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wpdarlingpan · 4 years ago

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I have a suggestion! What about pan or jerome valeska kiddnaping the reader/oc? Ik its pretty basic, but maybe pan kidnapps her to obress Emma and Jerome kiddnapps her because he is fond of her appearance yk? Maybe a little bit yandere style.

Thank u I hope you like my suggestions!

Thanks for my first suggestion! I hope it’s good :)

Please let me know if there is something I should fix for later suggestions. Be it my writing style, or if you’d prefer me to make an OC for the story.

Also TW with just a mention of how Greenwood is charged with Rape and Murder. It’s only the mention and will not be brought up further.

Now on with the story.

Background information: Y/N is the daughter of Jim Gordon and Barbara. She isn’t associated with Barbra since she went slightly crazy. She considers Lee like her mom. Her dad is very over protective since he’s seen the dark side of Gotham. She is 18 years old and somewhat shy/innocent from being protected by her dad.

“Bye dad! Love you!” Y/N yelled out as she approached the front door of their apartment. She was hoping to leave before her dad could give her the talk she always got before leaving the house but luck wasn’t on her side. She also felt the teeniest bit of guilt for rushing out so quickly as she and her dad had a good relationship and she knew he was just trying to protect her.

“Wait.” He spoke coming down the hallway into the room. He knew she didn’t like the fact she had to go over rules before she left the house but he’d been even more nervous since there was a breakout at Arkham.

“Yes?” Y/N questioned.

“Got your phone?”

“Yep.”

“Charged?”

“100%.”

“House key?”

“Definitely.”

“Emergency money?”

“Right in my pocket.”

“Pepper spray?”

“Yep and with the safety on so I don’t accidentally spray myself... again.” She spoke while looking down sheepishly.

“All right love you kiddo. Remember what I said about those people who broke out yesterday.”

Jim spoke while lightly kissing the side of her head and let her go to school.

“I remember. Also love you Always and forever dad. Don’t forget you have a date with Lee later!” Y/N reminded before closing the door to make her way to the Gotham High school. Her dad had bought her a car so she would be more safe getting to and from school as he didn’t trust city busses or taxis. She didn’t mind though it was nice and she was able to play some music while she drove.

Once she arrived at the school she saw the cheerleaders loading onto the bus. She was a photographer for the yearbook and it was one of their first football games for the year so they send her to photograph for the team. She was way to shy to actually try out for it. Once double checking if her car was locked she put the keys in her pocket and made her way to the bus with her camera looped around her neck.

She got on first as the rest of the cheerleads were talking outside the bus with the coach. Y/N sat in the very back with her feet up next to her as a sign of ‘do not sit by me’ she was rather short so it was comfortable as well. She then pulled out her phone and began to text her dad that she was safely on the bus. He replied with a quick ‘ok’ and ‘be safe’ then she started to play a game on her phone as the cheerleaders began to load onto the bus. Once everyone was on the bus they drove away from the school at the cheerleaders were practice their cheers. The. Whole. Ride. It was beginning to get on her nerves as she preferred the peace and quiet but she knew that being on a bus with cheerleaders would be anything but. She grabbed one side of her headphones and began to play music. She lightly tapped her fingers to it and looked out the window.

They drove for about 20 more mins before they were stopped. A red truck had pulled in front of them and people approached the truck. She spotted guns in their hands. She quickly dialed her dads phone and begged for him to pick up.

“Y/N? What is it?” He could tell by her erratic breathing that something was wrong.

“There are people with guns on the bus! They just shot the driver. We are on (random Gotham street) please hurry!”

“I’m on my way! Try and stay on the line.” She said a quiet okay she a boy with red hair entered the bus. Jim quickly ordered police officers to make their way towards the scene.

“I want you all to know... this was a very difficult decision for us.” The boy spoke as he waved around his guns as if it was a toy. Y/N had already ducked down in her seat after a different person had handcuffed them to the seats. She wanted to stay out of of the seemingly ringleaders point of view as she watching her phone continue to hold the call with her dad and her headphone was in on low in order for him not to hear the phone. She still listened from her other ear to be aware.

“It was between you and a senior citizen bingo party.

In the end, we decided to skew a little younger.” He spoke while putting the gun to one of the girls heads. He walked towards the back of the bus as he continued his speech. She heard him coming and quickly tucked her phone into her pocket along with the headphones.

“Youth won the day. Sorry.”

He had reached the back to the bus and was about to turn around when he saw her tucked into the seat. She was very small and if he didn’t know this was a high school bus he would have thought she was a kid. She looked up at him with terrified doe eyes and he looked at her with a smile. He liked her. The innocence in her eyes that made him swoon. She clearly wasn’t like his whore of a mother. She would make a good partner.

“And who might you be.” He spoke while he used his charm. He lifted her chin up lightly with his unoccupied hand as the gun still rested in the other. She scooted as far away as she could with the handcuffs keeping her in place.

“Y-Y/N.” She stuttered out in fear. She was trying to hide not stand out. He moved her hand away from the start of the handcuffs and brought up his gun to which she began squirming at as it was raised.

“Shh, just going to get these off.” He attempted to comfort but it was honestly more frighting what was he going to do.

He shot the handcuffs and the bullet got lodged into the seat as she was detached from the seat but still had the cuffs around her wrist.

“You’ll be coming with me Doll.” He spoke while tugging her up from the seat as the cheerleaders continued to cry at the situation.

“No!” She attempted to struggle but she was too small to get away. But he held onto her. He tugged her out of the bus before giving her to Aaron. Since he didn’t trust Greenwood with his girl. Not like he trusted Aaron any more but he wasn’t charged for rape.

Aaron obeyed and tightly held her as Jerome put back on his crazy face and went back onto the bus.

“Give me an "O"!” He shouted to make fun of them.

“I said, give me a "O".” He shot the roof of the bus making the cry harder.

“O!” The cried out through their tears.

“ Give me an "N".” He spoke again with enthusiasm

“N!”

“Give me another "O"!”

“O!”

“What does that spell?” He questioned while greenwood handed him a hose that would spray gasoline out from the truck they had stolen.

"Oh, no!"

He walked up and down the isles of the bus and sprayed each and everyone one of them with gasoline while they all screamed in fear.

He finished and walked out of the bus and grabbed a lighter from his pocket.

“Ready? Okay!” Jerome said as he attempted to make the lighter work. The flame wouldn’t appear and Y/N continued to struggle in Aaron’s arms but for the man it was nothing. Dobkins was bouncing in his place with anticipation.

But it never lit.

“This is so embarrassing.” Jerome spoke harshly. He was making a fool out of himself in front of his girl.

“Anyone got a light?” He requested from the group of cheerleaders. Y/N was questioning if he really expected them to give him one since he was trying to kill them. He walked off after they all cried out a ‘No’ and winked at Y/N as she looked at him making her glance away hoping for her dad to hurry.

“I do. I got...” Dobkins replied while reaching into his own pocket to grab a lighter.

As Dobkins went to hand Jerome the lighter sirens sounded and police pulled onto the scene. She began struggling more as Aaron held her with one hand and shot with the other with little to no aim.

She saw as her dad got out of the car and quickly held up his gun. His heart stopped as he saw his daughter in the hands of one of the Maniax.

“Stand your ground, boys. They can't shoot at a bus.” Jerome smugly told the crew. He glanced at his doll to see her struggling still while eyeing one of the officers.

“Hold your fire! Hold your fire!” Jim quickly yelled in fear one something hitting his daughter or the bus.

“Dad!” She yelled out as she attempted to kick Aaron but did little to no damage.

Jeromes eyes widened with surprise. Jim Gordon had a daughter? This would be two birds with one stone. He smirked as Jim looked panicked.

“Aaron, Greenwood, get the truck started. And pass me my girl.” Jerome demanded. Y/N was shoved towards Jerome who caught her with a arm wrapped around her waist. He spotted her phone in her pocket and tossed it onto the pavement so they couldn’t be tracked nor could she call.

The officers had ducked behind their cars as Jerome shot at them.

“We're gonna blow this barbecue stand, huh Doll?” He told her as he tugged her towards the truck as her dad tried to follow before he was shot at again.

Greenwood sat on the outside holding onto the bus with the hose.

“Light 'em up!” Jerome spoke as he turned around and made a round motion with his arm to Dobkins who struggled with a lighter as well.

Jerome laughed manically as he got into the truck with her on his lap to which she blushed making him smirk and they began to drive off leaving Dobkins with the police.

Soon they were out of view and Jim quickly drove the bus away from the flames that had fought when the lighter was dropped. He needed to get his daughter back.

Y/N had a blind fold put on her as they left the scene to head back to Galivants building. Once they arrived Jerome picked her up bridal style and carried her into the building. He was stopped by the man himself as he headed to his room.

“And whose this?” He questioned quite poshly. She couldn’t recognize the voice but it seemed familiar.

“My girl.” He replied looking Galivant in the eye with a murderous look, daring him to say she couldn’t stay.

“Fine. But she stays in your room. Wouldn’t suggest having her out here with Greenwood.” He spoke before walking away to his office. Jerome laughed at even the thought of letting Greenwood anywhere near her. He brought her into his room and sat her on the bed. He quickly locked the door with a key to which he placed in his pocket before removing the blindfold.

Y/N blinked to adjust to the light and when she did she quickly scrambled back on the bed, away from the boy in front of her.

“Oh Y/N your never getting away from me. Not now, not ever.” He spoke before laughing crazily making her whimper and her eyes water. She curled up in a ball in an attempt to shield herself away from the boy.

“Well Doll, welcome to your new home. By the way, the names Jerome. Jerome Valeska.”

Y/N began to shake, her dad had told her about his interview. She should have for the hint from the fact of his unsettling laughter.

She was utterly screwed.

Let me know if you’d like a quick part 2

Also, please suggest things to write 😁

#jerome valeska #gotham #story prompt #oneshots #jerome valeska x reader #jim gordon #male yandere #love at first sight #writing

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supernaturallyobsessedchic · 4 years ago

Text

Emergency! Part 1

Part 1 – Plane Crash

Summary: Dean and Cas are partners at Fire Station 51’s paramedic squad and are responding to their first of many. A plane crashes into an apartment complex, multiple fire stations respond to put out the fire and rescue any victims trapped. But RN, Y/N Y/L/N, happens to live in the very complex involved in the plane crash. Though unharmed, she commits her time to aid and assist in the victims coming out of the building and the plane. The rescue turns sideways on Dean when a beam drops onto Dean, damaging his oxygen tank, he quickly turns into a victim as he quickly succumbs to smoke inhalation and becomes Y/N’s patient.

Warnings: Mild angst (relationship), slight language, fluff?

Square: Firefighter!AU ( @supernatural-jackles Tell me a story Bingo)

Word Count: 1,784

Mobile Masterlist

Series Masterlist

A/N: DOA = Dead on Arrival. Y/L/N = Your last name. But I hope you guys enjoy!

She got up at her usual time of 5am to be at the hospital by 6:30am.

Not much of a coffee drinker, she just got her a mug filling up with soda, the soda being her caffeine for the day.

She got into her scrubs, grabbing her nametag, pens and her personal notepad.

Ready to hit the road before traffic begins to pick up on the freeway in Los Angeles, she grabs her wallet, phone and keys she locks up to leave for her day at work as a Registered Nurse at Rampart emergency hospital.

Just as she got to the street to her car, there was a loud noise growing louder. She looked in the direction of the noise to see a plane, crash landing into her own apartment complex.

Ducking beside her car at the impact of the plane she was also thankful for her timing.

Quickly she dials 9-1-1.

Dean got up at his usual time of 4 in the morning to begin his 24-hour shift at the station.

Dean is a paramedic and squad member at station 51.

He pulled his truck into the parking lot, still trying to wake up.

His partner was already there.

“Cas, do you ever sleep man?” Dean asked.

“Slept on the couch again.”

“Are you and Hannah okay?”

“No, we had a big fight again last night. I don’t know what I can do for her anymore.” Cas says, defeated.

“Just end things man, you need sleep, and you need some peace of mind. I got room at my house for a roommate if you need a place.”

“Thanks Dean, but I already had plans of ending things with Hannah, last night was just the nail in the coffin of yet another failed relationship.”

“She failed it man, you did nothing wrong.” Dean encouraged.

“Thanks man.”

Dean offered a kind smile and a pat on Cas’s shoulder.

“Ready for another long shift?” Cas asks.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, my dad here yet?”

“Yeah, he’s in the office why?”

“Wonder if he got the invite to Sam and Jess’s wedding.”

“Bought damn time that kid popped the question honestly.”

“I know, he and Jess dated for what seemed like forever.”

“You really think they’re still sore at each other, I mean John of all people should know he can’t control what his kids want to do.”

“Yeah, I don’t know, that’s why I was gonna ask if he got it.”

Cas nods.

“I saw you put in for a three-day weekend, what’s going on?”

“Just wanting to take a trip out to the campgrounds outside of town to the family cabin, Dad says the deck could use some work and I was gonna kill two birds with one stone. Camp out and help dad fix up the deck.”

“That sounds cool.”

The fire stations alarm sounded.

“Truck 27, squad 27, engine 47, squad 47, Engine 51, squad 51, structure fire at Purgatory Apartments 1366 south Millard Ave.”

“Lots of trucks and engines responding, must be big.” Cas states. Jumping into action.

“Must be.” Dean says running to the squad truck, jumping into the driver seat, Cas jumping into the passenger.

Dean turned the keys in the ignition, roaring the Ford Truck to life, and turning on the lights and siren. Heading out onto the road, with the firetruck, Engine 51 following behind.

“This is RN Y/N Y/L/N, I have multiple victims at 1366 Millard Ave. A plane crashed. 3 already DOA, I need help right away.” She says into the phone.

“We’re working on it; we already have multiple firestations responding to your location. Just keep aiding in the victims as best as you can Ms. Y/L/N.” dispatch for 9-1-1 says.

She continued chest compressions on a victim and did 2 rescue breaths. And checked his pulse, still no change.

She sat her phone off of her shoulder and on the ground, so she could focus on reviving the victim.

One more attempt at cpr, she checks his pulse, still no change. Placing his hands over his chest, she says a silent prayer.

“I’m sorry.” She tells the people watching over her as she worked.

“Where is your help?” a lady asked furiously.

“They’re on the way, LA Is a large ass city, and you know how traffic is in this town.” She says.

She was already frustrated with the losses she didn’t need an attitude from anyone.

The sound of wailing sirens in the distance brought relieve to the nurse as she worked tirelessly on the victims.

Engine and squad 27 and 47 being the first on the scene.

“There are people trapped in the buildings, and there were about 45 passengers on this flight. 4 are DOA so far.” Y/N stated to the captain of the two fire stations as they approached her.

“Alright, I’ll send my guys in.” Captain of station 27 stated.

“I’ll let the other stations as they come in to assist.” Captain of station 47 stated.

Another fire engine’s siren wailed as it approached.

The men jumping into action.

“Winchester!” the captain of station 47 shouts as he approached engine 51.

“What do we got?”

“Unknown number of victims trapped in the complex, 45 passengers or so from the plane. 4 of them were DOA. Oh, and she’s a nurse, thought I’d mention that she could help us out.”

“Right,” John Winchester, captain of station 51 agreed.

“Alright guys, we got to work fast, there are people trapped in these two buildings, we need to clear them out. Tran, get the engine ready so we can use the hose. Gabe, and Michael, work on the fire with the other stations, Benny, Raph, and Charlie, aide the paramedics, either from 27, 47 or Dean and Cas, we need to save as many as we can, alright?”

“Yes sir.”

“Get to it.”

Everyone went to where they were instructed to. Dean and Cas got their equipment from their truck and went into one of the buildings, full fire fighter gear.

“Dean!” John called out.

Dean stops, giving John his attention.

“Be safe in there son.”

“I will dad. Don’t worry.” He says, running in.

There were a good handful of people able to move and get to safety on their own, and another handful Dean and Cas had to carry out of the building.

One woman, sprained ankle from trying to escape hastily, as Cas carried her out she nearly flew out of the man’s arms.

“My daughter, she’s in her room!” she cries out.

“I’ll get her, Cas, get her out of here.”

Cas nods, doing as told.

Dean inspected the rooms, finding a seven-year-old girl, hiding beside her bed covered in a wet blanket.

“Hey, I’m Dean, I’m gonna get you out of here.”

The girls nods.

Dean kept a protective arm around her as they exited her room.

A beam creaked, and gave way above Dean, hitting his back.

He heard a loud pop, like a large pop can exploding.

He found it hard to breathe through his oxygen mask.

Taking off his mask and tank he saw rupture in his tank.

“Shit.” He hissed.

His lungs were quickly taken over by the smoke, he started coughing immediately.

He noticed the girl was already gone.

He tried to get up to hurry and save himself but he felt a sharp pain in the back of his leg.

He looked behind him, he saw the beam pinning him down by his leg.

Overcome by the coughing, his world began to turn black.

Y/N finished placing a splint on the womans ankle when a child ran up to her and the group of firemen.

“Jamie! Baby!” her mother cried out, holding her arms out to her daughter.

“Mommy!” she cried.

“Where’s Dean?” Cas asked.

“A beam fell down and knocked him down. He’s stuck.” She says.

Without another word exchanged Cas took off to the apartment they rescued the woman.

The fire was slowly getting under control and it was easier to see inside the apartments. Cas was able to spot Dean out in the apartment easily.

He laid on his stomach, still and unmoving. Cas can see the beam pinning against Dean’s thigh.

He saw the beam was not supporting much of anything. He ran out, seeing Michael carrying an axe.

“Mikey, I need that!” Cas shouted.

“What’s up?”

“Dean’s stuck.”

Michael ran towards Cas and he saw Dean, inspected the beam. Saw the same as Cas, the beam not being much of importance to the structure, he begins working on breaking the beam in half.

The wood was badly damaged by the fire, he was able to break it in three strong hits.

Once he was free, Cas picked Dean up and carried him out over his shoulder fireman carry style.

Once he reached the nurse, she prepared an area she could work on Dean.

“Is he breathing?”

“He didn’t have his mask on, the tank was damaged.” Cas answered.

“More than likely smoke inhalation, lay him here and I’ll start working on him.

He did as told, laying him flat on his back.

She checked his pulse, and breathing, matching up to the fireman’s statements. And began chest compressions.

After 35 chest compressions she gave 2 rescue breaths. And checked his breathing, he’s breathing but it was shallow.

She placed on an oxygen mask over his mouth.

After ten minutes or so of the mask being on him, he began having a coughing fit as the air returned back to his lungs.

“He’s gonna be okay but we need to get him to the hospital, need to check out that leg.” Y/N said.

The men and women of station 51 nodded, agreeing with the nurse.

Later that night as she made her rounds, she walked into Dean’s room.

“Good evening Mr. Winchester, how are you feeling today?”

“Sore.”

“That’s expected having a beam pin your leg down, and the smoke inhalation.”

“You saved my life, thank you, Miss….”

“Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N. And it’s no big deal, all part of the job.”

“Right, saving people.”

“The family business.”

“You’re family work here?”

“Yeah, my mom was head nurse at this very hospital, and my dad was a neurologist here. I was basically born and raised here.”

“Nice, my dad’s captain of station 51.”

“Awesome. But other than that, no pain at the moment, you don’t need anything?”

“No, just a number.”

She smirked, with a nod.

Writing on her notepad, her number. She ripped the paper out, handing it to him.

“Call me sometime, Winchester.”

He held the paper, unable to hide the wide grin.

“Definitely will.” He says as she walks out, continuing her shift.

Are you excited yet? I’m posting as I write this, probably a bad idea, but story of my life. Like what I got so far? Let me know, ask, reblog. Feedback is fuel. :3

Dean girls:

@pandazombie69, @luci-in-trenchcoats, @supernatural-jackles, @becs-bunker, @jayankles, @mlovesstories, @winchesters-favorite-girl, @jeaniespiehs20, @akshi8278, @lyarr24

Copying and reposting someone else’s content is plagiarism and illegal. This work is property of supernaturallyobsessedchic. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post. 3/18/2021

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the-last-kenobi · 4 years ago

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For the bad things happen bingo, I Will Punish You For Your Friend's Failure, with Obi Wan and Rex during the Zygeria arc with Rex being punished by the slavers.

Oooooh, happy evil brain twinkles.

TW for blood, child death, and mildly graphic torture. No specifics because spoilers but do be cautious.

•••

There is an enemy, and it is within, the Jedi taught.

You will encounter foes of all forms in your years as a Jedi. There will be cruel tyrants and selfish politicians, ruthless criminals and violent terrorists. Possessive lovers, radical reformists, slavers and desperate people willing to do whatever it takes to achieve what matters to them. And then the next thing, and the next.

But these are not the enemy.

The Jedi have only two natural enemies.

The Sith have been extinguished from the galaxy, lost to ruin. What the Jedi did not destroy, the Sith themselves did, locked in the raw emotion of the Dark Side, turning on one another.

And the Jedi are left with the true enemy.

You are the enemy, the Masters warned. Your weaknesses are your real enemy.

All obstacles can be overcome as long as you master yourself.

Fear will lead you astray. Push through it.

Anger will corrupt you. Abandon it.

Envy will poison you. Purge it.

Grief will break you. Overcome it.

And if you fall, you will fall as yourself, at peace. A true Jedi perishes for the right reasons, where not even self-possession could stop the sheer numbers of the opposition.

The enemy is within.

•

Obi-Wan Kenobi took a deep, steadying breath. The enemy is within, he reminded himself. My fear is the enemy. These people cannot destroy me.

The broken wrist, clumsily bandaged and still forced to work, whispers that otherwise. The bruises along his spine groan in misery. There was a cut on his upper lip that had bled and dried in his beard and lips. Someone had driven the handle of a whip into the muscles of his left leg, and it could not bear his weight.

He opened his eyes just in time to receive a stunning blow across the face.

Despite the fancies of holodramas, a strike to the face is nothing to brush aside.

The Jedi reeled, his head exploding, his face stinging. White light erupted behind his eyes and his nose burned as if he’d dived too deep into water.

“Who is your Master?” a voice demanded.

Obi-Wan blinked rapidly, gasping for air. His entire head throbbed; he was on his knees but his back had arched back so far his head was a foot from the floor. Wincing, he dragged himself back up and stared passively into the snarling Zyggerian’s eyes. “I am.”

A roar of discontent. “Wrong!”

The hand came back, but this time it closed around his throat.

•

Qui-Gon caught him by the shoulders, one hand moving upwards to press against the side of his Padawan’s neck.

“You are stronger than your fear,” he said. “Because your fear is only part of you. Your strengths outnumber your fear, Obi-Wan.”

Behind the boy’s young eyes, though - flashes of remembered horror, children dead in the streets of Melida/Daan and the screaming sound a blaster bolt made as it grazed close, so close, to his ear - and hit another boy instead —

Obi-Wan gasped as if drowning, his mind convinced that he was not getting enough oxygen.

Fear was going to kill him.

Fear was the enemy.

“Oh, Padawan,” sighed his Master. And then the hands left his neck and his shoulder, leaving Obi-Wan bereft, plunged into ice cold waters of terror and trauma, his failures haunting him like the ghost of Cerasi.

•

Obi-Wan choked, bucking involuntarily as the meaty hand clenched around his throat, crushing his air pipe.

He couldn’t breathe.

Still. What did it matter, if this monstrous slaver killed him in a fit of rage? Obi-Wan was more than this man and his pride, his greed, his disregard for life.

Obi-Wan was a Jedi.

His body’s automatic response to being abused and killed was nothing.

He was more than his fear.

“Damn Jedi!”

The hand released him, and the red-haired General slumped to the floor, unable to stop his forehead from colliding painfully with the uneven slag flooring. More blood. He tasted it in his mouth, he felt it dripping down his forehead.

“Very well,” the same voice continued. “The punishment must suit the prisoner, in some cases. How lucky of you. So special.”

They cannot hurt me, Obi-Wan reminded himself. My body is not my soul. I am more than my fear.

And then two more slavers entered the room at a summons, dragging a struggling figure between them.

Rex.

Obi-Wan’s fear spiked so sharply he felt his chest stab with physical pain.

No, he told himself. No. Fight it. Fight it—

The Zyggerian behind him sensed his rising emotion and grabbed him roughly, one hand on the thick collar around the Jedi’s throat, and the other dug painfully into his hair.

•

Obi-Wan shuddered.

A bomb - Twela, Bruin, Conno, Toorun, and others went flying, flailing helplessly in the air.

Toorun rolled on his side and got back up.

Conno collided with a vehicle and lay still.

Bruin landed on his feet and stood up, grinning in shocked relief, and then dropped with a bullet in his head. Blood spattered stone.

Twela landed on a pile of rubble.

When Obi-Wan found her, she had been lying there for an hour while the battle wore on, a rebar shoved through her stomach.

It took her two days to die—

Cerasi, falling into his arms. Gasping. Blood everywhere. Her father screaming. Blood on Obi-Wan’s hands—

Nield, his friend, telling him he didn’t belong - kicking him out of the camp to die alone - blaming Obi-Wan, rightfully, for the death of Cerasi and the peace she had helped create—

But as quickly as they had been taken away, the warm and solid hands of Qui-Gon Jinn were there again, this time on his back. Pulling him. Tightening around him.

Obi-Wan blinked rapidly, gasping and shaking, pressed into a warm embrace while his Master rocked him gently, whispering encouragement into his hair.

It was good to be held.

•

Obi-Wan twisted, struggling in near-panic to get away from the arms restraining him.

“Stop it!” he yelled. “Stop!”

They did not stop.

The Zyggerians had been on Rex for over two hours, holding him down, methodically slicing the soles of his feet, throwing their fists into his abdomen and face and throat, slamming his head against the unforgiving ground.

The Captain was a mess; bruised and bloodied, involuntary tears making his damaged face glisten.

Rex had finally started to scream five minutes ago, and still they would not stop—

“Stop! You’ll kill him!” Obi-Wan shouted, his bound hands clenched so tightly that his palms were torn and bleeding. “Stop!”

“And now the bird sings,” the slave master crowed, laughing down at him. “So high and mighty, Jedi?”

“Leave him alone!” Obi-Wan demanded.

The slaver’s face darkened.

Two things happened at almost the same moment.

A knife was drawn from seemingly thin air and without hesitation or fanfare was plunged into Rex’s thigh; the Captain screamed again, writhing.

A button was pressed, and the collar around Obi-Wan’s neck blazed with electricity that made him convulse, blinded, agonized.

“You don’t give the orders here,” the master snarled. “Haven’t you learned? You’re not in control here!”

•

“You are in control, Padawan,” Qui-Gon murmured, rubbing his hand up and down the boy’s back, following the still too-prominent line of his spine. Up and down, up and down.

“I’m not,” Obi-Wan sobbed. “I’m a failure.”

“You haven’t failed until you’ve let yourself down and decided not to get up again,” his Master replied firmly. “You are master of yourself, Obi-Wan, and therefore master of the situation. You can rise above. Even if you need help to do it. You are not a slave to fear.”

•

“Slaves are not masters,” the Zyggerian bellowed, and Rex screamed again.

Obi-Wan shuddered and twitched on the floor; he felt filthy, ragged, used. Now useless.

“You don’t make the rules!” A kick to the abdomen that deprived him of air. Once again suffocating. Drowning.

All he could see was the bloodstained floor. All he could hear was the voice, and Rex screaming through gritted teeth.

“Every time you cross me, I’ll punish your freakish friend. And anyone else that crosses your path. I! Am! In! Control! Here!” Each of the final words was delivered with a sharp jerk on the chain that had been attached to the collar.

Obi-Wan choked and wheezed.

Pain.

Terror.

Helpless.

I can’t —

“Who is your Master?”

“You are,” Obi-Wan told Fear, eyes glazed, blood spattered across his vision. Maybe permanently. Like a brand. Like Cerasi’s lifeblood on his shaking hands.

“Who is your Master?” the slaver asked again.

Obi-Wan stared vacantly upwards.

Fear looked back at him. Outside him. Inside him. Triumphant.

“You are,” whispered the Jedi, and his eyes rolled back in his head.

He slumped to the floor.

Rex’s screams faded as the punishment abruptly ceased; the Clone lay on the stone floor, limp and in terrible pain, staring with abject fear in his eyes at the fallen Jedi.

His utter relief that the pain was over, that they had taken their hideous hands off of him, was warring with his worry.

And his growing terror.

If even General Kenobi could be controlled...

“A good start,” the slave master said thoughtfully, trodding deliberately on Obi-Wan’s damaged foot. “And I was told Jedi did not feel fear.”

•••

#star wars #star wars fic #i’m sorry?????#obi wan kenobi #captain rex #the clone wars #someone hug them #please #torture #blood #abuse #bad things happen bingo

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moonlit-imagines · 4 years ago

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Next of Kin (Part 2)

Birds of Prey x Sionis-Zsasz!reader

warnings:

a/n: HDTVTVRBEHS IM SO SORRY I COMPLETELY ABANDONED THAT STORY OH MY GOD im gonna be honest with you guys. its not good. i forgot the original ending i wanted.

prompt:

prologue part 1

“Boss?” You heard a henchman wake you from your slumber in your own room. Opening your eyes to complete darkness, you tried not to lose your temper.

“What the hell do you want?” You asked with a huff.

“Right, uh, you told us to tell you when we had a location on those ‘Birds of Prey’ or whatever...we do.” You ripped your sleeping mask off of your eyes and bolted out from under the satin covers.

“You do?! Where? Tell me now!” You shouted while scrambling across the room to get yourself ready for this spur of the moment fight. The blue robe you wore dropped to the ground just before you pulled on a pair of pants and continued. You had to look good for this special occasion.

“A old factory, I guess. ACE or some shit.” He shrugged, looking away respectfully as you got your clothes on.

“ACE Chemicals?” You pulled the shoulder holster over your arms and covered it with a jacket, waiting for the oaf to confirm.

“Uh, I think so.” He was basically useless, an alarm clock at best. You swiped your weapons from your nightstand and pushed past him, ready to end a few lives. It was an eye for two eyes kind of situation.

“Should I call for backup?” He followed behind you as weapons were shoved into all sorts of pockets on your person, so you did what any reasonable person would do and shot him in the foot, the sweet sound of a yelp calmed your shaky nerves.

“Did I say we should call for backup? No, so don’t ask.” He dropped to the floor as he clutched onto his injured appendage, but you just kept on walking. This was personal, you were the only one who could avenge Dad and Papa Vic.

Now you were jogging to the car and stepping on the gas the moment you sat in the driver’s seat. There was no time to lose, no time at all. It was a bit relaxing to hear Britney Spears on the radio as you cut off traffic over and over again. There was a moment of contemplation when someone honked their horn at you, and I mean contemplation of murder. You were going to murder the person honking at you.

But you didn’t have time to stop. Who knows how long those little Birds would be at the factory and how long it’d be until you caught them again. So upon arrival, you ran to the trunk and pulled out the Thompson, your lovely little submachine gun.

With that rested over your shoulder, you left the car running and walked straight into the factory. There was no telling what they were doing here, but damn all the dangers of walking into a severely damaged chemical plant. You wanted your revenge, even if you didn’t make it out of here alive. Ideally, yes, you’d live the rest of your days sleeping peacefully knowing that you put your parent’s killers down, but as long as they were gone, you’d be fine with whatever may happen.

“This is officially the final step to my breakup! This is where I became ‘Harley Quinn.’” You heard a familiar annoying voice echo through the abandoned building.

“This place is starting to creep me out...” Another voice muttered, the voice of a singer. Someone who you and your family trusted until she stabbed you each in the back. God, your blood was boiling just thinking about having relations to these cruel women. But luckily for you, you were about to return a favor.

There’s one little detail I left out, you have been carrying a single hand grenade on your person since you learned about your Dad’s cause of death. It was the perfect revenge. In your head, at least. You yanked the ring with your teeth, you just had to give it a try! But grenades don’t work like that, that’s just a trope in media to made it look badass, as if a giant explosion isn’t badass enough. So you pulled the ring with all your might, this time with your fingers, and popped the pin out. The girls had yet to notice your presence, but that was about to change.

Timing was everything here: you had to give yourself time to escape, but you couldn’t give them time to escape. Maybe ypu should have thought this through before pulling the pin.

Fuck it, toss! The Birds were standing on the grates of the second floor, so there was an alerting clink when the bomb landed.

“Oh, shit!” Harley screamed and bolted. “Run for it!” As they scattered in all different directions, you spectated in excitement. The one that killed Papa Vic, the Crossbow Killer, hopped off the platform and landed on the concrete rubble below, then the sudden force of the explosion pushed them every which way. You, too, actually.

“What the hell? Who’s here?!” Canary cried as she checked her face for cuts, finding blood on her hands. Each of you was covered in dirt and grime, blood and bruises.

“Everyone okay?” The cop asked her company and heard a bundle of groans from the pack, could be worse?

Oh, it could be worse...especially once you revealed yourself to the little ragtags.

“Hi there!” You introduced. “A few of you remember me, huh? Hey, Harley, Miss Lance.” You waved with a pistol in your hand and Papa Vic’s sharp gift in the other.

“‘Course you’re here for revenge.” Harley blew a raspberry as she crossed her arms, but the rest of the group just stared at you. “You’re dads started it.”

“Wait, they were together?” Cass asked the wrong question at the wrong time.

“Shut up, kid. Love you.” Harley pushed the child out of the way and stepped forward. “So ya wanna get back at us, huh? Got it all planned out? Ya don’t have the discipline, sweetie. That’s what did your dads in.”

“Quiet!” You shouted with a haunting similarity to Roman. “Listen, I don’t need to kill all of you. I’d really love to, but I won’t.” You explained as you paced around shifting bricks. “Harley and the crossbow girl are who I really want. I thought about offing the songbird for being a narc, but if she flies away now, maybe I’ll let her go.”

“My name is Huntress.” The girl in distasteful purple makeup growled, you just had to laugh.

“I don’t give a shit what your name is, I just care how you die.” You held the blade out for her to see. “Stab my Papa through the neck, I do the same. It’s only fitting I use the knife he gave me to do it. Poetic, huh?”

“I wasn’t even the one that killed him! Technically it was the kid, tell ‘em!” Said the Joker’s ex-lady.

“Wow, thanks for throwing me under the bus!” Cassandra threw her hands up and you pointed your bedazzled gun at Harley’s chest. “Shit, look out!”

“It might not be a grenade, but it still goes ‘boom.’” You slowly tightened your finger around the trigger, but ducked and missed when a brick came flying towards you, courtesy of Little Miss Trouble.

“Fuck’s sake!” You screamed and came running towards the other target, who flipped you over her back, causing you to land on yours. I can’t even describe the noise you made.

“I had been planning to kill Victor Zsasz for years, alright? I had every right to do so.” She went off for the team to witness. “He murdered my entire family in front of me when I was a child! Do you know what it’s like to be an orphan?!” Huntress’s voice was sharp and rough, there was a slim chance that she’d be taking any more shit today.

“Yes, you idiot.” You glared up at her while she planted a foot on either side of your torso, aiming an arrow at your head. “I was adopted by Roman and Vic after they found me on the street.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that they took everything from me.” The others simply watched the show, how could they not? Helena’s stone-cold voice was chilling.

“And what do you think you did to me?” You asked with and unsteady tone. “I’m a goddamn orphan again!” You caught the back of her knee and escaped her reach for just a moment as you leveled the field by drawing your weapon once more. “I had it good before you came in and ruined it all.”

“Your fathers were the scum of the Earth, the world’s better without them.” It was a wonder how none of her team had hopped in yet, but it worked out for you. “If you thought they deserved to live, you would’ve shot me by now.”

“She’s got a point, y/n/n.” Harley chimed in, throwing you right off your rhythm. Leaving it to the psychiatrist to evaluate you during something like this. “Remember our nights at the club? I saw how controlling Romy was over ya. An’ how Vicky kept secrets. An’ how they put ya into some really uncomfortable situations an’ whatnot. I dunno what when on behind closed doors, but...admit it, y/n, it wasn’t as perfect as ya make it out ta be.”

“They did their best.” You watched each face turn to pity you, it broke you all over again. “Fuck! Fuck you guys!” You dropped your guard and pouted at how easily manipulated you could be.

“That’s more like it.” Renee chuckled as Dinah walked past her. Dinah had seen just as much as Harley, that’s why she went right up to you and took you in her arms.

“You should stick with us for a while. I promise we aren’t that bad.”

taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @thisetaernallove //

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milkypompon · 4 years ago

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𝕄𝕪 𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕡𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖 | Zuko x Reader

𝕀𝕞𝕒𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕖 | In Ba Sing Se, Zuko stumbles into Y/N, an artist.

𝔸𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣'𝕤 ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖 | Thank you to my lovely Anon for requesting this! It's been sitting in my inbox gathering dust for a bit because I've been so busy with moving into a new house. Here we are now!! I’m still slowly trying to get back into writing, so please take it easy on me.

The morning dew of Ba Sing Se adorned the growing grass along the stone paved ground. With each step closer to the well-known Jasmine Dragon tea shop, Y/N’s brushes and paints rattled inside their bag slung lazily about their shoulder. The chirping of the birds was drowned out by the early bustle of the city. But the sight of the sky wasn’t one that could simply be ignored.

Without a second thought Y/N plopped themselves down in the middle of a street gorged with rolling carts carrying products cultured and collected by the stocky owners who heaved it around. Y/N earned looks of confusion and occasional glances of annoyance as they blocked the vendors and passer-byers.

But how? How could these people ignore the early white rays of the sun slowly catching hues of yellow as it languidly reached down onto those who lived among the earth. Reaching and stretching with open arms to feel its warmth. The heat enough to satiate the chill breeze that pricked their unclothed arms.

The bristles of the brush was damp with the colors resembling the scenery set in front of Y/N. They glided it along the block of paper tottering on their thigh.

Only the sound of the fraying brush swirling in ever-changing water could be heard by them.

Only the sight of the endless sky that lay behind the glistening sun could be seen by them.

“WATCH OUT!” A gruff voice shouted and chanted the same two words that came threateningly closer to Y/N’s ears.

A horse-bear with tattered reins hung about its large frame losely, growling and galloping at an unmatched speed. Before Y/N could even set down their painting, a body slammed into their back, sending them both tumbling forward into a cabbage cart with a body-straining thud.

Y/N groaned, their hands clenching and unclenching subconsciously to feel their surroundings.

“WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?” A black haired boy towered over them. He threw his arms into the air in frustration.

“Yeah! What he said!” Spat the cabbage vendor in annoyance.

Y/N slowly propped themselves up with their elbows. Their eyes grew as wide as the cabbages as they took in the unraveling scene.

“MY ART SUPPLIES!” Y/N scrambled up, almost slipping on their own two feet. They took a quick step forward, but was stopped by a strong grip around their wrist.

Y/N’s head whipped back in surprise, they were met with amber eyes hidden behind furrowed brows and tousled hair. “Not even a thank you?” He cocked up his eyebrow.

“I- Sorry! I mean thank you!” Y/N craned their neck down in embarrassment, they could feel an intense heat crawling up their body.

He awkwardly patted the top of Y/N’s head. “Oh- okay, no need for formalities,” the boy hummed.

Y/N slowly straightened up, suddenly feeling small under his gaze. “Let me at least thank you with a meal!” they chirped.

“How about my apology meal for the cabbages you ruined!” The cabbage vendor peeked over the boy’s shoulder to give Y/N an exasperated look.

“Usually, people ask for my name before they take me out on a date,” he chuckled teasingly.

“N-no!” Y/N’s hand shot up in a halt motion. “I mean unless you want it to be…” they muttered to themselves.

A faint dusting of pink spread onto his cheeks, “Well, I certainly wouldn’t mind it!”

Y/N, completely enthralled by his softening features, forgot about their art supplies sitting in a wrecked state on the stone floor.

A quite pitiful sight.

He looked past Y/N, his eyes dropping down, “Oh, no… your painting!” Without much thought, the boy slipped his hand through Y/N’s to guide them to the horse-bear accident.

Y/N stiffened at the sudden contact, which wasn’t ignored by him. He turned his head back and dropped his hand, “S-sorry! Just wanted to show you what happened…”

The gentle warmth of his hand gave Y/N a sensation of warmth, it left as quickly as it came. They pulled their arm and crossed it behind their back. “Well, the damage has been done, huh?” Y/N smiled sadly as they poked the snapped brushes with the tip of their boot.

He crouched down to reach for Y/N’s painting, now mangled up into scratchy bits. Before the boy could take a good look at it, Y/N swung themselves in front of him in an attempt to hide their unfinished work. But, his nimble fingers flung it up high above his head before they could snatch it

“Hey! That’s mine!” Y/N puffed out their cheeks.

“I know, I know. I just wanted to see what you were painting-”

“Nothing special!” they managed to grip his arm and grab the painting.

The pair stood up. Y/N cradled their work in their hands, a deep sigh escaped their lips. The boy peered from the side. Catching his peeping eyes, Y/N hugged it into their chest.

Zuko scratched the back of his neck, “Y’know just because it seems ruined in your eyes, it doesn’t mean that it’s not a masterpiece to mine.”

Y/N mumbled a “thanks” before turning around to meet his bright eyes. “I’m Y/N by the way…” they said in a small voice, recollecting the early moments of their first encounter.

“Lee,” he offered a hand for Y/N to shake, but instead, Zuko snatched the painting from their arms and tucked it inside his robe. “I’ll take this for compensation!” He grinned light-heartedly.

Y/N rolled their eyes, “I don’t know why you’d want that, but alright… Anyways, the offer still stands for the meal just because I’m feeling generous today.”

Zuko smirked, “Are you feeling extra generous to officiate it into a date?”

They quickly averted their eyes and mumbled, “I thought it was already implied.”

“Knock, knock!” Y/N chirped as they approached the Jasmine Dragon dimly lit, signaling their closure for the night.

The sound of clambering dishware and squeaky shoes echoed through the tea shop. There were no people save for the old man at the opposite end of the green carpet, who greeted Y/N with a small wave. Zuko, who creased down his robe, approached them at a hasty speed.

“H-Hey!” He said a little strained. The old man elbowed Zuko’s side, earning him a groan.

The pair bowed at Y/N. “You must be my nephew’s date tonight. My name is Mushu, but you may call me Uncle!” He gave the young teenager a bright smile.

“Well, I’ll leave ya at it, Nephew!” Iroh cackled as he held his belly. Zuko groaned once again. “And, close up for the night will ya?” He tossed a single golden key with the Jasmine Dragon logo engraved into the head of it.

The pair watched the old man trot to the wooden doors, closing it, but leaving a gap big enough only for them to see his smirk.

“BYE UNCLE!” Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose.

Y/N giggle into their hand, “You must be really close with Uncle Mushu, huh?”

Zuko looked up at them, his face softened as he subconsciously studied their face. He stared at how their lips turned up at any word he said and the way their nose scrunched when they laughed. But what interested him the most was when Y/N’s cheeks changed just the slightest hue whenever they smiled.

“Y’know this isn’t much of me repaying you if you’re gonna be serving me your tea,” Y/N tilted their head.

Zuko mindlessly slipped their hand into Y/N’s, making them tense up once again.

“I- Sorry, it’s just your hand is so soft and it feels cool when I touch it because mine are always warm all the time. Are mine sweaty? Maybe it’s just getting hot-” Zuko pulled back his hand.

Y/N caught his eye and slipped their hand into his. “Don’t worry, it feels right as it should be.”

“W-Well, going back to what we were talking about…” Zuko led Y/N to a table for two and pulled out a finely carved wooden chair that could sit even the King himself. “How about you pay me in a different way?”

The pair both realized what Zuko implied, causing his face to seer over. He slammed his hands down, making Y/N flinch, “Just, uh, wait here!” He trotted to the back of the tea shop.

Y/N leaned into their hands, their elbows on the table supporting their dropping frame. They groaned in exasperation.

I thought my first encounter with this boy set the highest bar of my awkwardness, but now I think this ‘date’ brought it up even higher… People make it so easy in those Ba Sing Se cartoons I watch with freakishly large eyes.

Fumbling footsteps approached Y/N, who creased their robe down and clasped their hands together onto their lap. Zuko held a rectangular box wrapped in brown paper. Setting it down on the table, he pulled out a chair across from Y/N.

Zuko rested his chin on his hand, he looked at Y/N with glimmering eyes. A look of interest and adoration seeped through his face, anyone could’ve seen it, whether he was hiding it or not. He’s only given this face to his Uncle, whom he respected and loved with a full heart.

His long fingers tucked a tuft of hair behind his ear nervously. “What are you waiting for? Open it!” Zuko huffed, “Guess I’ll open it myself!” He slipped his hand over the package.

Still stunned at the unexpected gift Y/N received, they took no action until they heard the first rip of the wrapping paper. “No! I can do it!” Y/N shouted a little too loudly, “I mean, I’ll open it.” Hastily, they tore it apart, the clambering of wooden handles of new brushes and a soft thud of a watercolor block and paints echoed through the tea shop.

Zuko grinned at the sight of Y/N’s face as it glowed with happiness. It looked as if he’d received a new set of art supplies as well.

A sudden wave of guilt washed over Y/N, their upturned smile quickly diminished.

“Huh… What’s wrong? Are these not the ones you had? Did you want a different brand-” Zuko scooped up the art supplies, which was stopped by Y/N’s gentle hand.

“I can’t accept this! Or at least let me pay for it,” Y/N bargained.

Zuko set the gift down, offering them a soft smile. “This is what I was talking about earlier. Will you paint something for me? Could be anything you like.”

“Y-you’d really like that?” Y/N sheepishly asked.

“More than anything…” Zuko cautiously entwined his fingers into Y/N’s, this time Y/N returned it with a gentle squeeze.

“Well, then how about I paint you?”

Zuko was stunned. He rambled, “M-me? Why? I’m not the most pleasing to look at to be honest. I’ve got a scar that’s just so distracting… That’s why I’m growing out my hair-”

Y/N stood up from their seat and leaned over the table to meet his face, bringing a hand to caress Zuko’s jaw. Y/N gave a warm peck of their lips onto the corner of his right eye.

His mouth gaped open as they pulled back and situated themself on the seat.

Y/N held Zuko’s gaze, “A wise boy once told me that just because something seems ruined in your eyes, it doesn’t mean that it’s not a masterpiece to mine.”

𝔼𝕟𝕕𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖 | Okay, Holy Cow. I’m actually really happy with how this fic turned out bc I’ve been too physically and mentally tired lately?? I had a hard time starting this, but I decided to take the safe route and start with scenery.

Were the descriptions of scenery too much? Was the interaction between Y/N and Zuko too short-lived? Let me know!

[My taglist and links to most things are acting WONKY at the moment, if you’d like to be tagged on anything, SEND AN ASK]

#zuko #zuko x reader #zuko imagines #atla #atla imagines #avatar #avatar imagines #zuko fic

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frostmarris · 4 years ago

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notes: hope you enjoy! this ended up being almost twice as long as the first chapter lol but i finally got to the scene thats been in my mind for over a year

Chapter Two

If Deidara was upset when he saw her without the gloves the next morning, he didn't let it show on his face.

Sakura steps out to find him etching shapes into the snow with the toe of his boot, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket and his breath visible in the chill of the winter morning. He looks back as he hears her shut her door, glances to her hands, and turns around to face her with a grin that never falters. She's relieved that he doesn't comment on his gift (or lack thereof) but inwardly feels guilty as she knows he's probably disappointed. But she doesn't want to ruin the gloves by wearing them before they're ready, so she'll take his silent disappointment just for this morning and make sure he sees her wearing them tomorrow.

She has the weekend off, which means today is the perfect opportunity to get the gloves taken care of and run some errands. Of course, she doesn't mention to Deidara that she's not headed to work this morning, wary that he might ask to tag along.

Not that she wouldn't mind him accompanying her for a grocery trip. It's just that her first stop is somewhere… special.

Deidara walks her to the bus stop just like always, subtly hinting for her to drop some sort of baked good off at his place sometime - "Sucks that the apples don't grow in the winter. There aren't a lot of good pie fruits in season this time of year, yeah?" - and she makes a mental note to see what she can find at the farmers market. If she has no luck there, she can always go for canned cherries or just cave and make cookies again.

Sakura waves goodbye as the bus pulls in to the stop and she ends up in a seat on the other side, her window facing the street and not letting her see when Deidara’s smile turns a little sad as he heads home.

She idly checks her emails on her phone as the bus drives its route, getting off at the third stop rather than the fifth. It's a short walk down the downtown avenue, the shops and restaurants not as busy yet as they will be later in the day, until she reaches a small antique store nestled between a smoothie shop and a dog groomer. It's only just opened and Sakura heads in, waving in greeting to the old man behind the counter next to the door.

He looks up from the watch he's tinkering with, easily recognizing Sakura and waving her off.

"Ah, the pink one again," He grumbles, that ever-present grouchy look settled on his face. "Go on, go on. Head on in - and mind the lamp! Some little shit nearly knocked it over last week."

"Yes, sir, of course!" Sakura calls with a small smile as she heads to the back of the shop. "Have a good morning, Mr. Masumi."

He answers with a dismissive, "Bah!" and she carefully makes her way through the crowded, winding path of the antique shop until she reaches a door at the back left corner. Heeding the shop owner's warning, she edges past the lamp settled on the edge of an old dresser as delicately as she can, being sure not to bump the stained glass lampshade with her elbow. Once through the door, Sakura passes a second one on her right marked 'Cleaning Supplies' and walks down the short hallway to the doorway at the end.

This one says 'Employees Only' but she pushes it open anyways, revealing a small, empty room barely bigger than a closet. Sakura steps inside and shuts the door, not removing her gloved hand from the doorknob as she silently counts to 25 in her head.

Once she hits the last number, she turns the knob, pulls it open, and steps out into a park.

The trick had taken some getting used to, as she didn't have any real magic herself besides her accursed touch and her ability to see the dead. So, she'd had many failed attempts of counting too quickly or too slowly before she finally got the hang of it. Now she was able to come and go with ease, well-practiced after a couple years.

Sakura pulls the door closed behind her and, though she can't see it through the swirling mist contained in the space of the stone archway, she can hear it click shut. She quickly steps forward and out of the way in case there are any other arrivals, looking out over the snow-covered park fondly.

Behind her is the collection of four stacked-stone arches, each facing one of the cardinal directions and connected by short stone walls, making a perfect square. The Landing, as it's called, sits in the direct center of the small, secret park, each arch standing tall and strong and older than Sakura knows. Though the tops of the arches and the corner walls are covered with snow, she can still easily see the sigil carved into the front of each keystone, placed there by whoever had crafted the gateways.

The park, formally named Bowerfield after the flowering vines that climb a majority of the trees and those waist-height stone walls (but never the arches themselves, as they're meticulously kept away from the gates so as not to damage them or meddle with the enchantment), was a lucky find on Sakura's part.

She'd been living in the city for a few months and had no idea how to find its secret magical community - or if it even had one - until she'd happened upon a friendly soul (quite literally) who'd told her about Bowerfield. He'd been a witch while living and could tell there was something supernatural about Sakura and, after a seemingly one-sided chat in the city's library, he'd directed her to the antique shop.

And now Sakura can enter the park freely and visit the… special shops situated around the outside.

The buildings formed another perfect square, encasing the park and closing it off to the rest of the city. The few alleys between some of the buildings all ended with brick walls and the shimmering field stretched overhead kept it hidden from outside eyes. It was a more useful feature in recent years due to things like drones, but had been put in place around the same time as the Landing, from what Sakura had heard.

Bowerfield itself was located somewhere in the southern half of the city, but she wasn't quite sure where. And she wasn't about to try to figure it out. So long as she had access to the secret park, she didn't care where it was hidden.

Sakura follows one of the pebble-covered dirt paths out from the Landing and through the trees to get to one of the walls of shops, double-checking the time on her phone to make sure she wasn't too early. Several of the businesses are still closed and there are few people out and about, but she can see the lights of the storefronts and the twinkling Christmas decorations through the last section of trees, welcoming and warm.

There are a variety of shops surrounding the park. Some are specialty stores - a couple witch shops, magical tool repairs, boutiques for less-standardly shaped beings, etc. - that are able to sell their goods and conduct their services openly without the need to hide, like some places outside Bowerfield. The rest are relatively normal businesses - such as restaurants, a laundromat, the salon, a clinic, and a supermarket - but provide a safe space for people who can't easily disguise their more obviously magical features.

It was the perfect place for someone with, say, an extra set of limbs or wings to go shopping for clothes and grab lunch, all without worrying about normal humans spotting them.

Sakura's destination is a small shop on the northeast corner, strings of red and white lights decorating the face of the building and a small flock of black birds perched wherever they could. A couple of the birds - ravens, judging by the size of them - let out harsh calls as she approaches and Sakura sends the familiar birds a quick smile and a wave before she heads inside.

The ring from the bell over the door is accompanied by another bird's caw, this time from a crow that flies overhead inside the shop. It heads to the back to land on the wooden counter, hopping closer to the dark-haired woman currently securing a paper-wrapped package with sturdy string. Another raven stands just next to her, perched on one of the prongs of a driftwood branch attached to the countertop.

The woman glances up and smiles brightly as she spots Sakura, raising her hand in greeting.

"Ah, Miss Sakura! What brings you in so early?" A magpie flies down from the railing of the loft on the second floor of the shop to land on her raised hand, earning itself an amused huff from the shopkeep.

"Good morning, Mrs. Uchiha," Sakura greets, heading for the back of the store and chuckling when a blue jay drifts down from the second level and lands on her shoulder, playing with her pink hair.

The woman sighs but smiles at her, shooing both new birds away.

"I keep telling you to call me Mikoto, dear," She chastises gently, running her fingers down the crow's back. "You've been coming here long enough."

At Sakura's chuckle and nod, Mikoto's smile returns and she finishes tying off the package before securing a leather strap around it. Holding her wrist out to the perched raven, it steps over onto her arm and is then transferred to the package, its talons curling around the handle attached to the strap and soon taking to the air. Carrying the package, the raven circles the empty air of the upper level before flying out an open window high on the front of the shop, disappearing with a short call.

"Now," Mikoto says, turning to fully face Sakura. "What can I help you with?"

"Just the usual," She replies as she digs through her bag to pull out a fresh box of latex gloves and Deidara’s gift. Mikoto eyes the black gloves curiously and carefully takes them as Sakura hands everything over, a red bubble of magic appearing around the items and floating above her open hand.

"Only the normal enchantment, dear?" The witch asks, writing Sakura's name on the outside of the bubble with a finger. "I can add an anti-snagging spell to the black ones to protect the embroidery!"

Sakura smiles and nods, reaching out to let the crow curiously nip at her fingers. "That'd be nice, actually. They're a gift from a friend."

She waves off Mikoto's sly smile and rocks back on her heels as the woman laughs and heads through a door behind her. When she returns, the red bubble is gone and a second crow is perched on her shoulder, eyeing Sakura curiously.

"They'll be ready in a few hours," She transfers the crow to the driftwood perch and starts to ring her up, shooing curious beaks away from the register. "I can have Itachi deliver them if you won't be in the park around then."

"Itachi…" Sakura mutters questioningly to herself, inspecting the little stand of luck charms on the counter before she glances up at Mikoto in confirmation. "That's your eldest, right?"

The witch nods, smiling happily.

"Yes! He's visiting for a few days, so I tricked him into working." Mikoto winks before gesturing over her shoulder. "He's probably back in the aviary finding a spot to hide away in and nap. I swear, that boy's become such a night owl!"

Sakura chuckles, vaguely able to put a face to the name, before perking up and sending her an apologetic look.

"Oh, I nearly forgot. I need a rack of phials or something similar - they work really well for propagating plant cuttings." She smiles sheepishly, hoping the witch wasn't too far in the checkout process to add anything else to her bill. "Is it too late to grab it?"

"Of course not!" Mikoto answers, laughing and waving her off. "I should have something like that up with the potion making tools in the loft, left side. Go ahead and take a look, Sakura dear."

She nods in thanks and heads for the set of stairs against the right wall of the building, quickly climbing up to the second floor. The loft itself only covered about half of the space available on the upper level, most of it reaching out from the back to stand over the check-out and a few shelves below. To the left, an arm of the loft stretches out to the front of the store, connected to the opposite wall of the stairs and just wide enough for a few displays. The main section of the loft only had a few shelves and stands, however, as most of it was clear space to give the birds access to the aviary. Against the back is a single door and several, large, open window-slots, with a few perches jutting out from the wall.

There are a couple other corvids sitting on the perches and watching Sakura as she comes up the stairs, calling in greeting and ruffling their dark feathers. She smiles and quickly steps aside as she hears a caw from behind her, letting a magpie glide past as it flies from one of the three large windows at the front of the shop right through a slot and into the aviary.

Hurrying past in case there are any other arrivals or departures, she moves towards the arm of the loft to find those phials. Typically, only Mikoto or one of her employees were allowed up onto the second level, but Sakura had been visiting for long enough that she'd become fairly good at dodging birds. She usually only visited to get her gloves, both latex and the white cotton ones she used daily, fixed up with an enchantment that protected them from her touch, but it was fun to occasionally browse the shop.

Sakura searches the shelves of bottles and tools used for standard potion making before she finds a metal rack with five glass phials, smiling in approval. As she turns to head back towards the stairs, the door to the aviary opens and a young, dark-haired man steps out. She gets a brief glance into the aviary itself, more corvids flying around the large, dome-roofed room from nest boxes to perches to feeders, but quickly refocuses on the man.

His black hair is pulled back in a low ponytail with bangs framing his face and his eyes, just as dark as his hair, look tired - especially with the dark circles. He's pale, but he doesn't have much skin showing for Sakura to be able to tell if it's just his face's complexion or not, and taller than her by at least a full head. The long sleeves of his black shirt likely keep his arms protected from talons and the collar rises halfway up his neck, neat and trim and only a few stray feathers clinging to the fabric.

He blinks at her before nodding his head in greeting, a crow following him out of the aviary before he can close the entrance. It lands on his shoulder and he reaches up to rub the base of its beak, turning to pull the door shut.

"You must be Itachi," Sakura says, holding the rack of phials carefully so that it doesn't slip against the fabric of her gloves. "It's nice to me-"

"Itachi?!" Comes Mikoto's voice from below, her sudden call making a few of the birds squawk and caw. "Finally out of the back, you lazybones?!"

Itachi sighs and moves his hand to have the crow step off onto his fingers, eyeing Sakura before heading towards the stairs with her.

"Yes, mother," He calls back, just loud enough for her to hear. "I'm here."

"About time!" Mikoto plants her fists on her hips as they come into view, regarding her son with a fond yet motherly-disapproving look. "We've been open for nearly an hour."

He simply bows his head in apology and moves to the counter to collect the other pair of crows, one on each hand and the third perched on his forearm.

Mikoto sighs but shrugs, gesturing to Sakura, who sets the rack on the counter and digs her wallet out of her bag.

"This is Miss Sakura," The witch introduces, disappointed when Itachi only nods again. "She's a long-time customer of ours."

Itachi turns to regard her again, clicking his tongue softly when two of the crows start to squabble.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Sakura," He says politely, finishing her sentiment from earlier. "Can I help you find anything?"

Sakura offers a small smile in return and shakes her head, patting the glass phials gently. "No, I'm all set. Thank you though, Itachi."

He nods again and, transferring the third crow to join the pair on his other arm, heads through the door into the backroom. Mikoto sighs once more when he's gone and sends Sakura an apologetic look.

"He's always been such a quiet boy." She shrugs and turns to grab a pen from a cup next to the register, pushing it and a sticky note pad towards her. "Before I forget, go ahead and give me your address, dear. I left my book at home, apparently. I'll pass it on to Itachi and he'll send a crow from his flock to deliver your gloves when they're ready."

Sakura nods and quickly scribbles down her address, soon helping Mikoto wrap up the glass phials once everything's paid for and tucking the package into her bag.

"Take care now, Sakura dear! It's going to snow again tonight, so watch for ice tomorrow."

She smiles and waves before heading for the front door, knowing the witch's forecast was always more accurate than the weather channel's. More black birds (and the occasional blue jay) caw and take flight as she exits the shop, but she pays them little mind and heads back towards the center of the park. Bowerfield is getting busier now that the day is fully underway and, with no other errands to run in the secret park, she's ready to head back out into the city, take a short walk over to the farmers market, grab some groceries, and head home.

Going back through one of the Landing's portals is a little tricky, but Sakura’s much more confident than she was a year ago. She simply reaches a hand into the wall of swirling mist, feels around until she finds a doorknob, thinks of the antique shop, and opens the door. The familiar muffled creak lets her know she's on track and she steps through the mist, entering the small Employees Only room at the back of the shop.

With the door pushed shut once more, she waits 25 seconds exactly and pulls it open, smiling as she finds the short hallway in front of her once again.

There's a few people idly browsing the shop when she leaves the backroom behind and a couple near the display of porcelain dolls send her odd looks when they see her step out, but Sakura simply heads to the front, offers Mr. Masumi a wave in farewell (to which he replies with a short grunt but a wave in reply as well), and steps out onto the street. The air feels different outside of Bowerfield, but Sakura's sure it has to do with the thrum of magic that fills the park, making everything feel duller by comparison for the first half hour or so that she’s back in the normal city.

She walks back the way she’d come but turns when she reaches the corner of the block, heading into the more shopping-focused area of the city's downtown. It takes her about ten minutes to reach the covered pavilion next to an old brewery, already full of the stands and stalls of the farmers market and bustling with early-morning shoppers.

As she's only only here for a few specific things, Sakura tries to stay focused and not get distracted by the different goods, heading right for a particular product stand that she usually gets veggies from. She pulls a mesh shopping tote out of her shoulder bag and leaves the stand some minutes later with carrots, squash, and potatoes, starting her search for reasonable pie-fruit.

"So, what, I just fuckin' chomp the straw and eat it whole?"

Sakura pauses as she passes by a honey stand, glancing over curiously to see a very exasperated beekeeper and a silver-haired man who seemed to be about five seconds away from taking a literal bite from a honey stick.

"No, sir," The beekeeper says tiredly, obviously trying to resist the urge to run his hands down his face. "You just bite the end to pop it open and then suck out the honey. Please don't eat the tube."

She doesn't mean to eavesdrop, but the conversation did remind her that she was low on honey at home. Might as well grab a jar.

Sakura eyes the man as she steps to the other side of the stall, inspecting a stack of wildflower honey jars but unable to stop from listening in again as he rears back slightly and curls his upper lip.

"Do I look like a hummingbird or some shit?"

She barely suppresses her snicker and the stand owner quickly turns his attention to her, relieved to have someone else to assist. The beekeeper ignores the silver-haired man's indignant huff and stops in front of Sakura, putting on a smile as he greets her.

"Can I help you find anything, Miss? Would you like a free sample?" He gestures to the stacks of jars and bottles, pretending not to hear the other man complain that he hadn't been offered any free damn samples. "The bees we keep produce really great honey - the orange blossom is my favorite."

Sakura chuckles and picks up one of the wildflower jars, passing it over as she retrieves her wallet.

"Just this one, please."

"Excellent choice!" The beekeeper quickly starts to ring her up and the man, who still hasn't left, gives an overly-dramatic sigh.

"Fine, keep your damn sticks. Just tell me where I can find a stand that sells rocks and shit."

The owner groans tiredly but Sakura steps in, fairly familiar with the market.

"There should be one on the other side of the pavilion," She offers, finally taking a good look at the man as he turns to her. His silver hair is slicked back and shiny, just long enough to reach the bottoms of his ears, and his eyes are an odd magenta color, scrutinizing Sakura curiously.

He looks rather out of place with his studded leather jacket and ripped jeans - especially considering how cold it is today - and she's fairly confident that he's never been to the farmer's market.

The man nods and rubs his chin, his jaw sharp and strong, as she continues, gesturing towards the north part of the market.

"They're usually near the people that sell all the house plants and succulents. So look for a lot of green and you should find it."

He looks her over one last time before grinning and raising his hand in thanks as he turns to head the way she’d directed.

"Thanks, lady." The man says, rolling his shoulders to adjust his jacket. "At least someone up here is fuckin' helpful."

Sakura sends his back a curious look as he walks away, but shrugs it off and passes cash over to the relieved beekeeper. With the jar of honey slipped into her tote, she heads off to find her fruit, trying her best to not get distracted again. She keeps an eye out for that odd man but soon gets distracted by another produce stand, grinning at the sight of fresh pomegranates.

Vaguely remembering a recipe in one of her books for a pomegranate pie, she hurries over and starts to pick some out as she tries to recall how many she'd need.

If Deidara wants a pie, he's gonna get a pie.

: :

Sakura's just in the middle of peeling potatoes when something starts tapping at her kitchen window. She glances up, stood at the sink, to see a crow on the windowsill and softly pecking the glass with its beak. It gives a muffled caw and flaps its wings when it sees her looking back at it before hopping down to her small bistro table in the backyard, a wrapped package sitting next to it.

She smiles and slips her rubber gloves off to reveal cotton ones before hurrying to the back door and out into her yard, careful to be quiet so that Deidara doesn't happen to hear her and look outside. Even carrier pigeons aren't exactly a common sight among humans nowadays, so she isn't sure how she'd explain the crow and its delivery.

Closing the door as gently as she can, Sakura steps out onto the snow-covered yard and approaches the table, smiling in greeting at the bird and reaching out to give it a soft pat before she reaches for the package. Unclasping the leather carrying strap, she unwraps the paper partially to make sure it's her gloves before nodding to the crow, humming gently. She gives it a quick scratch under its chin before starting to step away, tucking her package under her arm.

"Wait just a moment, please," Sakura says softly, the crow tilting its head to watch her curiously. "I'll grab you a treat before you head back home."

It gives an enthusiastic caw and she chuckles, hoping her neighbors hadn't heard as she quickly returns to her kitchen. She sets her wrapped gloves on the table before retrieving a shallow bowl to fill with some lukewarm water, grabbing a handful of blueberries, and heading back out. Pleased to see the crow waiting patiently on the bistro table, Sakura moves to clear some snow off before setting the water and fruit down, smiling when it hops closer and eagerly accepts the treats.

"I thought birds are supposed to fly south for the winter, yeah?"

She fully jumps in surprise, startled by the sudden sound of Deidara's voice. Looking up, she sees him leaning out of a window on his second floor and lets out a huff as his grin grows wider.

"Sorry, Sakura," He says, stifling a laugh and crossing his arms as he rests them on the windowsill. "Did I scare you, hm?"

"You just surprised me," She looks back down to the crow, picking up one of the blueberries and offering it to the bird as she ignores Deidara’s chuckle. Relieved that she'd taken the package inside already, Sakura pets its feathers and glances up again when he continues.

"Make a friend? I heard it squawking and couldn't help taking a peek, yeah." He scrutinizes the crow with a curious frown, snorting when it gives a harsh caw and flaps its wings in his direction.

Sakura calms it with another blueberry and steps back when the bird takes off, finished with its delivery and snack. Shrugging, she picks up the bowl and dumps the water out, making a mental note that she really should put a bird feeder or a birdbath out here for future deliveries from Mikoto.

"It was probably just passing through," She answers finally, crossing her arms and leaning against the table as she looks up at Deidara. "I saw it through my kitchen window and wanted to see if it'd take any treats. Maybe I can make friends with a flock of ravens like those stories on the internet."

She deliberately misidentifies the crow but he seems eager to change the subject, propping a first under his chin.

"You got home early, hm. Short work day today?"

Sakura looks away and brushes a bit of snow off her sleeve, barely feeling the chill through her gloves. "I was just out running errands."

"Awww," Comes Deidara's voice, a slight whine to his tone. "I would have come with you if I'd known!"

She doesn't bother to hide her smirk but quickly crosses her arms again when a breeze passes through the yard, trying to suppress a shiver.

"How do you feel about pomegranates?" Sakura asks, changing the subject herself. She plans on making that pie tomorrow, but it'd probably be best to make sure he actually likes the fruit. When she looks up at Deidara, his expression looks rather conflicted and he sends her a slightly disappointed smile.

"Good shit, yeah. But it's cold out; you should head back inside, Sakura," He sighs, obviously wanting to continue the conversation but very aware of how another breeze makes her shiver. "I don't want ya getting sick just 'cause I'm a big chatterbox."

Her smile turns fond and she pushes off from the edge of the bistro table, brushing any lingering snow off of her house robe before raising a hand in farewell.

"See you later, Deidara. Stay warm."

He returns the sentiment, not budging from his spot until she's back inside, and she misses how he looks in the direction the crow had flown. Deidara frowns to himself before finally pulling back and closing his window, locking it with a soft click.

: :

Monday morning, Sakura heads out dressed in her usual white button-up, silk scarf, and long skirt combo. But, this time, she's sure to tug the black, embroidered gloves onto her hands, smiling as Mikoto's enchantment holds and they don't turn to gold. House keys in hand, she steps out to see a fresh layer of snow on the ground and Deidara shoveling his stoop clean.

He looks up to greet her but, at the sight of her hands, he cuts himself off and the brightest grin she's ever seen from him bursts onto his face. Dropping the shovel, he practically vaults over the hedge separating them and stops just short of taking one of her hands in his own, still beaming but looking a little more sheepish as he steps back.

"You're wearing the gloves!" Deidara says, foregoing greeting her as he's obviously too excited. "How do they fit, yeah? Not too tight?"

Sakura smiles gently and he backtracks as she steps down and moves for the street, slipping her keys into the bag on her shoulder.

"Morning, Deidara." They immediately fall into their morning routine as she heads for the bus stop, his smile never leaving his face. "They fit just right. Thank you again."

His grin widens and he rubs the back of his head, avoiding a pile of snow that was most likely hiding a trash can.

"Great! Awesome, yeah!" He nearly slips on a patch of ice in his excitement and Sakura quickly reaches out to catch his arm, chuckling under her breath when his face turns a little pink.

"I-I'm glad!" Deidara says, trying to brush the moment off and recover. "They look good on you."

"You've got good tastes," Sakura replies, holding a hand up to appreciate the embroidery. "The stitching is excellent."

He's got an admirable pep to his step and, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets, Deidara tilts his head slightly as he looks at her, his blue eyes sparkling.

"I can give you a referral if you wanna update your collection. Or get some of the older ones embroidered, hm."

Sakura hums thoughtfully, taking a sip from her thermos. "I might take you up on that, actually. The all-white look is a little plain…"

Deidara’s smile grows all the wider and he's quick to pull his phone out, typing silently for a few moments before he sends her a text with all the information. Sakura feels her phone buzz in her bag but decides to check the address later, instead turning her focus to discussing the benefits of touchscreen-compatible gloves versus the ruined aesthetics of the pad on the fingertips. They chat amicably as they walk, careful of ice and snow on the ground before, eventually, they're at the bus stop.

Sakura inconspicuously brings up pomegranates again while she waits for her ride, planning on bringing the finished pie by his place after she gets off work. She'd overestimated just how many she'd need for the recipe and had ended up with enough seeds for a second pie but, by the time the bus pulled up, she was confident that she'd only be eating one by herself.

Deidara wishes her a good day as she boards and Sakura waves at him through the window once she's seated, pulling out her cellphone. As the bus pulls away from the curb, she checks his text and looks up the shop, saving the location for future reference. Maybe she would get some of her plain gloves touched up with some nice embroidery or something.

The bus ride passes uneventfully and, by the time she arrives at the coroner’s office and gets her assignments for the day, she's pretty sure her shift will pass uneventfully.

That is, until her assistant unzips the black body bag and Sakura finds a vaguely familiar face on her examination table.

Her hands, holding the clipboard and pen, low slightly as she frowns in confusion, trying to recall why this corpse seems so familiar. Jun sends her a curious look and she shrugs it off, beginning her external examination as she pushes her confusion to the back of her mind. She writes down a few notes as she speaks aloud, her Dictophone sitting nearby on one of the counters against the wall and recording her verbal report.

"Identity: Unknown. The victim appears to have suffered a gunshot wound to the forehead," She says, circling the table while her assistant drags the rolling tray of tools closer, waiting for her to give him the go-ahead to start removing the clothes. "Judging by the powder tattooing and seared skin around the entry wound, but the lack of a muzzle imprint, the shot was likely taken at close range, but not in contact with the victim's head."

She moves her head around for a better angle at the hole in the man's forehead, but doesn't reach out to move his hair away from the wound yet. The hole is circular and about half an inch wide, the edges of the skin blackened and burned with a wide zone of powder soot around the entry point. The reddish-brown stippling on the skin (pinpoint abrasions from unburnt powder grains leaving the gun) indicates that the man had been alive when he was shot.

"Complexion: pale. Hair: short and silver. Eyes…" Sakura reaches out and carefully lifts one of the corpse's partially-open eyelids with a gloved finger and pauses at the sight of magenta irises around the dilated pupils. She blinks, lips parted, and suddenly realizes why the man seems so familiar.

"Dr. Haruno..?"

Sakura glances up as Jun calls to her and straightens, clearing her thoughts.

"I'm alright - let's continue."

She takes a much better look at the corpse's face and inwardly confirms that this is definitely the man she'd bumped into at the farmers market two days ago. Vaguely recalling that the report had stated the body had been found outside the hospital this morning, she makes a mental note to read it more thoroughly after the examination.

Sakura always suspected that, one day, she'd end up performing an autopsy on the body of someone she kinda-sorta knew, but this is the first time that's happened. Rather unprepared, she's feeling a little… off her game. But also more intrigued than usual.

She can't help but wonder about the motive, about what had led to the silver-haired man being shot nearly point-blank. The body was in the very early stages of rigor mortis, which meant he hadn't been killed very long ago - most likely just before he'd been deposited on the hospital street. He was dressed in different clothes than she remembered, so he had at least made it home that evening.

"The victim is familiar to me," She says aloud for the recording, ignoring Jun's sudden, shocked expression. "A report will be made to the case investigator after the autopsy is completed."

Her assistant looks like he wants to say something but glances to the Dictophone, so Sakura steps over, pauses the recording, and turns to him.

"You have something to say, Jun?"

"Excuse me, Dr. Haruno," He answers, looking a little embarrassed at having stopped the examination. "Do you… know this man?"

He asks the question cautiously, unsure if she had some sort of emotional attachment to the victim and if he should go get Dr. Sato. But Sakura waves off his question and readies to start the audio recording again.

"I saw him in passing when I was grocery shopping the other day," She answers, shaking her head slightly when Jun relaxes. "I just recognized his face."

The external examination continues and Sakura keeps an eye out for any lingering shapes in the corners of the room. But she finds none, even after the initial review is completed, Jun finishes undressing and bagging the clothes, and they bring the body back from radiology and pin the X-rays up.

Sakura turns the lifeless head to take a second look at the exit wound, having already reported that there don't appear to be any other signs of injury on the man's body. She continues to speak aloud as she measures the larger hole at the back of his head, Jun pulling an empty cart closer as she begins to remove broken, misplaced skull fragments and tries to clear the wound as much as she can. She takes pictures both before and after and then has her assistant clean the wound while she grabs a few more photos of the body, providing evidence that there likely hadn't been a struggle.

Once the exit wound is clean, Sakura moves to take another picture, but pauses as she notices something at the nape of his neck. She rolls the body onto its side and angles the overhead light before grabbing a rectangular magnifying glass off the cart of tools.

"Did you find something, Dr. Haruno?"

She feels carefully at a spot at the back of his neck, just below his hairline and to the left of his spine, with her fingers, frowning as the round, red spot on his skin seems to belong to something hard puncturing his flesh. She glances to the X-rays but doesn't notice anything out of the ordinary.

"The victim appears to have something embedded in the back of his neck," She says aloud, detailing its location before grabbing one of the rulers on the rolling tray. With Jun holding the ruler in place just next to the red spot, Sakura takes a couple pictures and verbally logs the size.

"The foreign object measures a quarter-inch in diameter, is a perfect circle, though slightly jagged around the edges, and is red in color." She exchanges the ruler for tweezers and has her assistant hold the magnifying glass as she attempts to spread the skin around the spot with her fingers, giving her better access to get the tweezers around it. It takes a bit of finessing, but she soon gets a grip on the object and carefully pulls it out.

It's only about an inch and a half long, with one end (the outer end) flat and the other sharp and pointed. Sakura holds it up to the light and notes that the red color is due to the blood coating it and, after placing it in a shallow tray on the cart, moves back to the man's neck. With a little searching she finds a second spot on the opposite side of his spine, perfectly mirroring the location of the first. She repeats the process of describing the foreign object, measuring, and taking photographic evidence, before removing a nearly identical shard.

With both items placed in the tray and the ruler held next to them for reference, she takes another few photos before sending Jun to clean them.

"Is it glass, doctor?" He asks as he takes the tray. To which Sakura answers with a curious, "I don’t think so."

While he cleans off the shards, she examines the wounds left behind, takes another photo, then rolls the body onto its back once more.

Once everything is clean and Sakura can better identify the foreign objects, she realizes they're small crystals of some sort. The edges aren't perfectly smooth like quartz - instead, they jagged and ridged, but run evenly down the length of the crystals, as if someone had taken hundreds of incredibly thin sticks and fused them together. They are white but not completely opaque, allowing the blood to reflect through and make the flat ends look red from the outside.

She recalls how he'd been looking for a 'stand that sells rocks and shit' and can't help but wonder if it was connected.

Sakura takes several pictures from different angles before bagging the shards for evidence and making a note to try to identify them later when she was on her computer. Returning to the autopsy, she takes tissue samples for histology and blood for toxicology and typing before turning the examination inward.

The organs are measured and weighed, checked over for any abnormalities, and returned to the body. With no evidence of soft tissue trauma or even a single broken bone -

(It's rather odd, she can't find any signs of old injuries, not even scars from childhood. For such a rough-looking guy like she remembered, it was strange that he seemed to have not retained evidence of a single even mildly serious injury in his life.)

- anywhere besides the hole in his skull and the bullet path through his (otherwise normal) brain, the case is shaping up to be a fairly standard gunshot-wound-to-the-head homicide.

Besides the odd crystals she'd found stabbed into the nape of his neck, of course.

Sakura stitches the body back up, returns it to its bag with help from Jun, then approves it to be taken down to the morgue while she compiles her findings. All the while, she searches out of the corner of her eye for a lingering spirit, disappointed when she finds none.

It wasn't uncommon. Sometimes souls passed on by themselves without her aide or simply wandered off elsewhere. But, she can't help admitting that she is curious about this case and wishes she could speak one last time with the silver-haired man and find out what might have happened.

For now, however, she has other cases to attend to.

: :

It takes some searching, but Sakura eventually identifies the crystals as selenite.

She lingers on a web page describing its 'abilities' in aiding in sleep and deep peace for a moment before closing the tab and adding her find to the report. She'd already called the investigator in charge of the case to set up a time to talk about how she'd seen the man before and was now mostly through with her reports for her other cases and recordings for the day. He still hadn't been identified and no one had come forward with a missing person's report, but he'd technically only been dead for about twelve hours, so it might be a while before someone realizes he's missing.

It was hours later now, already past the end of her day, and Sakura debates opening back up that tab she'd just closed, wondering if the crystals were toxic. But, she's tired and it's been a long shift, so she'll save that idea for tomorrow and finish downloading her audio file and photos for the silver-haired man's case before locking up and heading home.

She leans back in her chair and balances a pencil on her upper lip as the files upload, alone in her office as Sato had already left for the evening. Her gaze crawls over to the corner of the room every so often, still hoping his spirit would appear, but she truly is completely alone. When her computer alerts her that the transfer is complete, she takes a moment to scroll through the photos and pauses as she realizes she'd missed something.

Though she had pictures of the silver-haired man with the trail of blood running down his face and his hair in a disarray, she'd apparently neglected to take a photo of him all cleaned up and his features much more identifiable.

Sakura curses under her breath, drops her pencil in a mug of pens, and slips the memory card back into her camera. Quickly emailing the audio recording to the transcriptionist, she closes down her computer, grabs jer coat and bag, and decides to get a picture before she goes home. Leaving her office, she heads down to the changing room next to the lab but forgoes changing into her scrubs. Instead, she simply swaps Deidara’s gloves for a latex pair, tucking the former in her skirt's pocket, and steps into a pair of sterile booties to cover her shoes.

She keeps her coat folded over her arm and her camera in hand as she heads to the pair of swinging doors that lead down to the mortuary. Once through the entrance, she follows the sloped incline path on her right down to the sub-level. It turns once, doubling back in the direction she'd come but still in a descent, and the stone walls, painted white, are far enough apart for her not to feel claustrophobic. There's enough grip on the shoe coverings for her to not slip on the linoleum and she passes a janitor swabbing down the flooring, raising a hand in greeting.

It's always quiet in the Northwest building, as the doctor offices and patient rooms are in the East wing, but it's late enough in the day that most employees have already gone home. Sakura isn't too bothered, as she's used to staying late, and she enters the morgue fairly quickly after swiping her ID card when she reaches the locked pair of doors at the end of the sloped hall, heading for the wall of steel fridges. There's only the single entrance into the chilly room, with the ramped corridor leading upstairs rather than an elevator to better transport bodies up to and down from the pathology department, and it's completely empty - besides whatever's in the coolers.

There's a tall rolling table near the entrance, the metal top covered by a long sterile sheet that someone had left out. The edges of the fabric reach down to the floor on three sides and Sakura clicks her tongue at the sight, wondering who'd neglected to put it up, but deposits her coat on top of the table anyways. She searches the wall of body drawers for the right label and eventually opens one of the doors, pulling the sturdy metal tray holding her mystery man out of the just-under 40 degrees Fahrenheit cooler. Making sure her latex gloves are secure, she pulls the sterile sheet covering the silver-haired corpse down to mid-chest and looks over his admittedly handsome face one last time before brushing his hair away from the hole in his forehead and raising her camera.

Sakura takes a couple photos before reaching out to lift an eyelid, needing to get a shot of his eyes.

She jerks back with a startled gasp, however, bumping the tray with her leg, as she finds those magenta irises surrounding constricted pupils.

Hand on her chest and her eyes wide, she stares at the body for a long moment, wondering if she'd just imagined that. Pupils are supposed to be dilated after death until rigor mortis makes the body's muscles begin to tighten once more. And the frigid temperature of the drawers was supposed to postpone those effects; he shouldn't have entered that stage yet.

Sakura keeps staring for a moment, noting that she'd disturbed his arm when she bumped the tray and it was now hanging limply over the edge. Taking a breath and inwardly telling herself that she'd been mistaken, she steps forward and moves to lift his arm back up onto the metal top, but pauses as she notices something on his palm. Holding his wrist, her eyebrows furrow in confusion as she inspects the odd symbol drawn on the palm of his hand, absolutely certain that it hadn't been there before.

She traces a gloved finger over the curves of the line but freezes when the dark brown mark begins to turn red. When it starts to glow, Sakura quickly shoves his arm back under the sheet, covers his face again, and moves to push the tray back into the fridge. Something was going on and she wanted no part in it.

She stops mid-push, however, at the sound of a loud thud out in the hallway and glances over her shoulder. It must just be the janitor but Sakura steps away from the corpse anyways, leaving the tray pulled completely out, and approaches the double doors of the morgue.

The two doors, sturdy and coated in a sheet of sterile metal, have twin windows at the top third and she curiously peeks out into the hallway, her eyes going wide as she sees the janitor collapsed on the ground. The upper half of his body is just within view and the rest is out of sight around the corner of the turn in the hall and Sakura hurriedly moves to grab her ID card. She pauses as she pulls away from the door as her eye catches movement and she watches as the janitor's body is dragged out of sight, leaving a trail of blood on the linoleum.

Slapping a hand over her mouth as she gasps, Sakura quickly pulls away from the door and presses up against next to it, no longer within sight through the window. She takes a breath and just barely peeks over the edge, her stomach dropping as she spots two figures dressed in black rounding the corner.

Heart pounding, she ducks down, backs away, and searches for another exit, though she knows there aren't any.

But the soft groan from behind her makes her freeze and, reluctantly, Sakura slowly turns around.

The body of the silver-haired man is sitting upright on his tray, a perfect 90 degree angle and the sheet still covering his head. As his hand raises to slowly pull the cloth down, the symbol on his palm glowing bright red and an unwounded forehead coming into view, Sakura can hear the beep of the scanner outside the mortuary as an ID badge is swiped. She shoots a quick glance over her shoulder, filled with panic, and grabs her coat before diving under the tall table nearby.

She takes just a moment to right the edges of the sheet laid out over the table, the uncovered fourth side luckily being the one that's pressed against the wall, and lays as still and as quietly as she can.

Listening to the sound of the doors opening, she can hear a quiet conversation abruptly stop as the intruders undoubtedly notice the moving - living? Reanimated? - corpse. All is quiet for a moment and Sakura is able to peek out from under the sterile curtain hiding her just enough to see shoes near the doors.

She can't stop how she jumps when there's a sudden gunshot but does manage to hold back her startled shout.

Ears ringing and the floor cold under her, pink eyebrows furrow at the indignant, "What the fuck," that comes from the direction of the silver-haired man.

"You fucking shot me, asshole!" Comes his familiar voice again and she watches one pair of boots rush towards him.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Growls a new voice, followed by a grunt.

"Same question to you, jackass!" Another grunt and Sakura can hear bare feet hit the ground and the sound of two bodies struggling to grapple each other before another gunshot. This time it's muffled and, from her left, she can see knees hit the ground hard and a puddle of blood quickly drip onto the floor.

"Quit it!" His voice again, but he sounds more annoyed than a man who'd just been shot - again - should be.

(Well, maybe the annoyance was justified. But there wasn't any panic or fear in his tone.)

"That fucking hurts, you shit-for-brains! And not even the good kind!"

"Shut your damn mouth before I blow your brains out." The second man's hiss is furious and he obviously doesn't appreciate when the silver-haired should-be corpse laughs.

"Too late!"

"What's he doing here, Sakon?" Comes a new voice, Sakura's head turning to look in the direction of the third man. "Why's he- Is he naked?"

The conversation and scuffle abruptly ends as they all, Sakura included, hear the sound of someone running down the incline hall above. They're headed down for the mortuary and a low, quick whistle from 'Sakon' has the other man moving away from the open door to crouch down next to the table she's hiding under.

She freezes and muffles her breathing in the fabric of her coat, glancing from the shadow to her left to what she can see of the exit just a few feet away from her. The footsteps slow as the new arrival approaches the doors and she can hear the click of a gun being readied next to her.

"Hidan?" Comes a cautious voice, and Sakura's heart nearly drops at the familiarity of it. "What the fuck did you d‐"

"DUCK!"

The shout was preceded by a grunt and a yelp and then immediately followed by the newcomer dropping to the ground and the sound of a gun being fired just seconds later. There's a chorus of curses, grunts, and shouts and the sound of fists hitting flesh until everything falls quiet again.

"Alright," Says intruder #2, panting and still standing just next to Sakura's hiding spot. She can see another pair of boots just in front of his own and guesses that he'd grappled the newcomer into a hold and was likely threatening him with his gun.

"Let my brother g-" He cuts himself off and Sakura looks out to her left, bare feet planted behind another pair of boots and facing the men next to her. "Wait, you don't even have a weapon!"

She moves her gaze to the unblocked, still open door, trying to determine how long it would take for her to scramble out from under the table and run for the exit. As silently as she can, she removes the plastic coverings over her shoes.

"I don't fuckin' need one when I've got this!" Silver-haired man says, probably showing off… something that warranted a growl from the intruder and his apparent brother.

"What the hell are you snakes even doing here, hm?" Comes that painfully familiar voice. Sakura bites her lip and stays silent, waiting for some sort of opening as she moves her knees under herself.

"None of your business. Now shut up before I put a bullet in your chest. I know you won't heal like loudmouth over there."

She hates that she can't see much of anything, just the white fabric walls around her, but listens intently to every sound and movement. It's all she's got to give her some idea of what's going on above her, trying to figure out where all of the men stood based on what she can see of their shoes and her knowledge of the mortuary's layout.

There's another grunt and the sound of a gun muzzle being jammed harder against a body before she sees newcomer's boots slowly turn and plant more firmly on the ground.

Though Sakura isn't able to see the silent conversation that passes between two of the men's gazes, she's acutely aware of the low humming that suddenly starts to build near the wall of fridges.

"What the fuck is that noise-?!" 'Sakon's' question is abruptly cut off by a sudden crack and boom and Sakura glances over just as a body hits the ground and the slack face of man she doesn't recognize comes just barely into view. She sees pale blue - nearly grey - hair and green-painted lips and hears a furious shout from above her, followed by a gunshot and a second body collapsing next to the first. There's the sound of grunts and muffled punches and the splatter of blood and Sakura knows this is her chance, while everyone is either distracted or incapacitated.

As the newcomer drops down and rolls to avoid a shot from the remaining brother, she tears her latex glove off with her teeth and reaches one hand out to touch the boots still stood next to her hiding spot.

They instantly turn to solid gold and, as he takes a step to go after the man with the horribly familiar voice, the new heavy weight of his shoes takes him by surprise and he falls forward. Sakura scrambles out from under the table, clutching her coat and camera, and races out of the room, just barely catching a glimpse of a blond-haired man's back as he crouches down behind a counter across the morgue.

Her gaze meets a shocked black eye and a face identical to the one she'd seen just moments earlier but she's already out the door and around the corner before she can really think on it. Nearly tripping on the janitor's body as she races up the hallway, Sakura stuffs her camera in her bag, still on her shoulder and crossed over her body, and curls her ungloved hand into a fist. She keeps it held close to her chest but doesn't let it touch her clothing and, once she's shoving through the swinging doors and back on the upper floor, she runs for exit to the loading bay near the storage room.

The heavy doors are propped open, a disturbing sight, but she races through them anyways and enters the delivery dock just as she hears distant gunshots from behind her.

It's only once she's a full two blocks away that she stops running, panting heavily as she leans against a brick wall and tries to catch her breath. She hadn't been followed, fortunately, and she debates calling the police, groaning as she slides down to collapse on the concrete.

She knows she should but she can't bring herself to do it, recalling that voice she knows so well and that familiar blond hair.

What was Deidara doing there? He'd called the other man, the silver-haired corpse, 'Hidan', which meant he knew him. It couldn't have been a coincidence that he'd just randomly showed up either. Something was going on and Sakura neither knew nor wanted to find out.

She shivers as a cold breeze passes through the street, bringing a fresh snowfall with it, and takes a deep breath to calm herself down. Her coat is still folded over her arm, but she needs to get her ungloved hand covered before she can even attempt to put it on, not wanting to ruin it and have to lug it back to her home.

A few snowflakes drift down and land on her curled fist and she curses under her breath as they turn to gold before they can even begin to melt against her skin. The light from the street lamps catch on the golden snowflakes as she shakes them off her hand and she digs around in the pocket of her skirt for Deidara’s gloves, glancing down the dark street.

Sakura's stomach sinks when she only finds one of the black gloves.

She hesitates, digging around in her pocket again and then searching through her bag just in case, before finally standing. Luckily, the remaining glove is just the one she needs and she worriedly tugs it on, one hand covered with black and the other with latex. A look back the way she'd come confirms that she hadn't dropped it just now and she pales slightly, realizing it likely fell out of her pocket when she had left her hiding spot in the mortuary.

Running a hand nervously through her hair, she stands there on the street for a long, long moment, staring back in the direction of the hospital, before finally turning around. She pulls on her coat and crouches down to collect the golden snowflakes, her expression grim, until she's satisfied that she's found them all.

Straightening up, she sends one last glance over her shoulder before hurrying down the street to find a bus stop. She needs to get home.

#akasaku #multisaku #deisaku #sakura haruno #sakura fic #thirrinwrites #thirrinfic #midas touch #honestly its too late at night to be posting an update but i couldnt help it

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pilot-boi · 4 years ago

Text

New Residents: Chapter Two

Tennants

They gained a dog, and it sets in even more that Ren is the only adult in a thousand clicks

AO3 LINK

The Berry rattled as Ren steered carefully through an asteroid belt. The handling on the ship wasn’t meant for sharp turns and quick maneuvers. He heard Petey and Jaune both yelp in surprise as the Berry turned nearly on its side. Ren quickly corrected their angle, silently praying that the crates in the hold would be able to stand the tossing and turning.

“You two okay?” He called back.

“We’re good,” Jaune said. Another sharp turn had him throwing his arms even tighter around Petey, trying to keep her from slipping from his grasp.

“Just a little bit more,” Ren said, mostly to the ship. It shuddered in response. They really needed the cash from this job, just to fix the Berry. As their destination came into view, Ren took a risk and put on a burst of speed. He flinched when he heard something scrape along the top of the ship.

“What was that?” Jaune yelped. “Did you hurt my ship?”

“No?” Ren said, the word coming out more of a question than he liked.

The ship finally broke free of the asteroid belt, and Ren let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d be holding. The trade planet of Tregtar was approaching quickly, and Ren let the Berry slow down as they prepared for landing.

“Well, that could have been worse,” He muttered to himself.

---

“You did hurt my ship!” Jaune exclaimed, aghast, sitting on top of the Berry, elbow deep in the mechanics of it. “Fortunately, it’s just a scratch. I don’t think it got to anything internal.”

“That’s good,” Ren said into his communicator, heaving the crates out of the hold. None of them were damaged, luckily. Petey slept next to him, curled up on some empty sacks.

“Nope. Spoke too soon,” Jaune said, sighing. “The AI got hit. It’s totally busted.”

“Maybe we can find someone here who can fix it?” Ren suggested, closing the hold door.

“Sure hope so,” Jaune said, slamming the panel shut. “Or we’re stuck here.” He slid down back into the ship and emerged a few minutes later. Ren was shaking hands with a bird-like alien that clacked its beak a couple times and then handed Ren an envelope.

A few more of the bird aliens carried the crates away while Ren checked the money. His face told Jaune that they’d been paid more than they should have been, but they weren’t about to tell their employers.

He pocketed the envelope and gave Jaune a thumbs-up.

Jaune tapped his watch a few times, pulling up a map of the local area. “There’s a town a little ways from here. Not huge, but hopefully we can find someone there who can help us.”

Ren nodded. They had more than enough to pay for an AI fix-up now, not to mention everything else wrong with the Berry.

“Where’s Petey?” Jaune asked.

“Inside,” Ren said. “She was sleeping in the common room last I checked.”

Jaune went back inside, running to their common room to check up on her. He hadn’t found a leash that would stay around her neck, yet, so they were going to have to leave her while they found a technician.

“Uh, Ren?” He called out.

“Yeah?”

“She isn’t here.”

Ren walked into the room. “Maybe she just moved to one of the other rooms?”

“You check upstairs. I’ll take this floor,” Jaune said.

When they reconvened, neither of them had found Petey.

“Maybe she slipped out when I was unloading the crates,” Ren said. “She can’t have gone far.”

Jaune was starting to panic. Their dog was gone. What if she got hurt? What if someone took her? What if she didn’t come back? What if… what if…

“Jaune!” Ren grabbed Jaune’s shoulders, holding him until his breathing evened out. “Snap out of it! Standing around worrying isn’t going to help us find Petey any faster.”

Jaune nodded, gently pushing Ren off of him. “I know, I’m just- I don’t want anything to have happened to her.”

“I know,” Ren said, leading Jaune outside. “We’ll find her.”

Petey wasn’t anywhere around the Berry. She wasn’t within ear shot. She always came when Jaune called. She must have gone towards the town, drawn in by whatever delicious smells were coming from there.

---

“Petey! Come here, girl!” Jaune called, a few aliens on the street giving him odd looks.

“Petey!” Ren yelled. “Petey, come on!”

No response. Jaune had to admit, he was starting to get tired. They had been searching for hours. He wouldn’t stop until he found Petey, though. Just a breather. A small but bright bar at the end of the street caught his attention, and he pointed it out to Ren.

“Maybe she went in there?” he suggested. “We could check, and rest our feet a bit.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Ren said. He didn’t look as tired, but Jaune could tell that even he was slowing down.

They entered the bar. Burnt neon lights decorated the walls. A few plants were placed in strategic corners. The place smelled like meat and beer. A few patrons sat at the bar, or at the various tables placed around the floor. No Petey in sight.

“I’m going to get some water,” Jaune told Ren. “Look around the back? Maybe she tried to get some scraps from the garbage.”

Ren nodded, “Get some for me too. My throat is dying.”

Jaune nodded back and sat down at the bar. The bartender, a Ninkain, stood behind the counter, polishing a glass and humming to herself. She looked up when Jaune collapsed onto one of the stools.

“You look like you’ve had a rough day,” she commented, speaking quickly.

“You could say that,” Jaune said. “Can I get some water?”

The bartender looked surprised that Jaune didn’t order something a bit stronger, but she complied anyways. “Your friend looks like he’s looking for something,” she observed as she poured Jaune’s glass, glancing behind him as Ren walked back into the bar and looking him up and down.

“Our Dulcosi,” Jaune said, resting his head on the bar. “She ran off while we weren’t paying attention, and now we can’t find her anywhere.”

“What color is she?” the bartender asked, handing Jaune his water. “I think I might have seen one nearby.”

Jaune’s head jerked up. “She’s green, and responds to Petey.”

Ren came up behind Jaune, “Have you seen any Dulcosi that look like that? We’ve been searching for hours and we’re worried about her.”

“Give me a minute,” the bartender said. “I’ll be right back.” She retreated to the back of the bar. Ren and Jaune exchanged hopeful looks.

The woman came back out with an orange humanoid android wearing a bright green hoodie. He looked nervous, and the bartender appeared to be reassuring him as the two approached Jaune and Ren.

“This is Oscar,” the bartender said, flipping her vibrant orange hair out of her face and gently forcing the android to take a step closer to the bar.

Oscar waved, forcing a nervous smile. “Hi. You guys are looking for your dog?”

“Yes,” Jaune answered. “Have you seen her?”

Oscar nodded. “Yeah. She was wandering around outside. She wasn’t wearing a collar, and I didn’t want the animal control to get her, so I brought her inside.”

Jaune nearly vaulted over the bar. He wanted to grab and shake the information out of the android, but he was worried that he’d short the guy out, he was so anxious. “Where is she now?” he asked, standing up and almost knocking over his glass.

“She’s in the back right now,” Oscar said, startled by Jaune’s sudden movement. “I’ll go get her.” He quickly scurried to the back.

“Nora, by the way,” the bartender said, taking Ren’s hand and shaking it and giving him a wink. “My cousin runs this joint, but I help out when I can.”

“Nice to meet you,” Ren said, and Jaune was sure that if he could, that a flush would be spreading across his stone cheeks. “I’m Ren, and the impatient asshole is Jaune.”

Jaune frowned. “Dude, uncalled for.”

Before Ren could say anything else, Oscar reemerged from the back, carrying Petey carefully. The moment she saw Jaune she jumped out of Oscar’s arms and onto the bar, covering Jaune’s face in slobbery dog kisses.

“Oh my god, I missed you,” Jaune buried his face into her neck. “Don’t scare me like that, girl!”

“You two don’t happen to know a mechanic who could repair a damaged AI, do you?” Ren asked, pulling Nora and Oscar’s attention away from the happy reunion. Jaune wasn’t going to look up from Petey for another ten minutes or so.

Oscar and Nora exchanged looks. “I’m a mechanic,” Nora said, slowing her speech patterns for the first time since they’d met. “I should be able to fix your ship.”

“I know some things about ships too,” Oscar said, tapping his head. “Not how to actually fix it, though.”

“Any help is good help,” Ren said.

---

“Yeah, the router is totally fried,” Nora said, taking Ren’s hand as she climbed out of the Berry. “You’re going to need a replacement for that, as well as a few tweaks to the code. How hard did you hit this thing?”

Ren winced. “Pretty hard. An asteroid scraped along the top as we were getting out of the Muyeog belt.”

Nora frowned, hands on her hips and a frown on her face. “Oscar should be able to help with the coding, and I can show you where to find the parts you need.”

“I’ll come with you,” Ren volunteered. Nora grinned brightly and he averted his eyes again. “Jaune and Petey can stay here with Oscar. We don’t want her running off again.”

“Good idea,” Jaune said. “I should totally stay here with Petey. I should always be on Petey duty. Never let her out of my sight.”

Ren chuckled. “Sure,” he said, shaking his head.

“Let’s go now, while the good shops are still open,” Nora said. She and Ren waved goodbye to Oscar and Jaune and started down the street.

“So…” Oscar said, awkwardly shoving his hands into his pockets. “You like… dogs?”

“Love ‘em,” Jaune said, rubbing Petey behind the ears. “You, uh… You gonna get started on that coding?”

“Oh, right!” Oscar scrambled out of the room. Jaune followed right behind, making sure Petey followed before he let the door slide shut. He wasn’t letting her out of his sight for a while.

Oscar went to their control room, pulling up the coding on the main console. Jaune sat behind him, pulling Petey onto his lap.

“You’re the only crew members?” Oscar asked, beginning to go through the ship’s main coding.

“Yeah,” Jaune said, patting Petey’s belly. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“No!” Oscar quickly corrected. “I mean, most ships have a doctor or something, and someone who can do repairs. Sometimes a bodyguard. I’m guessing you guys are transporters?”

“Something like that,” Jaune said. “We just do odd jobs, really.”

Oscar nodded and went silent as he dove deeper into the coding of the Berry.

Uncomfortable silence.

---

A couple of hours later, Ren and Nora returned. Oscar had finished with the coding several minutes ago, and Jaune had been trying to keep up a conversation with the anxious android.

Oscar seemed reluctant to tell Jaune much of anything about himself or Nora, but he had also seemed adverse to staying silent.

Ren walked right into the ship, carrying the parts. He gestured for Jaune to follow, while Nora pulled Oscar aside and began whispering to him.

“So, Nora and I got talking,” he started, setting down the parts they’d picked up, “and we could really use someone with her level of expertise on the crew. Apparently Oscar’s got some medical knowledge too, and is really good at coding.”

Jaune looked over at the two. It wouldn’t hurt to have more people on board, especially since he and Ren were barely managing this ship with just them.

“She’s talking to Oscar about it right now,” Ren continued. “As long as you’re okay with it, we should be good to go once she convinces him to come along with us.”

“Fine by me,” Jaune said. “I doubt that crash is going to be our last. We’re going to need a good technician.”

“Also with how much you get hurt we need someone with medical knowledge,” Ren said, ignoring Jaune’s indignant protest. “Face it, dude. You’re danger-prone.”

Jaune frowned and muttered, “It’s not that bad.”

“Even when we were kids, you couldn’t stop going into the hospital,” Ren said. “And it didn’t stop when you went off to the GAAP Academy, either.”

“I didn’t say I was against having a doctor,” Jaune said, still frowning. “It’s still a good idea.”

Nora and Oscar walked up just as Jaune finished speaking. Oscar was nervously tapping his foot and his hands. Nora was giving Jaune and Ren a Cheshire grin.

“We’re both on board. That offer still open?” Nora asked, still smiling.

“We’ll help you get your things from the bar,” Ren said, taking Nora’s hand and shaking it. “Welcome aboard the Berry.”

#rwby #jaune arc #lie ren #nora valkyrie #oscar pine #mine #my writing #space rwby #new residents #chapter 2

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snappedsky · 4 years ago

Text

Fanatics 79

A mysterious threat is making it's way towards Earth, and the Battalion have to work fast to destroy it.

*Links to previous and next chapter in reblog*

Trouble through the Milky Way

Pluto. An adorable, little planet beloved by many on its far off neighbor, Earth. It floats quietly in its cold, dark orbit around the sun, minding its own business.

Then it’s blown to bits.

A small ship flies by. It would be nondescript, if it weren’t for the giant plasma cannon grafted to its underside.

A few lightyears away, Lard Kio watches the vessel through her distance viewfinder on the Resisty ship. She immediately calls Zim.

On Earth, the sun is just barely peeking over the horizon. Zim is sleeping lightly in his bed when a beeping sounds through his base.

“Master,” the Computer says while Zim’s eye cracks open. “You are receiving a call from Kio.”

“Transfer it to my phone,” Zim orders as he sits up and grabs his cell phone. He answers the call and Kio’s face appears on screen.

“Zim, we got a big problem,” she says sternly.

He listens intently as she quickly explains the situation.

An hour later, Dib, Gaz, Tak, and Pepito gather sleepily in Zim’s lab- except for Tak, who is wide awake.

“There better be a good reason for waking me up before 6,” Gaz growls.

“There is,” Zim replies from his chair at the main computer. “Pluto has been destroyed.”

“No! Not Pluto!” Pepito cries in distress.

“What could destroy Pluto?” Dib asks.

“Not ‘what’. ‘Who’,” Zim explains as he pushes a button on the keyboard. A blurry image of a small grey ship with a disproportionately large cannon appears on the screen. “We’re not sure who they are, but they appear to be heading straight for the Earth. And with firepower like that, they can cause a lot of damage to the planet. At their current rate of speed, they will arrive by tomorrow morning. But because we do not know the range of their cannon, we have to assume we have less time than that. We have to stop them before they can get close.”

“How do we do that?” Pepito asks.

“Can we use the Epic?” Gaz suggests.

“It doesn’t have any weapons yet,” Zim replies, “and going up against a ship in space without our own vehicle is just plain stupid.” “So we gotta stop it from the surface,” Dib muses, “do we have any weapons that’ll work?”

“I have an Irken Surface Cannon at my base,” Tak replies, “I just don’t have any mortar shells for it.”

Dib rubs his chin with consideration. “Can you load it with other things?”

“If they fit properly, sure.”

“Then what about…the Blissful?”

“The Blissful?” Gaz scoffs, “you mean that giant bomb you, Tak, Squee, and Maddie made for that science fair a couple years ago?”

“Yeah,” Dib replies, “presumably it should be incredibly powerful.”

“Presumably,” Tak repeats emphatically, “we were never able to test it.”

“But it is highly unstable,” he points out.

“You say that like it’s a good thing,” Pepito grimaces.

“Shouldn’t we tell Squee first before we try to use it?” Gaz suggests.

“That would be the polite thing to do,” he agrees, “I wonder what he’s doing right now.”

Squee is fast asleep in his bed, his face pressed into the pillow. Beside him, Nugget is also asleep, her claws restlessly kneading Squishy Pete.

“There’s no time to call Squee,” Zim points out, “what if he doesn’t answer? We can’t wait for a response. We have to act now.”

“Fine,” Tak groans, “where is it?” “I helped put it in Squee’s basement,” he replies, “it should still be there. We will have to remove it and transport it to Tak’s base.”

“So we have to get into Squee’s house,” Pepito’s states, “I think Devi has a key so she can clean while they’re away.”

“We need to work fast,” Zim declares, “let’s go.”

They leave quickly and fly the Epic across the city to Devi’s building. After setting down in the parking lot, they hurry up to her apartment and knock until she answers, looking none too pleased.

“Ugh, it’s you guys,” she groans, rubbing her tired eyes.

“Hi, Devi,” Pepito waves, “sorry but this is an emergency.”

“What is it?” she asks impatiently.

“We need into Squee’s house,” Dib replies, “you have a key, right?”

“Yeah, hang on,” she says and ducks back into her apartment. She comes back after a few seconds with a single, bronze key. “Here. Just give it back to me later.”

“Thank you,” Pepito chimes and they hurry away as Devi closes the door.

Wasting no time, they fly over to Squee’s house and park at the curb. They rush up to the front walk and use the key.

The kids stand uneasily on the front step as the door loudly creaks open. It seems to echo ominously throughout the dark house, the early morning sun barely filtering through the boarded-up windows.

“Wow,” Dib comments, “this place is uh…kinda creepy without Squee here.”

“Let’s just get into the basement and get the bomb,” Zim orders and steps into the house. He freezes, a chill shooting up his spine. He suddenly has the feeling that he shouldn’t be here. But he quickly shakes it off and glares at the others. “Let’s go. Hurry up.”

Zim marches through the living room and Tak, Dib, Gaz, and Pepito quickly but cautiously follow. As they head to the hallway, they’re all constantly glancing around warily. They’ve been to a lot of haunted locations before but somehow this feels worse. Not haunted exactly, just…forbidden.

They finally reach the basement door and Zim pushes it open. It creaks open even slower than the front door did, revealing a much darker room.

“Where’s the light?” Gaz asks.

“There isn’t one,” Zim replies as an electric torch pops out of his PAK, illuminating the area. It’s a completely empty room with a sudden drop near the opposite wall. Zim points to it. “The bomb is down there. I remember Johnny and Squee bringing me down there.”

They quickly cross the empty room and peer over the gap. There’s just a ladder leading down into more darkness.

“Right,” Tak grunts and nods at Zim. “After you.”

Zim glares at her for a second before descending the ladder. One by one, the others follow.

It’s only a couple feet to the bottom floor and they all look around as they hop off the ladder. They’re in another mostly empty room that leads to a large hallway, lit by flickering, fluorescent bulbs in the ceiling. Somewhere down the ladder, the normal drywall of the house changed to cement blocks that make up the entirety of the hallway. There are stains on the walls and floor that the kids try to ignore as Zim points to the only object in the room.

“There it is,” he says.

The Blissful: a giant, round, silver bomb with a purple smiley face with closed eyes painted on it. Five feet in diameter and over 150 pounds, it is practically just a container sloshing with volatile, explosive liquid.

“It should fit in my cannon,” Tak says, “now, how do we get it out?”

“The same way I got it in,” Zim replies as he extends his spider legs. Using lasers, they cut out a large section of the ceiling and set it aside, creating a hole to the surface. The kids are all slightly relieved to see sunlight.

“Tak, you stay down here while I-,” Zim starts to explain before he’s cut off.

“Why do I have to stay in the creepy basement?” Tak snaps.

“What, are you scared?” he jeers.

“Of course not.”

“Then stay down here while I lift everyone out,” Zim orders, “once I’m out, you’ll help me lift the bomb up to the surface and Dib can bring the Epic around.”

“Fine,” she huffs and eyes the spooky hallway. “Just…be quick.”

Dib, Gaz, and Pepito hold onto Zim’s spider legs as he lifts them all up to the surface. Then he crouches next to the hole and lowers his spider legs down.

“Okay, Tak, gently lift the bomb and pass it to me,” he demands.

She seems to ignore him as she stares suspiciously down the hall.

“Tak,” he says louder.

“What?” she questions, looking at him. “Oh. Right.”

Using her spider legs, Tak gently lifts the Blissful and passes it to Zim. He carefully lifts it through the hole and rests it on the ground.

“Alright, Dib get the car,” Zim orders. Dib nods and quickly hurries around the houses back to the street. “Tak, let’s go.”

Again, she doesn’t reply. She just stares down the hallway, her eyes narrowing.

“Tak!” Zim snaps but she doesn’t hear him.

Far down the hall, a bloodied hand slaps down on the floor just barely in view, clawing at the stone. An inhuman groan echoes off the walls.

Tak’s eyes widen and her spider legs shoot up, hoisting her out of the hole.

“Seal it, hurry,” she orders frantically.

Not knowing what she saw, Zim is slightly taken aback, but nevertheless he obliges. He quickly picks up the section of the ground and slips it back into its hole.

With the basement sealed off, everyone suddenly feels more at ease, and they heave a heavy sigh.

“Okay. Let’s agree to never go down there again,” Gaz says and everyone nods.

After Dib comes around with the Epic, Tak looks at Zim and asks, “now what?”

“Now is the really tricky part,” Zim replies, “you and I are gonna have to ride on the roof and hold the Blissful steady while Dib flies to your place.”

“Good luck with that,” Pepito comments as he and Gaz get into the car. Then Zim and Tak climb onto the roof. With their bottom two spider legs, they hold onto the vehicle while the top two hold the Blissful in between themselves.

“Okay, Dib, take it slow and steady,” Zim orders.

Dib carefully raises the Epic into the sky and flies slowly over the buildings. Everyone is tense during the ride. If they drop the bomb, it could very well decimate the city. Dib just tries to focus on keeping the car steady and hopes a bird doesn’t fly into them.

Thankfully, they reach Tak’s base with incident and Dib parks on the curb. Everyone gets out while Zim and Tak carefully lower the Blissful to the ground.

“Alright, ready up your cannon,” Zim orders.

“Already on it,” Tak replies as she grabs a remote from her PAK and pushes a button.

The roof of her house folds up as a giant, silver gun rises up on a tall pedestal. In front of the gun is seat with a monitor and control panel. Tak pushes another button on the remote and a space opens up at the bottom of the pedestal, just big enough for the Blissful.

“Let’s load it up,” Tak says and they shove the big bomb inside and seal the door. As it rises up the pedestal and loads into the cannon, she climbs up to the monitor and sits in the chair. Zim quickly follows her and hangs off the side to watch, leaving Dib, Gaz, and Pepito to stare up at them.

“Okay, just have to find the ship,” Tak muses. As she searches through coordinates on the control panel, the monitor displays different parts of space until finally landing on the familiar, grey ship.

“They’ve blasted a hole into Jupiter!” Zim cries, “we have to hurry.”

“Locking on,” Tak says and a crosshairs appears over the ship on the monitor. “Let’s hope this works.”

She hits the big, red ‘FIRE’ button and a loud *boom* echoes over the city as the Blissful is shot out. The kids watch it fly into the sky until it disappears.

It breaks through the atmosphere, the friction causing its volatile fluids to heat up, and flies through space at an extremely high velocity. The passengers on the ship just barely see it coming.

The explosion can be seen from Earth as a star that lights up then quickly dies out. The Battalion immediately erupt into cheers, jumping up and punching the air.

“I can’t believe that actually worked,” Gaz remarks.

“I knew it would!” Dib grins.

“I cannot wait to tell Squee about this,” Pepito exclaims.

While they celebrate, Zim and Tak watch the explosion on the monitor, satisfied with the smoke that fills the screen. But as they start to hop off, Tak notices something.

“Wait,” she says, “something’s happening.”

Zim looks back at the screen just in time to see five objects exit the smoke.

“The passengers survived,” he snarls.

“They must’ve used escape pods,” Tak exclaims as they look up at the sky.

Dib, Gaz, and Pepito don’t realize right away that something’s wrong until Gaz notices the Irkens. “Something’s wrong,” she says.

They all look up and watch for something. For a second, nothing happens. And then they see five things appear in the sky.

“They’ve broken through the atmosphere!” Zim exclaims.

They watch the objects plummet like tiny particles in the distance, each landing in a different spot. Then Zim and Tak jump to the ground.

“We got an alien invasion,” Zim declares, “one of them seemed to have landed not far from the city. If we leave now, we might catch them.”

The others nods and they quickly clamber into the Epic and take off. Zim flies them quickly towards the site of the closest crash. As they near it, they spot a plume of smoke.

A small, round pod has crashed into field just outside the city, causing a small crater. The Epic lands and the Battalion hops out, weapons at the ready, just as the hatch opens.

Out tumbles a short, black alien with a pair of large, compound eyes and four spider-like legs. She hasn’t noticed the Battalion yet as she coughs and picks herself up.

“Hey, I know you!” Pepito exclaims, “it’s Uu!”

The alien looks up at them in surprise before crying out in an alien language. She attempts to scramble back into the pod, but Zim’s and Tak’s spider legs lash out and grab her. They hold her overhead, and she glares at them.

“You’re one of Carcas’ soldiers,” Zim says.

Gaz groans exhaustedly as she rests a hand on her hip. “I hope Squee’s at least having a good day.”

Most mornings start early in Cammie’s house; especially when the smell of waffles is wafting down the hall. Everyone quickly gathers in the kitchen as Squee readies their breakfast.

“I hope they’re good,” he says as they dig in.

“So good,” Johnny chimes with a mouthful.

“Crispy outside, fluffy inside,” Cammie remarks.

“You should do the cooking more often,” Thomas comments.

The Night Terrors are too busy quickly stuffing their faces to say anything, which is complimentary enough.

Squee beams happily before sitting down to enjoy his own breakfast.

#invader zim #invader zim fanfiction #johnny the homicidal maniac #johnny the homicidal maniac fanfiction #iz jthm crossover #myart #myocs

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knightmaring · 4 years ago

Photo

tw self harm, blood, mentions of abuse, murder, death.

The stones were placed deliberately, a winding maze stretching out of the cave's mouth. He didn't know if Deimos was the god or hero of his people's religion, but it was a vital part of his identity and one of the only ways he could think to explain to his father.

Hudson sets the last stone in place and grabs his bag, pulling out a paper house. "Hey, Deimos..." he calls out to the night sky. "Dad or father. I don't know what you want me to call you, but, uh, it's me? Hudson. Your son." He steps forward into his maze. "I'm not really good with words and I don't know what sort of ...offering you're expecting." He continues on, winding around and into the cavern's mouth, swallowed by its darkness.

"I hope you don’t mind if I explain a few things first.” This wasn’t an offering of fear, because despite the fact that his father was the literal god of fear, Hudson didn’t feel… scary. Sure, people were intimidated by his stature and sometimes his skin color, or the simple fact that he was a man, but for the most part Hudson felt like a hamster in wolf’s clothing. “It’ll make sense in the end, I hope.” His heels click against the hard rock of the cave’s floor, each step accompanied by a soft jingle of the bobs of his spurs.

“My life's been... rough." He murmurs, licking his lips nervously. "The first five years my sisters and I, we were on and off the streets, in and out of foster care. Until we met Craig," he pauses and sets the house down on the floor between his boots. "It was the first real home we had and he was real nice, at first." Pulling his dagger from his belt, Hudson cuts the back of his hand. Blood trickles down, spilling around the paper house. "I was five years old when he married mom, and once that happened, it was like a light switch went off on him."

Shuffling forward, Hudson continues onward, a hand on the cave's wall to guide him. "I met Mr. Floyd a few months after that. Really cool dude. Taught me and my sisters a bunch of stuff. He's got a raccoon, Dipshit." Hudson pauses again, rummaging through his bag until he finds what he's looking for: a paper raccoon figure. "Mr. Floyd taught me to shoot a bb gun." He says, setting it down between his feet and repeating the process of cutting himself.

"We used to practice behind his shop on pictures of famous people. I got really good at it." He grins at the memory, finger gunning the darkness with a soft pew.

The grin slips away and he's back to wandering the maze nature had built into the mountain, a hand pulling out another paper creation from his bag. Calloused fingers rub at the folded edges of a gun. "Craig got worse. Mom didn't want to leave because we'd be without a house or food, which meant we'd get torn apart again... I was scared he might kill her or my sisters one day." He drops the paper gun, pressing the knife to his hand until he feels the sharp stick and the wet slick of blood again. Hudson lets out a hiss of pain. "So, I killed him. Pew!" Hudson mimics the finger gun motion again. "Right through his left eye."(edited)

The demigod grows quiet, frowning in the darkness. "The cops came and took mom away. My sisters and I ended up in foster homes. Separated." He pushes onward, the sound of ruffling wings and soft chirps from the cave's ceiling draw his gaze upward. Bats, he figures. "I bounced around a few homes after that, but the worst house was the Young’s. They used to put stuff in my food at night." His voice dips down to a strained, barely audible whisper. "I dunno if it was so I wouldn't fight back or if they thought I wouldn't remember, but---" Hudson's voice cracks and he stops, heart hammering in his chest. "I remember bits and pieces of what they did to me. Sometimes, I'll remember new things."

Hudson drops a paper cross to the ground, letting more blood rain down. A gust of wind that brushes past him, a soft flapping of fleshy wings trailing it. "Don't worry, life got better after that--- Some law got passed not too long after that and me and my sisters all got to go live with my grandma." He drops a little bird to the ground and continues with his trek. "Then, Mr. Floyd helped my mom get out of prison and they got married!" A blood slick paper ring is dropped.

"Things were good for a few years. For me, at least. My sister Denver had a harder time," he explains. "Craig had beat her real bad when we were young; got nerve damage in her leg. So, she was in constant pain... and," with his bloodied hand, he pulls out a paper hawk. "She lost hope that it'll ever stop hurting, that the chaos in her head will ever stop without the heroin." Kneeling to the ground, Hudson sets the bird down gently. "I got selfish, started spending more time with a girl in school---my first ever girlfriend---and I was barely home. Barely around to see Denver, to listen to her, to be there for her." He draws a fresh cut across his palm, wincing as he deepens it, almost as if he were punishing himself. "She got into a car accident. Killed some wealthy white dude who was out biking and drove off."

For a moment, Hudson simply sits there, letting his palm make a mess around the paper bird. It was one of the best years of his life, but all the good and happiness he experienced seemed small and insignificant when held up next to the heartbreaking events that lead up to his arrest and imprisonment. "We lived in Arizona, so you know, my sister coulda been tried as an adult even though she's just 16 and if that'd happened, then she woulda ended up on death row." A tear streams down his cheek. "So, I took the fall. I got that trial and ended up with that sentencing. She went to rehab, about four times. Then she overdosed five years later. I wasn't there for her again. I couldn't even attend her funeral.”

He sniffs back the avalanche of snot threatening to break free. "Prison sucked. Got stuck in the system for eight years, but thanks to a bunch of laws, my sentence was reduced to life in prison, then reduced again, and then commuted." He hisses as he pushes himself up off the cavern floor and presses onward. "Bounced around between jobs, bought my first house," if a mobile home counted as a house. "I was pretty active in the local anarchist community, and then uh, well, I ran for a city council seat... and I won."

He feels out the paper creations in his hand, and tosses the one he was fairly certain was a rainbow. "I jokingly proposed we legalize gay marriage in the city... as a publicity stunt for gay tourism, and uh... well, my bill passed." He lets out a laugh. "Yeah, the state government sued and apparently, that was the nail in the coffin for it to get bumped up to the Supreme Court." There's pride radiating off him. "Funny, huh? Bunch of scared old geezers suing us because they're afraid other cities in the state would copy cat and they'd be known as a gay state... well, their fear backfired on them real hard."

This was dragging on, and while he knew gods technically had all the time in the world, he suspected they also had the shortest attention spans in the world. "I met the love of my life a few years back," his grin softens into a pained smile. "Gideon, he's the most beautiful man I've ever met. He swept me off my feet with just a smile.” The lawyer was all sharp edges, cool as a cucumber, but there was a softness in his gaze when he looked at Hudson. Even his touches were soft, handling the demigod as if he were a delicate work of art. Hudson had never felt so cherished in his 30 years, and it hurt to think he might never experience that again.

“Dude was a cop---well, a prosecutor, which is just a cop with a college degree. He didn’t want to be one, he wanted do civil rights stuff, but his dad wouldn’t let him. It got him killed---he got him killed." The memory of him trying to stop Gideon from bleeding out comes rushing back to him. He sinks to the ground, a paper daffodil and heart in hand and simply breathes. Moments pass in silence before he speaks again. “I’m not telling you this so you feel bad for me. Life isn’t life without a bit of pain.” Granted Hudson had a whole lot more than a bit. “I just wanted to show you that no matter how many times my life went to shit, I kept at it and I’ll keep fighting because I have hope.” Hope that he could beat whatever evils that threaten them. Hope that he can make the world a better place. And hope that he can get Gideon back, no matter what it’ll cost him. He sets the last two of his paper creations down. “That’s what I’m offering.” He lets his head fall back against the hard cavern walls, staring up at the squeaking abyss above him. “I won’t stop no matter how hard it gets.” Suffering and hope went hand in hand. You couldn’t have one without the other. “I promise.”

A trail of blood, sweat, tears, and fears turned into hope.

#gsdrtask01 #@gsdrtask01

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years ago

Text

Best of Me -Chapter 47

Warnings: none

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @alievans007, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @ocfairygodmother

He takes the three oldest out to breakfast before school. It’s an attempt to kill two birds with one stone; spend time with them before heading to The Kimberley for four days, and to try and repair some hurt feelings. There’s still some lingering animosity being in those little bodies; moments when they remind of him the time he’d ‘taken mommy away and kept her away forever’ and how it felt like he was ‘gone for centuries’. It’s been almost seven months since he both took the McMann job and -regrettably- gotten his wife mixed up in it. He hadn’t realized at the time just how damaging that entire experience would be for the kids. Having both their parents away, and then sending them away with Ovi; staying in hotels and eating crappy food and travelling through four states before winding up at a stranger’s place in Oklahoma.

It had been done to protect them; keep them away from home and hopefully keep McMann’s people from finding them. But he’s never actually told them THAT. The nightmares caused by the knowledge of him going after bad guys had been bad enough. Telling them that the bad guys had been after them would have meant years...if not decades...of intensive -and costly- therapy. Ovi had tried his best to keep things calm and relaxed; attempting to convince the kids that they were on an adventure and trying to fill their days with new sights and new experiences. He’d grown up a lot in those two weeks. Suddenly responsible for four lives on top of his own; innocent little being totally dependent on him to keep them safe. But he’d come through; he’d done exactly what he’d been told to and had come back with everyone happy (relatively), healthy, and unscathed.

But despite Tyler's best intentions and efforts, it had negatively affected them. Especially HIS prolonged absence. Things weren’t magically better the moment they were reunited in the driveway at their old place in Colorado. Even with all the hugs and kisses and the tears of relief and happiness, the kids had been angry. Furious that he’d had the nerve to not only take their mother away from them, but that he’d stayed away for an uncharacteristically long time. For two weeks they all refused to sleep in their own rooms; five bodies all shoved into the queen sized bed in the master. They’d alternate nights when it came to bad dreams; no evening passing without one waking up kicking and screaming and sometimes wetting the bed or throwing up. Night terrors that consisted of the ‘bad guys’ coming to the house and either kidnapping them or doing horrible things to their mom and dad in front of them.

Once they moved to Australia things began to calm down. In the kids’ minds they were on the ‘other side of the world’, which put them far enough away from the guys that it may as well have been in another universe. And once the initial hostility of being uprooted from the old house and their old lives wore off, they had begun to thrive. Happier in their new home and in their new country.

He herds them into a smaller family restaurant in the downtown core; the fingers of one hand hooked in the back of both boys’ t-shirts, a hand on the back of Millie’s head. Always keeping them within a couple inches of him and his eyes constantly surveilling everything around them. Aware of every car that passes by or door that slams too loudly. Every pedestrian that walks past them on the sidewalk or lingers in store entrances or on front porches; defenses up when any time he feels as if someone is paying too much attention to them or comes a little too close. All of his senses running on high and his instincts sharp; his brain constantly processing everything and anything that happens around them. Functioning as both old Tyler and new Tyler; the two managing to coexist, at least temporarily. He’s confident in his skills and his abilities; he knows he’s able to keep them safe and that if a threat does arise, old Tyler will be one that reacts to it.

There’s an empty booth at the very back of the restaurant; enabling him to be able to sit facing the door. And the moment they arrive at it the bickering begins; who gets to sit next to the window, who gets to to order first when the waitress arrives, demands that no one orders the exact same thing because ‘that’s copying and copying is annoying’.

It’s surreal how drastically the direction of your life can change. Almost seven years ago he was standing in that squalid apartment in Dhaka surrounded by street thugs; mentally deciding in which order he was going to take them out in order to rescue Ovi. Now he’s breaking up fights over who gets to sit next to him and which napkin and cutlery belongs to who. You don’t know patience...true, unwavering patience...until you have kids. It doesn’t matter how much you pride yourself in how calm and collected you are while on the job; surrounded by tension and danger. Because nothing...and no one...tests your nerves and your sanity quite like a dramatic and ‘extra’ almost six year old and two five year olds who find it impossible to sit still.

After a brief game of ‘guess the number I’m thinking of between one and ten’, everyone is finally settled. The waitress coming to take their drink order and leaving them with menus and crayons for the kids to use to colour on the paper tablecloth. A victorious Tanner sitting between him and the window, and TJ and Millie across from them; as far away from each other as possible on the small bench. They’ve been at odds since leaving the house, bitter with one another after they’d fought over who would be the last one to kiss mommy goodbye.

Tyler watches his daughter from across the table; amused -and slightly disheartened- by how much older she suddenly appears courtesy of the sullen, if not overly dramatic, expression. Her elbows resting on the table top and her chin planted in her upturned palms; eyes narrowed as she alternates between looking at the menu and glaring at her little brother as he has the nerve to entertain himself by creating a pyramid out of coffee creamers. ‘Little brother’ doesn’t adequately describe the kid; he’s only eleven months younger but has three inches and fifteen pounds on Millie. He’s tall and solid; all torso and long limbs.

He wants to tell his daughter to stop being so much like her mother, but nothing could be further from the truth. That expression, that steely glare, that attitude...it’s all him. And he sees the look of disgust she fixes on him when he removes his baseball hat and runs a hand through his hair. The top is starting to come in; he’ll take the clippers to the back and sides while he’s away.

“What?” He asks, and places the hat and his sunglasses on the bench beside him. “What’s that look for?”

“You’re not really growing that stupid hair cut back again, are you?”

He smirks. “What if I am? What if your mom likes my hair that way? Tanner has the same hair cut. Doesn’t look stupid on him.”

“And it’s not stupid anyway,” TJ pipes up. “It’s a bitchin’ haircut. I wish I had it.”

Tyler reaches across the table to lay the tip of his index finger against the tip of Millie’s nose, pressing lightly. “Why so grumpy?”

“I’m not grumpy,” she mumbles, and pushes his hand away.

“You look grumpy.”

“That’s just her face,” Tanner says, not even looking up from the game he plays on his dad’s phone.

“Bruh,” TJ grins. “That was savage. But so good. And so true.”

“When did you become the mean brother?” Tyler asks, playfully digging his elbow into his son’s side.

“She called me a bitch baby last night,” he explains. “Because I didn’t want to go into the woods without Ovi with us. We’re not supposed to go in there without an adult. Without your mommy or Ovi. But she wouldn’t listen.”

“You went in there by yourself?” he addresses his daughter.

“I stopped her,” Tanner says. “That’s why she called me a bitch baby.”

“Even though he tackled her,” TJ chimes in. “In the middle of the road! It was awesome. He’s not very big, but he’s strong as hell. Like mommy. Small but strong. Mommy can pick up both of us. At the same time!”

“I’m not THAT small,” Tanner frowns. “I’m almost as big as you, Teej.”

“On what planet? I got tons on you. Like daddy does on mommy. Daddy’s like a giant and mommy’s just tiny. But she scares me more than daddy does. She yells louder. A LOT louder.”

“I’m not scared of mommy,” Tanner says. “She’s nice to me because I listen to what she says. You just ignore her and then she gets mad and we all pay for it. If you’d just listen the first time…”

“Daddy doesn’t even listen the first time.” TJ points out.

“And then he wonders why she yells at him,” Tanner retorts. “‘Cause he annoys her.”

“I’m sitting right here,” Tyler reminds him. “When do I annoy your mom’?”

“All the damn time,” TJ sighs. “And then she gets bitchy. Like Millie. But Millie is way bitchier.”

“I’m not bitchy,” Millie scowls. “You’re just a dick.”

“Okay...enough…” Tyler pleads, noticing both the amused and appalled looks nearby diners are giving them. “Can not act like a normal family for once? What did I say before we came in here? What did I say not to do?”

“No fighting,” Tanner says.

“No bad words,” his brother adds.

“And no annoying each other. Or me. And you’re doing both. So stop. Or I’ll leave you all here and make you walk to school.”

“Mommy would be so pissed,” TJ declares. “She’d be mad at you forever.”

“She’s always mad at me about something. And you…” he looks at Millie. “...you know not to go into the woods alone. You want a dingo to eat you?”

“I wish one would,” TJ says, and then holds his hands up in surrender when his father glares at him. “She said she saw some lady go in there and told her to stop because that’s part of our house but the lady didn’t listen.”

“What lady?”

Both boys shrug.

“I didn’t see sh…” TJ bites his tongue when Tyler stares at him pointedly. “...I didn’t see anything. Ovi went and checked but there was no one there. He couldn’t find anyone. He said it was probably just someone trying to get to the beach without going on our property.”

Tyler turns his attention to Millie. “What lady?”

“There was no lady,” TJ insists. “No one else saw a lady.”

“I’m talking to your sister, you mind? What lady?”

“I don’t know,” Millie shrugs. “But there WAS a lady. I saw her. Just like I saw that guy in the Jeep in front of Salena’s house.”

“That’s not even her name,” TJ says. “She was lying to us. The whole time. That’s a shitty thing to do.”

Tyler frowns at him. “Excuse me?”

“A crappy thing to do. Sorry! It just came out. Maybe if you watched YOUR mouth around little ears….”

“How’d you like to walk to school?” he asks, then gives a polite smile and a nod of thanks to the waitress that refills his coffee and brings chocolate milk for the kids.

“You wouldn’t do it. Mommy would make you sleep on the couch forever.”

“I saw her daddy,” Millie insists, tone -and eyes- serious. “Remember how I saw that guy in the Jeep? Just like you did?”

He nods.

“Well I saw her too. Ovi asked me to get the mail so I did and that’s when I saw her and I tried to yell at her and stop her but she just ignored me. That’s why I tried to follow her and then Tanner stuck his nose in it.”

“Because we’re not allowed in the woods by ourselves,” Tanner informs her. “Daddy said when we moved there that we weren’t allowed because there’s bad things in there and we could end up hurt. Or dead. Do you want to end up dead? Because that’s how you end up dead.”

“That’s not how daddy almost ended up dead,” she points out.

“‘Cause the bad guys tried to kill daddy but didn’t,” TJ says. “Because Uncle Koen says daddy’s too stubborn to die. How do you know the lady wasn’t a bad person, Millie? She could have been a bad person and what would you have done? Nothing. She would have killed you.”

“Okay…” Tyler sighs heavily and runs a palm over his face. “...let’s NOT talk about bad guys and people dying. Or not dying. Just stop. What did the lady look like?”

“I still say there was no lady,” TJ grumbles.

“She kinda looks like Auntie Nik,” Millie says. “The same color of skin. Maybe a bit darker. But she had the same color hair and it was really long. She had it in a ponytail but it was still as long as mine.”

“You remember what she was wearing?”

“Of course I do. I notice things. She had on jeans and a black t-shirt and a green jacket like the one you have. And red shoes. Like purple ones that you bought mommy for Christmas.”

“Converse.”

“Yeah. Those ones! She had a pair of those on. She was kind of young. Maybe mommy’s age. Or a little younger.”

“Mommy’s old,” TJ declares. “She’s not young.”

“Don’t you EVER let her hear you say that,” Tyler warns. “And she’s not old. I’m older than she is.”

“Uncle Koen says you’re as old as Jesus Christ,” Tanner says. “The person. Not the swear word.”

Tyler smirks. “He did, did he?”

Tanner nods. “And mommy’s not old Teej.”

“She had all of us. She has to be.”

“Doesn’t mean she’s old because she had all of us. Just means her and daddy like to make babies. Doesn’t mean she’s old. Daddy’s old.”

“Excuse you,” Tyler nudges him with his elbow. “I’m only five years older than your mom is.”

“Your forty,” Millie points out. “That's super old. You have gray hair.”

“Because of you guys.”

“We don’t give your gray hair,” his daughter huffs.

“Mommy gave it to him,” TJ says. “‘Cause she’s a pain in daddy’s ass. That’s what he says all the time. That she’s a pain in his ass and drives him crazy. Right, daddy?”

“Don’t throw me under the bus.”

“You’re the one who said it! That mommy’s a pain in your ass. Uncle Koen said you’re lucky to have her. That she puts up with you. That tons of guys would want her and if you don’t, someone will take her off your hands and take her away.”

“He said that?”

“I don’t want some guy taking mommy away,” Tanner pouts. “I don’t want her leaving. She wouldn’t leave us, would she, daddy?”

“She would never...ever...leave you guys.”

“Then you better make sure no one steals her away,” Tanner says. “‘Cause I like the mom AND dad I have. I don’t want another mom or dad. That would suck, having another dad. He’d probably be some loser that doesn’t do cool stuff with us like you do.”

“He probably wouldn’t let me surf,” Millie adds, and sips her milk. “Or take us camping and fishing. And he’d probably be mean to us. And to mommy. You can’t let someone take her, daddy. I don’t want another dad. I want you.”

“No one is going to steal your mom away,” he assures them.

“The guy at the grocery store likes her.” TJ says. “The one that drives the Mustang and has the man bun. The one that called her a MILF. Whatever that means.”

Tyler frowns “Someone called her that?”

“The guy at the grocery store.” TJ sighs. “Mommy told him to F off. ‘Cause he got too handsy.”

“He what?”

“He touched her butt,” Millie says. “He said it was an accident, but I think he meant it. Mommy told him to F off and that she’d tell her husband and that you’d go there and break him in half. Could you really do that? Break him in half? ‘Cause I want to see it if you do it.”

“Of course he can break someone in half!” Tanner exclaims. “He killed somebody with a rake!”

TJ frowns. “That’s our last name.”

“It’s also a garden tool, dumb ass,” Millie huffs. “And it wasn’t one person, Tanner. It was two.”

“How do you guys even know that?” Tyler asks. “Because I know mommy wouldn’t tell you.”

“Ovi was telling Uncle Koen and Nathan,” Millie replies. “We just overheard it. Is it true? Did you kill two people with a rake?”

“Maybe…”

“I would have liked to have seen that,” TJ says. “Are you going to kill the douche at the grocery store? For touching mommy’s butt?”

“Maybe I should.”

“Daddy could totally kill that loser,” Millie enthuses. “I think you should do it. Break him in half. Can we watch?”

“No one is breaking anyone in half. Or killing anyone. What is wrong with you?”

“But you could, right?” she inquires. “Break him in half?”

“Of course he could!” TJ exclaims. “Look at the size of him! 0ne of his hands is bigger than your whole head. And you have a big ass head.”

“And look how big his arms are!” Tanner adds, and attempts to wrap both hands around one of his father’s biceps. “Look! They’re huge! I can’t even put my hands around one! He could totally break that guy in half!”

“I wish you would,” TJ says. “No one touches mommy like that. Only you’re allowed. We can touch her too, but that’s different because she’s our mom. She gave birth to us. Me and you at the same time, Tanner. However THAT worked.”

“Everyone knows how babies come out,” Tanner informs his brother. “The doctor opens the mommy’s tummy and pulls the baby out, right daddy?”

“Sometimes, I guess. That’s not how you guys got out, but…”

“How come TJ got to go first?” Tanner asks. “How come I didn’t get to go first?”

“I have no idea. It just worked out that way.”

“And how come I was by myself?” Millie inquires. “Why didn't I have a partner?”

“Because your brothers are twins. You’re not. You were alone.”

“You couldn’t have given me a twin? Like asked God or whoever or whatever?”

“That’s not how it works.”

“I’m so confused,” she sighs. “I don’t even know HOW I got in mommy’s tummy, never mind how I got out. And I couldn’t even have company in there? That’s some bullshit.”

The waitress chuckles as she arrives with their food. “You’ve got your hands full here, dad.”

“You think? And this is them behaving.”

“It could be worse,” TJ says. “There’s two more of us at home. A baby brother and a baby sister. Like, a baby, baby. Like tiny. Really tiny.”

“She sounds like a kitten when she cries,” Tanner adds. “‘Cause she’s so small. And she looks like mommy. We look like daddy. Not Addie though.”

“How do babies get out of a mommy’s tummy?” Millie inquires. “Daddy won’t tell us.”

The older woman laughs, then pats Tyler on the shoulder. “I think I need to bring you an entire POT of coffee.”

****

“How come we don’t get to come?” Millie asks, as they walk hand in hand down the path at the back of the school, the boys already running off to play soccer with friends. “How come we have to stay here but you and mommy get to go away?”

“Because sometimes, moms and dads need to be alone.”

“Why?”

“Don’t you want to go and play with your friends?” Tyler nods in the direction of a group of girls gathered on the playground, calling to Millie and waving her over.

“No. I’d rather stay with you. I can see my friends whenever. And when you leaver, I won’t get to see you for a while.”

“I’m not going to be gone that long,” he reminds her, and tightens the elastic holding her braided ponytail together.

“Long enough. Remember when you said you wouldn’t go away again? When we were at our old house and we had to go away with Ovi and then you were home when we got back? Remember?”

“I remember.’

“You said you wouldn’t go away again. And now you’re going away. And you went away two weeks ago! To visit Uncle Koen.”

“I was gone for one night.”

“Still,” she sighs as she lets go of his hand, then crosses her arms over her chest and she looks up at him. “We still miss you. Even if it’s just one night. You said at our old place that you wouldn’t go away again.”

“This is different.”

“How?”

Because that was for work. This is because your mom and I need some time alone together. Adults sometimes need that. And mommy and I? We desperately need that.”

“Why?”

“Look, when you’re married and have kids, you’ll understand. But right now, you’re only five…”

She glares up at him.

“..almost six, and you don’t need to know how or why or any of that. Just mommy and I need to be alone and that’s all that you need to know. And we’re going to go and be alone and we’ll be back on Tuesday.”

“Why so long?”

“It’s four days. That’s not long.”

“But you said…”

“I know what I said. And I told you, this is different. Back then was about work, and this is about spending time with your mom. Adult time. No kids allowed.”

“You’re not going to bring me back a baby brother are you?”

He chuckles. “That’s not how it works, kiddo.”

“Are you and mommy going to MAKE me a baby brother? ‘Cause I’d rather a puppy. Or another sister. Please not a brother.”

“We can’t make you a brother OR a sister. We can’t make any more babies.”

“How come? If you made five of us already, how come you can’t make more?”

“Because we can’t.”

“You’re only allowed five? Is that a rule? You can’t have more than that? What if Addie had had a twin? That would have been six! And what if Austin was still here? Does that mean Addie wouldn’t be allowed to be here? Because she’d be number six.”

Tyler frowns. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“I’m curious about the world. Mommy says I’m a free spirit. I don’t know what that means, but it sounds cool.”

“I think your mom’s right.”

“So if Austin was alive, I’d have an older brother right?”

Tyler nods.

“Better than younger brothers. Older better are better. Would he like me?”

He runs a hand over her hair. “I think so. He’d be a lot older than you, though. He’d be sixteen.”

“Do I look like him?”

“Kind of. I guess. I dunno.”

“I bet I’d like him. I had a dream about him the other night.”

Tyler arches a brow. “You did?”

Millie nods. “We were surfing together. I didn’t even know who he was at first because I’ve never seen a picture of him. I only know what you told me about him. But said who he saw and that he was my older brother and that he was there watching me. I was kind of scared at first. When he said that. But then he smiled and he ruffled my hair like you do, and everything was okay. I knew he wasn’t there to scare me or hurt me.”

He merely nods, fighting back the tears that threaten and swallowing around the lump of emotion that sits in his throat. It isn’t so much grief anymore; he’s moved on with his life and became a dad again and can’t imagine NOT having Millie or her siblings in his life. It’s more her view of what happened. It’s innocent and it’s pure and she has no idea that if Austin were still here, she probably wouldn't exist.

“Mommy gets sad when I ask about him,” Millie continues. “Even though he wasn’t hers. I think she’s sad for you. She said that he was still here, I probably wouldn’t be. Or any of us kids. That you and her probably never would have met. Is that true?”

“It’s a possibility. I like to think I still would have met her and fell in love with her and married her. And had all you guys.”

“Do you ever wish that he was still here and we weren’t?”

“You know what…” Tyler scoops her up with one arm and settles her on his hip, then presses a kiss to her forehead. “I would never...EVER...wish that in a million years. Because I love your mommy and I love you and your brothers and sister. I can’t imagine NOT having any of you.”

“Do you miss him though?”

“Sometimes. I used to miss him all the time. And then you came along and I got to be a dad again and it made a lot easier to deal with. And if weren’t here? I’d be pretty sad. I’d miss you a lot.”

“How much?”

“A hell of a lot.”

“I’d miss you too. I always miss you. I wish you weren’t going away. AND taking mommy with you. Won’t you and mommy miss us?”

“Of course we will.”

“Won’t you be bored without us?”

“I think your mom and I will find things to keep us busy.”

“Like what?”

“Like things you don’t need to know about.”

“How come there’s so many things I don’t need to know about yet?”

“Because you’re just a kid. And mommy and I are adults who do adult things. And you don’t need to know what those are.”

“Please no babies,” she begs.

“I already told you…”

“I don’t get why you can’t have more.”

“Amelia…”

She giggles and pulls his baseball cap off, then puts it back on backwards. “Daddy…”

“I’m not telling you where babies come from or how they’re made. But nice try though.”

“I’m nothing if not persistent.”

He laughs. “I think there’s more of your mom in you than people realize. This lady that you saw…”

“I DID see her. She was real. I swear.”

“I believe yo. And when you get home from school. I want you to tell the neighbor about it. About what you saw and what she looked like, okay?”

“Don’t make me talk to her,” Millie pleads. “I don’t like her.”

“I know you don’t. But I still want you to tell her. Please? For me?”

“Fine,” she sighs. “I’ll do it for you. But only for you, daddy.”

“Thank you,” he presses a kiss to her cheek. “Bell’s going to ring soon. You better go.”

“No. Not yet,” she wraps her arms tightly around his neck, clinging desperately to him when he attempts to put her down. “I don’t want you to go yet.”

“I’m only going to be gone for four days,” Tyler promises. “And no bad guys. Just me and mommy.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“And you’ll come back Tuesday for sure?”

“For sure.”

“I’ll miss you, daddy,” she pulls back and kisses him as she holds his face in her hands. “I’ll miss you so much.”

“It’s only four days,” he reminds her.

“I don’t care if it’s one day. I’ll still miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.” He lays a hand on the back of her head and places his lips against her brow.

“You’ll bring mommy back, yeah?”

“No. I’m going to leave her there with her new husband.”

Millie frowns. “That’s not nice. You’d miss mommy if she was gone.”

“I would,” he agrees. “I’d miss her more than you could ever possibly understand. Now go. Go and see your friends.” He sets her on the ground, then shrugs her backpack off his shoulder and hands it to her. “See you Tuesday.”

“For sure Tuesday?”

“One hundred percent for sure.”

“Okay,” she says, and then wraps her arms tightly around his legs before scampering off towards the playground.

“Hey Amelia!” he calls to her, and she stops and turns to look at him. “Don’t let anyone dull your sparkle!”

A wide, brilliant smile spreads from ear to ear, and he can see those blue eyes sparkle from her stands. “I won’t!” she promises, and then hurries off to join her friends.

****

“You’re worried aren’t you.”

Briefly looking away from the road, he glances over at her as she sits in the passenger seat, watching him intently. Their flight leaves in half an hour; hiring the same old SASR buddy that he’d recruited when he’d gone to see Koen. It’s safer that way if someone is keeping tabs on them; no paper trail, no names on flight manifestos, no record of them ever boarding a flight and heading to The Kimberley. Once in Broome he’d rent a vehicle under a fake name and pay by cash. Anything that has to be done to keep someone...anyone...off their trail.

They’d be wide open targets there; the land vast and barren and unforgiving. And while he’d have the upper hand both knowing the landscape and having the confidence to use it to his advantage, it’s still not a fight he wants to engage in. Guys like Mahajan don’t just send one person, they send an army of them. If he was alone, he wouldn’t think twice about engaging. But when there’s someone else relying on you to keep them safe, it’s a whole other ball game. It raises the stakes; makes everything much more dangerous and dire.

“You’ve been really quiet,” Esme says, as she retrieves a pair of aviator style sunglasses from her purse and slips them onto her face.

True to her word, she’d managed to track down a yellow tank top and a pair of tattered and torn jeans shorts; almost identical to the outfit she’d been wearing when he’d first laid eyes on her. She’s changed since then. They both have. The piercings long gone and her hair six inches shorter. She’s curvier now; hips wider, breasts fuller, ass and legs thicker. She’s carried five babies inside of that little baby, after all. HIS babies. And she’s more beautiful now that she had been back then. And he’d never thought that would be possible.

“Are you okay?” she asks. “You’ve been like this since you got back from your time with the kids.”

“I’m fine. Just haven’t had much to say.”

She’s used to it. Even after nearly seven years he’s very much the strong and silent type at times. But there’s usually something behind it now; no longer quiet because he’s busy building up walls to protect himself.

“This isn’t your normal quiet,” she remarks. “How you get when you’re not feeling chatty. This is your ‘thinking too much’ kind of quiet. I know you, Tyler. Your different moods. I know your different forms of quiet. It’s all in your face; on your face. I’ve only spent nearly seven years trying to sort them all out.”

He smirks. “Anyone ever tell you that YOU think too much?”

“You’ve only been telling me that nearly every day since we met. I know something’s wrong.”

“There’s A LOT wrong,” he reminds her. “A hell of a lot.”

“I’m not talking about all of that and you know it. Did something happen this morning? When you were with the kids? Did you see something? Hear something?”

“I’m just quiet. Nothing happened. I took them for breakfast, dropped them off at school, that’s it.”

Fuck. He knows full well that he should tell her about what Millie had seen. It will only come back to bite him in the ass somehow. The truth always gets out. Always. Whether it’s a week from now, a month from now, even years from now. He doesn’t even know WHY he does it. Why his initial reaction is to always keep things from her. Whether it’s that overwhelming and sometimes all consuming need to protect her from anything and everything or the fear of putting too much worry and stress on her plate. Or maybe it’s just an old habit he can’t shake; years of bottling shit up and letting it eat away at him.

But instead of just fessing up, he brings up the first thing that comes to mind.

“Did you know our kids know I killed someone with a garden rake?”

Esme laughs. “What?”

“They brought it up at breakfast. About me killing two people with a garden rake.”

“Well I know I didn’t tell them. I try NOT to talk about what you did for a living. Or what you DO for a living. I’m so confused. Do we talk about it in past or present tense?”

The way she cocks her head to the side, the way her eyes are slightly narrowed...that’s all Tanner. He’s seen that expression so many times on their boy. Usually reserved for when someone has said something so incredibly stupid that he can’t wrap his head around it. Millie’s insanely smart, but he’s even more so. He’s brilliant and he’s crafty and he’s sneaky in that ‘under the radar, no one will ever expect it’ way. There’s a lot of his mother in that kid. A hell of a lot.

“It’s what I do,” he reasons. “It’s what I’ve gone back to you. It’s what I am.”

“It’s not who you are,” she gently argues. “It’s part of who you are. There’s a difference. Is that what’s bugging you? That they’re starting to realize just what you do? They were going to find out sooner or later, Tyler. And all they think you do is go and get good people away from bad people. That’s the extent of it right now. And they know sometimes you have to hurt the bad people. Sometimes you even have to kill them,” she shrugs. “It is what it is.”

“They’re kids.”

“They’re smart kids. Insanely smart. All three of them. TJ has the dumb ass act down pat, but he’s a smart little bugger. When you actually sit down and talk to him, he’s like talking to an adult. He has shit in his head that blows MY mind. He’s like you; he keeps it all under the surface and uses it when he has to.”

“Is that some roundabout way of calling me a dumb ass?” he teases.

“You are far from dumb. But people underestimate you, too. They always have. They see the muscles and the tattoos and the scars and they immediately think bad ass. That you’re all brawn and no brains. Yet you’re both. And THAT’S what makes you dangerous.”

He grins. “I’m totally the guy your parents told you to stay away from when you’re growing up, aren’t I.”

“You so are,” she laughs. “You’re my father’s worst nightmare. He would have warmed up to you once he got to know you. He would have at least given you a chance; not like everyone else. But I would have brought you home and he would have seen the hair and the ink and all the scars and he would have shit his pants.”

“Is it wrong that that makes me as happy as it does? Knowing I would have successfully corrupted his little girl?”

“You did a good job of it. Corrupting me. I was a good girl until I met you.”

“Like fuck you were.”

“I was! I was sweet and innocent and…”

“Sweet and innocent girls DO NOT bang a guy they just met. I’m sorry. They just don’t. I love you, but there was nothing sweet and innocent about you when we met. You had your tongue pierced.”

“Lots of girls have tongue pierced. It’s cool. It’s edgy.”

“That’s not why you got your tongue pierced and you know it.”

“Maybe I was holding out hope on finding a guy that would let me use it to its full advantage. And then you showed up and boy, did you let me use it to my advantage.”

“I miss that thing. I think you should get it done again. Just because.”

“Yeah, I know what your ‘just because’ is. Maybe for your birthday. We’ll see.”

“That would be the best birthday present EVER. The gift that keeps on giving.”

“I’m already the mother everyone avoids at the school. Why not add something else to the list of things that make me stick out like a sore thumb. Why is everyone so uptight there? It’s a public school, for fuck sake. They act like it’s some posh private school. And they’re scared of you.”

“Good.”

“I hear the teacher made a play for you. At the bar.”

He frowns.

“What? You didn’t think I’d found out? Koen told me. That she tried to get on your dick. She’s lucky I don’t go there and beat her ass. I mean, it’s flattering that everyone thinks my husband is a hottie and totally fuckable, but don’t actually try.”

“Like the guy at the grocery store? The one with Mustang and the man bun? Seriously, Esme? A guy with a man bun? Talk about downgrading.”

She laughs. “Chad.”

“Chad? He even has a douche name.”

“He is a douche. But he’s only twenty-two, so…”

“You’re a fucking cougar. Atta girl.”

“I can’t believe the kids told you about that.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about it.”

“What’s there to tell? He grabbed my ass, I told him to fuck off, and then I told him I was going to tell my husband and you were going to show up and rip him in half. And he’s seen you and he thinks you’re totally capable of doing it.”

“I WILL rip him in half.”

“You’re not going to take a garden tool to him?” she teases. “Maybe a shovel to the head? Chop off his dick with a pair of hedge trimmers?”

“You know what…”

“What? What are you going to do Tyler? Nothing. Because you love when I tease you. When I ride your ass about things.”

He smirks. “I like when you ride me, all right.”

“That is NOT what I was talking about and you know it. I’m surprised you’re taking it so well. Finding out about Chad.”

“Chad and his Mustang and his man bun? Fuck. I’m going in there next week just to freak him out.”

“He’ll shit his pants. He’ll see you and piss himself.”

“Good.”

“I thought you’d be pissed. Which is why I didn’t tell you in the first place. But this? I like this. I like this side of you. The one that just laughs it off and doesn’t lose his shit.”

“You handled it. I’m impressed. You’re little but you’re not to be fucked with. Tanner is definitely your son.”

“He’s a tough little bugger. He’s not afraid of anyone. He’s a lot cagier than anyone thinks. He flies under the radar and surprises everyone. Maybe he’s the one that’s going to follow in your footsteps.”

Tyler frowns. “Why the hell would you want that?”

“You really think one of them won’t? My money was on Declan, but I don’t know, Tanner might shock everyone.”

“I don’t want any one of them being like me. Not that way.”

“It’s not the most horrible thing in the world, you know. If one of them does turn out like you. And I’m not just talking about looks and personality.”

“I know what you’re talking about. And I can’t believe you’d even say that, let alone be okay with it.”

“It’s not like you’re a serial killer. There’s worse things in this world you could be doing, you know.”

“I kill people. For money.”

“That’s not ALL you do, Tyler. It’s part of what you do. And one of them wants into it, we can’t stop them. It’ll happen whether we want it to or not. And if you think your kids are going to suddenly hate you or think less of you because of the job…”

“They might.”

“That will never happen. You’re their dad. What you do for a living has no bearing on how you raise them; what kind of father you are. You’re not the same person at home that you are on the job. All that matters to them is who you are when you’re with them. They don’t give a shit about anything else.”

He wants to believe that. He NEEDS to believe that. That when they're older, all they’ll remember are the good things; the times they spend together and that he was never afraid to show them affection or tell them that he loved him. How he’d tuck them in at night and read them bedtime stories and sometimes even fall asleep alongside them; tall, heavy frame way too large for their small beds, yet never complaining about the neck pain or the stiff back he’d wake up with. He hopes they remember that he TRIED. To be a good man. A good father. That they’re able to look back and say that they watched him treat their mother well; loving her with every fibre of his being.

But the reality of who he is...the things he’s done...it won’t be easy for them to accept. Not when they’re old enough to fully understand things.

And he thinks of Nik and her last ditch attempt to talk him out of settling down. She’d first tried when he’d found out that he was going to be a father again; making the mistake of confiding in her about just how scared he actually was. Not that he was having a baby, but that he’d only fuck things up again. She’d encouraged him to just cut all ties; convince Esme -only three months pregnant at the time- to go back to the States and live her life as a single mother. Telling him that he didn’t need the extra stress and worry while he was trying to recover; a baby would only be a burden he couldn’t afford and shouldn’t take on.

He’d refused to listen; he wasn’t abandoning her or their kid. He was going ‘all in’; they’d move in with one another and get to know each other and have the baby and raise it together. It wasn’t the conventional way of doing things. But they hadn’t started out conventional so why start being that way now? They’d make it work; they’d fall in love if that was in the cards and they’d have a good life and maybe even have more kids. It was the first time in his life -since Austin died- that he felt hopeful; he had a reason to live and not put a gun in his mouth or keep going on suicide missions in hopes of catching a bullet.

The last time she’d tried to ‘get through to him’ was the night before he got married. Asking him to meet her for a few ‘pre congratulatory drinks’ and then both propositioning him and trying to get him to change his mind. Attempting to convince him that this life -a husband, a father- wasn’t meant for someone like him. Someone who had the guilt and the regret and his kind of past. That being a family man AND a merc just wasn’t possible. Did he really want his children finding out years down the road just WHO he was? Did he really think they’d be able to accept that? Did he really think they’d love him knowing the truth?

“Tyler?” Her voice is soft. Concerned. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” he gives a reassuring smile. “Just thinking about stuff.”

“Bad stuff or…?”

“No. Just stuff that doesn’t matter anymore and I need to let go.”

“About…?”

“About nothing important. Just an old conversation with someone. About where my life was and where it was heading. Just some shit they said that pisses me off now when I think about it. They weren’t saying it for me. They were saying it for them.”

“We’re talking about Nik aren’t we.”

He nods.

“She won’t stop calling. She won’t stop sending emails. I can’t avoid her forever. YOU can’t avoid her forever. I think she wants to make amends. And normally I’d say ‘fuck her’ and that she made her bed and know she has to lie in it, but I actually feel kind of sorry for her.”

“That’s a first. You feeling sorry for her.”

“First you abandon her. Now Kyle.”

“Okay first off, I didn’t abandon her. There was nothing to abandon. I used to fuck her. That’s it.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have been so good at it,” Esme teases. “She wouldn’t still be holding on as tight as she is.”

“Or maybe she can just leave me the fuck alone.”

“I don’t think this about wanting to jump on your dick. I think she’s finally gotten the picture that that’s NOT going to happen. I think she’s legitimately hurt. That you went and started your own business without at least telling her. Or giving her the opportunity to partner with you.”

“I don’t want anything to do with her. Tell her that the next time she calls.”

“I have an idea!” She clamps a hand down on his knee. “Why don’t YOU tell her? Nik is your mess, not mine. I’ve spent almost seven years dealing with her shit. I’m done. It’s your turn.”

Tyler sighs.

“Just call her and see what she wants. What’s the worst that could happen? She wants to work with you? Or just wants to reem you out for stealing her people? Just hear her out and hang up on her if you have to.”

“I’ll call her. When we get back.”

“And please call Yaz. He says he wants to talk to you. That he has an offer for you.”

“What kind of offer?”

“He wouldn’t tell me. Just that he had an offer and you needed to hear it. So call him too. So I don’t have to keep putting up with these people. Because I’m on my last thread of sanity and if I lose that last threat…”

“I’ll be the one paying for it.”

“Exactly! See? You get it. Only took you nearly seven years to figure out how things work. Happy wife, happy life, right? You’re catching on.”

“You and your fucking mouth…”

“You love me. And my mouth.”

“I’m not denying EITHER of those things.”

“I’m not talking about what I do with my mouth. I’m talking about what comes out of it.”

He smirks. “Sure you are…”

“Your mind is permanently in the gutter. Middle age suits you.”

“Fuck you and your middle age crap. I’ve still got at least fifteen years to go before I’m middle age.”

“Tyler, no one lives to be a hundred and ten.”

“You just watch me.”

“You know what? You’d be the one who would. You’d be the one that after getting shot, stabbed, hit with a shovel, hit by a car, everything else that’s been done to you and you’ve been through, that WOULD live that long. Somehow that makes sense. The one that should have died a long time ago ends up living that long.”

“I’m too stubborn to die.”

“I’ve never heard anything MORE true. I like hearing this kind of talk from you. Instead of the doom and the gloom. Instead of hearing you talk about not coming home and being stuck in Mumbai and…”

“Hey…” he reaches out and takes her hand in his, settling them on his thigh. “...let’s NOT talk about Mumbai, okay? For four days, let’s not talk about that. Or the job. Let’s just...I don’t know...talk about normal stuff. The weather and what we want to eat and things we want to do. I don’t care how boring it is or how stupid is seems. I just want us to be...I don’t know...normal.”

“Have we met? Neither of us are normal.”

“Okay, so our version of normal. I don’t want to talk about Mumbai or Mahajan or the job or…”

“If you didn’t want to talk about it or think about it, you wouldn’t have brought THAT,” she lifts the bottom of his t-shirt and nods down at the holster and gun on his right hip.

“Might have to kill a dingo. Wasn’t that in the wedding vows too? That I wouldn’t let a dingo get you?”

“That’s what hunting rifles are for. Not Glocks.”

“Just better to be safe than sorry. We don’t know who is out there. If anyone IS out there.”

“Do you think there is? Someone out there? Watching us?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“You’d tell me, right? If you felt that way?”

He nods.

“You know what’s funny? You’re the one that is talking about us ‘talking’ when we’re there. I’m the one that’s looking forward to the sex.”

He chuckles. “Well I’m looking forward to THAT too. Weird hearing you mention it first though.”

She laughs. “I can’t help it. There’s something wrong with my hormones. That’s all I’ve been thinking about lately.”

“And you call me ‘extra’.”

“I want to have all the sex,” she enthuses. “With you. All of it. Like dirty, raunchy, adult sex. The kind we can’t have at home because we always have to worry about kids interrupting us. I mean hard core sex. Like in Dhaka. Where I can make all the noise I want and no one can hear it.”

“Everyone in the hotel in Dhaka heard. They all knew my name and I never told anyone of them my name. So…”

“Remember the time the people next to us complained to the manager? The second night? I think they were just jealous. They wished they were getting dicked down that good.”

“I do miss that kind of thing,” he admits. “It’s a turn on. Hearing you.”

“You’re such a bad influence. I really WAS a good girl before I met you. I don’t know what got into me.”

“I know exactly what got into you.”

“Well if you weren’t so good at these things…”

“Isn’t that part of why you married me?” he chides. “Because I am good at those things?”

“One of the reasons. There’s a lot of them. Reasons. I really married you because of your hair, so technically I should have filed for divorce the second you made me shave it off.”

“I’m growing it back. Relax.”

“And you’re getting scruffy again,” she grins, and rubs her hand against his cheek. “You’re all sorts of sexy. No wonder I put out so much. And it’s going to be good for us. Getting away. And not just because of sex. Just to be alone together. Be able to relax and just...I don’t know...be together. We haven’t had that in a long time.”

He nods in agreement. “I don’t know if we’ve ever really had that. And no. Dhaka does NOT count.”

“That’s because you were getting paid to have sex with me.”

“In a weird way, yeah.”

“I really was whoring myself out to you.”

He frowns. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s just something someone said. It’s not important. What’s important is us and the next four days. And me NOT getting eaten by a dingo.”

He laughs at that. “I’ll protect you from all the dingoes, baby.”

“I know,” she smiles, and then rests her head against his shoulder. “You'll protect me from ANYTHING.”

He nods in agreement. It’s true. He WOULD protect her from anything. Anyone.

No matter what it costs.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #extraction #best part of me #chris hemsworth character

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persephonescat · 5 years ago

Text

Birds and Other Supernatural Phenomenons

Chapter 3!!!!!!! Wow.

Ch. 1 Previous Next Masterpost AO3

________________

Ch. 3: I Came Here to Have a Good Time...

The problem with making friends with a villain past midnight and getting into an hours-long debate on psychology with them?

Well, you know the thing when you lay unconscious in your bed in order to function? It kinda gets left out.

Marinette drank two cups of coffee in the morning - she didn't even like coffee -, and she still wanted to kill everyone she laid her eyes on and then herself. (Guess who spent their practically non-existent free time reading memes?)

It was too early to check on Luka and Kagami, plus they made her promise she would at least try to have a good time, and Kaalki had absolutely no interest in taking her to Paris if there wasn't a clear threat. Normally, she wouldn't have thought about going on a school trip at all. For two years, she managed to "get sick" every time there was an outing on the horizon, and she took no pleasure in going to a different continent for two months, while Paris' population was completely vulnerable to a terrorist.

However, Gotham might've had been even more dangerous than Paris, and she couldn't let her classmates go without protection either. Not to mention how the whole trip was... kind of her fault.

In her protection, last year, when Mrs. Bustier presented the class with the opportunity, she didn't think they had any chance. So when the woman said she was going to speak to her colleagues in her favor if Marinette filled out the application and convinced the class to reach the requirements, the girl didn't think twice. They shot a cool campaign-video, got recommendations from Jagged Stone, Cheng Shifu, Nadja Chamack, Penny Rolling, Gabriel Agreste, Audrey Bourgeois, the major, the principal and even the Kitty Section for good measure, then she wrote a five pages long essay about the ways they could spend the vacation and the money that came with it. Now that Marinette was thinking about it, they might've overshot the mark a little.

Thanks to Mrs. Bustier, this way she could at least maintain her grades a bit, which came handy after the late-night patrols she was still getting used to at the time.

Giving the Miraculouses to Luka and Kagami after swearing never to use them again was hard, but necessary. As Ladybug, she fed them a story about having to go to the east for a Miraculous-mission two weeks before Marinette actually left, so she could see them in action - Hawkmoth was getting sloppy; he only sent out one akuma during that time period, and it was a pretty weak one too -, and so it wasn't that easy to connect the dots, 'cause... Ladybug and your friend, who magical camouflage or not, look pretty much alike, leave and come back at the same time. You have three guesses.

She made them promise to call her if there was any damage she had to "Cure" or if an akuma was too difficult for them to handle, and she hoped that at least Kagami, being the more responsible one, would keep that promise.

Alya's voice, still hoarse from waking up, pulled her out of her thoughts.

"Mornin'." She stopped to yawn and tried to smooth her red tornado of a hair out. "Where did you get coffee?"

Marinette pointed at the pot on the counter. Alya shuffled towards it with closed eyes, muttering "coffee" under her breath over and over again, her hip hitting every chair on the way there. She might've cursed a few times, but it came out so tangled, Marinette wasn't sure.

Then came Nino storming down the stairs, probably waking the entire city with his steps, humming Jagged Stones' Jeudi soir. He put a hand on Alya's back, lead her to a chair, then poured her a cup of coffee and smiled at Marinette while mixing two spoons of sugar into it. She smiled back fondly.

She wasn't sure when she and Alya stopped being best friends. Things just... changed. Marinette started growing out her hair, wearing it in a braid instead of piggy tails. Alya's usual shirts were swapped to fandom T-shirts and crop tops. Marinette's clothes got more red and black, Alya started running another website beside Ladyblog, about her everyday life and various topics from movie-critiques to the art of journalism. Marinette ran out of pink lipstick and purchased a cherry one instead. Alya went to a festival with Nino and it was the best week of her life. Marinette's crush on Adrien disappeared, while Alya's relationship with Nino got more and more serious.

It was slow and painful at first, but she didn't realize how much changed over a few months until one day she reached for her phone to call her friend and tell her something about a commission she got, then it hit her: they were not like that anymore.

It was comforting, on some level, that she no longer had that responsibility. Or that's what she told herself.

When the rest of her class arrived, she stood up and left the cafeteria.

***

In the morning, they went sightseeing. Not as if Gotham had a lot of sights, they might've been the only people stupid enough to go there for fun.

No, it was more like two hours of "don't go here", "don't go there", and "please, don't go there either" as they were shown around the city by a young lady whose posture was radiating stress all the time. Marinette could understand why. Their last stop was the Wayne Tower, where they were told to pair up with each other and discover the shops, cafés, and restaurants around the square.

She locked eyes with Adrien and mouthed "cover for me". The boy nodded, then Marinette quickly turned around the corner and walked around the square a few times before finding a sympathetic café, only one street away from the tower (technically, it wasn't on the square, but close enough).

She took a seat and ordered her third cup of coffee that day (she was healthy like that), before pulling out her phone and researching Wayne Enterprises. She checked it out back home of course, but there was a lot more material there than she had time for

She was reading yet another biography on Bruce Wayne and pretending her tired eyes weren't constantly tearing up and stinging from the screen when she heard it.

"I can't believe it. Have you read this?" an old man asked his wife sitting at the table next to Marinette's.

"Please, Robert, you can't throw a tantrum every time someone gets killed in this city," the women answered flatly.

The man turned a few pages in his newspaper then pushed it under her wife's nose.

"Not just someone, Martha! A girl! A young girl! She was barely older than Katie!" That seemed to pique the woman's interest.

"A girl, ya' say?" she murmured, pulling out her glasses. "Who did it?"

"You'd think they know, right? I mean, they have a list of all the psychopaths rummaging the streets, it can't be that hard to figure out, but no-," the wife shushed him just by raising a finger.

She took a few seconds to read the article before speaking up again.

"This says it was near Crime Alley. No girl goes near that just by accident."

"She was stabbed twelve times in broad daylight! She wasn't that near Crime Alley, look-," he turned the newspaper, searching the lines then he pointed at something, "-she was found on St. Anthony Street! That's five streets over!"

The woman hummed.

"What did ya' say, how old was she?"

"Sixteen. Katie might've seen her a few times, they went to the same school."

A waitress came and interrupted them, giving them their check. Marinette, who was pretending to drink her coffee peacefully all along now turned to them just as the man opened his wallet.

"Excuse Moi? May I ask what time it is?" She asked with a thick French accent.

The man stopped halfway in paying the waitress and glanced at his watch, giving Marinette enough time to study the wallet in his hand. It was small and black leather, probably a gift. There was a picture too, just as she expected. It showed a girl around thirteen with blond hair and bangs, smiling in her school uniform. "Katie", if she had any luck.

"Half-past two," the man told her helpfully.

The girl thanked him with a smile, paid for her coffees, then left the shop.

She walked around the block to get out of the old couple's sight before visiting the Gotham Gazelle's official website on her phone. The dead girl's name was Joanne, but her surname wasn't published and there was no photo of her. She was found the day before yesterday, with twelve identical knife-wounds on her body. The police said they were looking for the culprit, but they clearly didn't have much to go on, given their lack of suspects.

Marinette took out her sketchbook and started scribbling down some notes.

Joanne

16 yrs old

Lives in Gotham

Student

She paused. The uniform on Katie's picture was blue with a red tie. Gotham didn't have many schools, but they all had different uniforms. Blue and red meant Gotham Academy.

Student in Gotham Academy

A quick Facebook search later she had the girl's last name and profile picture. Bless the modern age.

If she had to be in Gotham, she might as well not die in boredom, right?

St. Anthony Street was a little over thirty minutes from the Wayne Tower. She had time.

________________

As always, coffee is my nectar and comments are my ambrosia, so penny for your thoughts!

Ch. 1 Previous Next Masterpost AO3

Tag list:

@northernbluetongue

@vgirl-10123

#Birds and Other Supernatural Phenomenons #maribat #damiette #daminette #damari #dcu #mlb #batman #damian wayne #fanfiction #writerblr #I Came Here to Have a Good Time

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l-sincline · 4 years ago

Text

Cybernetics- Cyberpunk!Sonic AU- Chapter 6

Amy Rose has been working tirelessly at her broken down booth for as long as she can imagine. Ever since Tails left their work to join forces with the revered hero of Mobius, ‘The Blue Blur’, she’s grown lonely and desperate to make her life exciting. A strange customer comes in one day asking her to fix his cyborg arm, what she didn’t know was that he would be the catalyst for a brand new life.

AO3 Tags:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Amy Rose/Shadow the Hedgehog, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Amy Rose (Sonic the Hedgehog), Shadow the Hedgehog, Sonic the Hedgehog, Miles “Tails” Prower, Dr. Eggman | Dr. Robotnik, Rouge the Bat, Whisper the Wolf, Cream the Rabbit, Knuckles the Echidna, Badnik (Sonic the Hedgehog), E-123 Omega, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Angst, Slow Burn, Partners in Crime

AO3 Link

Previous/Next

Amy’s eyelids felt heavy as she forced them open, head pounding and body overall sore. She groaned and tried to lift her head off the floor, only causing her headache to scream at her to stop. Her head thumped back on the floor, causing a jolt of pain to shoot through to her eyes, she squinted and hissed in discomfort.

“Don’t force yourself to get up.” She suddenly heard a familiar voice speak quietly, as if catering to her pounding head.

There was some rustling and suddenly her head was lifted gently just a few centimeters by a cold hand, followed by a bit more rustling. When her head was put back down, there was something softer than the cold, hard floor, it wasn’t any pillow, but it was a lot better than just the floor.

“The height wasn’t the big issue, but the speed definitely caused a bit of damage.” He explained softly, voice trailing away as his shoes clanked quietly on the ground.

Clanked... they were made out of some sort of metal. Not being able to bring herself to speak, she merely grunted in response and took the silence as a chance to take in what she could about her surroundings with her eyes remaining closed. Overall, it was slightly cold, the floor felt as if it was some sort of cement covered in a layer of dirt and grime. There was a cool breeze that entered where ever she was. At first she assumed it was a window, but there was too much of a breeze for it to just be a window or even a door frame. When she inhaled, she mostly smelled moss and dusty air. She hardly heard anything, the clanking and talking had stopped, now there was just a slight whistling of wind and an occasional bird. No crowd... definitely not the outer ring then. Honestly, the silence was very new to her. She breathed deeply as the initial shock of the headache continued to fade, now it just sat clustered behind her eyes, pounding still, but somewhat manageable. Her body still ached, but it was becoming tolerable as well. She tried opening her eyes again, the bright light of day caused her to squint slightly, but instead of just closing them again, she let her eyes get adjusted and finally got a chance to look around the room.

It seemed to be a very old apartment building, the entire room was gutted, though she could see some marks scorched onto the wall from where kitchen appliances had once sat. Vines and moss grew all over, and the entire place seemed to be coated in dirt, grime, and dust. The doorway sat with no door, leading to the hall of the building and allowing the smallest of looks into the apartment across from this one. She turned her head and finally saw where the breeze was coming from.

There was a giant hole blown in the wall and part of the ceiling. They must be on the very top floor, as all that she could see out of the ceiling was sky, though looking out the side she saw the tops of some buildings that also looked worse for wear. In front of the hole stood ‘Myst’, arms crossed as he stared out on the city below. His cloak must be what’s under her head right now, she figured. He wore a utility vest of sorts, it seemed to be protective, but she could see straps on the back that would probably lead to holding small pouches on the front. The shoes still intrigued her, they had seemingly given him the ability to glide, she wanted to know how they worked. Eventually she dragged her gaze away, finding it rude to stare, and saw that he’d apparently grabbed her hammer and brought it as well. He must’ve somehow figured out how to collapse it, because it was back to being a bag.

Amy tried lifting her head once more, it was easier this time, and she propped herself up on her elbow, stopping to allow her body a moment to acclimate to the change as her muscles screamed stop. The cement floor probably wasn’t helping her heal any faster. She pushed herself up again so that now she was sitting upright on her butt, she shuffled a bit so she could lean against the wall, breathing through clenched teeth as her body objected yet another hard surface, she picked the folded cloak up off the ground and shoved it between the lower end of her back and the wall to create a cushion.

“How do you feel?” He asked, still facing away.

“Like dying would’ve been preferable.” She responded with a huff as she rubbed her forehead.

“You’re lucky you didn’t hit a wall or anything, I’m already surprised you didn’t break a bone.” He commented.

“Hooray for me.” She breathed out monotonously.

A blanket of silence covered the room, leaving only the wind and the birds to fill it. She frowned, looking back to where he stood rather nonchalantly before finally sucking in a breath of air and taking the first step.

“So are you going to tell me why I was almost arrested by Mobius’ hero for assisting a criminal?” ‘Myst’ scoffed.

“He’s hardly a hero.” He muttered finally uncrossing his arms with a swish and holding them up as if to say ‘I don’t know.’ “I thought I’d done my research well enough.”

“Research?”

“Well I can’t just go to any old mechanic.” He spoke as if it was obvious. “Just like I told you, I needed someone that wouldn’t have the media on their doorstep, someone with no rep. But more than that, I needed someone who could figure this shit out.” He gestured once to his right arm and once to his left. “That was you. I didn’t know that you’d be closer to the Blue Blur than I thought until after you’d mentioned his little buddy, and that was on the night I took you to dinner.” ‘Myst’ shrugged.

“So I did just do this to myself, didn’t I? I ran my mouth too much.” She sighed in defeat.

“No.” He cut in aggressively “I brought you in to this. If I hadn’t come to you in the first place you’d be back if your shop painting that damn hammer you designed and maybe getting an actual check up from your friend instead of a ploy to arrest you.”

He seemed more angry at himself than her, she frowned. It didn’t feel good, to be the reason someone felt guilty. He turned around and kicked a stone, eyes narrow as he made his way over to her.

“And now, you’re stuck in it, so I might as well make you a proposition or else you’re gonna want to go launch yourself up into space on a stolen spaceship and just embrace the criminal lifestyle.”

He towered over her, she had to crane her neck to look up at him, and she gasped, hands instinctively flying up to cover her mouth as she looked at his face.

“...your eye.” She spoke in awe. In his left eye, the camera that served as a pupil narrowed its shutter slightly before widening again as he stepped back and looked away.

“I’m sixty percent cyborg.” He answered the question she hadn’t spoken yet.

“What... how?” Her hands lowered.

“Two arms, an eye, one lung, half of my heart, a part of my spine, ten ribs, plus all connecting pieces that run Thuluhide to my heart and electric signals from my brain.” His explanation was cold. “I’m as close to a machine as a living thing can get.”

“It’s... amazing. A true technological advancement.”

“It’s a little less amazing when the doc himself made it, but sure, we can go with that.” He practically spat, turning on his heel to step back to where he had stood by the hole before standing to face her again. “All you need to know right now, is that the Blue Blur is mad because I stole these-“ ‘Myst’ reached to his arm that she hadn’t fixed and pressed a button embedded in his wrist, the forearm popped open to reveal seven ports for microchips, at another press of a button, two microchips popped out. One green and one red. Gently, he removed them and held them up, there was something written on them, but they were too small for her to be able to see it. “-These are very powerful microchips that Robotnik’s grandfather made to be able to give power to the user. They’re microchips, so they can really go in anything, but they’re meant for cyborgs.”

“What do they do?” She asked.

He seemingly opted for a visual demonstration. Without either chip in, he extended his palm out the hole and shot a blast to hit a building. It didn’t do too much, there was a small sound of a crack and some dust that rose. Then, he pressed both chips back into place, shut the forearm compartment and held his hand up once more. This blast was more familiar, as his lights spent a slightly longer time growing brighter, along with growing significantly brighter than they had with the last blast. He aimed at a different building, and easily blasted a hole in the wall, dust exploding around the impact point as pieces of cement fell to the abandoned street below.

“And if you were wondering how you got here,” he turned back to her a spoke once more, but suddenly, he was gone in a flash of light. Amy jerked foreword, looking around. There was another flash of light and she whipped around to look at the doorway in which he now stood. “That would be how.”

“But... how does any of that work?” She questioned confusedly.

“Hell if I know.” He responded. “All I know if that there’s one in the Blue Blur’s leg, the other four are missing and Robotnik wants them.”

“So... you just want to get them all before the others?”

He was silent, gaze seeming to go from passionate will to distanced upset.

“That’s the base of it, sure.”

“What will you do when you get them?” She pressed. He quietly turned to look back out the hole.

“... It’s said that if one collects all seven they may be able to go through time.” He said quietly. “I don’t know that for certain, but I do know there’s I wrong I need to right that is worth the risk.”

Amy was silent, she looked down to her boots on her feet that were stretched out in front of her. She didn’t bother pressing any further anymore, she doubted she’d be getting anymore than she already had, which was certainly a lot more than she’d previously known.

“You’re wrapped up in this now, which means you have three choices.” He began as he turned back to her once more. “Go get yourself arrested, tell them everything you know about me, maybe even earn yourself a spot on the illustrious ‘team blue blur’, or you could just run away, live on your own outside the cities doing gods knows what. Or, you can work for me.”

“Work for you?”

“I know your jealous of your little buddy, he got the job and you didn’t, but I’d like to think I could give a better opportunity.”

“How so?”

“I’m not a prick that’s too far up on his high horse to see the ground.” He responded matter of factly.

Amy’s jaw dropped before she began to laugh. It felt good to finally relax her shoulders and just laugh, though it did make her headache pound a little harder. She looked up to see him staring at her expectantly.

“Well can I at least know who I’m working for?” He smiled slightly.

“You’re working for Shadow.”

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic fanfiction #my writing #shadow the hedgehog #Amy Rose #cyberpunk au #Shadamy

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