#the instant a pig puts on their badge

[kylorengarbagedump]

Fuck the Police (NSFW)

Read on AO3.

Summary: It was unwise. But you couldn’t help yourself from spitting in the pretty cop’s fucking face.

Words: 2000

Warnings: dubious consent, inappropriate use of a weapon

Characters: Flip Zimmerman x Reader

A/N: I want to dedicate this fic to every single person who loves fucking fictional police officers who are played by Adam Driver.

(this is sloppier than usual, and more drabbley than usual, yes, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless.)

Love y'all VERY much.

“Hey, come on. Let’s move it.”

You spun, face bumping the flannel chest of who you could only assume to be a plainclothes cop. Frowning, you put your hand on your hip, lowering your sign. He was hot--probably hotter than most or any of the cops you’d seen in this town, with his aqualine nose and pretty-moled face. But that didn’t make him any less repugnant to you.

“No way,” you replied. “What we’re doing is perfectly legal.”

“Sure, if you were on public property,” he said, “but you’re not. This is a privately-owned convenience store.”

You frowned. “The store’s owner donates to an organization that supports the Vietnam Wa--”

“Doesn’t matter. Private property. Get moving.” He tried to usher you forward.

“Hey!” You sneered, bucking off his gesture. “Watch it, officer.”

“It’s detective.”

Your friends laughed, and you rolled your eyes.

“Whatever you say, detective.” He made to move you again, and you growled. “Don’t touch me. What’s your name and badge number?”

“Flip Zimmerman.” He rattled off a bunch of numbers--you couldn’t hear over your friends’ laughter. “Get moving.”

Your lip furled. “No!”

A flash of anger in his eye. It was dangerous. Stirred something along the length your spine. But you were undeterred. 

“You want to make this a game?” he said. “Go ahead. Try me.”

“Fuck off!”

Zimmerman snarled. “You think--”

It was unwise. But you couldn’t help yourself from spitting in the pretty cop’s fucking face.

The next moments happened in a flash. Detective Flip Zimmerman wrested you by the arm, big hand crushing your joint as he whipped you around and slammed you chest first against the nearest wall. You hollered in protest, curses flying from your mouth, your fellow demonstrators crying for him to let you go. In desperation, you wriggled, throwing your shoulders back, but he flattened his body along yours, his weight suffocating you. You swallowed, jerked back again, your ass driving into his crotch--Zimmerman grunted, and you could’ve sworn he rutted in return. 

Heat stoked you. No, there was no way this fucking pig was turning you on right now. But as you struggled, his breath quickened, his grip tightened, his body heavy over yours. A stupid, disgusting, horrible instinct ordered you to squirm, a tiny, near-silent whimper escaping your throat. He huffed, clicking one of the cuffs around your wrist. His chest was heaving.

“You’ll be okay!” called out one of your friends. “You’re a fighter, give him hell!”

Hell was certainly how you’d describe feeling a stiffening arousal at your backside. Or maybe hell was the hot, errant streak of lust that ripped through your thighs. 

“Fuck this!” you hissed. “Fuck the police!”

Zimmerman cuffed your other wrist, yanked you against him by the chain. Under his breath, ragged and furious, he muttered, “Shut the fuck up.”

A whine hitched. “Fuck you,” you replied, barely audible under the shouting of your friends.

He didn’t reply, shoving you off and leading you by the restraints down the sidewalk. You cast a glance behind you, watching as your friends jeered your arrest, wondering why your heart was knocking in your chest and between your legs. Zimmerman was big, fucking strong, his breath smelled like tobacco and he had a disgustingly sexy gentle curl to his lush, dark hair. The firmness of his hold on you made you want to fight him. 

It also made you want to fuck him. But you would fight that urge, too. 

You smirked. He was leading you around the corner, far from the protest. “Your car can’t be that far away, can it?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

You laughed. “Fuck. You.”

Zimmerman paused, stalling you in your tracks. “You know what.” One huge step to the right, and he dragged you at his pace, forcing you to jog to keep up. He led you toward an alley. “Fine.”

In three long strides, you both disappeared into the corridor, shadowed in silence and secrecy. He was panting, now, as he shoved you into the brick and rolled his hips against your ass. Against your better judgement, you moaned--whatever he was packing, it was fucking huge. Zimmerman bruised your flesh as he grappled with your hips, finding the button for your pants with his thick fingers. He was still without words, the only sounds escaping him the excited desperation of desire.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, working your pants down your legs. “You fucking wanted this, huh.”

You bit your lip to trap a gasp. You wanted to say no. But the pulsing ache at your pussy was saying yes. Zimmerman grumbled to himself, his hand fumbling under your belly, crawling between your thighs. Writhing, you closed your eyes, hating that he would discover just how wet you’d become. 

“Fuck,” he said. “Knew you were a little slut. You types always are.”

You shivered. “Knew you were a rapist,” you replied. “Cops always are.”

Zimmerman’s other hand clapped over your mouth, and he stuffed two of his fingers between your teeth. “Shut the fuck up.” He teased your clit through your underwear with a single digit. “You’re dripping for me. Fuck.”

Whining, you couldn’t help the need to suck at his fingers--so you did, grinding your ass onto his hard, clothed cock. He choked on his own lust, hips pitching in an attempt to relieve his arousal. His hand left your cunt, and you heard the jingling of something behind you. You thought, at first, it was his belt--until you felt something hard and smooth and cool wedging between your legs.

You tried to object, but his fingers muffled any noise. He stepped back to angle you forward, bending you at the waist, the object pushing your panties to the side and nudging between the swelling lips of your slit. Heart skipping, you wailed, shaking your head, but Zimmerman jerked you in reprimand. As you felt a blunt end find your entrance, you knew, in an instant, what it was.

His baton.

Zimmerman grunted, pushed it in, and you groaned, deep and low, clenching around the cold, unforgiving wood. He chuckled to himself--you could practically feel his eyes watching the tight walls of your cunt grip it--and pulled it out, humming in satisfaction.

“Christ, you’re wet,” he said. “Too bad you haven’t earned my dick. Would probably love sinking it into this pussy.”

You moaned, for some reason nodding, even though you weren’t even sure what you were really agreeing with. The both of you seemed too enthralled by lust to care--he slid the baton in  again, stretching you deep, and you throbbed around it. Drool dribbled down your chin, coating his hand, spilling onto the ground. The sensation was enough to roll your eyes back, to spin your head with greed. Another thrust in with a lewd squelch, and Zimmerman snickered.

“You hear that?” he said. “You love it.” He fucked you faster, the wood sliding hot and easy into your needy cunt. “Fuck. Be quiet for me.”

Without another warning, he released your mouth, pushing you forward so your cheek met the brick. You groaned, hearing another jingle. Now this was his belt. Zimmerman kept his pace with the baton steady, the friction at your walls numbing your legs with bliss. Juices ran down your thighs, your muscles trembled from strain. And then you heard him curse under his breath as he wrapped his hand around his cock.

From the corner of your eye, you could see the detective fisting his shaft, his cheeks red, his jaw slack, hand stroking in rhythm as your pussy swallowed his club. You snuffed a groan, your throat thick, the air thicker. He was entranced, hypnotized by the sight--he slowed, pulling out, watching your cunt fight to keep the weapon inside, and then plowed through, relishing the shock of pain that rippled through you. His breath was tattered with desire.

“Fuck,” he murmured. “Fuck, yes. You like that.”

Jaw shaking, you could do nothing but nod and gather every single ounce of strength you had to not howl in pleasure.

“This pussy likes getting fucked by anything.” He was spitting the words between his teeth. Pre-cum gleamed in the dim light of the alley, and he slicked it over his cock. “Doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” you whispered, which was really more of a squeal. “Yes, yes, it does.”

“That’s right.” His hair fell into his eyes, and a groan rumbled in his chest. “Shit, you look tight.” He plunged the baton faster, deeper, huffing. He snarled. “Fuck it.” 

A clatter on the concrete, two big hands snatched your hips. Seconds later, Zimmerman’s massive, throbbing cock split you open. A shuddering groan of disbelief fled his throat, and you screamed in the back of yours, eyes shut tight. One long stroke out, and he slammed back in, pounding your cunt with hard, furious thrusts. More drool rolled over your lips, this time from the heady rush of pleasure, the absolute perfection of how fucking thick his dick felt inside your pussy.

Zimmerman was possessed--every thrust earned a grunt from his chest, every smack of skin quaked your body with force to steal your breath. You whimpered, begging yourself not to whine. But then a finger found your clit, swirled it with a calloused pad, and you snapped. 

For a moment, you were boneless, but he held your hips, fucking so deep that he pierced your cervix. Sharp white pain melted into pleasure, and you pleaded, panted for more under the noise of your connecting flesh.

“That’s it,” he said. “That’s it. You wanna cum? You wanna cum on my dick?”

Sweat slipped down your nose. You nodded. “Yespleaseyespleaseyesplease--”

“Yeah, good.” His finger moved faster on your clit, his cock hammering you deep. “Good…”

You nodded, mouth open with the flood of euphoria--Zimmerman was muttering behind you, take it, take it, and you were, you were taking every single fat inch of his dick and it was rending you open and making you limp and emptying your brain of everything but the primal need to fucking cum.

“Fuck, Flip,” you said, because you weren’t sure what else to call him, “I’m--I’m--”

“Cum on me,” he growled. “Let that little pussy squeeze my cock.”

A harsh, fast rub of your clit, and you released, biting your lip so hard it bled. Euphoria wracked you, and you shook to your core, clamping over and over on his length. Zimmmerman groaned, working you through it, pistoning his hips as you spasmed around his shaft.

“Shit,” he hissed, “shit, shit, dammit--”

His voice hiccuped in his throat as your pussy pulled him into his climax, cock still buried inside, pumping you full of his cum. His fingers gouged your hips, his own rocking with the remnants of his orgasm, his shaft pulsing at your entrance as he spilled the last of his seed inside of you. Cursing, he heaved with latent anger, pulling out of your sore cunt. You felt his release leak onto your thighs.

A zip. A jingle of a buckle. He was still catching up on oxygen. “You on the pill?”

You swallowed, cheeks buzzing. You wanted to pull up your pants, but your hands were still cuffed. You felt utterly helpless and exposed.

“Um. Yeah,” you said. “I. Um. I am.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose. “Good.” 

In silence, he popped the lock on your cuffs, and your arms were released. You yelped in relief, slumping against the wall, and he shuffled behind you, letting you straighten onto your feet.  You waited for your breath to even before you moved, blushing while you wiggled your pants above your thighs. When they were finally in place, you turned to face him, rebuttoning your waist.

But no one was there. The alleyway was empty. The air was cold. The baton was gone. 

And so was Detective Flip Zimmerman. 

[whatcouldgowrong-ohthat]

We Do This to Live Ch. 4

Chapter Four

Summary: On Earth-198742, there are no heroes. There’s humans. There’s mutants. There are even some that fall somewhere between. But when Boliver Trask manages to get the Sentinel program signed, it’s up to a thief and her brilliant sister to find those that still believe in something more - something good. And maybe, along the way, they’ll get the chance to save mutant kind.

Pairings: Rogue x Remy, Marie x Shuri (eventually), Geneva x Bucky (eventually)

Word Count: 2933 words

Warnings: Um, starting to see some baddies? Getting to see Geneva’s powers more? Smidge of angst? Cussing for sure.

Masterlist to OCs - Masterlist to Other Works 

Previous Chapter

--

Fluorescent lights cast a bitter glow over the lab. It was a silent reminder for everyone that what they were working on, what they were doing, was wrong. Yet knowing that changed nothing. People came and went. Clocked in and out as if it were nothing, ignoring the fact that their actions were inhumane. Along the walls, there were sketches. Plans for their future. Metal armor – designs borrowed by Stark and materials discovered by Stryker.

“Trask.”

He didn’t say anything. In his own corner of the lab, making notes of the blood he was studying, Boliver Trask found himself lost in his work. Always lost. Always fascinated.

Alexander shook his head, hardly surprised. He’d known Boliver for years. He personally brought him into SHIELD, knowing he would need the man’s genius if his own agenda were to succeed. “Boliver,” he spoke up. Louder this time.

Finally, as he scribbled another note, Trask looked his way. “Alexander. Did you find it?”

“There wasn’t a mutant there.” Alexander glanced at the notes he took. Just above, he saw a file marked Bobby Drake. “The only reason I went was as a favor to you. You’re aware of that, right?”

“Very much so.” Boliver returned to his study, adjusting the microscope with stubby fingers. “However, you and I both know that the Guilds have rumored mutants there. We might not be able to confirm anything yet, but every opportunity to gather new data is crucial to this program. The Sentinels need to be as prepared as we can make them.”

Alexander looked around. He knew Boliver was right. He always appreciated that they had the same beliefs. People like Stark and Rogers? Mutants? They were something the world didn’t need. A threat to their lives. “As much as I understand that, I won’t be making a personal visit next time. If that’s what you desire, then you can go.” He turned, making his way to the exit.

Boliver glanced his way, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“You two really hate them, huh?”

Boliver looked up, eyes settling on the intern that had spoken. He adjusted his glasses and shook his head. “On the contrary, I rather admire them. The things that they can do? We have never and will never see anything like it.” He removed the blood sample, putting it back on the rack. “Pierce has different beliefs to me, but I’ve always seen mutants and their abilities as our salvation.”

The intern’s brow furrowed, confusion marring her features. “So…why all of this?”

Trask smiled. Oh, how naïve the boy was. “Because free will is a tricky thing. If we are to earn our salvation, we must be willing to make the difficult decisions. Do you understand,” he glanced at the intern’s badge. “Ms. Darkholme?”

The intern, albeit hesitant, nodded. Boliver tilted his head, catching sight of what he could have sworn was a yellow hue to her eyes. He watched as she gathered her files, probably on to whatever task she had next. As she left the room, his fingers drummed against the counter. If Boliver had learned anything throughout this process…

It was to always trust his gut.

He grabbed the phone, dialing four numbers. The answer was almost instant. “Yes, this is Dr. Trask. I’m afraid we’ve had a mutant break into the facility. Yes, that’s right, only apprehend. Thank you.” Hanging up, Trask closed the folder and grabbed another sample.

This time – Scott Summers.

---

Five Years Later – 2009

“Fuck!” Geneva’s back slammed into the ground; the wind knocked out of her.

“Watch y’language.”

She groaned, rolling onto her stomach. She didn’t need to look back to know her father was smirking. He was always like this. Never going easy on her. Always pushing her. Her forehead dropped, resting against the mat.

“Y’want t’join a Guild y’got no reason t’be a part of? Fine. But I’m the one trainin’ ya.”

It was the only way to get him to listen.

And she’d been regretting it for five years.

“Up, Geneva.” His voice was filled with authority. Gone was her father. This was all “Gambit”.

She huffed, knocking her hair out of her face and forcing herself to her feet. Her muscles ached. Her nerves buzzed. Everything contradicted itself. “Give moi a minute,” she muttered, bracing her hands on her knees.

Geneva was relieved when he listened. This time last year? He would have laid her on her ass again.

“The Assassins and anyone else wouldn’t let y’catch y’breath. ‘M not goin’ t’either.”

She knew it came from a place of love, but damn if it didn’t annoy her to no end.

Pushing herself up, Geneva picked up her staff. “Y’ready?” She looked his way, smiling when she saw the concern there. Her dad could try to act as tough as he wanted, but she knew the truth. He just wanted her to be safe.

“Oui.” She twirled it between her fingers, spinning around. The metal clashed against his staff and he smirked.

Then, the two danced.

Geneva’s butt hit the mat once again. She scowled, eyes glowing a little brighter. Kicking the staff aside, she braced her arms on her knees and looked at Remy. He was smirking, leaning against that stupid bostaff. Raising a brow, she jerked her foot and knocked it out from under him.

He only stumbled.

Geneva groaned, falling back on the mat.

Sometimes it was infuriating just how good her father was.

-

Geneva stepped out of the tub, the darkness around her more of a comfort than it had been all those years ago. She hurried to dry off before slipping on some leggings and grabbing an off-shoulder crop top. Still in the darkness, Geneva combed her fingers through her short hair and towel-dried it.

That would be enough.

She crossed the room to the generator. One button and the trill of electricity rushed, not only through the room, but through her skin. Pretty green eyes flashed gold. The familiar rush of gold danced under her skin, tingling and silently telling her that it was there once more. But she didn’t have to be reminded.

Geneva glanced towards the mirror, seeing her reflection once again. She tended to avoid that, but there were days where it couldn’t be helped. Her fingers absentmindedly touched the Lichtenburg scars that twisted around her skin. Raising her crop-top just slightly, she saw how those scars were just as at home on her ribcage.

She really didn’t have to be reminded.

Stepping out of the tiny home, Geneva crossed the yard and slipped in through the Lebeau Manor’s back door. She made a bee line to the fridge, craving something to eat after Remy had so thoroughly kicked her ass. However, when she closed the door with an apple in her mouth, she couldn’t stop the snort that passed when she saw Marie at the table. On her laptop, like always.

“I heard that,” Marie said, fingers absentmindedly breaking off a poptart. She popped the piece in her mouth, speaking around it as she asked, “Y’know y’look like a pig like that, right?”

Geneva rolled her eyes. The apple snapped under her bite as she peeked over Marie’s shoulder. The twelve-year old was breaking into Essex Labs. She rolled her eyes. “Mama ain’t gonna like that. ‘Sides, didn’t y’just get ungrounded fo’breakin’ into the Pentagon?”

Marie didn’t say anything. Instead, her fingers banged a little louder against the keys. Geneva raised a brow, tugging at a strand of long black hair. “Y’lookin’ pale, petite. Why don’t we go somewhere?”

More silence. Geneva sat back in her chair, taking another bite of her apple. She hadn’t expected any different. Since Geneva joined the guild, Marie had treated her different. Not that Geneva blamed her. Marie was waiting until the day she was legal – wanting to get as far away from New Orleans and the Guilds as possible. And Geneva choosing to join? It put a wedge in their relationship.

One that Geneva hadn’t been able to fix.

“C’mon, Marie. When’s the last time we did anyt’in’?”

“2004,” Marie answered matter-of-factly.

Geneva frowned. Her fingers drumming against the table and Marie’s against her keyboard were the only thing keeping them from absolute silence. And she hated it.

Marie didn’t hate her. She knew that much. When her powers had been at their worst, keeping Geneva from touching anything, keeping her from showering because water burned her skin, Marie had done all the research needed for Geneva to study electricity.

It was her work that helped Remy and Rogue teach Geneva control.

But that was as far as their relationship went now.

“Geneva.”

She looked up, missing the way Marie glanced at her. Jean-Luc was standing in the doorway, offering a small smile.

“Y’pere tells moi that y’been doin’ real good with y’trainin’.”

Geneva couldn’t contain her smile. While there might have been some days where she felt as if she were struggling, never making any progress, hearing her own father say that meant a lot. Especially because Rogue had to talk him into letting her.

“C’mon.” Jean-Luc gestured in the direction of his office. “Wanna run somet’in’ by ya.”

-

That one conversation with her grandfather, the Guildmaster, is all it took for Geneva to find herself here.

And where is here?

Washington D.C.

At the Triskelion.

Geneva was lying on the roof, eyes fixated on the stars. She could be patient until the last person left. It helped that she had music playing in her ears.

Be-Beep. Be-Beep.

Geneva felt the vibration from her watch rather than the beeping from her alarm. She pressed the button and rolled onto her stomach before jumping up. Glancing over the edge of the roof, she smirked when she saw Director Fury leaving.

Moving to the center of the oddly shaped building, she pulled out her shrunken staff. Electricity crackled off her fingers – a required thumbprint for her staff to extend. She pulled out another gadget, attaching it to the roof and then her belt.

“Time t’go t’work,” she muttered. Then…she stepped off the ledge.

The wind rushed, whipping against her face until the wire finally stopped her movements. She glanced above her, already feeling the buzz that came from deadening motion sensors. Her eyes flickered a little brighter, her skin threatening to light up as the building powered down. Chuckling, she thought to herself, So much for security.

Music continued blaring in her ears as she found the opening she needed. Fingers pressing against the corners of a window, she grimaced as that irritating hum appeared in her ears once more. But the glass was vibrating, freeing itself from its containment.

She caught the edge, feet landing in the window-frame. Attaching her escape to the next window, she eased the glass down and stepped inside. Her bright eyes took in the office space. It was already stifling, warming up from her powers shutting off the A/C three floors above and three floors below. Seven levels. No power.

Geneva collapsed her staff, tucking it into her back pocket as she made her way to the desk. The office was clean, something she wasn’t used to considering her family seemed to thrive in clutter and chaos. That was thieves for you. Tucking her hair behind her ear, Geneva brushed her fingers against the computer tower. The screen lit up, earning a satisfied smirk from Geneva.

Doing the basic hacking her younger cousin taught her, Geneva easily slipped past barrier after barrier. She raised a brow. Was all of SHIELD this paranoid? Fingers strumming against the keys, her eyes sparked a little brighter, excitement getting the better of her.

But it vanished just as quickly.

A passcode.

She needed a personal fucking passcode for Pierce’s personal files.

Geneva’s fingers froze over the keys. Well…there was only one person she could think of to call.

-

I wanna roll with him, a hard pair we will be A little gambling is fun when –

Marie jolted, her hoodie and hair hiding most of her face as that blasted song blared from her phone.

Russian roulette is not the same without a gun And baby, when it’s love, if it’s not rough, it isn’t fun

Yanking her hoodie off, Marie was determined to find that stupid piece of technology. She stumbled out of her chair, barely maneuvering around the mess she constantly lived in. It was a reminder that she needed to find some time to clean up, but that could wait.

Where was that phone?

Yanking back the covers on her bed, she snatched it up and answered.

-

“Y’changed the fuckin’ ringtone on my phone?”

Geneva winced as she held the phone away from her ear. That was a little louder than she anticipated. “Not my fault y’got an easy password. For a hacker, woulda thought ya knew better.” She heard rustling on the other end of the line and knew Marie was probably sitting somewhere.

“’M five seconds away from hangin’ up. Whatcha want?”

Geneva winced. She might have been pushing her luck. “T’ink y’can get moi the password for Pierce’s computer?”

Silence. Geneva stared at the computer in front of her, feeling like a weight was pulling her down. She needed this. She needed Marie’s help. “Sil vous plait, Marie. I – I can’t fuck this up. I know y’don’t like – “

“Stop.” A sigh and then, “Y’stupid if y’t’ink I wouldn’t help ya, Gen.” The familiar sound of fingers brushing keys made Geneva’s shoulders visibly relax. “Mas why the hell didn’t y’go a bit more prepared?”

Geneva chuckled. “Do y’know moi at all?”

She didn’t need to be standing in front of the tween hacker to know that Marie was rolling her eyes. Of all of Marie’s sassiest actions, that one practically had its own voice. “Oui, I do. And I don’t understand why our Pepe would send y’in the middle o’SHIELD for y’first assignment.” More key strokes and then – “Putain de merde.”

Geneva’s brow furrowed, paranoia getting the better of her as she glanced to the door. She really didn’t have time for Marie to get distracted.

“I can hear y’anxiety t’rough the phone, Gen. Buzzin’ as loud as them powers o’yours.”

Geneva wanted to make a snarky retort back, but she knew better. After all, Marie could go and leave her stranded and that –

“Try somet’In’ real quick.”

“What?”

“Hydra.”

Geneva’s fingers froze. No. There was no way. “Marie, c’mon, be serious.”

“I am. Try it. ‘N’ hurry up, their guards check the upper floor every hour.”

“’Ow y’know that?”

“’M lookin’ at their schedule now.”

Geneva snorted. “S’does this mean y’forgive me,” she asked, quickly typing in the passcode.

“Eh. Five years ‘s a long enough grudge.”

Geneva smiled, shaking her head as she pressed enter. She expected an ‘incorrect password’ to pop up. It was only natural. There was no way the head honcho of SHIELD was –

Nope. He was connected to Hydra.

“Sonovabitch,” she muttered. Focusing on the task at hand, she pulled out a flash drive. Her goal was the Accords, Pierce’s personal information, and the information of others on the board. Some high-dollar official was paying the Thieves Guild a lot of money for this and she couldn’t let Jean-Luc down.

But still…there was no way Pierce was the only member of Hydra. Did the Accords exist because of them?

“Still can’t believe y’were right.”

Marie’s smile could be heard with the way she spoke, asking, “Do I ever steer y’wrong?”

They both knew the answer was ‘yes’. Geneva’s eyes scanned the names of multiple files, copying the ones she needed. The mouse paused over a title.

There, as if begging to be opened, were three little words. The Sentinel Program.

Shaking her head, Geneva instead copied the information on the Accords, the Avengers, Weapon X: Terminated Project, and other names she recognized from Marie’s findings. There were so many… Even if the buyer didn’t want them, didn’t she and her parents deserve to know?

Geneva jumped when she felt a buzz of electricity. Sure enough, someone had come up to one of the three floors below her. She could feel the electricity buzzing through the person’s skin. “Time t’go.” She plucked the flash drive free.

Everything came quick. Reattaching the corded wire, pulling the window back in place, and zipping back to the roof. She pulled herself up and rolled onto her back. A sigh of relief escaped her.

She succeeded in her first mission.

Chuckling, Geneva brought the phone back to her ear. “Y’know, we make a pretty good team.”

“I swear, if y’make this a habit – “

Geneva snorted once more, hanging up before Marie could give some poor threat she didn’t mean.

Now? She needed to get her ass back to New Orleans.

--

The security guard wasn’t much of a threat, not that Geneva would have wanted to find out. He was old in the face and white in the hair. His wide, rimmed glasses were perched high on his nose. Every stride was short as he came down the hall. The familiar hum of the A/C and the flickering lights signaled that the power that had vanished…was now perfectly fine.

He looked around, his hand hovering over the door to Pierce’s office. “Building must be getting old.”

And with that, his hand dropped.

And he, the man with the name ‘Lee’ scribbled on his badge, strode towards the elevator that would return him to his post.

--

Permanent Tags:

@butcherofblackwater​

[sphericaldice]

Not Him Too

(>^o^)> Ao3 <(^o^<)

Summary: Written for the Phoenix Wright Kink Meme. On 2019-11-04 Anon writes: "The police mount a raid on a big drug den/criminal organisation. During the aftermath, Edgeworth hears the words "detective" "shot" and "ICU" and tears down to the hospital on the verge of a panic attack, sure that it's Gumshoe.He almost collapses when he finds Gumshoe alive and well.Bonus if Gumshoe has the other detective's blood on him and Edgeworth thinks it's his at first."

Author’s Comments:  Itonokoruji isn't my main ship but I think it's sweet and I was more than willing to write for it! Also I hope you enjoyed my little punny name for the criminal :) If you like what I write consider reblogging and checking out my Ao3. 

***

Miles Edgeworth took in the disarray of the crime scene as he pulled up to the base of the city’s most esteemed drug lords, Anita Ficks, affectionately dubbed “The Heroine of Heroin” by her associates. Cop cars lined the street, their sirens wailing, shrill and macabre. Two ambulances obscured the road and Edgeworth observed policemen and paramedics conversing, their visages grave. Drug raids were not uncommon, this was Los Angeles after all, but this afternoon proved to be particularly grisly -- Ficks and her cronies did not take kindly to being served a search warrant.

The apprehensive, young prosecutor parked his red Crysler behind a police car packed with three battered and disgruntled goons and stepped out into the frigid downpour. He reached into his magenta suit pocket for his state-appointed prosecutor’s badge, (he preferred to safely stow it away instead of parading the thing around like a certain sanctimonious someone) the swampy ground beneath him splished beneath his leather shoes as he made his way across the soaked lawn. Edgeworth spotted the Chief Detective on the porch of the ill-fated, saltbox house, the middle-aged man’s back was turned to the chaos and he appeared to be on the phone. Edgeworth noticed his hands begin to sweat as he approached the Chief, and his stomach grew inexplicably tight. What is this foreboding feeling? Get a grip, Miles, you encounter death all the time…

The Chief failed to turn around, even when Edgeworth reached the steps, too engrossed in his call. Getting impatient, Miles prepared his badge for identification and cleared his throat.

“Miles Edgeworth, Criminal Prosecutor --” He bit his tongue as soon as his ears caught the Chief’s words.

“Yea...yea...got airlifted twenty minutes ago, straight to the ICU...shot right in the chest...my best detective…”

The Prosecutor froze mid-step, his legs suddenly rendered to spaghetti. He hastily grasped the damp, splintery railing to stop himself from completely falling down the stairs, allowing his badge to fall to the mud. His knee met the top step, putting him in an awkward lunging position. Suddenly it was as though the earth was spinning. Worse than any earthquake.

This can’t be real...No...No...

The Chief Detective whirled around, startled. “P-Prosecutor Edgeworth!? Christ!”

Anything the Chief said after that, Edgeworth did not hear. Not over the sound of his head pounding, not over the frenzied beating of his heart in his stomach, not over the sensation of hot bile rising in his throat. He sat on the steps and let the rain pelt down on him.

No...No...No..No...Please...Not him too….

It was the bark of a paramedic that interrupted the man’s shock

“Hey! Outta the way!”

Two EMTs bustled past the wet, crumpled, prosecutor hauling a bright yellow gurney. At that moment Edgeworth’s warm-grey eyes locked with the bloodshot, beads of the odious woman atop the stretcher.

“I gave ‘em what was coming! I hope that fucking pig rots in hell!”

Anita Ficks spat at him, her saliva bloody from the wound she sustained. It felt like acid against Edgeworth’s cheek.

At least he’d been brought back to reality. At once, Edgeworth rose, scooped up his badge and sprinted across the lawn, mud splashing on his magenta suit with each footfall. He flung the car door open and hurled himself inside, not bothering to fasten his buckle as he speeds away to the hospital.

This isn’t happening...You can’t take him too...No...Please...Please

Edgeworth uncharacteristically neglected to wipe his mud-caked shoes as he tore through the hospital door. He slammed his fist on the reception counter as if it were a courtroom desk, barely getting the attention of the spaced-out gentleman in front of him.

“I need to see a patient immediately!”

“Hmm ah...yes...one of my patients.”

“Detective Dick Gumshoe! Take me to him right this instant, please!”

“Hmmm...Hoh hoh, Dick...not a lady’s name...yes, no patient called Dick here.”

To Edgeworth’s dismay, the tears were beginning to form and could feel his legs giving away again. “What!? Don’t joke with me, cretin, by god I will rip that pathetic, pink tuft right off your head-”

“Hey, pal, you lookin’ for me?”

Miles Edgeworth was unable to stop the tears when he turned to face the source of that sweet voice. Sitting in a too-small waiting room chair was his scruffy, huggable, ramen loving companion, his drab overcoat covered in blood. The overwhelmed prosecutor practically flew into the detective’s outstretched arms and the crocodile tears flowed.

“Detective!” He felt around Gumshoe’s blood-drenched front, “heavens are you hurt?”

The Detective chuckled. “Nah, pal. Got a bit of Angel’s mess on me when I carried her out of there. Doc says she’ll be alright though, It’ll take more than a lousy bullet to get rid of the Cough Up Queen! Doc’s taken quite a liking to her actually…”

“Thank god…” Thoroughly exhausted he let himself go limp in Gumshoe’s embrace. He rests his head against the man’s broad chest, not caring about the blood, just relieved to hear his friend’s heart beating. “You don’t know how worried I was, detective.”

The scruffy man shook his head. “Jeez pal, have some more faith in me, will ya?”

“Hmm, yes...Hoh hoh, how romantic...hmm”

Edgeworth knew that creepy clinic director was eavesdropping behind them, but didn’t care. Dick was all that mattered and Dick was okay. “Dick...Don’t leave me…” He whispered drowsily.

Gumshoe stroked the young man’s wet, silver hair and sighed. “Never, pal. Never.”

[miscellaneousmoontoffee]

MoonToffee A monster in Paris AU

The full timeline and some notes ( contains swearing and gets kinda lazy towards the end! ) (( another note Chauncey although mentioned sometimes doesn’t come up much in the AU cause there wasn’t much need, so sorry pig-goat lovers! ))

Characters

- Moon = Lucille - Toffee = Francoeur ( both monsters toffee's just a lot more cunning but I think in this AU he's going to be a lot more open and slightly naive because of the circumstances ) - River = Raoul / Emile ( Raoul's place in the story-ish and Emile's more cautious behavior but without his romance of Maud. ) - Mina = Victor ( the antagonist that's pretty full of themselves and could potentially/go mad, I think they fit each other pretty well ) - No one = Maud ( since river is going to be following after Raoul in terms of loving Moon/Lucille there is no need for a Maud plus no one really fits her much anyway ) - Count Mildrew = Albert ( both background characters and kinda up their respective asses ) - A solarian soldier = Pate ( Pate is the inspector/right hand man of Victor btw ) - Comet = Carlotta ( both the main female leads mum/mother figure ) - Chauncey = Charles ( Chauncey in this AU of course still belongs to moon but she tells him to keep an eye on the river, plus she lets him hang out with the professor cause they both have fun together, aka the prof needed a smart animal companion (( mad scientist aesthetic man )) and Chauncey wanted more food than moon gave him )

Loose plot

- River wakes up daydreaming about being together with moon then is like oh i forgot something ( you can choose what he forgot ) so he goes downstairs. - his dad is like "hey son can you help me run some errands?" obviously this was not a question so river hops in his dad's car and they drive off to do the thing. - his dad drops him off at the lab to deliver some eggs and says he needs to go do some other task and that hes gonna go and he will pick him up when hes done, and River is like "dad I’m just giving some dude eggs i can go with ya" - so his dad goes well actually the guy is out of the country and hes sure they dude wouldn't mind if river went in and looked around, wink wink nudge nudge. - river gets the message and his dad drives away. - He goes in and is like okay I'm glad I went to do chores today this is awesome, and then a pig starts chewing on his trousers and hes like " Chauncey?? what are you doing, does moon know you're here?!?" and Chauncey says nothing cause he's a pig but he tries to push river to the exit but river doesn’t pick up on this hint. - so river goes "Oooh do you wanna explore with me little buddy?" and Chauncey is like 'no leave' but river goes into the lab anyway. - the look around for a bit and river starts drawing stuff that looks cool ( the drawing is bad but he wants to  remember what stuff looks like ) -he finds some potions and is like "ooh I wonder what they do???" so tests one out on a seed that says "instant growth potion " on a label. - it of course grows and he's like wow but walks back to see it better and knocks some potions over. - Chauncey goes to try and stop the potions but steps on a lizards tail and it gets scared and runs under where the potions are falling ( river of course doesn't notice this ) - crash, boom, smoke! - river gets up and sees the shadow of a lizard man and is like " AHHHHHHH AHHHHH AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" so it runs away so river draws it before he forgets then runs out to the front to get home, not caring that his dad said he would pick him up he's not waiting for that thing to get him! - unfortunately he drops a handkerchief which crudely had his name stitched into it and leaves back to his house. - A couple of days pass and the lizard monster starts showing up in the papers. - an investigation is started over the mysterious explosion at the lab and the new monster that appeared the very same night. - the cheif investigator tells mina loveberry 'bout this and she's like "yes, now is my chance to rise to the top!" - they look around and find River's handkerchief.

- Cut to moon, and her club is looking for a new act/singer and it's not going well. - so one of the waiters, a real smug bastard, is auditioning and it's just him singing badly about how amazing he is and telling her that she's welcome for the free performance of a god. - and she's like "yeah... no thanks I don't really think the club is really the right fit for you." - so hes like " FINE I'M TOO TALENTED FOR THIS LITTLE CLUB I'LL GO FORM MY OWN CLUB! ( *bender voice* with blackjack and hookers! ) - so she's like " yep you are way too good for us, I worry if you joined I would be out of a job. goodbye now! " - Cue Mildrew seeing toffee and freaking out trying to go back in but still being really vain ( ' PLEASE LET ME IN I'LL EVEN SIGN YOU AN AUTOGRAPH!!! ' ) - It doesn't work out so he jumps a nearby fence and books it. - Toffee is like what is that awful ringing noise is it this? and then proceeds to ring the doorbell a million times just too ' make sure it's this '. - So Moon opens the finally all like " YES Mildrew what is it- of holy fudging schnitzels " - she accidentally hits it with the door and is apologizing profusely as she goes to help the ' person ' up. - sees its the lizard person and freaks out, bolts and locks the door. - hears it singing a sad song ( more bitter about the people than the original though ) and is like oh it can talk???? also it has a godly voice???? - she gets an umbrella and tentatively opens the door and apologizes and welcomes this creature in out the rain. - he is suspicious but goes in anyway because its better than freezing to death in the rain - so she awkwardly starts conversation " Soo I'm sorry about hitting you with the door and leaving like that, I just got a bit.... panicked. but might as well start with names, mines moon " - and he just kinda sits there and she picks up that ‘oops he doesn't have one’ so she looks around and is like I have to call him something. - then she looks at a box of toffees a fan had given her and is like " Since you don't seem to have a name would you like me to call you toffee? I'm not the best with names but I need to call you something. " - so he goes ok, and she says that if he wants to stay in Paris he should probably have a disguise.

-cut back to river and someone knocks on his door. - he goes and opens it and it reveals officers who see his drawing of the monster in the lab on his wall and he is arrested. - they bring him to mina, and he starts pleading not to go to prison and that it was all an accident. - ( they also brought Chauncey who was staying with River) - he panicking blames the pig and chauncy narrows his eyes as this will be remembered for later.... - Mina tells him not to worry and that by creating a monster he has actually helped her in one of her secret projects and she gives him a badge of honor. - River leaves and then is like "now that I have this badge I have the confidence to go to one of moons shows and maybe I can try and woo her with my badge!" - so he goes to see her and due to the fact that Mildread is still pissed at moon he gives river the best seats in the house cause he is bad at revenge, so river thinks its his lucky day! - he sees the show and was hypnotized by moons song so he decides to push his luck by going to talk to her back stage. - during the time river was being arrested moon got to see a lot of what Toffee could do and who he is;

. he has a pretty wry sense of humor . he is rather naive in the way of society and social cues . he's also really smart and a quick learner . she also gives him his disguise ( his hair isn't a wig ) . he is pretty fuckin' strong . really stubborn . takes a while for him to trust her but when he does he's pretty clingy . he is vain about his hair and constantly brushes it to lay flat, it always curls at the ends anyway. . he REALLY likes suits. and is rather cuddly.

- so the performance is about to start but he doesn't want to leave her side and sit with the band so cue the scene in the movie. - they actually perform and they end up dancing together on stage, and she refuses to admit to her self that her face felt a little warm when he looked at her with such a loving look while dancing. - back to after the performance and river comes over nervously to congratulate her for the awesome performance, and goes to shake toffee's hands when he spots his tail. - he shrieks and moon puts her hand over his mouth and drags him and toffee back to her dressing room. - she tries to tell him that she knows he's the monster and he's not awful at all. - but river starts freaking out so she slaps him and tells him to get a grip man! - he calms down a little but is still like how are you so calm - so moon tells him why toffee is not dangerous and he calms down properly. - unfortunately for them Mildrew overhears and he now has a better idea for revenge against moon...

- the police arrive soon moon leaves to greet them and try to distract them, while river has to hide toffee. - so Moon goes to the door and is like " oh Mina I wasn't expecting you, what are you doing here? " - And Mina's like " sorry mud sister but this is serious business, where are you hiding it? " - and Moons like fuck she already knows its here somewhere. so she plays dumb " hiding what? I don't have anything to hide. " ( as she sweats bullets ) - and Mina already knowing that moons lying just barges through with the inspector and the 'troops' - Mina instantly tries to go to moons dressing room but moon cuts her off " okay Mina I'm sorry but if you go in there we can't  be mud sisters it's a blatant breach of my privacy. " - and Mina calls her bluff and goes in anyway. - Moon is like fuck everything's over they found him... crud. - so when she goes in to make her last stand she is surprised that they are nowhere to be found, and so is Mina. ( surprised that is ) - the inspector comes in and says they haven't found anything so Mina stands silently for a while then goes and pleads to moon to be mud sisters again. - moon still a bit high on adrenaline from then panic says yes just to get her out of the room and they leave after arresting Mildrew for basically pissing Mina off. - moon sighs and says that they can come out and the cost is clear after Mina and the others leave. - she then gets spooked as toffee pops out of her piano, so she lends him a hand and then checks to make sure nothing's broken in her piano. ( storing lizard men in your pianos isn’t a good for pianos kids ) - river then falls down the chimney coughing from all the soot and toffee warily gives him a hand up. ( the start of a beautiful friendship! )

- the next day Mina opens the Montmartre Funicular ( its a escalator/elevator thing on a hill I think ) - the trio ( plus Chauncey ) planned last night that they are going to fake toffee's death on the opening day so people won't look for him and he can live a normal life. - so Mina introduces moon who is going to sing for the opening. - so halfway through singing river loudly shouts " oh my god it's the monster oooh nooo! " - so the crowd starts panicking and Mina is like ' It’s my time to shine! ' - then Toffee hops down and picks up moon bridal style and roars viciously - and moon is all like " oh noooo it's got me, whatever shall I do? " - one of the 'soldiers' tries to shoot toffee but Mina tells him not to as he could hit her blood sister. - then she remembers that river had conveniently given some ' anti monster grenade ' earlier so she throws it and smoke spreads everywhere. - when the smoke clears the monster is gone and the crowd rejoices their savior (the crowd lead by river and moon of course ) - but then Mina spots a scarf caught in the trapdoor and opens it to reveal toffee.

- moon freaks out so her and river shout at toffee to run, as they themselves make a break for it. - river had conveniently brought his dads car/van to get there ( with his dad's permission of course ) so they hopped in and booked it as toffee went the other way so there would be less people chasing him. - luckily Chauncey had already been waiting in the car so they didn't need to wait for him to get in. - so they speed down the street narrowly avoiding obstacles, one of which ended up making river loose his ' fashionable ' straw coat to a horse. - unfortunately for them a hook ends up grabbing their car and they look up and who is it other than Mina and an exhausted looking soldier peddling their FREAKING AIRSHIP LIKE MINA YOU REALLY DIDN'T NEED A WHOLE FUC- - so moon has to climb out and try and get rid of it cause river is driving. - unfortunately for her it's way to heavy and she almost ends up falling off several times, but fortunately ( finally something good for these poor characters ) toffee was making his getaway very near to them so he hopped down on the cars bonnet to help moon pull off the hook. - but because things can never be easy it doesn't work and Mina ends up lifting the car off the ground. ( also moon falls back onto toffee's chest, cue blushy blushy BS when they think back on this at a later date,a scenario which I have obviously not written ) - so they are currently panicking as moon and toffee precariously make their way back inside the van so when they inevitably fall they won’t be as injured. - so Mina drops them in to the seine to try and drown toffee, currently forgetting that her mud sister ( however traitorous she may be ) was in there. - luckily when they start sinking river's father had been planning a boating trip so he had oars in the back. - they paddle to the Eiffel tower before they drown and make it, only loosing River's dad's car along the way. which in the end maybe worse than drowning in the long run. ( for River at least )

- river mourns the car and they make their way up the tower unsure what to really do now other than try and get as far away from Mina as possible. - Mina shoots the airship and she lands on the Eiffel tower, the soldier only just making it out alive by jumping into the seine. - the trio reaches the top when toffee starts to feel weak and moon notices that a lot of his scales are falling off, and she gets worried but slings his arm over her shoulder and asks river to help her carry him to the top. - they are almost at the top when they are stopped when moon placed toffee down for a bit to rest her arms and she hears a gun click. - Mina demands they hand over the monster and toffee makes a run for it up a ladder to the very top of the tower, so Mina brushes harshly past moon to run after toffee. - unfortunately for moon she was standing too close to an edge and got pushed over but managed to grab the edge. - so river goes to try and help moon but somehow also falls over, hanging only onto a spare belt he tried to lower down. ( hey it’s always handy to have a spare belt y’know? ) - luckily they forgot Chauncey was there because he was trailing behind them the whole way up the tower, so he pulls them both up and moon rushes for the ladder after hugging River and Chauncey. - River goes up too but a bit slower and more careful, after almost falling to his death he didn’t really wanna take another chance after all. - Moon goes up there only to see toffee get shot by Mina and fall to a lower level. - before Mina can look over and make sure he's dead the police inspector comes over and arrests her after the ‘soldier’ who was peddling the airship called the other police officers to arrest Mina for leaving him for dead. - moon vaguely sees this but doesn't stick around long, she rushes back down past river (who had only just gotten up here) to find where toffee fell. - she only found his clothes and no body. - It doesn't really register that he could have escaped because of the shock so she just cries - river finds her and comforts her and she brings the clothes back to her dressing room as to not forget him.

- the next day she realizes she has to perform but she is still overcome by grief, so she picks up his scarf to at least wear if she has to perform when she feels wiggling. - she carefully unwinds the scarf and inside there is a lizard. a lizard missing its middle finger. - overwhelmed by joy she tells river and him and Chauncey go to get a potion that will turn him back to his bipedal form permanently. - so he turns back and after hugging him really hard and him apologizing ( what for though? upsetting her? IDK ask him ) she asks if he wants to go sing with her and he says yes. - they perform and at the almost end of the dance she kisses him, just a light peck but a kiss none the less. - river is semi-heart broken yet had kind of seen it coming for a while now. - and toffee goes beet red as the crowd whistles. - while her mum squeals that her baby had finally found a partner! - END

Notes + extras

- Moon cuts off toffees finger when she was cooking with him at one point but then constantly apologizes for it later, he of course forgives her but she does it anyway and he likes making little jokes and jabs at her about it. - Although when we first see River it looks like he's bad with the cold due to the amount of clothes he's wearing, he is actually really good with the cold and was constantly almost overheating but wanted to impress moon with clothing items that his friends told him were cool. of course they weren't very cool all in one outfit. - when toffee first transformed he got his hair, he doesn't know where from but he thinks there may have been some hair on the floor when he got hit by the potion. - Moon takes star's role as Mina's mud sister since star isn't here in this AU. - cause river was distracted when he was watching moon performance before he knew toffee he didn't see the way they ( moon + toffee ) looked at each other but looking back he can definitely see 'it'.  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) - due to the potion making toffee human it also increased his regenerative ability from being a lizard to new heights ( for example, if an ant were human sized it would have super strength ) (( no this doesn’t really come into play into the story )) - after the kiss on stage Toffee and moon share another kiss in her dressing room ( nothing like that get your mind out of the gutter! ) - Chauncey was staying with River before he got arrested because when he left the lab scared he brought him so he wouldn't get hurt but then was too shy to give him back to Moon. - Mina calls the police her ' troops ' in reference to the solarian warriors. possibly why no one wants her as mayor...

[cookieswriting]

Mistaken (9-1-1, Abby x Buck)

((Set after Abby returns from Ireland, short multichapter fic))

“Thanks, ladies! I’m sure I’ll be back same time tomorrow!”  Buck waved with his free hand to the baristas as he nudged the door open with his hip, charming smile on his face.  The three women behind the counter waved back as he turned.

“See ya Buckley! Tell the crew we say hey.”

The blonde fireman kept the tray of coffees balanced in one hand as he lowered his sunglasses onto his nose.  Warmth seeped into his skin, the sun soaking into his dark uniform and making him grateful for the clear skies.  While staying tucked away in Abby’s apartment to get reacquainted after nearly three months with half a world between them (followed by two weeks of opposing schedules until Abby could finally get back into her routine at work) as rain pummeled the window was lovely, Buck was looking forward to taking her out for a day on the lake.

He was jarred from his thoughts when a solid form crashed into him from the side, flipping the coffee out of his grasp and sending him sprawling into an alley.  Before he could regain his bearings, weight settled onto his hips and sharp, burning agony stole his breath away.  “Gimme your gun, pig,” a low voice growled in his ear.  Buck groaned, the fog of pain slowing his thoughts and in turn his response.  “Now!”  Trembling hands scrabbled with the gray sleeve at his attacker’s wrist, and the firefighter couldn’t suppress the yelp when the knife was yanked back out.  The pressure on his hips disappeared, and his radio was yanked from his shoulder.  From there, the man’s free hand searched his pockets, easily finding his cell phone and wallet. Dammit.

“D-Don’t have...a gun...not a...cop…”

The second time the blade cut into his abdomen, he managed to stifle any noise.  “That badge and your pretty blue uniform look an awful lot like you a cop.”  Wild brown eyes searched for any source of threat, and pained blue eyes fought to catalogue the man’s visible features

“F-firefighter,” Buck breathed, pain pulsing in time with his heart.  A shadow fell across his face as his attacker leaned over to get a better look at the badge on his chest, and the man cursed.

Evan Buckley barely had time to register the white and blue sneaker swinging for his head before it connected with his temple and darkness crashed over his consciousness.

“There’s a cop down in an alley, it looks like he was shot or stabbed in the side...he’s unconscious.”  Awareness returned to Buck in the form of sharp pain and something shaking him.  Memories of the attack that took him out of commission surfaced, and he would have lashed out defensively if not for the gentle grip on his wrist.  “Easy, man...easy.  I’m here to help, I’m on with 9-1-1.  Just lay still, I think you’ve lost a lot of blood.”

“9-1-1?” As though the reference to dispatch flipped a switch in his brain, adrenaline seemed to flood his system.  Buck looked up to the guy leaning over him and reached for the phone.  “Can I?”

“A-are you sure you’re up for it, man? You don’t look so good.”  Buck nodded tiredly, so the man relented, switching on the speakerphone and setting it on the ground beside Buck’s head. “Here, go ahead…” The fireman winced when the man started unbuttoning his blouse.  

“Has the officer regained consciousness?” Relief flooded Buck at the familiar voice, and he sagged back against the ground. One step eliminated, which was good since he wasn’t sure how long the adrenaline would hold up. “Mr. Adams are you still there?”  

“What’s up...with everyone calling me a cop today?”

Buck could picture the stunned face of his girlfriend as she processed what was going on.  “Buck? Please tell me you stumbled across the scene and are not my victim...”

“Abbs, I need you to send out an APB-” An involuntary hiss escaped him when his undershirt was carefully pulled up and away from his wounds.

“I need you to tell me what happened and where you are.” He hated being responsible for the fear in her voice, but he had to get the warning out...

“Abbs, Abby...I need you to listen...there’s a white male, 6 foot wearing blue and white nikes...navy blue hoodie and dark jeans...tattoo...a-ace of spades...on his neck...looking to kill cops.  He saw my uniform and assumed…” Exhaustion threatened to pull him back under, but he steeled his resolve.  “You’ve gotta put a warning out. This guy’s out for blood, and pretty ballsy...he got me three blocks north of the station.  Broad daylight,” he breathed weakly.  Steady hands pressed against his side, and Buck cursed himself for groaning.  

When Abby spoke again, her voice wavered.  “The APB is out...and your squad-”

The mention of his team gave him another surge of adrenaline, fear overpowering his desire to rest.  “Wait! I don’t know how long I was out, or where this asshole went...could still be around, waiting for backup to get here.  Don’t dispatch-”

“I’m not going to let you be a martyr right now, Fireman Buckley. PD has already been informed and your squad knows to be careful.  All you need to worry about is not bleeding out before they get there, do you understand me?”

A breath of laughter escaped him, and he prayed she couldn’t hear the fresh wave of pain it triggered.  “Uh oh, you used my full name.  I’m...in trouble.”  His job finished, Buck finally allowed himself to sink into the peaceful cushion of darkness, where he could hardly feel the tremors of cold under his skin, or the pressure that his rescuer was applying to stem the bloodflow.

“You will be if you don’t hang on.  Your team’s almost there.”  She was always taking care of him…

“Yeah...I hear the house siren.  Thanks, Abbs…”  Even though he could hear both Abby at his rescuer trying to get his attention, the fireman couldn’t cling to consciousness anymore.

911911911

Horror seized the breath in Abby’s lungs as the other end of her line fell silent for an agonizing moment. “Buck?! Buck! Evan!” As she listened to rustling, the dispatcher fought to shove down her panic.  As awful as their first date had been, she’d go back to that day in an instant if it meant that she were right beside Buck and not on the other end of a damn phone call, possibly listening to his death.

“A-Abby?” The timid voice snapped her out of her spiral.  “It’s Mark, um...he’s passed out, what do I do now?  I can hear the siren but it doesn’t sound close enough.”  

“Feel his neck under his jaw with your first two fingers, is there a pulse?”  It took everything she had to pretend that she was talking this stranger through saving the life of another complete stranger, and not -

“Yes, but it’s pretty fast.  So is his breathing...and his skin’s clammy.”  In line with hypovolemic shock.  Hurry, Captain Nash…

“Can you see the wound?”

“Yeah, I’m putting pressure on it right now.”

“Good...good.  Has the bleeding slowed at all?” Just keep it together until the others get there...keep it together, Clark, Buck’s life is counting on it.

“Yeah...a little.  I...I think the ambulance is close.  Should I go wave them down?”

The thought of Buck being left even for the moment had Abby snapping out “No!” She waited until he gave a soft noise of understanding to continue.  ���Stay with him, keep up the pressure until they make it to you and give you direction from there.” Muffled thuds carried across the line, and garbled voices came through.  Mark was clearly turned away from the phone, voice somewhat distant as he called out to the first responders.  Tears of relief threatened to fall as the tense, worried voices of Nash, Hen and Chimney finally became clear.  “Mark?”

“Y-yeah?”

“Thank you.  What you did will...probably save his life.”  Fear left her stumbling over her words, and Abby clenched her shaking hand into a fist.  It will save his life, she insisted to herself.

“I hope so.”  

She barely registered the goodbye before the line went dead, and the dam holding back her emotions shattered.  Fingers curled gently over her shoulder, and Abby turned to her fellow dispatcher, Stephanie, with a hand over her mouth to smother her sob.  

“He’s in good hands now, Abby, why don’t you sign off and wait to find out what hospital they’re taking him to?”  The redhead nodded, fingers mindlessly going through the motions of logging out as she prayed that Buck would be okay now that his team was with him.  As soon as she finished, Stephanie nudged her towards the break room to wait anxiously for a text from one of them.

[trishbsblog]

It is never too late to be what you might have been ̴ George Eliot Reasons for and against giving up the glitzy, glamorous world of flying: Pros: 1. No more cleaning up other people’s sick. 2. No more 2 a.m. wake-up calls, jet lag, swollen feet/ stomach or shrivelled-up skin. 3. No more tedious questions like, ‘What’s that lake/ mountain down there?’ and ‘Does the mile high club really exist?’ 4. No more serving kippers and poached eggs at 4 a.m. to passengers with dog-breath and smelly socks. 5. No more risk of dying from deep vein thrombosis, malaria or yellow fever. 6. No more battles with passengers who insist that their flat-pack gazebo will fit into the overhead locker. 7. No more wearing a permanent smile and a name badge. 8. No danger of bumping into ex-boyfriend and his latest ‘I’m-Debbie-come-fly-me’. Cons: 1. No more fake Prada, Louis Vuitton or Gucci. 2. No more lazing by the pool in winter. 3. No more ten-hour retail therapy sessions in shopping malls the size of a small island — and getting paid for it. 4. No more posh hotel freebies (toiletries, slippers, fluffy bathrobes etc.). 5. Holidays (if any) now to be taken in Costa del Cheapo, as opposed to Barbados or Bora Bora. 6. No more horse riding around the pyramids, imagining I’m a desert queen. 7. No more ice skating in Central Park, imagining I’m Ali MacGraw in Love Story. 8. Having to swap my riverside apartment for a shoebox, and my Mazda convertible for a pushbike. ‘Cabin crew, ten minutes to landing. Ten minutes, please,’ comes the captain’s olive-oil-smooth voice over the intercom. This is it. No going back. I’m past the point of no return. The galley curtain swishes open — it’s showtime! I switch on my full-beam smile and enter upstage left, pushing my trolley for the very last time ... ‘Anyheadsetsanyrubbishlandingcard? Anyheadsetsanyrubbishlandingcard? ...’ Have I taken leave of my senses? The notion of an actress living in a garret, sacrificing everything for the sake of her art, seemed so romantic when I gaily handed in my notice three months ago, but now I’m not so sure … Be positive! Just think, a couple of years from now, you could be sipping coffee with Phil and Holly on the This Morning sofa … Yes, Phil, the rumours are true … I have been asked to appear on Strictly Come Dancing. God only knows how I’ll fit it around my filming commitments though. Who are you kidding? A couple of years from now, the only place you’ll be appearing is the job centre, playing Woman On Income Support. This follow-your-dreams stuff is all very well when you’re in your twenties, or thirties even, but I’m a forty-year-old woman with no rich husband (or any husband for that matter) to bail me out if it all goes pear-shaped. Just as everyone around me is having a loft extension or a late baby, I’m downsizing my whole lifestyle to enter a profession that boasts a ninety-two percent unemployment rate. Why in God’s name, in this wobbly economic climate, am I putting myself through all this angst and upheaval, when I could be pushing my trolley until I’m sixty, then retire comfortably on an ample pension and one free flight a year? Something happened, out of the blue, that catapulted me from my ordered, happy-go-lucky existence and forced me down a different road … ‘It’s not your fault. It’s me. I’m confused,’ Nigel had said. ‘I don’t understand,’ I said, almost choking on my Marmite soldier. ‘What’s brought this on? Have you met someone else?’ ‘No-ho!’ he spluttered, averting my gaze, handsome face flushed. ‘But you always said we were so perfect together …’ ‘That’s exactly why we have to split. It’s too bloody perfect.’ ‘What? Don’t talk nonsense …’ ‘I don’t expect you to understand, but it’s like I’ve pushed a self-destruct button and there’s no going back.’ ‘Self-destruct button? What are you talking about? Darling, you’re not well. Perhaps you should get some help …’ ‘Look, don’t make this harder for me than it already is. It’s time for us both to move on. And please don’t cry, Em,’ he groaned, eyes looking heavenward. ‘You know how I hate it when you cry.’ I grovelled, begged him not to go, vowing I’d find myself a nine-to-five job so we could have more together time, swearing that I would never again talk during Match of the Day — anything as long as he stayed with me. Firmly removing my hands from around his neck and straightening his epaulettes, he glanced at his watch, swigged the dregs of his espresso, and said blankly, ‘Good Lord, is that the time? I’ve got to check in in an hour. We’ll talk more when I get back from LA.’ ‘NO!’ I wailed. ‘You know very well that I’ll be in Jeddah by then. We’ve got to talk about this now. Nigel … Nigel …!’ For three days I sat huddled on the sofa in semi-darkness, clutching the Minnie Mouse he’d bought me on our first trip to Disneyland, as if she were a life raft. I played Gabrielle’s ‘You Used to Love Me’ over and over. I wondered if Gabrielle’s boyfriend had dumped her without warning, leaving her heartbroken and bewildered, and the pain of it all had inspired her. If only I had a talent for song writing, but I don’t, so I channelled my pain into demolishing a family-sized tin of Celebrations chocolates instead. Cue Wendy, my best friend, my angel on earth. We formed an instant friendship on our cabin crew training course. This was cemented when she saved me from drowning during a ditching drill. (I’d stupidly lied on the application form, assuming that it didn’t really matter if I couldn’t swim, because if I were ever unfortunate enough to crash-land in the sea, there would surely be enough lifejackets to go round.) ‘Look, hon, this has got to stop,’ she said in an uncharacteristically stern tone, a look of frustration on her porcelain, freckled face. (As a redhead, Wendy has been religiously applying sunscreen since she first set foot on Middle Eastern soil as a junior hostess twenty years ago; whereas I would roast myself like a pig on a spit in my quest to look like a Californian beach babe.) ‘Okay, so it’s not a crime to scrub the toilet with his toothbrush, but who knows where that could lead? You’ve got to stop playing the victim before we have a Fatal-Attraction scenario on our hands.’ ‘Eight years, eight years of my life spent waiting for him to pop the question, and now he’s moving out to “find himself”. I think I’m entitled to be a little upset, Wendy.’ Prising Minnie out of my hands and hurling her against the wall, she straightened my shoulders and looked deep into my puffy eyes. ‘I promise you that, in time, you will see you’re better off without that moody, selfish, arrogant …’ ‘I know you never thought he was right for me, but there is another side to him,’ I said defensively. ‘He can be the most caring and sweet man in the world when he wants to — and I can’t bear the thought that we won’t grow old together,’ I sobbed, running my damp sleeve across my stinging cheeks. ‘Come on now; take off that bobbly old cardie. I’m running you a Molton Brown bath, and you’re going to wash your hair, put on your uniform and high heels, slap on some make-up and your best air hostess smile, d’you hear?’ she said, pulling back the curtains. ‘And while you’re in Jeddah, I want you to seriously think about where you go from here.’ ‘But I want to be home when Nigel …’ ‘You always said you didn’t want to be pushing a trolley in your forties, and how you wished you’d had a go at acting. Well, maybe this is a sign,’ she said gently, tucking a strand of greasy hair behind my ear. ‘It’s high time you did something for you. You’ve spent far too long fitting in with what Nigel wants.’ ‘It’s too late to be chasing dreams,’ I sniffed, shielding my eyes from the watery sunlight. ‘And anyway, I just want things to go back to how they were. Where did I go wrong, Wendy? I should have made more effort. After all, he’s a good-looking guy, and every time he goes to work there are gorgeous women half my age fluttering their eyelashes at him, falling at his feet. He can take his pick — and maybe he did,’ I whimpered, another torrent of tears splashing onto my saggy, grey jogging bottoms. ‘Get this down you.’ Wendy sighed, shoving a mug of steaming tea into my hands as she frogmarched me into the bathroom. ‘And don’t you dare call him!’ she yelled through the door. Perhaps she was right; she usually was. She may be a big kid at heart, but when the chips are down, Wendy is the one you’d want on your flight if you were struck by lightning or appendicitis at thirty-two thousand feet. For the last year or so, hadn’t I likened myself to an aeroplane in a holding pattern, waiting until I was clear to land? Waiting for Nigel to call, waiting for Nigel to come home, waiting for Nigel to propose, waiting until Nigel felt ready to start a family? Yes, deep down I knew she was right, but I was scared of being on my own. Did this make me a love addict? If so, could I be cured? Jeddah, Saudi Arabia ‘Hayyaa’ala-s-salah, hayya ’ala-l-falah …’ came the haunting call from the mosque across the square, summoning worshippers to evening prayer. It was almost time to meet up with the crew to mosey around the souk — again. Too hot to sunbathe, room service menu exhausted, library book finished, alcohol forbidden, and no decent telly (only heavily edited re-runs of The Good Life, where Tom goes to kiss Barbara, and next minute it cuts to Margo shooing a goat off her herbaceous border), the gold market had become the highlight of my day. Donning my abaya (a little black number that is a must-have for ladies in this part of the world), I scrutinised myself in the full-length mirror. No wonder Nigel was leaving me; far from looking like a mysterious, exotic, desert queen, full of eastern promise, it made me resemble a walking bin liner. I read the fire evacuation drill on the back of the door and checked my mobile for the umpteenth time, then cast my eyes downwards, studying my toes. I know, I thought, giving them a wee wiggle, I’ll paint my nails. It’s amazing what a coat of Blue Ice lacquer can do to make a girl feel a little more glamorous, and less like Ugly Betty’s granny. As I rummaged in my crew bag for my nail varnish, there, stuffed in between Hello! and Procedures To Be Followed in the Event of a Hijack, was an old copy of The Stage (with another DO NOT PHONE HIM!! Post-it note stuck to it). Idly flicking through the pages, my eyes lit up at the headline: DREAMS REALLY CAN COME TRUE. Former computer programmer, Kevin Wilcox, 40, went for broke when he gave up his 50k-a-year job to become a professional opera singer. ‘My advice to anyone contemplating giving up their job to follow their dream, is to go for it,’ said Kevin, taking a break from rehearsals of La Traviata at La Scala. That was my life-changing moment; an affirmation that there were other people out there — perfectly sane people, who were not in the first flush of youth either, but were taking a chance. That’s what I’d do. I’d become an actress, and Nigel would see my name in lights as he walked along Shaftesbury Avenue, or when he sat down to watch Holby City, there I’d be, shooting a doe-eyed look over a green surgical mask. ‘What a fool I was,’ he’d tell his friends ruefully, ‘to have ever let her go.’ Hah! But revenge wasn’t my only motive. Faux designer bags and expensive makeovers were no longer important to me. I wanted the things that money can’t buy: like self-fulfilment, like the buzz you get on opening night, stepping out on stage in front of a live audience. Appearing through the galley curtains, proclaiming that well-rehearsed line, ‘Would you like chicken or beef?’ just wouldn’t do any more. Inspired, I grabbed the telephone pad and pen from the bedside table, and started to scribble furiously. 1. Apply to RADA/CENTRAL any drama school that will have me. 2. Hand in notice. 3. Sign up with temping agencies and find part-time job. 4. Sell flat, shred Visa, store cards, cancel gym membership, and Vogue subscription (ouch!). From: academy@ads.ac.uk To: m.mouse@gmail.com Subject: Audition Dear Emily, Following your recent audition, we of The Academy Drama School are pleased to offer you a place on our one-year, full-time evening course. We look forward to meeting you again at the start of the autumn term, details of which are attached. Sincerely, Edward Tudor-Barnes Principal Whey hey! It was reckless, irresponsible and utterly mad, but I was tired of being sensible or doing things simply to please others. Ever since I’d played the undertaker in a school production of Oliver! I’d wanted to act. Okay, so I may be running twenty-five years late, but now nothing and no one was going to hold me back. * * *