand by and do absolutely nothing while your people are slaughtered time and time again

Seeing your history misconstrued by people implicitly defending your ethnic cleansing and settler-colonialism

Knowing that our parents have been through this and more, seeing them have to go through this yet again while still being forced to go about their daily lives and given no time to mourn or recover

Not being able to even share our culture without being attacked for it

Knowing that so many of your friends and family won’t ever be able to return to their homeland while foreigners from around the globe are flown into Israel free because it’s their “birthright”

A “birthright” denied to even my own parents, born in Jerusalem yet unable to enter it

Having even self-proclaimed “allies” question Palestinian resistance, policing our tone, never /really/ understanding our pain and anger and how they themselves contribute to it

Screaming from the moment you can about what’s happening to us, desperately trying to get people to CARE, and having it often fall on deaf ears

Knowing that if you’re not the source of information for those genuinely seeking to learn, they may find themselves mislead by sources that claim to be fair and balanced while imprinting subtle lies about Palestine and Palestinians on those they engage with

Not even being able to find the energy and ability to respond to genuine messages of love and support, which are greatly appreciated, and feeling bad about it because you don’t want to seem like you’re not genuinely happy to hear it

Feeling a sense of overwhelming exhaustion in times like this while at the same time being unable to sleep

Seeing the effect all of this has had on your people, knowing your people have among the highest rates of depression on the planet and yet we’re all suffering together with no way to ease the pain

Being constantly exposed to the ways in which your people are erased and questioning if you have the energy or sanity left to deconstruct such aggression to help outsiders understand the severity of it all

Seeing allies suddenly call for “peace” when Palestinians are finally fed up enough to rise up and fight back against an overwhelming military force

I could go on, but in case you it’s not already clear, I’m tired and exhausted

Always wondering if any of this is even worth it when the world has ignored your slaughter and ethnic cleansing for nearly 8 decades, knowing that nobody is about to step in to help now.

Constantly wondering if any of this is even worth it, and then feeling inspired by fellow Palestinians, our resilience, the fact that despite ALL of this and more, we continue to fight.

Despite all of this, I would never even consider or entertain the thought of being born as anything other than Palestinian

[kpopxx]

Spy Games [Chapter 1] : More Than It Seems

Characters: Twice Momo, Male Reader

4579 words

Authors Note: This is literally the first fiction writing I have done since I was a little kid writing stories about a town full of hamburgers. I was inspired to try my hand at writing by the plethora of amazing kpop smut writers out there right now, but by @lockefanfic​, @nsfwtwicecatcher​, @nsfwflint​, and @ggidolsmuts​ in particular. If there are any similarities between my writing and theirs, please forgive me as I’ve spent more hours than I’d care to admit “researching” their work. 

One thing that amazes me is how the hell everyone cranks out thousands of words with such frequency, as this post isn’t even 5k and it took forever to write. I can’t begin to explain how much respect I have for all the authors out there who can write so much and maintain such high levels of quality.

As a new writer, I welcome any and all feedback! Feel free to drop me a line if you have any critiques, or if you just want to chat!

***

“Coming up on the target now.” 

“Roger that, remember the office is on the top floor. Let us know when you’re inside. And remember, no elevators...” teases your handler, Choa.

“Thanks for the reminder,” you reply sarcastically.

You survey the skyscraper against the night sky--it would be impressive if it weren’t one of a hundred just like it downtown Seoul--and wonder what you had done to deserve getting the short end of the stick. Of course, you knew there was a reason to avoid the elevators: they sat directly in front of the building’s concierge and the cameras in the lobby, while the stairwell lay in a remote part of the first floor. The logic behind your impending hike didn’t make the reality any less abhorrent.

“Meanwhile, Seolhyun gets to infiltrate an organization in the Caymans. Just my fucking luck.” you grumble to yourself.

“Oh, stop whining, you big baby,” says Choa, reminding you to keep your thoughts to yourself.

You sneak past the lobby and towards the back of the floor you find the entrance to the stairwell in a poorly lit area.

“Beginning my climb.” you report, shaking out your legs as you prepare to go up.

“Sir, I-I’m getting some interference over comms,” chimes in the timid voice of the girl you knew to be your newest team member, Yoo Jeongyeon. “It could just be local chatter, but I want to make sure it’s not someone trying to listen in.”

“Probably nothing to worry about, but we’ll let you know if there’s anything you need to worry about.” Choa assures you. 

As you climb up the stairs, you wonder why anyone would want to listen in on this particular mission. This was a run-of-the-mill operation to investigate money laundering at an accounting firm. You’d infiltrated foreign governments, broken into and bugged the offices of billionaire CEOs, and tailed enemy agents. You could understand people wanting to hear those comms, but this? Either someone wanted something to listen to as a sleep aid, or this mission was more interesting than it looked.

A tip had come in through one of the new girls at the Intel Desk reporting that there was some fishy activity related to organized crime going on at the accounting firm. This was routine and you’d gone on dozens of similar recon missions before: break in, find suspicious intel, get out. But if someone wanted so badly to hear what was going on, the new girl may have stumbled onto something worthy of a promotion. Hayoung, you think her name was. Her chestnut, shoulder-length hair along with her well-endowed physique reminded you of a young mother, but her mature beauty belied her young age. You had caught yourself more than a few times fantasizing about her in your off hours…

You stop mid-way in the stairwell, scolding yourself for losing focus. Too often over the course of the last year you found yourself fantasizing about the women in your life. Sure, before the incident with Eunha you had sexual thoughts about your coworkers--you were surrounded by beautiful women, after all. But recently you noticed that your life was increasingly preoccupied with sex: both in your thoughts and the real-life exploits you carried out. 

Much longer than a few minutes later, you reach the 63rd floor out of breath and sweating, wishing more than ever that it was you and not Seolhyun lounging on the beach. You take a moment to compose yourself before peeking out into the office floor to see if the coast is clear.

“We may have a problem, boss. Jeongyeon looked into the comms disturbance and someone much more sophisticated than the average joe is definitely trying to tap in,” Choa says. “Jeongyeon’s kicking their ass right now blocking their access, but there’s only so much she can do alone. Eventually we’re going to lose control of this channel.”

“Dammit. I knew something was off with this op,” you grumble. “If they want to listen in to whatever I find, it must be important. We’ll go dark. Recon says this should be a quick in and out anyways. I’ll tag you once I’m out.”

“Be careful. Signal us if anything goes wrong. Just don’t do anything stupid.” replies Choa. 

“What do you think they pay me all this money for?” you tease, wanting to put her nerves at ease. “See you on the other side. Over and out.”

You could hear the concern in her voice. Even though keeping you safe was part of her job, you knew she cared about you. You also knew as well as she did that anything could go wrong even in the five minutes it would take you to break in, especially when it appeared that someone knew exactly what you were doing.

You switch off your comms link and head out the door and into the office.

It looked exactly as you expected--rows and rows of non-descript cubicles, with a princely office lined with glass walls occupying the far corner. Jeongyeon had retrieved the floor plan by hacking into the building’s security database earlier in the week, and you knew after her effort tonight in detecting and fending off the comms interference that Choa would want you to acknowledge the work the new girl had been putting in. She certainly was more skilled than the five previous team members you’d fired after Eunha, but you found it difficult to bring yourself to praise her. The Ops Officer position she occupied was a sore point for you, after all.

You deftly pick the lock on the corner office door and immediately sit down in front of the terminal on the desk, logging in with the security bypass Jeongyeon drew up. 

Again your thoughts drift to Eunha. Eunha was your longtime Ops Officer--highly skilled, you trusted her more than anyone. It also helped that she was your fiance. It made you sad to think about her; about what could have been, what should have been. Over the past year, you were constantly reminded of her absence by the utter incompetence of her replacements. You suppose it was nice that at the very least, Jeongyeon didn’t give you many opportunities to bemoan her performance in the same way--to remind you of Eunha.

You shake your head, compelling yourself to rise out of your funk and get on with the mission.

As you scroll through files, you stop on one with a familiar signature. Reading its contents, your eyes open wider--suddenly you understand why someone would be interested to listen in to your communications. You quickly save the file to your flash drive and stand up to leave, only to be startled by a figure in the doorway.

“Care to tell me what’s on that?” comes a familiar voice from the darkness that you knew to be Hirai Momo’s. Momo was an agent for a foreign espionage agency--you had as friendly a rivalry as you could have when working for different governments. 

“What was the point of trying to hack our comms if you were just going to show up and ask me that?”

“I had no intention of coming until you decided to ghost your girlfriends,” teases Momo. “Besides, I like showing you how much better I am at sneaking around.”

Momo flicks on the light and she comes into focus. The Japanese government made a good decision when they hired her, you think. She was built for the job of a seductive spy. Her perfectly toned legs had a lovely sheen all the way up to her short skirt, while her cleavage suggested that her tits were ready to burst out of her tight, patterned blouse. Where most of your attention was drawn, however, was her lustrous blue hair, which fell to her shoulders.

“I may actually need your help with this, once you see what’s on it,” you say, nodding your head at the flash drive.

“Oh, so you’re willing to give it to me? I thought I was going to have to fuck you for it,” she says sarcastically. You knew behind the humor was more than a nugget of truth, though. Sex had been the primary vehicle for information trading with Momo over the years. You decide to test your reading of the situation.

“Just because I need your help doesn’t mean I’m giving it for free…”

Momo brings her thumb to her mouth and bites gently as she ponders your not-so-subtle proposition. She takes her turn to look you up and down, making you feel more than a little self conscious in her gaze of judgment. After so many years in the dangerous world of espionage, there were only a handful women who could make you feel so small. Then again, Momo was no regular girl. 

Once she’s satisfied she has properly appraised your worth, Momo lets go of her thumb and straightens her blouse.

“Fine,” she says matter-of-factly, “let’s get to it,” unbuttoning her blouse as she walks towards you.

You are surprised by the lack of fight she put up, but you thought it best to keep that to yourself. Her tone reminds you of a business meeting--that is, if you hadn’t seen her pull her top off as she approached you. She sits in your lap on the chair, wrapping her arms around your neck as you meet her lips for a kiss. Momo’s mouth was familiar to you, introduced to you many times throughout your career. It seemed like every time you ran across her you had sex. One thing you adored about your relationship with her was that it was absolutely without strings attached. You fucked for work, but just because it was part of the job didn’t mean you both didn’t enjoy it. 

Momo, however, was loath to admit the pleasure she got out of her liaisons with you. Call it pride, call it being professional, whatever--Momo refused to act like sex with you was anything other than work, no different than working in a spreadsheet.

You feel her reach down to your pants, quickly unbuttoning them as she sinks to her knees in front of you. You smirk--her eagerness to please you betrayed her air of ambivalence.

Momo wastes no time getting down to business. You are certain the Japanese trained her very well in tender foreplay, but it seems she doesn’t care much for subtlety at the moment. Instead, she utilizes a more direct method to extract your pleasure--one that must have required its own fair share of training--as she spits on your cock before immediately forcing it as deeply in her mouth as she can take it. One, two, three bobs is all it takes for her to reach the base of your cock, her nose buried in your pelvis.

“Fuuuck me, that’s good,” you groan as you hold her head in place for several seconds, and Momo replies in turn with a cough that spits a healthy serving of saliva on to your cock. You release your grip on the back of her head to give her a chance to breathe, but she surprises you when she simply continues to work her mouth on your increasingly saliva-drenched cock, swirling her tongue around your base. Most of the other women you had slept with in recent months would be gasping for air by now, but Momo’s demeanor was cool, calm, and collected. Almost as if she was reading your mind, Momo paused her slurping and pulled her mouth off your shaft--but not forgetting to continue stroking it with achingly deft corkscrew motions.

“What’s the matter? Girls in your department not able to take care of your cock like a real woman?” Momo clicks her tongue and grins. “I’ve told you for years, you’d never be treated so poorly if you came to work for a professional outfit like ours.”

“Shut up and suck my cock.”

Momo shrugs, and gets back to the task at hand. Slobbering even more as she takes you into your mouth again, you pause to thank your lucky stars that you had a job that paid you in part to fuck women like Momo. You gaze upon her face, which has become just as messy as your cock. Momo’s sloppy blowjob has not only left liberal amounts of spit on your cock, but on her face as well--with strands of her blue hair plastered to her cheeks. Even though you thought it impossible, you feel your cock get harder at the sight of Momo’s messy face.

For several minutes, Momo continues inhaling your cock as you find yourself nearing the point of no return, you yank Momo’s head off your throbbing cock in order to prolong your session. A bit too forcefully, it seems, as Momo falls over onto her side.

“What the fuck!” yelps Momo as she picks herself back up, glaring at you. “I suck your cock and you thank me by throwing me on the ground?

“I didn’t mean to, I’m just not ready to cum yet. We both know you would’ve ignored me if I had asked you to stop.”

“I guess you’re right about that,” Momo replies sheepishly. You knew from previous run-ins with her that she loved nothing more than swallowing cum. Even though you had just denied her that favor, you were already thinking about how to make it up to her in a few minutes.

“How about I repay your kindness? Get up on the table and let me eat you.”

“Let’s skip the pleasantries. I’ll get up on the table, but you’re going to fuck me.”

“Someone’s eager to see what’s in this thumb drive,” you tease, inadvertently reminding yourself that this was a transactional liaison. You suspected that Momo’s interest in you extended beyond her desire for the information at hand, and part of you yearned to take her outside of the confines of work. You’re skeptical such a day would ever come, however, given how ambitious Momo was. 

You knew her story--she applied for a job in the Japanese spy agency several years ago, making it all the way through the process before being cut at the very end. She ended up receiving an offer shortly after one of the other finalists died in a ‘training accident’, but Momo lived with a chip on her shoulder ever since. She lived and worked with a pathological drive to prove the agency wrong in their original decision to cut her. Already the youngest lead operative in her country’s history, she had an eye on the directorship and seemed destined for it. So, you supposed, it was nice to be able to fuck her before she became famous.

Momo hops on up on the desk, hiking up her skirt to reveal a delicious-looking blue thong that matches her hair. She looks behind towards you with lust heavy in her eyes as she pulls her thong to the side, revealing her glistening pussy--already dripping, you noted.

“I don’t have all night.”

More than happy to oblige, you line your painfully throbbing cock up with her pussy and you can feel the warmth radiating from it. You take a second to appreciate Momo’s incredible physique as your hands graze downward from her upper back, to her hips, and finally to her ass. As you rub it, you cannot help but appreciate how sublimely taut it is. 

“Jeeze, you act like this is the first time you’ve seen a woman naked,” Momo jabs, interrupting your reverie.

You are starting to get annoyed with Momo’s demeanor. It was nothing new, really--she always carried an air of superiority--but it nonetheless grates on your nerves to see her be so dismissive. You are mature enough to understand that at least a part of this aggravation had to do with the fact that you knew Momo slept with plenty of men for work. Not so mature, however, to be able to stifle the primal urge deep inside of you that wanted Momo to see you as the best of all her lovers. More than ever, it seemed that sexual vanity mattered a great deal to your self-confidence.

With a renewed sense of purpose and your cock in hand, you enter Momo slowly with a long stroke until you fill her to the hilt. In unison with your initial insertion, Momo lets out a whine that crescendos as you bottom out.

As you begin to thrust in and out Momo settles in and widens her stance ever so little, which has the added benefit of allowing you to go even deeper into her warm, wet pussy. Momo was not a girl of surprises. Her face was gorgeous, capable of angelic beauty and fiery lust. Her body reflected the many hours she spent in the gym with ample breasts, insanely tight abs, and a toned ass to match. Her pussy feels exactly as sublime as her beautiful face and incredible body suggested. The perfect combination for a woman who used her body to seduce and take advantage of brainless men. You decide to push out your mind the realization that at this very moment, you are in fact one of those men.

You wanted to make sure Momo felt each and every drive into her hot flesh. Momo continued to moan quietly, each breath punctuated with a new thrust and the sound of your skin meeting hers.

“Looks like someone’s gotten real quiet all of a sudden,” you say, noticing her haughty attitude had subsided as pleasure took you both over.

“Oh, get over yourself,” Momo says, looking back at you with rekindled determination in her eyes, “you’re no better than half the guys I’ve been with. I’m here for the file, not for whatever you call this.” She cooly turns her head to face front again, leaving you seething.

Your twinge of annoyance was now a bubbling boil.

You slow down before withdrawing your cock from her warmth--Momo lets out the faintest whine of disappointment, betraying her dissatisfied front.

Just as Momo turns her head again to complain, you quickly slam your cock deep inside her. Momo yelps, and you notice her eyes bulge as you move your hips in a circular motion with your cock filled to the hilt, scraping deep inside her pussy. After several seconds of this you grab a makeshift ponytail out of her hair and yank backwards, causing her to gasp and arch her back instinctively. As much as she bothered you with her air of indifference, you had to admit that the image in front of you was the stuff of dreams.

Taking advantage of the highly erotic sight before you and the increased leverage offered by your grasp of her hair, you began to truly fuck her with quick and powerful strokes.

“Take it, Momo,” you grunted, beads of sweat beginning to form on your forehead.

Momo said nothing, emitting only breathless gasps from her open mouth. You noticed that their intensity was gradually increasing, so you increased the speed of your shaft penetrating her young, sinful body. You knew she was enjoying this, but you wouldn’t be satisfied until you broke her facade. You wanted her to lose herself to you.

You speed up even more, and the volume of your skin slapping together increases as her pussy drips wetter and wetter, mixing with your leaking precum. You are slamming your cock into her now, and Momo has to grab on to the table to steady herself. Slowly but surely her pretense was crumbling.

“You want it, don’t you Momo? You want more?”

“Fuck yeah,” Momo gasps hoarsely, struggling to speak with her hair being pulled, “Give it to me...o-oh...fuck, give it to me!”

Satisfied that she had succumbed to her pleasure, you relax your grip on her hair slightly and lean over to growl in her ear.

“I’ll give it to you. I’m gonna make sure you remember this, make sure every time you’re with another man you wish it was me.”

Momo acknowledges your promise with a deep groan, giving you great pleasure as you resumed fucking her gorgeous body.

Your eyes drift downward to her glorious ass, now shining with sweat and jiggling violently with each crash of your cock inside her. Inspired by the sight, you release her hair and put one hand on her hip and begin striking her ass with your other. Momo shrieks in surprise, but quickly looks back at you with lidded eyes while biting her lip to tell you she wanted more.

Again you oblige, and it was quickly becoming clear that lust and pleasure were staging a coup of Momo’s senses. She’s making lots of noise, but nothing intelligible. Nothing but guttural moans interspersed with high-pitched squeals. You continue spanking her ass, alternating cheeks--noticing a deep pink beginning to form on both. She’d most likely be dealing with soreness for several days after this, you think.

“You wanna cum, Momo? Cum for me, I know you want to.”

“Mmmmm...Ah, ah, AH! Unggghh,” comes Momo’s response.

“Come on Momo, fucking cum baby...cum all over this cock,” you shout, sincerely hoping there was no one working in an adjacent floor to hear.

“FUUUUCK!” Momo screams eloquently, suddenly dropping her head as her body begins convulsing. You knew what to expect having slept with her before, but you are nonetheless surprised to see how completely overtaken her body was by pleasure. Her upper body jerks spastically as her legs tremble with your cock plunged deep inside her pussy, all the while letting out a high-pitched whine that turns into a soft whimper. Just a few minutes before she was defiant and happy to throw insults at you...now she was a mewling, writhing mess incapable of speaking. The dark, primal part of you is satisfied by her tacit recognition of your talent.

After a short while, Momo begins to compose herself and lifts her upper body from the table. You take it as a sign to slowly resume taking your cock in and out of her. You decide to give her now glowing pink ass a rest and caress her back, tracing long lines with your nails.

“Mmmmm, that feels good,” Momo says, her eyes still closed, “you fuck me so good.”

You slowly begin ramping up the pace, rolling your hips with each stroke. You want to make sure your cock pleases every inch of Momo’s pussy, and make sure it craves you when she’s alone at night. 

After several minutes of this tender, softer version of lovemaking, Momo comes back to her senses. She arches her back again and turns her head to gaze in your eyes as you continue to take her. She begins to move her ass back and forth on your cock in unison with your own strokes.

“Oh my god, you feel so good in my fucking pussy! Every...fucking...stroke!” Momo gasps, the final words punctuated by the force of her majestic ass crashing against your cock.

“You’re a bad girl, Momo,” you tease, “you like being taken and shown who’s boss, don’t you? You like me grabbing your hair and slapping your ass?”

“Yes!” she gasps, “Yes I love it! Mmmmm...I want you to fuck me until you cum. Fuck me until you cum!”

There was no command in the world easier to follow.

Satisfied that you had fulfilled your vain, immature desire to see her acknowledge your skill as a lover, you now focus yourself on extracting pleasure from the young woman beneath you. You settle into a pace with rough strokes, fiercely pounding her over and over. Your pleasure rises with each thrust, aided not only by the mindblowing caress of her pussy, but by the incredible sight of Momo on all fours before you moaning with each strike of your cock inside her.

“Fuck Momo...I don’t think I have much longer, I’m gonna fucking cum so hard!”

“Yes,” comes the response from Momo, “Yes, yes! Fucking cum baby, I want your cum so bad!”

A few more thrusts and you can feel the point of no return coming. For a brief moment you contemplate cumming inside Momo, to truly claim her. You quickly reconsider, wanting to give her what she truly wanted--to swallow your load.

And so, you quickly withdraw your cock from Momo’s now sopping wet pussy and she instinctively turns around and drops to her knees on the floor. Stroking your cock with great fervor, her mouth wide open begging for what was to come.

“Please give me your cum, please, please! I want it...I need it! Cum for me!”

Your head tilts backward as a long groan escapes your lips. Your cum explodes from your shaft, shooting long, thick ropes of semen into her mouth and onto her cheeks and nose. Over and over, your cum splashes on her beautiful face until you finally reach the end of your orgasm, panting and exhausted. Momo’s face is a pornographic picture of lust, her eyes rolled back in pleasure as she swallows the mass of cum you deposited in her mouth.

“I fucking love your cum,” Momo says as she wipes the remaining cum off her face with her finger and promptly brings it to her tongue before swallowing it down as well.

“I’m glad we were both able to get what we wanted,” you say, struggling to catch your breath.

“Speaking of getting what I wanted…” Momo says, nodding her head to the part of the floor where the USB drive now sits, evidently thrown from the table during the session that had just taken place.

“Right,” you say, suddenly remembering you’re here for work, “make a copy and let’s get out of here.”

“Great,” says Momo, still on the floor with a satisfied smile of content on her face, “Hey, I meant what I said about having you join our team. As much shit as I give you, we could really use someone with your talent.”

“Thanks, but I think I’m better off staying put. Don’t think the Korean government would let me live if I tried defecting.”

“Probably true,” says Momo as she begins picking up her clothes, “Never hurts to ask, though.”

***

A few minutes later, you and Momo had both gotten dressed and copied the file onto a drive for her. Momo disappeared into an adjoining hallway and you set off to traverse the stairwell again. As you prepare yourself for the descent, you also steel yourself for the repercussions of giving the intel to a foreign spy agency. With the information you saw in the file, you knew the Japanese would have to be looped in sooner or later. If it was going to happen eventually, you thought it made the most sense to entrust that intel to the agent on the other side you knew would make sure things got done correctly. As logical as it seemed to you, however, you knew it wouldn’t be taken well back at the office.

You click on your comms link, now knowing there’s nothing to fear. 

“Hey Choa, I’m on my way back to the rendezvous.”

“Oh thank god! That took forever, I was about to call for a tac team!” Choa sighs with audible relief, “I take it you got everything you needed?”

“Got more than I needed, actually,” you say, nervous about Choa’s reaction to what you say next, “Listen, there’s one small thing you should know...”

“You did WHAT?!”

[infernal-fire]

I love your dark Jake Jensen and I have a request for him, so the team gets in contact with reader for supplies for a mission an Jensen feels a spark between them so he makes every excuse to talk to reader to the point the team teased but helps him out with his grand scheme to get with reader but they don't know how far he'd go to make reader his ☺️💕 thanks

I love a good dark!jake fic!! I have changed the specifics a litttllle bit so i hope this is alright :)

Warnings: implied noncon/dubcon, some creepy behaviour, mention of stalking, drugging, mention of breeding kink

Summary: 5 days; that’s how long it takes him to become fixated on you.

Wc: 2k 

You’re My Delusion

They could have gone to any supplier. Fate would have it that Aisha wanted you, and only you. 

The melodious tune of a piano ringtone chimed in your bag. You ask the other daycare teacher to take over for you and picked up the phone: Unknown Number. You watched the phone ring until the line went dead and resumed your day. 

It may have been an ‘unknown number’, but your subconscious unequivocally knew who it was. Grumbling at the thought of being contacted again, you twisted the handle to your condo. Of course, you didn’t bat an eye when there was an envelope on your countertop, one that you didn’t put there; Aisha knew that you knew the phone would ring again, and if you didn’t answer, she would pay you a visit.

When Unknown Number flashed across your screen for the second time that day, you considered letting it go to voicemail again, but picked up anyway. 

“Aisha.”

“Y/N.”

“If you’re gonna ask me for an assist-”

Aisha cut you off. “I know you don’t do missions anymore. We need a safe house that’s off the books.”

“Who’s we?”

“They’re all men.” As if on cue, you heard someone guffaw in the background. “It’s making me lose my goddamn mind,” she elucidated. 

“You know I don’t really do this stuff anymore,” you huffed, “But I’m making an exception this one time. For you.” You could hear Aisha let out a squeal of happiness, and realized how bad it must be if she uncharacteristically showed excitement.

//

While cleaning up your old warehouse-turned-safehouse, Aisha’s words echoed in the back of your head. “Some of them are a little... bulky. Let them sleep on the floor.” You tried to protest, asking her, what’s the point of a safehouse if they aren’t resting well, but she dismissed the question. “Trust me. They’re nothing more than cavemen.”

It was 4 AM; foot tapping impatiently and sipping on the third coffee of the night, you smacked your forehead in frustration. It was way past bedtime. After living alongside Aisha for years, anyone would appreciate nights that consist of 8 hours of sleep. 

You could certainly appreciate it. Being a daycare teacher, living in a civilian condominium and not engaging in government work was something you couldn’t take for granted. Not after all the shit you’ve seen. 

3 brusque knocks sounded on the metal door to your right. Your head snapped to the source, waiting for Aisha to call out the code word. 

“LOSERS!” a voice hollered from the other side. You trudged to the door, trying to shake off the dizziness that came with standing up too fast. 

Opening the door with caution, you had only blinked a few times before a body pulled you into a tight embrace.

“You’re never this excited to see me. That bad, huh,” you sneered. 

“You have no idea.” Aisha pulled out of the hug and turned to face the men who had lined up nearby. 

“So… who’s this?” The guy with dirty blonde hair, nerd glasses and a horrible sense of fashion piped up. His whole appearance was an oxymoron to his build - muscles protruded out of the bright pink shirt that hugged him like a second skin. On the other hand, you couldn’t imagine him as anything more than a harmless golden retriever.

“Don’t ask as if you don’t know Jensen,” Aisha groused. You could practically hear her roll her eyes. 

“What’s your name, darling?” another guy spoke. He exuded the energy of a leader; you looked him straight in the eyes and gave him your name. 

The golden retriever repeated your name as if to try out the taste of it on his tongue. You gave him a lopsided, close-mouthed smile and asked Aisha for her teammates’ names. 

“You don’t need to learn their names.” She stalked off, unwilling to be a part of the conversation any longer. 

The guy you had assumed was the leader sighed at her attitude before introducing himself as ‘Clay’. He pointed at each person and gave you their titles. 

“Okay so you’re Clay, that’s Cougar, Roque,” you skipped over Jake, “and Pooch.” 

“Me?” Jake softly inquired.

The rest of the team began picking up their things and walking away, but not before Pooch nudged Jensen with his shoulder and winked. The puppy-like man flushed in response and rubbed the nape of his neck.

“What about you?” you asked once you were alone. 

“You didn’t say my name.” 

“I know it’s Jake… but can I call you ‘daddy’ instead?” 

He froze up, looking at you like a deer caught in headlights. 

“Relax Jakey,” you put a hand on his chest, “I’m only teasing.” You winked and strutted away, snickering to yourself at how he looked like he was about to pass out.

The entire team was trying to egg you and Jensen on. Well, not the entire team. 

Aisha and Roque couldn’t care less, and Cougar did nothing more than smirk at your playful banter. 

Often, Jensen would start a conversation that would escalate quickly, your witty dialogue interrupting his rationale. You thought it was adorable how he didn’t know how to respond; a guy like him could have fantastic game, but he was too much of a sweetheart, not the mention, way too awkward. 

One particular night, you let down your guard, just enough to actually get to know him. 

“You seem like a really supportive uncle,” you commented at his excitement for his niece’s next soccer game. 

“Oh, it’s nothing. I wish my parents would have done this for me.”

“Done what?”

“You know… Tell me they’re proud of me.”

“Well Jake... I think you should know, that I’m proud of you for everything you’re doing for the country.”

Jake looked up at you, sporting the signature look of the uncertainty of how to respond. It didn’t take a genius to be able to tell that he wasn’t used to being praised. 

“Thank you. That means a lot more than you know,” he quietly responded. 

The rest of the night was spent in a solemn, yet understanding silence, one that both of you were oddly comfortable with. 

Unfortunately, that would also be the last time you saw him. 

Or so you think. 

The mission went sour, and for the first time since retirement, you wished you had assisted. Maybe if you assisted, the mission wouldn’t have gone south. Maybe if you assisted... you would have been able to say goodbye. 

Without even realizing it, Jake had burrowed a little hole into your heart. You hoped life could go on with the little leak in your pump. Regardless, there is no time for sulking; after all, no amount of reminiscing would change the way things happened.

It had been months after Aisha and the team went back into hiding but you were faring well. Life as you knew it had continued without a trace of the burly, soft man-baby. You almost forgot about the ordeal, up until that day. Perhaps it was fate that had you switch the TV on at that time. You would never know.

A team of rogue CIA agents, presumed to be dead, have now infiltrated a crime branch operating within the US government. They have been pardoned from their status as “Enemies of State” but can no longer work for the CIA taskforce, as their identities have been indefinitely compromised. 

You blinked at the screen, watching Aisha’s name and picture appear. Subsequently, there was Clay, Pooch, Jensen, Cougar and Roque. You were happy for them.

Pooch could go back home to his wife. It was hard to imagine what it must have been like for the missus; pregnant and alone. Though you didn’t know Pooch that well, you knew he was a good partner and husband. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your front door shutting and clicking in place. Your hand frantically pressed the ‘volume up’ button on the TV as you hurled for the handgun under your pillow. 

Sliding to the wall beside the door, you cautiously peered into the dark hallway and made out a large figure. You huffed quietly before appearing in the doorframe with your gun pointing straight at the mystery guy. At this point, you had a good idea of who it was, but you wanted to mess with him anyway. “Hands up, and not another step forward.” 

He tried to speak, but you cut him off. 

“Don’t. speak,” you punctuated each word. Reaching for the light switch, you flipped on the hallway light. The dim light revealed your golden retriever standing there with his eyes wide open in fear. 

“Don’t shoot?” he said, like a question. 

You grinned and tucked the gun into your waistband.

“What are you doing here?”

“Thought I should come see you.” 

“You could have knocked, like a normal person.”

He shrugged sheepishly. 

“How do you know where I live?” you questioned. To that, he fiddled with his fingers and looked down. 

“Only Aisha knows this place. And I know she would have never told you.” You intently stared at him while leaning into the nearest wall and folding your arms.

Jake didn’t want to tell you that he had been stalking you. Every spare moment he had during the remainder of the mission was spent tracking you. After a few weeks, it felt as though you had moved on. It pained him, to say the least.

“I- uhm,” he looked up at you and took a step forward, “Hey, I just-...” He stopped when you reached for your handgun again, now wary of his intentions.

He put his hands back up. 

“I wanted to ask you out properly.”

“What do you mean ‘properly’? We were never going out, to begin with.”

Before you understood the spur of movement, Jake lunged for you and plucked the handgun out of your pyjama’s waistband, throwing it over the railing of your staircase. You tried to kick him, but he pricked you without giving you a moment to react. 

“What did you give me?” You clutched your neck in the spot he sunk the needle. 

“I was really hoping I wouldn’t have to do that,” he exhaled. He tried to hold you, but you weakly pushed him off, still trying to recover from the shock of his betrayal. 

“Takes 5 minutes to really work,” he scratched his neck. 

Then there was the fight. You gave it your all but with no weapon or leverage, you were going up against 200 pounds of pure muscle who was hell-bent on restraining you for some reason. 

2 minutes into the fight, you began to really feel the effects of whatever he gave you. He point-blank caught a punch that you tried to drill into his sternum. You look up at him incredulously, unable to still believe that he was trying to take you down right now. 

At last, he snapped. 

“Listen to me,” he grasped both your hands.

You momentarily struggled, but your shoulders slumped and you gave up on trying to free your wrists. 

“How could you move on without me?” he asked, attempting to look you in your eyes. You wouldn’t meet them. 

“Jake, you are delusional! I barely had a crush on you for 5 days,” you cried, letting the wetness spread over your cheeks freely. At this point, it was clear, what he was here for. 

“You should know, those 5 days were some of the best in my 29 years of living. I want that for the rest of my life.”

“Why couldn’t you have done this like a normal person?” You finally met his eyes with an excess of tears blurring your vision. 

“You keep saying that,” he began, letting go of your arms and wiping your tears, “but you know that you and I are not normal.” Jake leaned down to kiss your forehead. 

Your legs were beginning to buckle, but Jake caught you, throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He strode into your bedroom as if he had been there a thousand times, put you down on the bed gently, and brushed the hair out of your face. 

Here we have Sergeant Linwood ‘Pooch’ and his wife reuniting. It is the first time he has seen her since his last mission, before disappearing. It is also the first time he will be seeing his child. Definitely, an emotion reun-

Your captor turned off the TV and turned to smile at you.

“Wouldn’t that be nice?” he asked, but seemed as if he were talking to himself. 

You couldn’t respond, all your muscles now refusing to attend to your demands. Instead, more tears streaked down your face. 

“A baby,” he whispered, “Yes, that would be nice.”

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